Please Update the F*@king Blog

Readers.

First and foremost we would like to send out our dearest thanks for all the support and the wonderful comments. We want to apologize for making you all wait so long for updates. As evidenced by our detailed daily accounts, we spend a good amount of time documenting this trip; of course this is not only for you, but for us. We are creating a nice piece of history and it is time consuming, one which we will be able to look back on and keep these experiences alive.

After adventuring all day (riding, meeting, eating, meeting, chatting, taking pictures) we are really exhausted and find it nearly impossible to keep up the blog. We have spent the last 4.5 hours blogging so now you have something to feast on. We are strategizing about ways to more efficiently bring you the daily stories and undoubetedly will come up with something. Our main concern is to maximize efficiency without sacrificing the depth of reporting.

Todays heap of blog, somehow got out of chronological order. So you will have to look on the right hand side to choose the day numbers to read in chronological order.

Again, Thanks so much for your interest. This is the best summer vacation ever and we all hope that you can find comfort in sharing in our experience.

trio.

Day 9 : I love the Amish. They love to Bicycle.

The Thomas family (above) treated us to a lovely morning feast consisting of eggs, sausage, biscuits, hashbrowns, and coffee (below). After some morning chatting and packing we departed from Arcola by 8:00. Before leaving we attempted to fill our sagging tires with air from Nick’s hand pump. We were somewhat oblivious to the fact that a bike fully loaded with 70 pounds of weight would be near impossible to pump up with a hand pump. My tires started off at 60 psi, 20 below desired level, and after Nick’s futile attempts I was left with 20 psi. We decided to continue on with low pressure until we found a gas station.

About 5 miles down the road, with winds blaring some 15 mph or greater, we spotted a sign that read Fresh Goats Milk. We stopped off at the Amish house. The 9 children soon emerged from the house with some very enigmatic, but pleasant looks. Eventually their mother came to the drive and gave us a very warm welcome: a tall glass of goats milk each. We then asked to purchase some milk, eggs and cheese. At first she wasn’t going to take our money. When asking her what she wanted she retorted, “what ever you think it is worth.” Luke handed her $10 and she sent her son in to get change. Luke quickly staved off the change retrieval, and she looked shocked. After the business we asked to see the animals. She brought us into the barn and showed us the milking goats, the meat goats, and the chickens. We chatted for a good 15-20 minutes and then departed.

(note: I had some inclination not to just begin shooting pictures of the Amish or their property because of a cultural imposition. So I politely asked if it was ok to take pictures, she said that she would rather we did not. So…. You will notice that we do not have any pictures of the Amish people with whom we met. I may have not been exercising enough cultural sensitivity when later photographing Amish on bikes and buggies as we passed them. However, my goal during this trip is to document place and with that documentation comes the inherent problem of disregarding cultural autonomy. I apologize for imposing my culture upon the Amish, but this was only a means for discovering rich cultural landscape of central Illinois and the greater United States.)


About 10 more miles down the road we came to a town named Arthur. Just on the western outskirts of Arthur we noticed a billboard for a bike shop. We spent a good hour or so trying to find this shop. The shop had just recently moved, and the billboard had yet to be updated. An hour an 8 miles later, after asking several people for directions (below Nick asks a man in the buggy for directions), we found the shop. It was amazing how many Amish ride bikes; the buggy lane was busy with buggies and bikes. Many Amish ride recumbent bikes and they almost all carry trailers.




(below: two Amish kids arriving at the bikeshop with their little pony drawn wagon)




After the bike shop we stopped at a place called Yoder’s Kitchen. There was a supposedly tasty and cheap buffet of Amish-style cooking offered, but we decided to feast upon their baked goods picnic style just outside the restaurant (below: feasting). Buffets sure do draw large numbers of elderly folk. The elderly folk are by far our favorite inquirers. They kept coming up to us and asking us, “ Where ya from? Why are you going to Oregon? Oregon, that is a long way!” (below; the picnic outiside of Yoder's)



(below: two delightful elderly folk outside of Yoder's)



