Days 18 and 19 - Southern Illinois, A Variety of Lovely Landscapes and All-You-Can-Eat Buffets
I got up quickly and painlessly on Day 18 with the added enticement that i'd be crossing a state line that morning, from Kentucky to the tip of Southern Illinois, the borders created by the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. It's not that i was anxious to leave Kentucky, but i was ready to continue moving forward, closer to Donny - who, we'd determined, would meet me in Colorado somewhere in a few weeks.
As i approached the ferry on the Ohio River, i passed through Kentucky's Amish country, witnessing the old-timey dress and horse-drawn carriages of those folk in person for the first time in my life, i believe. Many unanswered questions about the impending ferry trip were bandied about by the voices in my head: how long is the trip across? How will i get my bike on the boat? Will it be touristy? (i.e. will there be a snack bar on board?)
I had imagined a big ferry boat like in New York, but it was just a tiny dock manned by a single guy. There was enough room for me, a truck and several cars. The Ohio is muddy like the Mississippi and the ride only took a few minutes. Again, no state-line fanfare. No Welcome to Southern Illinois, Home of the Barnes/Dittlinger Clan. Nothing like that. Mary Ann, David and Sheila always refer to their home turf as Southern Illinois, rather than just plain Illinois. This is at least in part because, at first glance, Southern Illinois is no different than Kentucky. Actually, the roads were worse, more like LA roads, bumpy, gravely, and pot-holed.
The ferry deposits you in Cave in Rock, IL and i found a place for lunch immediately. Can't remember the name but they were having a fired catfish special. Though eating fried food and then riding another 45 miles didn't seem wise, I do like me some fish, and the other menu choices were less appetizing. As i started to eat, a man came in and introduced himself, Keith Shaw of the Shawnee (he liked to say - i later found out that the area sports the majestically gorgeous Shawnee National Forest, so i got the joke after - though of course i nodded to this stranger as if i understood). Keith was out on a ride himself, had seen my bike outside and plopped down to find out my story. He is a rather interesting guy who asked me who the most interesting person i met so far was (just so you know, i have real difficulty answering questions like that - i just spoke to Sharon about some Common Ground issues and she asked me what my favorite part of the trip has been, something which i could not easily respond to...). He's from Iowa's Quad Cities (don't know where those are, but i think Davenport might be one of them) and has ridden across Iowa several times. There's a cross-the-state bike trip that hundreds (maybe thousands?) attempt annually which sounds like fun - a lot of revelry. I like the sound of Iowa a lot these days, wish i was headed there. Anyway, I'm still giddy at the idea of that stranger just coming into my life so briefly, with such openness and curiosity, and willingness to share his own story - and then he paid for my lunch! He had ordered an iced tea (a "tea", don't forget) and i was planning to pay for that since he sat with me while i ate - but then he turned around and paid for my lunch. Most people who i come across, naturally, are not curious about me, or my loaded bicycle, or where i'm going or coming from - but many people are. I recount some details of my journey to at least 5 people per day. And it's not because i'm walking up to people and tapping them on the shoulder: "Hey, stranger, you'll never guess what i'm up to!"
After Keith and lunch, the route took me into the middle of nowhere and continued to remind me of Kentucky, dogs and all. Sigh. Getting closer to my destination of a campground in Eddyville, I passed a lovely town on the Ohio called Elizabethtown, one of those places it seems like it would have been nice to spend the night - if it had been further away from the day's set-off point. Eddyville is a tiny community with a convenience store and some campgrounds (i didn't see anything else). I pulled into the wild western-themed Bear Branch Campground, hoping the "bear" part was just a name, not a common occurrence. There are a lot of riding trails up there, and most people camping had their horses with them. I rolled Whitey Jackson through the mud seeking a place to pitch camp which didn't smell too much like horseshit. But to no avail... As far as shit goes, though, horseshit is the least offensive. Drew arrived a bit later and we ate dinner at the log cabin restaurant shoving our faces after the 90-mile ride with a buffet and salad bar (the only thing you can order), the first of many for the upcoming few days.
A word about buffets: they are awesome for cyclists. And they always seem to have raw broccoli at the salad bar. Not my fave way to consume broccoli - but, hey, it's broccoli. Didn't seem appropriate to say: "Can i get some of this steamed?" They were real nice there, probably would have done it, or, rather, overdone it. There was also (more) catfish, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, cantaloupe (again, not something i eat much of - but it's fruit!). And the ubiquitous chocolate pudding. I've seen chocolate pudding at every salad bar (not the buffet part, but the salad bar). I always want some, but haven't yet dived in. I'm working on being more flexible with my menus as i travel across, yet i can't bring myself to have chocolate pudding and salad on the same plate. What is chocolate pudding anyway? When i was five, my eyes were operated on to stop them wandering. When i came home, i was allowed apple jacks and chocolate pudding for dinner (not mixed together) This memory is a fond one, which is why i bring it up, though Nat was not invited to share - at least i think that's how she remembers it. I think i'll have some chocolate pudding next time i encounter it. For both of us, Nat.
