Day 16 / July 15, 2015

The alarm went off at 6:30 this morning, but that wasn't happening.  A half hour snooze turned into an hour and a half snooze and by 8, we were finally ready to get going.   

The camping and lodging options in Kentucky are fairly far apart, so our mileage each day depends completely on how close the shelters are.  We set out this morning planning on going to Lincoln Homestead State Park, but Kentucky's lack of road signs thwarted that.  We ended up doing an extra 10-15 miles because we missed some turns on unsigned roads, so we had to readjust our destination for the night and landed in a community park in Harrodsburg.  We have a pavilion for shelter in case of rain, a bathroom with showers, and outlets: life is good. 

The decision to chop off the biking portion of Colorado to California has lightened the mood.  Before yesterday, we had to maintain a 60-70 mile a day pace in order to get to San Francisco.  That pace was manageable from a biking standpoint, but it felt like we were only focused on the finish line.  What's the point of biking across America if we don't give ourselves an opportunity to really look around?  The change in plans has brought a change in attitude; Chris and I are both relaxed and enjoying the trip more already.  

I don't have an answer for why, but we haven't met as many people in Kentucky as we did in Virginia.  I enjoy listening to a story from a stranger over looking at farmland all day, so I'm hoping that will change.  I did meet a woman who asked where I was from, though.  When I said New York, she paused and went with, "That 9/11 was just awful."  I didn't know what else to say except that I agreed. 

I wouldn't say I'm experiencing culture shock, but I have realized I wouldn't cut it in the South.  Every town we go through has some sort of Civil War memorial and a few churches with apocalyptic billboards out front (today's best message: "Expose yourself to the son so that you don't burn").  We went to a Dairy Queen tonight that had the 10 Commandments posted next to the menu; I guess they were afraid that ice cream turned people into heathens.  Chris and I agreed that that would likely be a news story if it happened up North.  

Tomorrow's destination is Bardstown.  My first thought was that there must be a Shakespearean theatre in the town, but that's probably not a good bet.  

Day 17 / July 16, 2015

I was just talking with my friend who is going to meet me in Pueblo.  We were trying to figure out some details about the next leg of this trip, but he was also asking questions about the past few weeks.  It took a good amount of effort to recall some of the specifics of just the past few days.  I had a tough time comprehending that we've only been traveling for 17 days.  Yorktown feels like it was over a month ago, but then again, so does yesterday.  As Chris put it, "the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like days."  

We had a routine day of biking today.  The roads in Kentucky have been mostly smooth and fun to ride on.  Although farmland continued to be the only backdrop to our rides, the views were more picturesque today.  It could have just been the way the hills were situated, but I've never seen clouds look so close.  When I'd look at the top of a hill that we were about to climb, it looked as though we'd be passing through the clouds.  

When we were close to the city limits of Bardstown, I knew it was going to be a big town because of one thing: there were stoplights.  I'll see a cow everyday, but I go several days without seeing stoplights.  Bardstown is definitely the nicest area we've been through since Charlottesville, VA.  Instead of competing with the cars, we locked up our bikes and walked around looking for a place to eat.  We saw 5 solid options, but they were all closed for some reason.  The only restaurant that was open was a Mexican place.  I may be revealing some ignorance by admitting this, but the further I get from New York, the less I trust ethnic restaurants.  I tend to stick to chains and diners just to be safe.  Also something about Mexican food and biking just doesn't sound like a winning combination to me, but we had no choice.   The food was good and, as of right now, was the right call.

I think tonight is the first time since Night 3 that we're in our tents completely outside, though I'd need to look at the maps to confirm that.  We've gotten lucky with hostels and campsites with shelters, so we've consistently had a roof over our heads.  I have to say, it's nice having my tent set up in the grass.  In an effort to save weight/space, I didn't bring a sleeping pad.  Sleeping on top of grass is a welcomed change from sleeping on concrete.  Almost every night, I've thought about Izzy Mandelbaum having Jerry sleep on a wooden board to toughen him up on Seinfeld.  

I'm not exactly sure what the plan is for tomorrow, but I think the day is going to start with McDonalds breakfast.  I enjoy being able to eat pretty much anything, but I have to admit I'm really starting to miss vegetables and healthy options; I didn't think it would be so hard to get greens.  I ordered a salad the other day and it came with more bacon and cheese on it than lettuce.  Oh well.

Day 18 / July 17, 2015

With Bardstown being the nicest area we've seen since Charlottesville, we decided to take the day to explore.   We have a relatively light schedule that will bring us to Colorado, so we were comfortable taking the time to look around.   