After lunch we set out for Springfield. The reason for aiming to get to Springfield was that we already had a place to stay there. I met this guy name Paul Hosmanek through an online cycling community (www.warmshowers.org), and his parents lived in Springfield and were exalted to house us. We were not sure how far it was to Springfield because everyone we asked told us something different, and none of them were cognizant of the route we were required to traverse, being that we had to stay off of interstates. We accrued that Springfield was somewhere between 50 and 70 miles from Arthur, making our total trip some 70-90 miles for the day. Because of nasty head winds, and sweltering temperatures (the hottest yet, somewhere in the upper 90’s), we did not make it all the way to Springfield. About an hour before sunset we decided that it wasn’t safe to travel any further, seeing that we were completely exhausted from traveling some 68 miles. (below: Luke and Sam looking exhausted, Sam is on the phone with the folks from Springfield explaining that we won't be making it until the following day)





We stopped at a very peculiar residence to ask about camping ; an Organic farm/fireworks store. There we met some of the nicest folks thus far: Sharon and Gary Younker and Gary’s brother David and his wife Angie. We approached the fireworks stand, which they set up in their garage for the two weeks preceding the 4th of July. I jokingly asked them for some sparklers, snakes, and roman candles. Nick then asked if we could camp in their lawn. They didn’t hesitate, quickly showing us our sleeping options. Sharon shut down the stand and began scouring the tub. She insisted that we shower; it had been 4 days since we last bathed. They then fixed us a meal of hot dogs and chilli. We all chatted for a good couple of hours about organic agriculture and genetically modified crops, their kids, and the future. We finished the night around a campfire drinking a beer with David and Angie. That night, while sleeping under the stars we were greeted by a very brave an adventurous skunk. This skunk kept trying to eat our bread and other snacks positioned above Nick and my heads. At one point during the night the skunk brushed up against Nick’s face. Luckily no one was sprayed; Sharon later explained that she only had one can of tomato juice. (below: Gary holding down the fireworks stand)

(below: Although some may argue that Sam was wearing panty hose, these are the resultant tan lines of 9 days in the sun wearing bike shorts)

Sharon, Gary, David, and Angie. Your hospitality was lovely. Thanks so much.

miles traversed: 67

morale: sagging late in the day, but boosted greatly after meeting the Younkersweather. no rain but fierce winds and scorching temperatures. exhausting.

Day 13 - Can't stop us now!

With a late mid-afternoon up up and away we have finally engulfed ourselves into Missouri. KFC at the Dougherty house, a nice sit down and gossip set-up we met Debbie's sister and friend. A good stretch and a few pea size applications of Chamois butter we hit the streets. Skipper over the hills to get around going through Hannibal again we found ourselves right on track on the other side and heading West. With help from the Missouri tax payers we get a brand new divided two lane and half of it to ourselves (Below).














Few miles down the road we are hailed by two Motorcyclists who have come from Pennsylvania on their way to Portland. We talk about routes and dates (not with each other just departure and arrivals) head off (Below).














It was already getting late so we peruse into Monroe City, MO. Just a few miles from Hannibal, due to our late start. We grow hungrier with every mile and so decided to stop and search for handouts. Pizza Hut was somewhat hesitant but nonetheless we got our cheesy bread sticks. Scarfed down some PB&J and BOOM! cheesy bread stick throws a wrench into our GI gears and we need a place to stay there will be no more riding today. We rode down through the square looking for a nice yard to ask about staying there and we find a finely placed methodists church with a wonderfully shady tree. We set camp and spend the night, taking it way easy.


Miles: 26

Morale: Indigestionesque

Day 11: The Cycling Drag Queens

The beds did us well and we were up by 7am for another huge breakfast of pancakes and oatmeal. The rain held us up for a bit, but we made it out by 11am. Said our goodbyes to our superlative hosts Mary and Joe and embarked to Jacksonville with Paul (Mary, Joe, Paul and the biker three pictured above; Paul pictured below).

