Today: 101.3 Miles - Avg 13.4MPH - Top Speed 32.2MPH
Total: 1,986.58
Tonight I reside in Cave-in-Rock, Illinois. What a bizarre name that is, I hear you cry. Well, I guess it was named after a cave that is, self evidently, in a rock. Of course, in hindsight this is an axiomatic name that is a bit like calling a place Water-in-Pond, but we're in America now, so NO QUESTIONS.
Crossing the border into Illinois from Kentucky required a brief ferry crossing. Fantastic, I thought, what a great chance to stare out at the ripples wistfully for a few minutes. Perhaps I’ll be inspired to compose an opera in my head. But as I traversed the winding hills to the port the heavens opened. Well, again I thought I’d stay in a motel. There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to that misery of camping in a storm, and if that seems a little weak, then let’s say it’s for safety’s sake. My tent could act as a lightening rod for these electrical storms for goodness sake. But mainly, as you well know, it's because I’m weak.
On the short crossing across the states I spoke to a very nice chap and his family who were wedged in their vehicle and looking terribly comfy. They could probably see the goosebumps appearing on my exposed inner thigh, and as a random act of kindness they offered me a warm space in the back seat of their family vehicle as the ferry negotiated its way across the Ohio River, but I declined, as I didn’t want to dampen his lovely cream leather upholstered interior. What can I say, I just respect hide. Despite the bitter conditions, talking with this gent helped take my mind off of the cold rain for a short while, as did the small dog that was acting as what can only be described as a travel neck pillow between my new mate and the drivers seat. It was snuggly curled around his shoulders and despite the scene striking me as a little odd, I remained stum, as both man and beast seemed satisfied with the arrangement. This event did inspire me to possibly ask Betty to lay around my neck later, but she’d only think of it as a come on. Not surprising really, not after all we’ve been through, anyway.
Talking of dogs, today had two close encounters and not for the first time. I had been warned of “man’s best friend” having a propensity for being “cyclist’s worst enemy” before I departed my native shores, but I took it with a pinch of salt. Well, let me tell you, these animals are vicious. Even after passing their territory the little bastards often don’t relent for a good thirty meters, which isn’t so bad when it’s downhill and the dog is a Chihuahua, but a little harder at the tail end of a days riding when it’s uphill and the animal in question is a Pitbull. Both of these happened today. I shit-a-brick with the latter, but it’s amazing how you'll find reserves of energy when your flesh is in danger of being torn off by the mouth of an animal that has been, in essence, bred for killing. Not to mention the two other little indeterminable breeds that went for about fifty meters and forced me to plummet into a sewer earlier in the day. I’m hoping this game of dodge-the-canine will be over soon. Perhaps now I’m entering snake country they’ll be a different kind of obstacle for a spandex adorned twerp like myself to deal with.
After I left that nice family on the ferry and cycled the further mile to my residence for the evening I was left somewhat, well, scared. I immediately assumed the motel was closed due to its beyond repair appearance. Imagine the Bates Motel but real. Plus, the owner wanted $60 for it according to her crude hand-written note in the office. I called her with the help of Jim, a permanent resident at The Motel and got her down to $50. But even that seems steep considering the advertised microwave and wi-fi don’t exist at all. Oh well, I’ll shut this laptop off in a minute and hope for…
…That sounded like gun shots. Brilliant. I’ve paid for the bed and I’m going to sleep under it. Sweet Dreams.
Total: 1,986.58
Tonight I reside in Cave-in-Rock, Illinois. What a bizarre name that is, I hear you cry. Well, I guess it was named after a cave that is, self evidently, in a rock. Of course, in hindsight this is an axiomatic name that is a bit like calling a place Water-in-Pond, but we're in America now, so NO QUESTIONS.
Crossing the border into Illinois from Kentucky required a brief ferry crossing. Fantastic, I thought, what a great chance to stare out at the ripples wistfully for a few minutes. Perhaps I’ll be inspired to compose an opera in my head. But as I traversed the winding hills to the port the heavens opened. Well, again I thought I’d stay in a motel. There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to that misery of camping in a storm, and if that seems a little weak, then let’s say it’s for safety’s sake. My tent could act as a lightening rod for these electrical storms for goodness sake. But mainly, as you well know, it's because I’m weak.
On the short crossing across the states I spoke to a very nice chap and his family who were wedged in their vehicle and looking terribly comfy. They could probably see the goosebumps appearing on my exposed inner thigh, and as a random act of kindness they offered me a warm space in the back seat of their family vehicle as the ferry negotiated its way across the Ohio River, but I declined, as I didn’t want to dampen his lovely cream leather upholstered interior. What can I say, I just respect hide. Despite the bitter conditions, talking with this gent helped take my mind off of the cold rain for a short while, as did the small dog that was acting as what can only be described as a travel neck pillow between my new mate and the drivers seat. It was snuggly curled around his shoulders and despite the scene striking me as a little odd, I remained stum, as both man and beast seemed satisfied with the arrangement. This event did inspire me to possibly ask Betty to lay around my neck later, but she’d only think of it as a come on. Not surprising really, not after all we’ve been through, anyway.
Talking of dogs, today had two close encounters and not for the first time. I had been warned of “man’s best friend” having a propensity for being “cyclist’s worst enemy” before I departed my native shores, but I took it with a pinch of salt. Well, let me tell you, these animals are vicious. Even after passing their territory the little bastards often don’t relent for a good thirty meters, which isn’t so bad when it’s downhill and the dog is a Chihuahua, but a little harder at the tail end of a days riding when it’s uphill and the animal in question is a Pitbull. Both of these happened today. I shit-a-brick with the latter, but it’s amazing how you'll find reserves of energy when your flesh is in danger of being torn off by the mouth of an animal that has been, in essence, bred for killing. Not to mention the two other little indeterminable breeds that went for about fifty meters and forced me to plummet into a sewer earlier in the day. I’m hoping this game of dodge-the-canine will be over soon. Perhaps now I’m entering snake country they’ll be a different kind of obstacle for a spandex adorned twerp like myself to deal with.
After I left that nice family on the ferry and cycled the further mile to my residence for the evening I was left somewhat, well, scared. I immediately assumed the motel was closed due to its beyond repair appearance. Imagine the Bates Motel but real. Plus, the owner wanted $60 for it according to her crude hand-written note in the office. I called her with the help of Jim, a permanent resident at The Motel and got her down to $50. But even that seems steep considering the advertised microwave and wi-fi don’t exist at all. Oh well, I’ll shut this laptop off in a minute and hope for…
…That sounded like gun shots. Brilliant. I’ve paid for the bed and I’m going to sleep under it. Sweet Dreams.
Why not, eh.
The view from Norman's room.
More closed things.
Not quite as we planned.
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