Day 28 / July 28, 2015
Today wasn't a particularly tough riding day, but it felt extraordinarily long. We set out with bellies full of chocolate chip muffins from a Farmington cafe later than we should have, but at least we didn't have too much competition with Monday morning commuters. The heat was hitting down on us as soon as we opened the door and left the air conditioning. We weren't sure where we'd end up at night, but we knew our first destination was Johnson's Shut-ins State Park.
We had heard that the park had some sort of swimming section, so that was the only goal in mind when we set out this morning. Although I was there and sitting in it, I'll let Wikipedia explain what a shut-in (or at least this kind of shut-in) is: "The term 'shut-in' refers to a place where the river's breadth is limited by hard rock that is resistant to erosion. In these shut-ins, the river cascades in many rivulets over and around igneous rocks worn smooth over many eons. It is used by park visitors as a natural water park when the water is not so high as to be dangerous." It essentially looked like a fairly wide and relatively shallow natural bath tub with rocks everywhere. The water looked almost still, but there was one section where there was a current cutting through a row of rocks into a lower part of the river, so we decided to make our way towards that area. The rocks were extremely slippery, so we couldn't just walk. The water was too shallow to swim, so we were forced to walk awkwardly on all fours. We did bear crawls for anyone that recognizes that term from sports practices. I'm glad that no one was around, because we looked pretty absurd. I'm happy to report that sitting down in the water on a surprisingly comfortable formation of rocks as the current ripped past was worth the struggle of slipping and sliding there. After about a half hour, a family showed up. I think that they must have expected a bigger swimming section (just like us) because they triumphantly walked in with swim toys, floaties, and other swimming gear that required more than 6 inches of water. I climbed back towards the land before I could see their disappointed faces.
After leaving the park, we continued on to Centerville. Chris had been dealing all day with a tire that preferred to be flat, so we were hoping that Centerville would have a gas station with an air pump that would be more helpful than the hand pump he had been using. About 12 miles after leaving the park, we found ourselves in Centerville. There was an auto body shop at the city limits, so Chris was able to fill his tire and we hoped that the issue was resolved. We moved on the length of a few city blocks and were in the heart of downtown Centerville. I feel like if you're going to call yourself Centerville, you should offer more than a diner, a courthouse, and an auto body shop. I was expecting some kind of bustling town, but I was fooled. We looked it up on the map to see if they were the center of something geographically, but nope. Centerville duped us. The "campgrounds" turned out to be a lawn in front of a courthouse. There were no bathrooms, showers, or cell service, so we didn't feel too inclined to stay. We decided to bike to the next town of Ellington, which was about 15 miles away.
About 5 miles in, Chris' tire gave up again. We moved off the road and he began to fix the flat for the third time today. Shortly after, a family pulled over and asked if everything was ok. The parents were cyclists and knew how frustrating a flat could be. They offered to give us a lift, so we loaded up the car with Chris' bike and all of our bags. There was only room for one bike, but I was excited to be able to ride without all of my gear weighing me down. I was going to do that full 15 to Ellington if Chris hadn't gotten a flat, so there was no need for me to hitch a ride anyway. The family pulled away with Chris in the car and left me with the open road.
That last 10 mile stretch was incredible. The heat had started to break, my playlist didn't play any songs that I keep forgetting to delete because I'm so sick of them, and I felt (and actually was) about 45 lbs lighter without my bags. I pulled into the hostel in Ellington far before I expected. I'm hoping that the momentum carries forward into tomorrow. We are at the starting line of the dreaded Ozark Mountains. We've been hearing warnings about these since like day 5, but honestly who cares? There hasn't been an easy riding day yet. It may not be fun, but we'll get through them just like the 27 previous days.
Day 27 / July 26, 2015
I don't usually pay much attention to my birthdays, but this one is different. I'm not surprised; it's been one hell of a year since my last one. For my 23rd birthday, my mom helped me pay for a camera that I bought from the photographer at my old company (thanks AT). In the past year, I've learned that photography and writing are two of my passions, while spending 4 hours a day commuting to my job was not. I wasn't happy with what I was doing, so instead of just going through the motions and complaining, I made a change. Here I am in Farmington, MO over one thousand miles from home, my family, and my girlfriend. I have no idea what will happen between today and my 25th birthday, but I find that oddly comforting. The predictable routine was what I was trying to escape, so I'm going to embrace the unknown.