We slept in late enough to catch extra hours, but not late enough to miss McDonald's breakfast.  I was looking for a table next to outlets so that we could connect with the outside world when I heard, "Ah, so you went to Fordham Prep?"  I was a little confused and looked up at an older man who had only a pen and pad to keep him company.  After pausing and realizing I was wearing shorts from my alma mater, I asked if he were familiar with the school; he replied that, "With 3 Jesuit degrees, (he) better be."  The man turned out to be a Catholic priest, so he spoke with Chris and me for a bit.  Bardstown is the first area with a strong Catholic presence that we've seen, so he gave us a brief history about the town explaining the reasons why it's a hotbed for Catholicism.  We've experienced a tremendous amount of support and help from many different religions over the past few weeks, but it's still nice to bump into someone from your own group once in a while.

After finishing up our breakfast and conversation with the priest, we were off for our real reason for taking the day off: a bourbon tour at Barton Distillery.  Although I'm not particularly fond of bourbon, it felt like a waste to be in Kentucky and not take at least one distillery tour and a few tastings.  The heat and humidity was definitely the most intense that we've experienced so far, so we were happy to be walking around a distillery instead of biking through open farmland.  Walking onto the grounds, we immediately noticed a relatively intense sweet and sour smell floating in the air.  The tour was very informative, but the most interesting detail we learned was that 96% of all bourbon in the U.S. is produced in Kentucky; I had originally thought that it had to be produced in Kentucky to be called a bourbon, but apparently not.  Heading out of the distillery and back to the center of town, we noticed that the distinct fragrance from the distillery extended all over town.

Though Bardstown is bigger than most places we've passed through, we still saw the whole town before lunch time.  After killing some more time, we came across a bar that's had patrons that include Daniel Boone, Abe Lincoln, Jesse James, and now Chris and Kevin.   There was live music, sports center, beer, and a decent burger: the perfect way to waste time before heading back to the campgrounds.

It's too hot tonight for a rain cover, so I'm currently looking through my transparent tent at the stars above.  It's supposed to be a clear night, but the sky keeps flashing these brilliant bright lights every 5-10 seconds.  The light seems close enough that we should hear lightning to accompany it, but it doesn't appear to be thunder.  I have no idea what the lights are, but I'm enjoying coming up with some ridiculous theories in my head.  The sound of the bugs chirping is louder than if I had over the ear headphones blasting nature sounds directly into my ears.  I miss the lights and noises of the city, but I can definitely put up with these surroundings for a summer.

Day 19 / July 18, 2015

In an effort to beat the heat, we rose before the sun did today.  After a few sausauge mcgriddles, we were able to roll.  The riding in Kentucky has improved the further west we go.  The views are cleaner, the cars are quieter, the people are friendlier, and the dogs are less concerned with chasing us.

We were able to get some good miles in before the weather advisory on my phone started sending alerts about the heat index.  By 12pm, the sun was starting to pick up.  We had been hungry for a while, but options were non existent.  Our maps indicated that the town of Buffalo had a grill restaurant, so we were confused when all we saw was a gas station upon riding into the one street town.  We opened the door of the gas station and saw that the grill was next to the tobacco products.  The cook asked us what we wanted in between hacks and coughs, but we declined and went with packaged snacks instead.

I was going up a long, steady hill around 1pm.  Looking towards the top, all I could see was a little white nautical looking house with what seemed like rocks and sand surrounding it.  My mind began playing tricks with me and I thought I was pedaling towards a beach.  I knew I was in the middle of Kentucky, but still couldn't shake the thought.  When we got to the top of the hill, a woman in a house across from the beach house mirage offered us to sit on her porch in the shade to cool down.  I guess we must have looked as crazy as my thoughts were getting.  Sitting down on Michelle's porch was the most relaxing half hour of the day.  We didn't discuss the trip, the maps, or anything.  We just sat there and did nothing.  Michelle told us that she had visited New York once on a field trip with her daughter's high school.  She said that she liked it enough, but would never need to go back.  Those are my exact sentiments about Kentucky, but I didn't share that aloud.

We continued on and took several breaks from the heat before getting to our destination for the night.  At one point, the windshield temperature was 104 degrees.  The day was mostly forgettable, but that's not necessarily a bad thing at all.  It's currently 9pm and the sun is still going strong.  We will be gaining an hour tomorrow as we cross time zones, so hopefully that'll give us easier sunsets to work with. 

Day 20 / July 19, 2015

I'm tired. 

