Today 95.3 Miles - AVG 13.1MPH - Top Speed 36.4MPH
Total: 2,181.29
Today was the hardest of the trip so far. I know that’s some statement coming from the man who seemed to be despairing at the feet of Death on Day 7, but alas, it is true. And it’s all Missouri’s fault. I had naively, and with no qualification, assumed Missouri would be a flat state, or at least low-lying as it bled into the open expanses of Kansas, but it just ain’t true. It’s seriously lumpy, so tonight I’ve studied the elevation (as I have as busy a social life here as a hedonist on secondment in Riyadh) estimated approximately 5,500ft of climbing over the 90 miles today. That combined with efforts from previous days would’ve been hard enough, but it was really the heat that clinched it. It hit 95 Fahrenheit (35 Celsius) today with very little cloud cover and at one stage, on a climb in Missouri I nearly lost it. Luckily there was a restaurant nearby where I sat under a tap for 5 minutes. It was a good lesson in ensuring I have enough water on me in the future and taking respite in the shade whenever I can. Ironically, I was warned about these very problems this morning when I met Henry, a fellow cyclist, coming from the west. Well, now I’ll take heed.
Just before I crossed the bridge over to Missouri I had a spot of lunch in Chester, Illinois where I discovered E.C. Seger, creator of Popeye, had hailed from. What I couldn’t quite believe was how important it was to the town. In fact, you could say it meant everything. Images of the spinach-chomping sailor were everywhere. In restaurants, on flags, murals and even a statue right next to the bridge. It’s the first thing you’d see when entering Illinois from this bridge. Before the sign for Illinois itself, even. Well, full-up on a burger and extreme sentimentality I made my way over the United States’ most famous river into Missouri, and the land was flat for the first 10 miles. Then we all know what happened.
Knees creaking and severely shattered from the blistering sun - and I can see on my wrist why they say “blistering”. I knew tonight I would be staying in Al’s Place Hostel, which exists specifically for cyclists on this route. I didn’t know anything about it other than that, and I needed a code from the police to get in, which I procured over the phone. Well, when I arrived it transpired it was located within the old jail house. A wonderfully historic building on the corner of a busy street, but the interior surpassed even that. A huge living space that is perfectly clean and has all the necessities for a travelling cyclist. It’s so nice here, that I’m going to take tomorrow off for recovery. That and the hope I may meet a fellow cyclist tomorrow night. Stranger things have happened.
Total: 2,181.29
Today was the hardest of the trip so far. I know that’s some statement coming from the man who seemed to be despairing at the feet of Death on Day 7, but alas, it is true. And it’s all Missouri’s fault. I had naively, and with no qualification, assumed Missouri would be a flat state, or at least low-lying as it bled into the open expanses of Kansas, but it just ain’t true. It’s seriously lumpy, so tonight I’ve studied the elevation (as I have as busy a social life here as a hedonist on secondment in Riyadh) estimated approximately 5,500ft of climbing over the 90 miles today. That combined with efforts from previous days would’ve been hard enough, but it was really the heat that clinched it. It hit 95 Fahrenheit (35 Celsius) today with very little cloud cover and at one stage, on a climb in Missouri I nearly lost it. Luckily there was a restaurant nearby where I sat under a tap for 5 minutes. It was a good lesson in ensuring I have enough water on me in the future and taking respite in the shade whenever I can. Ironically, I was warned about these very problems this morning when I met Henry, a fellow cyclist, coming from the west. Well, now I’ll take heed.
Just before I crossed the bridge over to Missouri I had a spot of lunch in Chester, Illinois where I discovered E.C. Seger, creator of Popeye, had hailed from. What I couldn’t quite believe was how important it was to the town. In fact, you could say it meant everything. Images of the spinach-chomping sailor were everywhere. In restaurants, on flags, murals and even a statue right next to the bridge. It’s the first thing you’d see when entering Illinois from this bridge. Before the sign for Illinois itself, even. Well, full-up on a burger and extreme sentimentality I made my way over the United States’ most famous river into Missouri, and the land was flat for the first 10 miles. Then we all know what happened.
Knees creaking and severely shattered from the blistering sun - and I can see on my wrist why they say “blistering”. I knew tonight I would be staying in Al’s Place Hostel, which exists specifically for cyclists on this route. I didn’t know anything about it other than that, and I needed a code from the police to get in, which I procured over the phone. Well, when I arrived it transpired it was located within the old jail house. A wonderfully historic building on the corner of a busy street, but the interior surpassed even that. A huge living space that is perfectly clean and has all the necessities for a travelling cyclist. It’s so nice here, that I’m going to take tomorrow off for recovery. That and the hope I may meet a fellow cyclist tomorrow night. Stranger things have happened.
Henry after warning me of the heat.
Home of Popeye...and every church imaginable.
A War memorial tastefully placed in a Popeye themed Garden.
Statue. An actual statue of Popeye.
No walking on water.
It started out so well.
But got a lot worse.
But Van Persie scores from the rebound.
Inside Al's Place.
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