I wanted a lazy day today, so I had one. The hostel we are staying at has a handful of dvds, so we watched cast away, the campaign, goonies, and are currently in the middle of the departed. I read off a few movie options to Chris and he chose the departed because, "(he) misses boston." I assume be meant the accents and scenery as opposed to the extreme violence. It's a solid choice (side note- the opening scene of Jack Nicholson's monologue is the greatest opening scene in any movie). The highlight of the day was when Brian and Jeneen (the couple we met outside the brewery yesterday) swung by. They brought us local cheese, sausage, and great conversations. I may be speaking too soon as we haven't crossed the Ozarks yet, but the Midwest has been the best part of the trip. The people are so down to earth and genuinely nice, the towns have been clean, there's less roadkill- everything about the Midwest has been great.
Brian and Jeneen had mentioned a frozen custard place less than a mile away, so I think I'm going to break my no movement pact and bike over. Thanks to everyone that has been with me on my ride for the past 24 years; I appreciate all the help I've gotten along the way.
EDIT: I was biking back holding the paper bag of frozen custard concretes for me and Chris. About a quarter mile away from the hostel, the bag broke and the plastic cups began to drip. I decided that the best course of action would be to walk my bike and hold the spilling cups against me. It's a good thing I actually wanted a medium when I ordered a large, because that's about how much was left. Though I absorbed the majority of the spillage with my shirt, shorts, and sandals, it was worth it.
Day 26 / July 26, 2015
Today, I experienced my first real sense of pride for something that we've accomplished in the past 26 days: we crossed the Mississippi River. I hadn't expected it to be a big milestone for me, but I haven't expected a lot of memorable things that have occurred on this trip (biking 35 miles in the wrong direction and paying a stranger to drive me to the correct town comes to mind). Like most boys, one of my favorite lessons in social studies was exploration- particularly the western front of America. With the Mississppi being an integral part of western expansion, my mind always automatically thinks back to my social studies lessons when I hear the river referenced. The river always seemed so distant when reading about it in old textbooks. Pedaling myself from the Atlantic to the river that had always been my favorite symbol of exploration and perseverance made me feel like I had accomplished a goal that 10 year old me would be very pumped about.
After crossing the Mississippi into Missouri, we had a nice mix of hills and flats to keep us from getting bored. The only complaint during the riding would be about the heat, but that's what we get for riding bikes through the Midwest at the end of July. We had two stops on our way to Farmington: a tiger sanctuary and a brewery.
While sitting in the shade in the parking lot of the tiger sanctuary, Chris looked at me and said, "You know, if you asked me at the bottom of that hill what would be up around the bend, a tiger sanctuary is not what I would say." We only pulled in to fill up our waters and cool off in the shade, but we were able to walk by the sanctuary and see a few of the tigers. I was a bit surprised by how muscular and large the animals were. I'm usually (over)confident when it comes to me thinking about what I would do in a situation. When I would hear about people getting mauled by tigers, I used to think I'd be able to outwit the cat or something if I had to. After seeing one about 10 feet away, yeah- I can be an idiot.
Our second stop was at the Crown Valley Brewery for lunch. I can admittedly be a bit of a beer snob, so I try to stop at every microbrewery that I come across. Craft beer can be funny- it takes drinking and makes it sound like a hobby. I had a local bison Reuben and easily the best shandy I've ever had. As we were getting ready to leave, a man named Brian and his wife Janine came over to talk with us. Brian had done the Trans America trail back in '09 (I always think all years post 2001 were recent, but then realize I had just graduated high school and the Yankees were about to win their most recent World Series in '09). They explained that the Trans America route changes slightly over the years, so an old route used to pass by within a block of their house. Brian bumped into a girl doing the trail and was hooked on the idea. He eventually quit his job (sound familiar?) and flew out to Oregon to do the trip West-East. One thing I regretted not asking was if Brian stayed at home when he passed nearby on the trail. I couldn't imagine stopping by for a pit stop at home for one night and having to go back out for another 3-4 weeks; that would be so brutal. Although our conversation was brief, it was definitely one of the best encounters we've had. Seeing the excitement and passion in someone that accomplished the whole trail is encouraging.
When we got to Farmington, we unloaded our gear and walked inside. Brian had mentioned that this was the nicest hostel on the trail; I thought maybe he was biased, but he was correct. The hostel is called Al's Place and it's a renovated jail that is cleaner and newer looking than any place we've stayed over the last 26 days. There are leather couches, bunks with fresh sheets, and central air. It looks more like a hotel suite than a cyclist hostel.