Riding with Paul was a great experience, we swapped lots of touring stories, he took many pictures of we studly three, and he introduced us to the infamous “Horseshoe” of South-Central Illinois. What is a horseshoe? Well, it is a piece of Texas toast subtending a thick slab of meat (tenderloin, hamburger or chicken) upon which sits a nest of French fries smothered in melted cheese (nacho cheese style cheese). You can’t find them anywhere else, so next time you are around Springfield, make sure you down one, just don’t ride a bike afterwards.

Heading out from Jacksonville we got our first big dose of water from the sky. Thankfully we were right next to a John Deer dealership and we were able to huddle inside a showroom while sheets of rain relentlessly pounded the tin roof overhead (Below picture of Nick and Luke staring drearily into the dismal downpour).

After it passed we decided too head out, got caught in a sprinkle, crossed the Illinois river, and made it to Pittsfield, IL. The first thing we did was stretch…ourselves out on a barstool and order some beers at the local pub. We made our way down the street to eat at the weekend dinner-date hot-spot and got a lot of awkward stares (what? Are bright jersey’s and skintight spandex that show off our manliness not appreciated outside of a bar?). The restaurant served all their sandwiches on store bought generic white bread (and we were still hungry after we ate) so the stares mattered not to us (strange man at bar pictured below).

We still had no place to stay and it was getting late. The local park was too mosquito and cop ridden and we were getting antsy. What to do? Why, let’s go to a church! So we meandered on over the closest church (a Methodist church) and stumbled upon something out of this world. Thirty-some twenty-somethings running around in strange clothes (many in drag) with tan-lines indicative of bicyclists (Picture of Luke trying to convince the biker hoard that Athens Ohio actually exists)

Yikes! Turns out that the Methodist church was hosting a bicycle gang that rides across the US building houses to fight poverty. Why they were in drag… I guess that happens when you are with the same group of thirty people for weeks on end…if the same fever overcomes us, well, um, we’ll make sure we keep it confined to churches, for safety’s sake (Picture of biker-man dressed in drag)

They fed us roasted beef sandwhiches and offered us floorspace in the church. We cyclists ooeed and awed at each other, danced for a bit, and curled up under the last supper for a good nights sleep.

Much thanks to Mary, Joe and Paul for the company, food, tent piece and bike help!

Miles: 67

Morale: Grinning from ear to ear

no storms

no flats

Day 10: Goats Jumping around Food Mountains

The morning after the skunky-wet night found us huddled under the roof of the garage overhang, groggy and hungry. We grumbled awake and stared at the farm’s baby jumping goat for a few minutes, hoping the kid would rock us into an awestruck stupor (Aerial the goat pictured above). It just stared back so we moseyed over to breakfast. Sharon, Gary and Angie did throw us into some awestruck excitement however, as they treated us to an enormous breakfast of ham and eggs that bested our remarkably ravenous appetites. Eating so much threw us into sleep mode and we didn’t make it out until 11am (breakfast in picture).

We parted the organic/farm fireworks house, and set off to Springfield (to our first Warm Showers host) loaded with fireworks, bags of ham, prayer and good feelings (The organic farming fireworks family, and bikers pictured below).

The roads into Springfield were as gorgeous as the rest of South-Central Illinois…wheat, corn, soybeans, yaay…and we eventually found our way onto a great bike path that led us from Rochester to Springfield (Picture of Nick and Sam enjoying shady bike path).

Upon arrival to Joe, Mary and Paul’s house we were greeted with mountains of spaghetti and meatballs (which we quickly engulfed) and the chronicles of Joe and Paul. Both have a wall full of medals. Joe is an expert marksman, retired engineer and gunsmith (upon this realization we decided to postpone our pirating by bicycle plan to later in the trip). Paul is a 24 years old, in the US Air Force, has already made two cross country bicycle tours, and is a bike mechanic. The combined forces of Joe’s engineering know-how, Paul’s bike expertise and Mary’s (the most energetic wife and mother to have ever existed) mean cookin’ got us through the night with full bellies, a newly furbished tent junction piece (made by Joe) and finely tuned bicycle touring machines (thanks to Paul). The picture below is of Luke showing off the new tent piece.