I'm tired of swatting flies away as they try to crawl on me.

I'm tired of basting in my own sweat. 

I'm tired of competing with pickup trucks. 

I'm tired of people not understanding what I'm saying because I'm from the north. 

I'm tired of being surrounded by endless crops of fresh produce, but stores only having processed foods. 

I'm tired of being away from my mom, sister, and girlfriend. 

I'm tired of smelling the road kill before I see it. 

I'm tired of having a farmers tan. 

I'm tired of a town consisting of a gas station, church, and a closed auto body shop. 

I'm tired of my seat.

I'm tired of farmland.

I'm just always tired. 

I asked Chris today if the trip is what he was picturing.  He said, "some things yes and some things no."  That's probably what I'd say.  Maybe it's because I tend to romanticize things, but I was imagining this trip a bit differently.  I knew the towns would be small, but I had no idea they'd be this small.  

The windshield temperature of 104 probably aided in my voicing some of these complaints to my girlfriend, Mary, today.  She asked if I regretted the trip.  I didn't need to think of my response since all I can do pretty much every day is think.  No, the only time I regretted this trip was the first day leaving Yorktown.  Mary then asked if I was having fun; that was more of a loaded question.  It's been several hours since she asked me and I still don't have an answer.  

My motives behind this trip weren't to have a care free summer of fun.  I decided to join this ride because I knew it would be a challenge; I knew it would be difficult and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this.  I wasn't a cyclist before this summer and don't think I will ever consider myself one, but I knew that I could accomplish something like this.  I had gotten too comfortable at my job.  Every day felt the same and I feared that that would be the rest of my life.  I'm turning 24 a week from today and feel like the past 2 years after college went by without me even noticing.  Also, with photography and writing being two of my passions, this trip gives me more areas to explore than the metro north train I would shuffle onto every day for work. 

When I was still in New York, one of the reasons that I often gave in response to the usual question of "why?" was that I wanted to see the towns I've never heard of and will never need to see again.  Well, in 20 days, I've done exactly that.  I've recently become very interested in seeing things from other people's perspectives.  That may sound like an odd thing to say, but I've always been extremely opinionated.  I still am, but I'm much more open to seeing the different sides to an argument now.  Sure, this trip is just giving substance to my preference of living in New York, but now I don't have to wonder about what small town America is like.  

In the past 20 days, we've been allowed to camp behind a grocery store, behind a bike shop, in and behind churches, hostels, picnic areas, parks, and have been offered plenty of lawns.  We've climbed mountains and battled storms.  We've had several stores willing to make us food despite being closed and had one woman lend us her car without knowing our names.  Maybe this trip wasn't exactly what I was picturing, but that's ok.  This way is more interesting.

Day 21 / July 20, 2015

A few posts ago, I wrote that the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like days.  I'm not so sure I agree with that anymore.  It's more accurate to say that the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like months.  It isn't that this trip is dragging or anything; it's just so hard to keep track of the time and what's happened when you wake up in a different town each morning.

Last night, Chris and I tried to do a recap of where we've stayed each night.  By the time we got up to day 14, we already had 2 nights that we couldn't figure out.  We've passed through so many towns and have eaten at so many gas stations that you just start to lose track.  A few hours will pass and I still have to pause and think about where I woke up or what the last thing I ate was.

We definitely started our day with breakfast at Little Dave's in McDaniels.  A few patrons asked where we were riding to and wished us luck.  One man finished his meal, folded his newspaper under his arm, and walked over to our table; he leaned on the edge and asked if he could look at the check on our table.  When he picked it up, he smiled and welcomed us to the community and walked away.  He didn't realize that Chris and I had separate checks and mine wasn't picked up, but that's ok.  It was an incredibly nice gesture.  Acts like that always surprise me.  We're just biking a lot of miles.  We voluntarily decided to do this, but everyone we meet wants to help us as much in any way possible.  

With the threat of rain looming over us the entire ride, we didn't make many stops on our way to Utica.  The one exception was when we crossed paths with a biker on the east bound route.  At this point, I don't think I need to clarify what direction the bikers we meet are going.  With the exception of one family that we met on the first day, every person we've seen has been going east bound; although west-east is the traditional route, I still expected to come across at least one other person going our way.  He needed a spare tube and we needed some air in our tires, so we exchanged some gear with our pleasantries.  Contrary to every eastern bound cyclist we met in Virginia, he thought the hills of Virginia would be one of the easier parts of the trip.  He decided to hitchhike over the ozarks (our next tough mountain range), so I hope he doesn't underestimate the rest of his trip.