After showering, we biked over to a place that we had our minds set on since Yum mentioned it on day 10: White Castle. Back in New York, White Castles aren't always found in the nicest areas. We had one across the street from our high school on Fordham Road and the counter had bullet proof glass. When we got there, we agreed to split a crave case. We were feeling cocky, so we also got chicken rings. I got to 10.5 before I felt like I was going to throw up. I always say that my pride will be my downfall, but I was ok with admitting defeat here. I was fine with not finishing the case, but Chris refused to back down. He finished my last 4 on top of his 15, which brought his total to 19. I don't think either of us will be craving White Castle for a while.
Tomorrow is my 24th birthday and the only thing I want to do is nothing, so we are going to take a rest day. I'll be updating the photography on the site, so keep an eye out.
Day 25 / July 24, 2015
I had initially thought that this morning would be our last one in Illinois, but I was wrong. It turns out that Chester is on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River. The day was sort of a blur and the one Porter I had with dinner hit me like an ambien, so I'm going to bullet out my thoughts and observations from the day:
- I wasn't planning on weighing myself until the final day, but the host last night had a scale and I was too curious to not check. I've lost 10 pounds so far. Shedding 10 pounds in 3.5 weeks isn't bad, but it's a little underwhelming when you consider that I bike 5-7 hours every day. I was expecting something more drastic, but hey at least I don't look emaciated.
- The trail had two route options today, so we chose the flatter one called the Mississippi Levee alternate route. Though I can't speak to how the other route was, I'd suggest everyone on the trail also take the alternate. For about 20 miles, we were riding on flat single lane roads that were surrounded by water on both sides. Sometimes biking through hours of corn fields makes me feel too land-locked and uncomfortable. Cruising comfortably with the flattest terrain, looking over each shoulder to see the water, and having Jack Johnson provide the soundtrack made it my most peaceful ride of the trip. I was so content. Of course that route led us directly to a 10 mile strip that had more MACK trucks than a street that allows cyclists should, but that's ok. The previous views made it worth it. I took some photos with my camera, but won't be able to upload them until we finally pass a place with wifi.
- That 10 mile battle with the trucks brought us directly into our home for the night: Chester, IL. After entering the city limits, we began to see images of Popeye the Sailor man all over. He was on the welcome sign and incorporated into every business' decorations. We had lunch at a fine local eatery called Subway and checked out a bakery across the street. While talking with the owner of the bakery, she explained why Popeye was such a big deal in Chester.
The artist who created Popeye, E. C. Segar, grew up in Chester; several of the characters were even based on people that Segar had known in the town. The baker continued her story and taught us that Popeye wasn't initially in the first comic; he actually didn't appear until almost 10 years later. The initial protagonist in Segar's stories was Olive Oyl, though her parents, brother, and boyfriend, Hamgravy, were recurring characters. With the immediate success of Popeye, Segar decided to cut some characters from the plot. There are statues of the characters all over town, but a mural was what caught my eye the most. It depicts Popeye and the characters that made the cut on a boat leaving Chester as those that Segar removed from the plot stayed on land and waved goodbye. The mural cleverly represents when E. C. Segar hit success and left Chester for either Hollywood or Chicago (we heard conflicting stories), bringing Popeye and a few friends with him. I never expected to learn so much about a cartoon from the '30s this summer, but towns like Chester are exactly what I was looking for when I set trail out of Virginia a few weeks back.
- We're staying at a hostel run by the Eagles. They're some type of group like the Knights of Columbus; their lodge (how did they not name it The Eagle's Nest? Come on, guys) is a full restaurant and bar. We got showers, bunks, and an AC, but I was even more jazzed that we were able to have a good meal, drink some cold beer, and sink some quarters into some old arcade games. Illinois has been very good to us- as we approach the hills and mountains of Missouri, we will be leaving on low gears and high notes.
- Tomorrow's ride will be a short 45 or so to Farmington, MO. We could go on to a further town, but there's a White Castle there and we won't want to move after splitting a crave case. With my birthday being Sunday and the Ozark Mountains starting with the beginning of the week, I'm going to campaign for a rest day there on Sunday. I don't really care what I do on my birthday, but I'd rather spend it on a couch than my bike.
Well, moving onto the 4th of 6 states tomorrow. That sounds pretty good, doesn't it?
Day 24 / July 23, 2015
Today marked our first morning and last night in Illinois. Our stay here has been short and pleasant. On Day 2, we met a cyclist who said Missouri and Illinois were her two favorite states. My theory is that the short stay means there's not enough time to find negatives.
Our morning ride was nothing particularly noteworthy. We met two guys who were heading east. We asked how long they had been on the road, but the three weeks they spent in Boulder seemed to cloud their memory. We traded some recommendations for hostels and camping and went in opposite directions. It's a pretty cool experience to talk to people doing the trail; you rarely exchange names or really any personal information, yet you have a sense of understanding of each other that could only come from an experience like this. You'll never see them again, but that's ok.
