Today 63 Miles - Avg Speed 12.4MPH – Top Speed 40.7MPH
Total: 2,244.35
I’VE MET PEOPLE! Other human cyclists who I have latched on to like a junkie barnacle on an opium glazed rock. I’ve played it well cool, though, so don’t worry.
I was skyping with some very good chums back home when they first burst through the door at Al’s Place, which wasn’t ideal as I couldn’t immediately greet them with my undivided attention, but I pretty much just turned the computer off to talk to Annie and Liz. I don’t need my old friends now, anyway, they can’t really do anything for me out here.
After some time, Kevin, Eric and Jeanne arrived, too. That made six of us. Eric, Kevin and I, but especially Eric and I, got to know one another the good old fashioned British way over a beer, which turned into several beers which turned into dribbling. And we (I) were suffering this morning. With a headache and a curious sense of regret we took our time, had a late breakfast and shot off at about 1pm.
Then, as we were about to depart we met another soloist named Josh from Washington DC who’ll be with us for a while. Things started frustratingly with 2 flat tyres in the space of an hour for me, but we got Betty up and running again, I could then focus on riding once more. The topography was great today, Missouri’s rolling hills in the Ozark Mountains are beautiful, there are some climbs to contend with, but it’s very much up and down at regular intervals so momentum can carry you most of the way. What could, arguably, slow me down is entering into the tradition of Sarpe (a Costa Rican term that almost means “one for the road”). Eric and Kevin like to, on average, stop with approximately 15 miles to go, have a couple of cans of beer and then have a third rolling into the final town of the day. It’s illegal, dangerous and truly refreshing. Also, we’re told the alcohol neutralises the lactic acid, so actually, its very useful. Plus, what’s better than a cold beer after 60 miles of cycling?
We’ve now arrived at a pavilion in a local park and the place has the atmosphere of a small festival. 9 cyclists, on hammocks, with a cool breeze and some exceedingly good pizza and I’m just setting up my bed on a bench. Bloody hippies.
In essence, I’m hanging on to these guys for dear life as I laughed like a drain today, admittedly it was at most of my own jokes, but they were good to be fair. Ask Eric, he was giggling a lot, the grizzly sycophant.
Total: 2,244.35
I’VE MET PEOPLE! Other human cyclists who I have latched on to like a junkie barnacle on an opium glazed rock. I’ve played it well cool, though, so don’t worry.
I was skyping with some very good chums back home when they first burst through the door at Al’s Place, which wasn’t ideal as I couldn’t immediately greet them with my undivided attention, but I pretty much just turned the computer off to talk to Annie and Liz. I don’t need my old friends now, anyway, they can’t really do anything for me out here.
After some time, Kevin, Eric and Jeanne arrived, too. That made six of us. Eric, Kevin and I, but especially Eric and I, got to know one another the good old fashioned British way over a beer, which turned into several beers which turned into dribbling. And we (I) were suffering this morning. With a headache and a curious sense of regret we took our time, had a late breakfast and shot off at about 1pm.
Then, as we were about to depart we met another soloist named Josh from Washington DC who’ll be with us for a while. Things started frustratingly with 2 flat tyres in the space of an hour for me, but we got Betty up and running again, I could then focus on riding once more. The topography was great today, Missouri’s rolling hills in the Ozark Mountains are beautiful, there are some climbs to contend with, but it’s very much up and down at regular intervals so momentum can carry you most of the way. What could, arguably, slow me down is entering into the tradition of Sarpe (a Costa Rican term that almost means “one for the road”). Eric and Kevin like to, on average, stop with approximately 15 miles to go, have a couple of cans of beer and then have a third rolling into the final town of the day. It’s illegal, dangerous and truly refreshing. Also, we’re told the alcohol neutralises the lactic acid, so actually, its very useful. Plus, what’s better than a cold beer after 60 miles of cycling?
We’ve now arrived at a pavilion in a local park and the place has the atmosphere of a small festival. 9 cyclists, on hammocks, with a cool breeze and some exceedingly good pizza and I’m just setting up my bed on a bench. Bloody hippies.
In essence, I’m hanging on to these guys for dear life as I laughed like a drain today, admittedly it was at most of my own jokes, but they were good to be fair. Ask Eric, he was giggling a lot, the grizzly sycophant.
Eric plants his flag then scarpers.
Sarpe begins
Author, Wit, Forest Ranger.
It's a long way back.
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