And below Luke is a picture of Sam working hard on his bicycle

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We crashed into our beds exhausted and ready to head off to the Mississippi, and not having a clue as to how we were to cross the flooded mess of the Midwest. (Sam pictured below, working hard on his bike)

Special thanks to Sharron, Gary, Angie, and Dave for the feasts, fireworks, showers and company!

Miles: 30

Morale: Baffled by good fortune and eager to get to Springfield

no storms

no flats

Day 12 - Through the flats and over the river.... barely

Waking up in the agape room at the Pittsfield methodist church, we were already getting a slow start. We knew breakfast was coming around 10 a.m. and did we know the extra sleep was going to come in useful. We dragged ass for a while and were asked, a couple of time, to stay until Sunday to ride with our house building brethren. We needed to make space through Illinois and so around 2 p.m. we set sail and said good-bye.

We rode and rode and then we got hungry, which is always the case with three growing boys. Straddling 106 we spot a little home grown town founded sometime in the 1850's and hit a little super value mart. Thinking we are going to have to pick and choose between Corn and Pork we stride through the automatic doors and become instantly impressed. Fresh fruit and vegetables and with further inspection this local mart has become our favorite little grocer yet along the way. And of course stares like paint color us as outsiders and we feel at home.

(Below Nick lighting the fuse and walking away)

Pushing the miles, with little wind and somewhat cloudy weather an ominous thought was about... are we going to get across the Mississippi? Up and down the exiting hills of Illinois our route was meandering and hot. Yet, to jump ship and set afloat we have always had the mission to swim in every river and lake we could make time to do so, only failing miserably. Finally pushing through some brush and burs a beautiful lake was set before us. With its large horseshoe shape and no fishing signs we disembark our bikes and peel off the damn spandex. Sam and I take a bear break and leave some peanut butter nuggets strewn throughout the small patch of forest, all the while Nick tests the waters. Seeing his floating melon bob around the lake (below) the two bushwhackers join in. Swimming and floating for around 30-45 minutes we feel recuperated and get back to the bikes, lying about the high weeds. When all the sudden a silver king cab truck rolls up the highway and a somewhat perturbed yet innocent looking fella approaches us with a few questions.

"What are you boy's doing here?"

Nick - We got hot and decided to take a dip

"Where are you boy's from?"

Trio- OHIO!

"Oh, Ok I see you boy's weren't doing nothin' wrong"

Trio- Ok? Thanks, cya.

As you can see nothing came from it but as soon as he saw all our gear and that we were from Ohio we were all the sudden saints. Who knows what the man was thinking but if he would have come minutes earlier we just might be shacked up in some corn fed prison somewhere in Illinois.

The trio sets sail yet again. Pulling our weight through a few drizzles and wacky looking cloud cover we come to a small town called Hull, population 1 or 2 I am not sure but there was no one around. Mostly because the road was closed but being cyclists and somewhat rule benders we sneak through the signs and find out just how closed the road is.

The road was definitely closed. We came to a missing chunk in the middle of a corn field and a shallow creek that may have, at one point in time, shared the power of the mighty Mississippi. The bridge as you can see above was completely awash and half way to Waco, Texas (Below).

Making it across with skill and balance, the bridge has a work around but only for cyclists and walkers (Below). Spokes flashing in our new found pride ignoring road signs and blazing our path we continue to the scary Miss. river.

Below you will see the endeavors of the local towns people to hold back such a mighty force. Tons and tons of sand piled at the banks holding down the mass a black plastic sheet secured with 12lbs bags of would you guess more sand. The area looks well drenched but devastated and washed away it was not, just put back into place by mother nature. Trying to skip over the interstate at all costs we question our options of actually crossing the river.

We scope out the interstate scene and hit it, there was little reason to go miles out of our way to find out we would have to come back to the original bridge. Anyway it would have been better than our third thought about idea... Crossing the rail road bridge, yeah I know if we weren't crazy we would have turned around in Cincinnati. We were excused by a sign, allowed to be on the interstate.