About 25 miles from our destination of Carbondale, we stopped for a meal at Delancey's. I don't know what town we were in, but if any cyclists on the trail pass by a restaurant called Delancey's on Broadway in Illinois, go inside. The food was great, but the advice we got was better. The waiter told us a shortcut that would save us some hills and miles. He prefaced it by saying "Cyclists never take my advice and always say 'I have these maps,'" but Chris and I weren't so quick to dismiss the local advice. He could have ended up being someone who actually hated cyclists and was trying to send us on a terrible detour, but we trusted him and took his advice. We ended up shaving about 10 or so miles off and had a great ride into Carbondale, so I'm glad we listened.
By getting to Carbondale so early, we were able to drop off our bikes for tune ups and grab our mail and Sonic while we waited. On the subject of Sonic- I will give them credit for great marketing, but man is it overrated. They're smart with their advertisements; there are always Sonic commercials in the Northeast, but there are very few locations up there. You always want what you can't have, so this makes people think that they have to have it when they see an actual Sonic location. Once you have it, though, it's iust meh. I'll probably continue to fall for it each time I see a location, though.
We are staying at our first Warm Showers host tonight. Warm Showers is an app that connects cyclists with people that are willing to host them for the night (or at least just a shower). Our host signed up because she has been interested in doing the Trans America Trail, so she wanted to talk to people doing it in order to see what it's like. We were able to shower, do our laundry, hangout in an air conditioned room, and had a few beers with our host- all for free. I've thought about this for a few weeks, but homeless people should honestly just ride around on bikes. I'm not saying that insensitively- I actually mean it. We get meals paid for, showers, places to sleep- and why? As I've said in the past, we voluntarily decided to bike across the country. No one is forcing us to do it, but everyone we meet wants to help us succeed. The cyclist community is so helpful and altruistic that's it's a bit crazy when you really think about it.
The beer of choice tonight was Magic Hat #9. The underside of my cap read: "write your own future." All of the caps have positive calls to action (not like they're going to write "give up already"), but I still kept the cap. Writing my future is exactly why I decided to quit my job and bike across the country. I knew I wanted to have a more interesting chapter in my life than commuting to and from my desk everyday, so here I am. I don't know what is to come, but I'm the author deciding it.
Day 23 / July 22, 2015
As I sit here in my tent with soft and sporadic drops of rain falling, my thoughts are much more clear than the past few nights. We had been lucky with biker hostels recently, so this is our first time camping in about 150 miles. Not surpisingly, it's much easier for me to concentrate on my thoughts when we don't have "Deconstructing Harry" or "Bruce Almighty" as the background noise. I've grown accustomed to not having many distractions the past few weeks. Before this trip, the only time I wouldn't be playing on my phone or busy with something would be in the shower. Showering was the only time that I really allowed myself to think. I don't have much of an opportunity to do anything other than think these days, and I kind of like it. I haven't come up with any million dollar business ideas yet, but those will come. I'm pretty tired from our first day in Illinois, so I'm going to bullet out some thoughts from the day:
- We rode the ferry from Kentucky to Illinois this morning. Crossing the Ohio River lasted no more than 5 minutes. When we rolled down the ramp and into our third state, we found ourselves in a very pro-biker town. There were painted bikes used as decorations in front of stores and a few "Welcome Cyclists!" signs. We had a great first impression of Illinois.
- I (mostly) continued to like Illinois as the day went on. The roads are a little less narrow and there are considerably less Mountain Dew and Natty Ice cans thrown along the side of the road. The hills aren't as high as VA and KY, but they're definitely the steepest we've seen.
- I asked Chris if he feels like us being from New York causes us to look down on some food places like snobs sometimes. He said no and that we just had standards that we've come to expect. This conversation took place in a restaurant today that had seemingly run out of space for dishes in the kitchen. The counter had towering stacks of dirty plates lined four feet long. When we walked in, there were three empty tables that still had their plates and garbage there. When we left, there were five. Some of my favorite places to eat back home are on the dive side, but I would never expect to see something like that. Maybe health inspections are more casual here.
- I saw a few confederate flags today. I feel like that's a strange thing to see in Illinois.
- It's interesting to see what sports are big in each state. Everyone in Kentucky wore some kind of UK apparel, had UK mailboxes, and made an effort to fully rep the school that I doubt most of them went to. It didn't surprise me when the only ball I saw in the whole state was a basketball. Kentucky is obsessed with college basketball, so it made sense that it was the only sport people spoke about. We've only been in Illinois for a few hours, but I've seen a bunch of Cubs hats. At the dirty diner I mentioned earlier, the waitress and a patron were talking about a few summer league baseball tournaments. Illinois has more sport options thanks to Chicago, but it's been all baseball so far.