I slept well in my tent that night. The next day was to be my first 100-miler, based totally on the fact that there was no place to stay between Murphysboro and Chester, Illinos (and M-boro was only 60 miles from Eddyville, not a long enough day) - but also initiated by Drew who was helping motivate me to increase my daily mileage. Drew, who i had been traveling with but not with-with for a few days, recently quit his just-out-of-college corporate job to go on this trip ("Tomorrow" was his response to his boss's question "When is your last day?"). He's a nice young guy from outside Philly who went to school in DC where he is currently subletting his apartment for the summer. As we traveled together, it was fun to be lumped in with him when guys - probably my own age - asked: "So, did you just finish school?"Drew's TransAmerica story is more common than mine, as he falls into one of the two largest groups of cyclist travelers: just-outta-college and retired, so i usually let him answer. ... By the way, i'm not trying to sound like "Oh, my story's so unique and complex." It's just easier sometimes to let someone else answer. When i have given my story, many people have exclaimed: "What kind of job do you have that you can take off for two months?" Sharon is probably asking herself that question right now. Out here, i am somewhat choosy when telling people what i "do." Working in HIV potentially calls too much attention. And being an actor from LA opens me up for a whole other set of booby-trapped follow-up questions.
So 105 miles to Chester it was. There were a lot of rolling hills that day and the flat parts had tons of head wind. At times i was going half my normal speed on a flat or downhill bit than i would have had there been no wind. But the scenery that day was gorgeous. A very varied landscape, Southern IL reminded me of Southern CA. We have mountains, desert and the beach. Southern Illinoisians have mountains, dense dark (and rainy, as i was experiencing on Day 19) forests, and the levees and sloughs of the Mississippi. The whole day i witnessed tons of damage from the storms of earlier in the month. David and Mary Ann's house in Marion, IL (where i ended up not going, after all) suffered roof damage. I think Donny told me that the roof had blown off, but that might be a little exaggerated. Someone correct me if i'm wrong.
For about 25 miles, before getting to the last stretch to Chester, i rode through an area of levees that was humid, haunting, completely still except for birds and frogs. And free of any traffic. I celebrated my 105-mile trek across Southern Illinois by checking into a Best Western - very fancy, at the high end of the daily budget for sure! Washed my stinky outfit and ate at a buffet down the highway a half-mile. Still ignored the chocolate pudding - but they had serve-yourself soft-serve ice cream. And tilapia which was really good. And brussels sprouts!
As i approached the ferry on the Ohio River, i passed through Kentucky's Amish country, witnessing the old-timey dress and horse-drawn carriages of those folk in person for the first time in my life, i believe. Many unanswered questions about the impending ferry trip were bandied about by the voices in my head: how long is the trip across? How will i get my bike on the boat? Will it be touristy? (i.e. will there be a snack bar on board?)
I had imagined a big ferry boat like in New York, but it was just a tiny dock manned by a single guy. There was enough room for me, a truck and several cars. The Ohio is muddy like the Mississippi and the ride only took a few minutes. Again, no state-line fanfare. No Welcome to Southern Illinois, Home of the Barnes/Dittlinger Clan. Nothing like that. Mary Ann, David and Sheila always refer to their home turf as Southern Illinois, rather than just plain Illinois. This is at least in part because, at first glance, Southern Illinois is no different than Kentucky. Actually, the roads were worse, more like LA roads, bumpy, gravely, and pot-holed.
The ferry deposits you in Cave in Rock, IL and i found a place for lunch immediately. Can't remember the name but they were having a fired catfish special. Though eating fried food and then riding another 45 miles didn't seem wise, I do like me some fish, and the other menu choices were less appetizing. As i started to eat, a man came in and introduced himself, Keith Shaw of the Shawnee (he liked to say - i later found out that the area sports the majestically gorgeous Shawnee National Forest, so i got the joke after - though of course i nodded to this stranger as if i understood). Keith was out on a ride himself, had seen my bike outside and plopped down to find out my story. He is a rather interesting guy who asked me who the most interesting person i met so far was (just so you know, i have real difficulty answering questions like that - i just spoke to Sharon about some Common Ground issues and she asked me what my favorite part of the trip has been, something which i could not easily respond to...). He's from Iowa's Quad Cities (don't know where those are, but i think Davenport might be one of them) and has ridden across Iowa several times. There's a cross-the-state bike trip that hundreds (maybe thousands?) attempt annually which sounds like fun - a lot of revelry. I like the sound of Iowa a lot these days, wish i was headed there. Anyway, I'm still giddy at the idea of that stranger just coming into my life so briefly, with such openness and curiosity, and willingness to share his own story - and then he paid for my lunch! He had ordered an iced tea (a "tea", don't forget) and i was planning to pay for that since he sat with me while i ate - but then he turned around and paid for my lunch. Most people who i come across, naturally, are not curious about me, or my loaded bicycle, or where i'm going or coming from - but many people are. I recount some details of my journey to at least 5 people per day. And it's not because i'm walking up to people and tapping them on the shoulder: "Hey, stranger, you'll never guess what i'm up to!"