*SIGN* - No Non-motorized vehicles past this point all except bicycles and all bicycles must stay all the way right.

Cool, we cross the bridge with ease and actually a little praise from passersby and now we make it into Hannibal, MO. Home of the great Mark Twain. Let me tell you they live it up too, everything here is F'ing Mark Twain. Like every decent size town we look for a watering hole and have a pint. Kurley's had a nice scene and cute bartenders so we began our Saturday night like the others, with a drink. Nick takes charge and goes to look for a motel room for cheap, possibly hotel twain or maybe we could have stayed in the Huckleberry Inn. I tell you what if they didn't have a place called that they probably will. Nick returns with some numbers and places but none strike our fancy so we finish our beers and ready ourselves for a trip to the campground down the way. Suddenly, while I was in the john*, our savior comes in the form of a wonderfully fresh faced Hannibal named Debbie she asks " Are you guys the bikers?" Since our bikes are always in view of where we are sitting they are in view of everyone else. We say why yes how could you tell as we don our brightly colored shorts and cargo pants it's pretty obvious how she knew.

*As I was in the bathroom I am inquired to give him what is up. I say not much just recovering from a long day of cycling. He looks up at me likely ignoring where he was suppose to aim and says " No shit!" my girl works in the Barry super value mart and said oh my god Orlando Bloom came into the shop today on bicycles. Presumably that reference was toward Sam since I look like Woody Harrelson and Nick looks like Conan O'Brien.

Oh, thank you Debbie we say and she gives directions to her horse ranch (above) and lets us come at our own leisure. With high spirits and luck of the fiendish we order another round. Finishing that we make our headway towards Debbie's, giving her a call and an E.T.A the trio is bunked for yet another night. And what a place beautiful spread and cultured home open kitchen and twin beds is all we could ever ask for. We get showers and freshen up then hit the hay and sleep hoping for yet another day.

Miles: 38

Morale: Stabilized

A wonderfully refreshed thank you goes out to Debbie Dougherty for; breakfast, lunch, showers and warm bed.

Day 8 : Enter Illinois, Ride Nice Roads, Clean Pigeon Poop

We rose around 7:00, cooked bear mush (hot wheat cereal), were then treated by our distinguished host, Mr. Bill Mueller, to a round of English muffin breakfast sandwiches and a half gallon of Welch's grape juice. Bill, being the cycling enthusiast that he is, escorted us across from his house to the Indiana-Illinois border, which was about 3-4 miles from his home. As soon as we crossed into Illinois the roads became noticeably nicer, almost as if the IDOT anticipated the trio's arrival and laid down some fresh black top.

(below: Lukester keeping the bird afloat on the beautiful Illinois roads)


Our first stop in Illinois was Paris, a quaint town with a population somewhat around 10,000. Just on the southeastern fringes of Paris we spotted a Wal Mart. For the past 7 days I had been contemplating purchasing a new digital camera, one that was small enough to fit in the back pocket of my jersey and would allow us to take pictures from the moving cycles. Under normal circumstances all members of the trio avoid Wal Mart stores, but considering the fact that you really cannot buy electronics locally and the urgency of this purchase, we decided to enter into the juggernaut. From this point on, most of the pictures you see will be taken from the new Nikon Coolpix L16. The nicest thing about Wal Mart is obviously their return policy. I could essentially use this camera for 29 days and then decide that I don't like it. I would then just need to take the receipt and the camera back for a full refund. Damn you Wal Mart. Your quality selection, low prices, flexible return policy, and cold air conditioning is turning the trio into Wal Mart shoppers. (note: please don't despair; the trio is far from Wal Mart shoppers. The only products purchased at Wal Mart this trip were rechargeable batteries, a camera, and a paint pen. While buying these items, lunch was on Mr. Walton :})


(below: Sam buying his first digital camera)

(below: Sam photographed Nick and Luke as they are so intoxicated with Wal Mart they can hardly see straight)

After our venture into Wal Mart we headed into the peculiar town called Paris, Illinois. We spent most of our afternoon hanging out in Paris, mainly in their beautiful public library (pictured below: Paris library is a Carnegie building). You must remember the last heap of blog posts posted some 6 days ago, the ones that you so ravenously devoured, they were posted from the Paris Public Library.





