Top Speed 40.5MPH AVG 12.7
Total 2,087.6
So I awoke with a spring in my step today. Oh wait, sorry, I meant spring sticking into my spleen from my bed today. The Bates Motel outdid itself with that additional extra. Actually, I awoke with a bit of a hangover. After listening to what seemed like the sound effects CD from a cop drama for the evening, I had a knock at the door. Spooky, I know. So I put on some clothing and opened to find Jim, the motel resident, wanting to have a few beers. I think he was lonely, bless him, so I accepted and probably had a couple too many so this morning I was just a little groggy. All that boozing combined with very little to eat yesterday and some hard days behind me made this morning very tough indeed. I struggled gainfully for a couple of hours, although my face must’ve looked like that of a serial self-flagellator attempting to squeeze out one more thrill before nap-time.
After some high-sugar treats and liquid refreshment I felt something like the old/new me and a short while later I stopped for lunch in the small town of Goreville, Illinois and yet again ran in to some fine people. As I was finishing up I began talking with Pete, the owner of Delaney’s. He was an interesting guy and he told me about the area and his time teaching at Southern Illinois University, but just then, as three Harley Davidson attired motorcyclists were leaving (it must some kind of law that if they ride the bikes, they wear the clothes), Pete informed me that one of the group, Greg, had paid for my lunch. I hadn’t even conversed with old Greg, but Pete had told them what I was up to and bingo, so I corralled Greg, perhaps a little aggressively, to say thanks and get a snap. On top of this, the restaurant offered free desert to cyclists. It turns out that many cyclists stop in the restaurant as its pretty much the only place in a 60 mile diameter on the route maps, and because of this they were very accommodating to our like. I even had my polaroid taken and put under a glass table with images of fellow cyclists from yesterday and yesteryear, and I do believe that's the first time I've ever been immortalised. Well, barring fire or theft, of course.
Full and ready to go once again I made my way to Murphysboro Lake Park some 35 miles way and rode through some truly beautiful territory of grand lakes and forested roads. I have now arrived at the campground and the sights are breath-taking. These are the views I cherish on this trip, especially after a long and arduous day. What I don't cherish are my old friends, the mosquitos. Oh yes, they are back.
Total 2,087.6
So I awoke with a spring in my step today. Oh wait, sorry, I meant spring sticking into my spleen from my bed today. The Bates Motel outdid itself with that additional extra. Actually, I awoke with a bit of a hangover. After listening to what seemed like the sound effects CD from a cop drama for the evening, I had a knock at the door. Spooky, I know. So I put on some clothing and opened to find Jim, the motel resident, wanting to have a few beers. I think he was lonely, bless him, so I accepted and probably had a couple too many so this morning I was just a little groggy. All that boozing combined with very little to eat yesterday and some hard days behind me made this morning very tough indeed. I struggled gainfully for a couple of hours, although my face must’ve looked like that of a serial self-flagellator attempting to squeeze out one more thrill before nap-time.
After some high-sugar treats and liquid refreshment I felt something like the old/new me and a short while later I stopped for lunch in the small town of Goreville, Illinois and yet again ran in to some fine people. As I was finishing up I began talking with Pete, the owner of Delaney’s. He was an interesting guy and he told me about the area and his time teaching at Southern Illinois University, but just then, as three Harley Davidson attired motorcyclists were leaving (it must some kind of law that if they ride the bikes, they wear the clothes), Pete informed me that one of the group, Greg, had paid for my lunch. I hadn’t even conversed with old Greg, but Pete had told them what I was up to and bingo, so I corralled Greg, perhaps a little aggressively, to say thanks and get a snap. On top of this, the restaurant offered free desert to cyclists. It turns out that many cyclists stop in the restaurant as its pretty much the only place in a 60 mile diameter on the route maps, and because of this they were very accommodating to our like. I even had my polaroid taken and put under a glass table with images of fellow cyclists from yesterday and yesteryear, and I do believe that's the first time I've ever been immortalised. Well, barring fire or theft, of course.
Full and ready to go once again I made my way to Murphysboro Lake Park some 35 miles way and rode through some truly beautiful territory of grand lakes and forested roads. I have now arrived at the campground and the sights are breath-taking. These are the views I cherish on this trip, especially after a long and arduous day. What I don't cherish are my old friends, the mosquitos. Oh yes, they are back.
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