After Keith and lunch, the route took me into the middle of nowhere and continued to remind me of Kentucky, dogs and all. Sigh. Getting closer to my destination of a campground in Eddyville, I passed a lovely town on the Ohio called Elizabethtown, one of those places it seems like it would have been nice to spend the night - if it had been further away from the day's set-off point. Eddyville is a tiny community with a convenience store and some campgrounds (i didn't see anything else). I pulled into the wild western-themed Bear Branch Campground, hoping the "bear" part was just a name, not a common occurrence. There are a lot of riding trails up there, and most people camping had their horses with them. I rolled Whitey Jackson through the mud seeking a place to pitch camp which didn't smell too much like horseshit. But to no avail... As far as shit goes, though, horseshit is the least offensive. Drew arrived a bit later and we ate dinner at the log cabin restaurant shoving our faces after the 90-mile ride with a buffet and salad bar (the only thing you can order), the first of many for the upcoming few days.
A word about buffets: they are awesome for cyclists. And they always seem to have raw broccoli at the salad bar. Not my fave way to consume broccoli - but, hey, it's broccoli. Didn't seem appropriate to say: "Can i get some of this steamed?" They were real nice there, probably would have done it, or, rather, overdone it. There was also (more) catfish, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, cantaloupe (again, not something i eat much of - but it's fruit!). And the ubiquitous chocolate pudding. I've seen chocolate pudding at every salad bar (not the buffet part, but the salad bar). I always want some, but haven't yet dived in. I'm working on being more flexible with my menus as i travel across, yet i can't bring myself to have chocolate pudding and salad on the same plate. What is chocolate pudding anyway? When i was five, my eyes were operated on to stop them wandering. When i came home, i was allowed apple jacks and chocolate pudding for dinner (not mixed together) This memory is a fond one, which is why i bring it up, though Nat was not invited to share - at least i think that's how she remembers it. I think i'll have some chocolate pudding next time i encounter it. For both of us, Nat.
I slept well in my tent that night. The next day was to be my first 100-miler, based totally on the fact that there was no place to stay between Murphysboro and Chester, Illinos (and M-boro was only 60 miles from Eddyville, not a long enough day) - but also initiated by Drew who was helping motivate me to increase my daily mileage. Drew, who i had been traveling with but not with-with for a few days, recently quit his just-out-of-college corporate job to go on this trip ("Tomorrow" was his response to his boss's question "When is your last day?"). He's a nice young guy from outside Philly who went to school in DC where he is currently subletting his apartment for the summer. As we traveled together, it was fun to be lumped in with him when guys - probably my own age - asked: "So, did you just finish school?"Drew's TransAmerica story is more common than mine, as he falls into one of the two largest groups of cyclist travelers: just-outta-college and retired, so i usually let him answer. ... By the way, i'm not trying to sound like "Oh, my story's so unique and complex." It's just easier sometimes to let someone else answer. When i have given my story, many people have exclaimed: "What kind of job do you have that you can take off for two months?" Sharon is probably asking herself that question right now. Out here, i am somewhat choosy when telling people what i "do." Working in HIV potentially calls too much attention. And being an actor from LA opens me up for a whole other set of booby-trapped follow-up questions.
So 105 miles to Chester it was. There were a lot of rolling hills that day and the flat parts had tons of head wind. At times i was going half my normal speed on a flat or downhill bit than i would have had there been no wind. But the scenery that day was gorgeous. A very varied landscape, Southern IL reminded me of Southern CA. We have mountains, desert and the beach. Southern Illinoisians have mountains, dense dark (and rainy, as i was experiencing on Day 19) forests, and the levees and sloughs of the Mississippi. The whole day i witnessed tons of damage from the storms of earlier in the month. David and Mary Ann's house in Marion, IL (where i ended up not going, after all) suffered roof damage. I think Donny told me that the roof had blown off, but that might be a little exaggerated. Someone correct me if i'm wrong.
For about 25 miles, before getting to the last stretch to Chester, i rode through an area of levees that was humid, haunting, completely still except for birds and frogs. And free of any traffic. I celebrated my 105-mile trek across Southern Illinois by checking into a Best Western - very fancy, at the high end of the daily budget for sure! Washed my stinky outfit and ate at a buffet down the highway a half-mile. Still ignored the chocolate pudding - but they had serve-yourself soft-serve ice cream. And tilapia which was really good. And brussels sprouts!
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