We probably spent some 3 hours or more blogging, stretching, and chatting with the Parisians. It is for the latter that we were so thoroughly entertained. There were two young unnamed Parisian hooligans (below) who were very interested in our trip; Luke and I must have chatted with them for an hour. They not only asked us questions but filled us in with information about Paris from the perspective of one high school dropout with two kids from two different mothers and his younger friend (still attending highschool) who dates the former kid's sister. They told us who the town whore is, what kids do for fun (according to their account, mostly drugs, namely Meth and Marijuana), and they expounded on their dreams and aspirations, definitely the most touching part of the interaction.




While I was inside blogging , a foreman who was working on the road construction outside of the library named Tim Roark approached Luke. He was a cyclist who had done some touring earlier in his life. They chatted for a long time about the physical, psycho/spiritual aspects of cycling. Apparently he was so excited about what we were doing that he went home and grabbed a bunch of cycling gear, like rain pants, jerseys, and shorts, and he returned to donate them to the trio. Luke has been wearing the jersey and shorts; thanks Tim!



The Parisians were nice and inquirious souls, who left us feeling quite Bloomington. We eventually left Paris and continued on our way through Illinois. We came upon a town called Oakland, with a population somewhere below 500. It had a nice town square where stopped to snack and stretch. As we were stretching a few cars passed, a good looking woman (probably mid-30's) biked past and gave us quite the nod. Soon enough, we noticed that the same four cars were continuously circling the square (or I guess more appropriately termed squaring the square... but that just sounds goofy). At first we were wondering if trouble was brewing, maybe some burly football players or some super machismo terds wanted to mess with us. We were somewhat relieved to find out that it was in fact a swarm of high school or maybe young college aged girls. Everywhere we go we draw a lot of attention, especially from the lady folk. After swarming for a good 10 minutes, one of the girls, named Brandi, stopped her car (green Mitsubishi Eclipse) and approached us inquiring, " ya'll need some help stretching....hehe?" I was quick to reply, "sure thing, grab this leg and lift slowly until I say stop." (below: Nick and Luke being assisted by Brandi).



After our thorough stretch with Brandi and company, we hit the road for a few more hours of daylight. As the sun began to hide, we scoured the town of Arcola for a place to crash. We decided to forgo our typical stop in the town bar and find some drunks to take us home. We continued on past Arcola until we saw a sweet barn. Nick had been mentioning his desire to sleep in a barn. I decided to stop and ask the apparent owners of the barn if we could camp in their lawn. (below: barn, erected in 1908)





The wife, Mrs. Shelley Thomas, was hesitant at first. She need to go first ask her husband Mark if it was ok. After some deliberation they decided that it would be ok if we camped at their house. After granting us permission, I pressed further, "Is that your barn? ......Do you mind if we sleep their?" They explained that the barn was in complete disrepair, messy, and the loft was covered in pigeon poop. Shelley then said, " Well Mark, cleaning the barn was on your "to-do" list for this summer, how about cleaning it out now?" I then quickly interrupted and explained how the trio could reciprocate their presumed hospitality, "we could sweep out the pigeon poop." That is exactly what we did. After the cleaning we fixed an asian noodle and vegetable dinner, showed off the map, chatted with them and their daughter Mackenzie, and then hit the hay.

(below: Sam working hard for a barn roof over his head)


(below: Sam and Nick explain the route to Mr. Mark Thomas)




(below: the next morning, Luke and Nick still sleeping as the light enters through the cracks of the barn)




The Thomas Family: you rock. Thanks Mackenzie, Shelley, and Mark

miles traveresed : 54

morale: pseudo bloomington

weather: clear not much wind

no flats

what about that 3 foot map we see in every picture?