We are spending the night in a volunteer fire department.  They have couches, air conditioning, laundry machines, a shower, and a tv with a vcr; this is the life.  The options for vhs tapes were limited, but we went with Woody Allen's "Deconstructing Harry."  Neither of us had watched any of his films, so we figured we'd see what everyone was talking about.  It wasn't at all what I was expecting, but I enjoyed it.  It was crude, odd, and honestly pretty funny.  

Due to the recent storms and flooding, the firefighters are currently having a "Swift Water Rescue" lesson.  Hopefully I'll never need to know any of this information, but it's definitely interesting.  The biggest takeaway I have is to just avoid floods; don't even go near them.

The lesson is about to wrap up.  I just found MIB on vhs and am about to make chef boyardi ravioli for second dinner.  Not too bad of a way to end the day.

Day 22 / July 21, 2015

With a smooth 70 mile ride today, we made it to a church hostel in the town of Marion for our last night in Kentucky.  The day had ups and downs, hills and flats, sun and shade, and farms and more farms.  At one point, all I could see was the narrow road I was on surrounded by walls of corn in every direction.  Although the corn fields provide less scenic views, they tend to have less of a stench than other farm fields, so I don't mind them much.  

The only stop we made was at "Classic Cafe" for lunch in Dixon, which turned out to be one of our better meals in a while.  When we walked up to the counter to pay, the waitress informed us that our tab had already been taken care of.  She pointed at a vacant booth and explained that the woman that had been sitting there paid for us.  I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that I hadn't even noticed anyone else in the cafe, but this woman had recognized us as bikers and was so kind to treat us to lunch.  It's tough to explain how it feels when strangers do these kinds of things for us; humbling is the only word that comes to mind, but it's more than that.  I wish we could have thanked her in person, but thank you so much for the meal, mystery woman.

Immediately after entering Marion, there was a sign welcoming cyclists to the town.  We found the church hostel shortly after, but were met with locked doors.  Posted to the doors was a note for cyclists welcoming us and providing phone numbers in case we couldn't get in.  Less than three minutes after the call was made, an older man named Tom shuffled up to us with the ring of keys jingling in his hand.  Tom instructed us to follow him to the other side of the building because it would be easier with our gear.  When we arrived at the other entrance, I saw what Tom had meant.  The door was at the top a flight of stairs, but he proudly showed us the ramp that they had built for bikers.  After we wheeled our belongings up and in, Tom gave us a tour.  What we thought was just a church was actually a three floor building with classrooms and lounges.  We were told we could go anywhere and use anything with compete freedom.  Upon entering the room where cyclists stay, it was obvious how much they love hosting. There was an entire table with hand written diagrams to the closest restaurants, a picture of the ferry that we will have to ride to Illinois tomorrow, journals for all the bikers to sign, and notes and signatures from people on the inaugural trip in 1976.  It's apparent how much pride many of these communities take in being a part of a such a unique tradition like this.  I'm always so overwhelmed by the kindness of those that take us in, but I'm also so thankful for all the cyclists that have come before us and have created these relationships with these incredible people and communities.  I couldn't imagine doing this trip without the existence of these relationships with the towns that we've ridden through.

After rinsing off in the shower in the boiler room (it was clearly constructed soley for the cyclists that stay here), we went to dinner up the block.  When we walked in, a woman sat up in her chair and remarked, "Oh, cyclists!"  I was in basketball shorts, a vineyard vines tee shirt, and Adidas sandals, so I asked her how she knew we were biking.  She quickly responded that they can always tell.  We spoke a lot about a little until our perky waitress showed us to our table.  The waitress looked around and leaned forward, resting her hands on the table.  She whispered that the pizza was really good and that we should try it.  I'm not sure why they'd want to keep that a secret, but I appreciated that she let us in on it.  Although she had me curious, I wasn't feeling too adventurous; I really don't think I'm pretentious being from New York, but I may be a little when it comes to pizza.  She asked us about our trip and became very excited when she learned that we started in Virginia.  Apparently she had lived there for a bit and missed the views.  She looked out the cafe's French doors with disdain and called Kentucky "nature's ashtray."  I was a little taken aback by her dark but poetic line.  There's not much you can say in response to that.  Nature's ashtray- what a good line; I won't be using it, but I sure got a kick out of it.  Well, tomorrow morning we are catching the ferry to Illinois and crossing Kentucky off the list.  I am looking forward to using another mode of transportation other than a bicycle for a change.