- After setting up my tent, I sat down at a picnic table to relax. A creamsicle colored cat walked over and tried to rub against me, but I shooed it away. I wasn't much in the mood to play with a stray cat. It walked to Chris' tent, paused, and decided to keep moving. When the cat was next to my tent, it turned back to look at me and, without breaking eye contact, began to piss on my rain flap. This cat reminded me of my first business idea: the kitten exchange. Disclaimer: if you're a cat lover, don't read. If you do read and get offended, I would sooner question you for liking cats than I would apologize. Anyway, the kitten exchange club was simple in theory; everyone loves kittens, not everyone loves cats. A kitten wouldn't maliciously piss on your tent, but a cat would. The idea was a subscription based club where you get a kitten and then, when it becomes a cat, you trade it in for a new kitten. Yes, I know what you're thinking: what do you do with the cats? If I had that solution, this club would exist already.
- Tomorrow's destination is Carbondale. I have a few packages coming in from my family and I don't know any of the contents, so I'm an
Day 22 / July 22, 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.
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 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 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 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 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 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 15 / July 14, 2015
Although we biked 0 miles, the whole course of the trip changed today.
We took the term "rest day" seriously. I moved a little and ate a lot. Nothing noteworthy occurred until the late afternoon. Chris was laying on his bed poring over several maps that were spread out in front of him. He looked up at me and broke the silence: he wouldn't be able to complete the trip beyond Colorado. We would need to finish the mileage in an unrealistic time frame in order for him to be back on the East Coast for his deadline. We made a promise that we would do the Western Express route from Colorado to San Francisco together and I don't have much of an interest in experiencing the desert in August alone.
I'm naturally more prone to go with my gut and figure things out as I go instead of planning every detail ahead of time. It may not be the best approach for everyone, but it's always seemed to work out for me. Over the past two weeks, I've had to adapt and react to things even more than ever. I was not expecting the bike trip to end only 2100 miles in at Pueblo, Colorado, but I'll regroup and readjust. Pueblo will just be a pit stop on this journey as opposed to the finish line; a friend of mine is planning to fly out and meet me in Colorado. We are considering renting an RV to camp out of and do a different type of tour across the U.S. I'm not going to be ready for the journey to end in only 3-4 weeks, so please post comments with any suggestions you have for places we should drive to or things we should do. I'll have to rework the course and would love as many ideas as possible.
Day 14 / July 14, 2015
Chris and I both woke up groggy today and agreed that we deserved a solid breakfast, so we gathered up our lives and biked a few blocks over to a surprisingly clean looking diner to start our day. I walked in expecting to smell the morning scent of bacon, but instead was hit with a cloud stemming from some Marlboro Reds. We looked ahead and saw about 12-15 older men sitting as though they were at a conference meeting. Some were having their morning smokes and others were having coffee, but they were all focused on us. I'm fairly positive they could just sniff out non-locals, though I'm sure the helmets and funny shorts didn't help.
The waiter was quite friendly; after bringing our coffees, he told us what a good day of weather we had ahead of us. While bringing our food, he asked if we were heading east or west. When we told him our route, he cheerfully congratulated us on getting past the big hills and climbs. We wanted to keep ordering things just so that he'd continue with the positive vibes, but we paid our check and headed out. We were looking forward to a great day.
Back in grammar school, I was a member of the Forensics team. No, we weren't miniature lab technicians working on CSI cases; we competed in public speaking competitions (that's probably the opening line I used when I met my girlfriend). I don't remember the majority of my speeches, but I do remember always cleaning up with trophies with "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." If you haven't read the book, the title should give you all the information you'd need.
Despite the waiter's efforts, I was having trouble right away. The air was thick and my legs were slow. The first few lines of my Forensics speech started rattling around in my mind as I tried to keep my spirits up. I was a little behind Chris, so he texted me the 35 mile route that we were taking to Berea, KY. After a bit, I found my groove. I was able to pick up the pace and was having one of my fastest days yet.
I had just done somewhere around the 35 miles and hadn't seen any signs for Berea, so I pulled in to a Burger King for a quick snack and to take a look at where I was. I opened up the GPS app that Chris and I use and saw that he was much more than 35 miles away. I asked a family which way Berea was and, confirming my fear, they pointed in the direction that I had just come from. Yes, I may have crushed the 35 miles, but the only problem was that they were in the wrong direction.
