Today 79.9 Miles - AVG Speed – 12.2MPH - Top Speed – 42.4MPH
Total: 2,324.24
We awoke in a park and tonight I sleep in a park, it's all gone a bit Wombles.
We were going by 9, but first, I needed to locate a nut and bolt for my shoddy right pannier. I screwed it in with the help of the hardware store-owner and also added some new grips to Betty. And by grips, I mean piping insulation foam wrapped in Duck Tape. It’s a wonderful trick that has helped my cack wrist and also my street cred. Probably. What definitely improved my credibility within the group was the new US flag that bellowed with pride from Betty’s rear. What can I say, I just love Freedom.
There was some very tough climbing in the heat today, this was made more difficult by the fresh tarmac that became lodged in the grooves of our tyres and made each push uphill feel as difficult as trying to stuff a condom full of jelly through a keyhole. The antidote to this tiresome ride, however, came in the form of the spectacular scenery. This is often difficult to appreciate when the inside of your legs are aflame, but today we stopped from time to time and took in the views around us. The Ozark mountain range in Missouri rivals any of those I was privileged to spend time in earlier in the trip. They don’t have the same dramatic cliff faces or iconic angles as the Adirondacks and Green Mountains up north, but there is an understated majesty to this region that I find immensely beautiful.
We decided on a quick stop with 23 miles remaining in the quiet town of Summerville where I enthusiastically inhaled watermelon, an apple and a jug of Gatorade. This combination felt more like a hit of amphetamines and a packet skittles to my parched body and they set a firecracker off in my legs. I pedalled furiously and before I knew it I was on my own. A soloist once again. All was going swimmingly until, with the town of Houston in sight I began to wobble again. Another flat tyre. The frustration was festering under my skin and coming dangerously close to seeping through my pores. That’s 3 in 2 days, and it seems the tarmac was culpable. Well, Eric and Josh soon appeared around the bend and assisted me as they had done twice previously. What a burden I’m becoming.
For the duration of the evening we have settled in the aforementioned park pavilion with two Texan Brothers as additional players in this strange game. You wait for one mate then eight come along at once. Kind of like buses, but more personable and better for the environment.
Total: 2,324.24
We awoke in a park and tonight I sleep in a park, it's all gone a bit Wombles.
We were going by 9, but first, I needed to locate a nut and bolt for my shoddy right pannier. I screwed it in with the help of the hardware store-owner and also added some new grips to Betty. And by grips, I mean piping insulation foam wrapped in Duck Tape. It’s a wonderful trick that has helped my cack wrist and also my street cred. Probably. What definitely improved my credibility within the group was the new US flag that bellowed with pride from Betty’s rear. What can I say, I just love Freedom.
There was some very tough climbing in the heat today, this was made more difficult by the fresh tarmac that became lodged in the grooves of our tyres and made each push uphill feel as difficult as trying to stuff a condom full of jelly through a keyhole. The antidote to this tiresome ride, however, came in the form of the spectacular scenery. This is often difficult to appreciate when the inside of your legs are aflame, but today we stopped from time to time and took in the views around us. The Ozark mountain range in Missouri rivals any of those I was privileged to spend time in earlier in the trip. They don’t have the same dramatic cliff faces or iconic angles as the Adirondacks and Green Mountains up north, but there is an understated majesty to this region that I find immensely beautiful.
We decided on a quick stop with 23 miles remaining in the quiet town of Summerville where I enthusiastically inhaled watermelon, an apple and a jug of Gatorade. This combination felt more like a hit of amphetamines and a packet skittles to my parched body and they set a firecracker off in my legs. I pedalled furiously and before I knew it I was on my own. A soloist once again. All was going swimmingly until, with the town of Houston in sight I began to wobble again. Another flat tyre. The frustration was festering under my skin and coming dangerously close to seeping through my pores. That’s 3 in 2 days, and it seems the tarmac was culpable. Well, Eric and Josh soon appeared around the bend and assisted me as they had done twice previously. What a burden I’m becoming.
For the duration of the evening we have settled in the aforementioned park pavilion with two Texan Brothers as additional players in this strange game. You wait for one mate then eight come along at once. Kind of like buses, but more personable and better for the environment.
Dead, dead, yankee.
Unicorn Crossing
Clear rivers down this way.
Quick break in the Ozarks.
"Could we quickly fill up our water bottles"
"Sure, how many?"
"Er, about 14"
"Oh."
Fitting in.
Licking Success.
Blurry joy.
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