There were alerts for a big storm coming in, but the clouds were more than enough of a warning. I knew that I would need 4 wheels to get to Berea tonight and dry, so I began looking up cab companies. It was obviously a long shot, but I can now say for sure that cab companies aren't too common in rural Kentucky. I went across the street to take cash out to barter with and began trying to scope out a potential driver. When that failed, I went back into the Burger King to make an offer to the family that I had spoken to. The mother was relieved that I had come back to ask them because she was afraid she'd end up seeing my face on a milk carton. She warned me that her engine had been giving her problems and was worried it wouldn't make it to Berea, but went outside to make room in the truck. About 20 minutes later, she came back and said that her engine wouldn't be able to make the trip, but that she had made arrangements for me. The woman that worked in the convenience store next door told her husband to bring me and my bike back up north for the amount that I had offered the mother. I knew that I was in good hands, but I still sent the license plate number to my mom when the husband, Jason, showed up.
Jason and I shared some small talk on the ride, but the rain and thunder provided the majority of the trip's soundtrack. He couldn't understand how I live in a place with over 8 million people and I couldn't understand how he lives in a place with under 1 thousand people, but seeing how others live was a driving factor behind my decision to do this trip. After a little over an hour, we pulled in to the inn that Chris had picked out. It didn't matter to me how I got there; I made it to the destination.
I always mention that there are highs and lows on this trip, but I think today does a good job of illustrating that. In the end, as long as I make it safely to the destination each night, it doesn't matter what comes my way during the day. We're taking a much needed rest day tomorrow, so we're going to head over to the gas station now for a midnight snack.
Day 13 / July 12, 2015
While checking out of the motel this morning, the employee asked if I was heading north. When I replied "west," he nodded towards the weather forecast on the tv and wished me good luck. We already knew that some wet weather was rolling in, so we were leaving early to try to get to our next location before it got too bad.
We were about six miles in and had just gotten to the top of our first climb when some ominous clouds began to engulf the area. The closest shelter was the gas station at the bottom of the hill that we had just come from, but we decided it was the smartest move. We bought a few things and asked one of the attendants if we could hangout inside until the storm passed. "Inside, outside, wherever" was his mumbled response. After about two hours of gin rummy, we were able to get out and moving again.
The scenery wasn't too different than yesterday's; the extreme poverty is not something I was expecting nor is it something I will get used to. I have noticed that the most sad looking homes are also the ones with the American flag waving the highest.
I was riding down a street today where a man and woman were picking through what looked like a burned down (or possibly collapsed) house. While I was looking at that on my left, a small boy of maybe 7 tried catching up to me on his bike on my right hollering, "Hey mister! Where ya from?" I slowed down to talk to him, but his mother called him back to his yard after a few seconds. As I continued on, I heard him shout: "Bye, bike brother! Bike brothers for life!" You better believe I'm telling people I'm in a Kentucy biker gang for now on.
I've noticed that there have been less pickup trucks than we've seen since we left Yorktown; they are still the most common type of vehicle we share the road with, but there are just less. We have seen a different type of vehicle emerging on the streets of Kentucky, though: ATVs. We were pretty surprised to see people just rolling through town in ATVs; I saw one get into a fender bender yesterday and I couldn't help but laugh. It was just an absurd scene to witness.
We're currently posted up in a pavilion behind a Protestant church in Booneville, Kentucky (not sure it can get more Kentucky than that). The fog has set in all around and there are scattered fireworks going off around the fields. The combination of those things mixed with being in the south kind of makes it feel like I'm in a civil war reenactment, except the whole part where I'm sitting on a picnic table writing this on my phone.
We met 3 men today that are doing the reverse of our trip. One guy said, "You're gonna love it. You're gonna hate it, too, but you're gonna love it." They all were grinning very widely; you could tell that they knew they were in the home stretch. I am very excited to feel that myself. Sidenote: Just about every person we've met on this trail is retired. I mean I'm unemployed, so I guess that's kind of the same thing, right?
Day 12 / July 11, 2015
Due to superstitions, I was reluctant to think it until I put my key into the motel door, but I can now say that today was easily our best day biking wise. We did about 70-75 miles with 5 big climbs and held a great pace all day. Part of the reason for the speed may have been the change in surroundings. We are under 100 miles from the Virginia border, but it feels like far more.
The road that we started out on this morning resembled the narrowness and windiness of a Candy Land board. Instead of Peppermint Forest, there was Skoal and Coke Curbside Garden. Although it was technically a 2 way street, only one pickup truck could fit at a time. We navigated our way through the obstacles and won our first dog chases of the morning; we were feeling it today.
I wish I had some great anecdotes about things we saw and people we met, but the sights were bleak and the people were rare. I had trouble discerning which houses were abandoned and which were inhabited. The houses became more unconventional and makeshift the longer the day went. There were signs for cage fights and backyard wrestling; I'm not sure what I was expecting in Kentucky, but I don't think this was it. I have been enjoying the increase in signs, though. The politically charged ones are good, but the religious ones are great. I've noticed the further I get from the coast, the more fire and brimstone style messages pop up. My personal favorite today was: "Pray now or pay later." Simple and to the point.
Well, here's to hoping tomorrow brings both great biking and better views.
Day 11 / July 10, 2015
Staying up late last night talking with Yum warranted a later sleep in today, so we said our goodbyes and hit the road around 9. Today was our last day in Virginia, so it was fitting that we had to go over another mountain to get out. So long Virginia; I probably won't see you again until the next time I'm a passenger in a car that gets a speeding ticket while passing through your state.
The day was routine- high highs and low lows. Nothing particularly interesting happened until 50 miles in when we crossed the Virginia/Kentucky border. We took the touristy shots in front of the "Welcome to Kentucky" sign and continued pedaling. The roads got thinner, people had their names written on vanity plates instead of a front license plate (share the road, Frank in the pickup), accents got harder to understand (I had just started getting used to the Virginian dialect of English, too), there were people just sitting around on curbs and even a billboard like they were either welcoming us or asking us to leave, and then there were the dogs.
When talking to people on this trail, the only piece of advice that they have regarding Kentucky is to be careful of the dogs in the streets. They were right. Biking over the border was like in the Pixar movie Up when Mr. Fredrickson and Russel walked into Charles Muntz' lair and there were thousands of dogs looking down at them from the cave. Back on our second day on the trip, the bike shop owner in Ashland advised us to get dog mace (the bottle proudly declares that it's the "Official Dog Mace of the U.S. Postal Service for over 30 years") specifically for Kentucky. I didn't think I'd need it, but we each got a bottle just in case. As I was biking through Lookout, KY today, a few dogs in a yard started barking at me. I thought that they were gated in and paid little attention to them. I noticed a sign across the street that read "No Spraying." I assumed they meant pesticides, but then began wondering if they also meant dog mace. I began day dreaming about if some person just went around spraying the dogs and was the reason for the sign and before I knew it those dogs had gotten out of the yard and were in stride with me nabbing at my bike. I picked up the pace and looked up and saw Chris pedaling towards me with the mace in hand shouting "I'm coming, Kevin!" I was able to get away without him using it, but man what an absurd scene that was. Word of advice to those doing the Trans America trail: don't take the wild dog warnings lightly.
When we arrived at the church that we are staying at, we were greeted by about 50 people from Georgia that had traveled here for an annual community outreach. They all introduced themselves, shook our hands, and shuffled us to the dinner table. Although they had eaten hours before, they knew we were coming and kept the food out for us. They filled us with spaghetti, pb and j's, peach cobbler, and a stereotypical amount of sweet tea. It's tough to put into words how overwhelming it has been to meet such genuinely good and kind people. They give everything and all they ask is for us to sign their Biker Log for those that have passed through (Yum made an appearance here a few days ago according to the log). If all I get out of this trip are no longer having chicken legs and having full faith in the goodness of humanity, I'm more than ok with that; I do think I'll be showing up in San Fran with more than just that, though.
Day 10 / July 9, 2015
Sorry for the lack of a Day 9 post, but Troutdale, VA is not one of the places that appears on Verizon's red map of coverage that they tout. It's probably for the best; the only positive I can say about yesterday is that it is in the past.
I'm sitting on the back porch of a Methodist Church in Rosedale, VA that has taken in cyclists on the Trans America trail since the trail's inception in 1976. As I look around, I'm not too sure how much of this property has changed since then. It's very well taken care of, but it still has that old school American charm. My clothes are drying on a clothesline, there's a boarded up log cabin in the background, and every car that passes by is made in America.
We had a long day to get to this quaint back porch, though. We left Troutdale around 6:30 and continued yesterday's journey of climbing through Jefferson National Park. After a few miles, we got our reward: going down the mountain. Ordinarily I don't think the downhills are as rewarding as the uphills are challenging. The downhills are also frustrating because you know there's just going to be a bigger uphill on the other side, but I'm hoping that's just a Virginia thing. Today was different. With the aid of going down, we were able to do 25 miles by 8:30am. We rolled past a pack of dogs (why do they hate bikers so much? Do we have some kind of feud that I'm unaware of?) and into the town of Damascus.
I was going to continue this post about the best breakfast I've had and how it was $6 in Damascus, the Canadian motorcycle couple we met that rode with their daschund on the back of the wife's bike, and the bike shop owner we met that continuously kept saying what a long day we had ahead of us (thanks for the heads up, pal), but a South Korean named Yum just walked in to the hostel that we are staying in and he is far more interesting.
Because of the influence that America has on South Korean media, Yum decided he wanted to see America first hand. He flew out to LAX and has been biking across the country since May. He has a flight booked in August at JFK, so Chris and I have been giving him tips for the city while he gives us advice on the western end of our trip.
We've been talking for a while and there are too many great things to share, so I'm going to list them out:
- He was once cleaning his bike because it was covered in mud and removed his brakes to make sure they were clean enough to work. He finished up and began to bike downhill before he realized he had forgotten to attach them (don't worry- he's ok).
- A westbound cyclist had warned Yum about dogs in the streets of Kentucky and equipped him with what sounds like a police baton.
- He said the trip has only been getting harder as he goes East, so that bodes well for Chris and me as we go to San Francisco.
- When we asked if it has been hard doing this trip on his own, he said the hardest part was in Kansas because "it's just so boring."
- We're talking about American pop culture and he asked: "Is Kim Kardashian a symbol of beauty? What is she famous for?" Neither of us had a solid response.
- Although he was expecting everyone to be carrying one, Yum has seen 2 guns in his time here. The first gun he saw was on a cop in LAX and the second was when he was staying with a 70 year old man who wanted to show Yum a gun up close; in is words: "it was awesome."
- We asked what the best thing he's eaten so far has been and he quickly announced "pie." Apparently American media features pies often and American pie ingredients are not easily found in South Korea. His first pie experience was from Walmart and he was left disappointed. With this trip as a testament to Yum's perseverance, though, he went on to a cafe in the next town and ordered one slice of each pie that they had on the menu. He happily recalled that being the best meal he's had. White Castle also came up, but I don't think he saw what Harold and Kumar were fussing about.
- We asked what kind of music he listens to and "Tyler the Creator" was one of the first artists he mentioned. I was not expecting that.
- The Simpsons are the main reason he wanted to visit America and primarily how he learned (fluent) English.
We were planning on going to bed early to get a good start tomorrow, but talking to Yum has been better time spent.
Day 8 / July 7, 2015
We slept in a bit today so as to not get in the way of the lively band of hikers as they marched back out onto the Appalachian Trail. When I got up and walked around, I noticed a map of the full trail that they were all seeking to complete. The hikers began at the start of the trail in May down in Georgia and need to make it north to Maine before October 15th when the season ends. Several of the hikers thought that we were nuts for doing our trip, but I couldn't imagine committing to a 5 month hike. No thanks. I wish luck to all my new hiker friends and hope that they find whatever it is that they're looking for.
We had our best 10-15 miles so far this morning. We started off with a great mix of flats and low rolling hills to get us warmed up. We let our excitement fool us into thinking that we might be getting away from the steep hills of Virginia, but the next 45-50 miles scoffed at that.
We met several cyclists from the area today. In addition to giving us some shortcuts for the day's route, they talked about how doing the Trans America Trail is "the dream." One of the men even told us he was proud of us, which oddly made me feel really good. Ordinarily I don't care (sometimes to a fault) what strangers would say to me, but his sincerity really made me proud of us, too.
We rolled into our destination of Draper around 4:30. I think there is something in the town's water supply, because people aren't usually this nice. Draper doesn't seem to be set up like a regular town. I believe all of the businesses are operated under the same group. They may be owned by the town, but I don't know. As Chris put it, "If they're not owned by the town, then they have more power than the town. They're too big to fail."
There is one market/restaurant, one clothing store, a bike shop, and an inn all housed in the same complex. When we pulled in to town, only the clothing store was open. Knowing about our trip, the employee brought us upstairs to the closed market and had the employees unlock the fridges so that we could get some dinner supplies. He then instructed us to camp out under the Methodist church in town.
As we were setting up camp behind the church, the pastor drove in behind us. I was expecting her to ask us who we were or what we were doing, but instead she unlocked the rectory and said that we were free to use the bathroom and kitchen while we stayed.
I'm currently waiting for the bible study class to get out so that I can hose down; I don't want to offend and shock any of these kind people that took us in. Chris says we don't want to put the fear of God into them. Back to the 5:30 wake up tomorrow so that we can try to get to our next spot before the rain gets too bad.