As you may remember from an earlier post. I am carrying a huge paper map of the entire conterminous United States in a indestructible (well close to it: polyurethane), waterproof tube (some 38 inches tall). Each day, one of the trio members pleasurably assumes the powerful role of de facto cartographer and draws in with a permanent marker the part of the trip traversed. Early on, I didn't know whether to use blue or red marker; after a day of riding and contemplating, it suddenly came to me; I decided to alternate days between red and blue, allowing for an instant nominal differentiation between daily commencements. Also, the red, blue, plus the overwhelming whitespace exemplifies the trio's somewhat ironic patriotism. The day number is on the South side of the map, while the mileage in on the North. (above: you will notice far right side of the map is Athens, and the far left side is Terre Haute. Click on the map (this goes for all pictures on the blog) for a larger image. Today, we are sitting in Paris Illinois in a beautiful Carnegie Library. Later tonight we will draw today's route. (Below: our buddy Bill, bolstering his geographic imagination)


A few more general notes as we are finishing our first week of travel.

Indiana has some hills similar to Athens, but more agriculture strewn in the middle.
Entering a new timezone is more fun than crossing a new political boundary (i.e. stateline), however, the roads are noticeably nicer in Illinois, than Indiana.
Indiana has more dead box turtles along the road than any states we have seen yet (18 counted).
People are so nice in the midwest. We have encountered, by my estimates, a 40:1 cool: mean ratio. Last night some passerby's called us Faggots, but then shortly after people were screaming "you are my heroes", and "I truly envy you!"

This trip rocks. Stay tuned in, as we plan to serve up the hottest journalism from an unheard of temporal scale.




Cheers
and by the way, we love all the comments.

SAM

Day 7: De-touring the once flooded E. Indiana

T’was a lovely one night stand with our rustic cabin in the strip mall lawn (pictured above). We were a little worried, of course, that we’d wake up to a fork lift dragging the house away (with us in it), or to some malcontented hobo making a fuss over us stealing his sleeping place. Our big knives held tight in our sleeping bags helped put those worries to rest. We made it up at 5:45am with no encounters, peed out the back door and pulled our stuff to the front porch to trick the authority into believing that we didn’t sleep inside. Breakfast consisted of bear mush with hickory syrup and we were on the road to Terra Haute by 7:45am.

All was normal until we rolled into Spencer, IN. The “4 mile bridge” was out and we were supposed to take the detour way around town. Of course, being the strapping young adventurers we are, we decided to make our own detour. Instead of checkin out the bridge to see if it was passable, we descended into the river valley.... (perturbing bridge pictured below)

Boy was it a mess! The area had seen its worst flooding ever and the roads were a clusterf*@/& of washed out asphalt, deep ruts and sandbanks amist a rabble of prostrate trees which had fallen victim to landslides (ok, maybe 15% was a wreck, the rest was beautiful). 7 laborious miles and one mean dog later we had found no roads to cut across and we were heading due east, so we opted to ask some road repair men (casually discussing something in a group next to their dump truck) how to get back on track. They kindly told us the best way is to go back to from where we came and walk across the bridge. Grrr, we thanked them through gritted teeth and put our 14 mile joyride behind us (Below picture is of Sam and Luke gazing into a waterlogged hill that dumped into Rattlesnake road, note the mangled gate).

We made it to the bridge, walked our bikes across and lunched under some sycamores. A service man oooed and awed over our trip and excitedly proclaimed us his heroes. Heavy napping ensued and we booked it to Terra Haute. Well, we had to stop and fill our bellies with ice cream and fried chicken at the Country Junction, then we booked it to Terra Haute (Junction pictured below).

Terra Haute was as expected…We went to Starbucks for the advertised free internet, but discovered their generosity is extended only to those who have already purchased a T-mobile plan, so we skipped on over to the public library (located in a strip mall) for a quick bit of blogging. 8pm rolled around at we opted to get out of town to find somewhere to bed down in the Illinois hills. We made it to the Wabash River when Sam snagged us a camping spot by talking to an enthusiastic man named Bill at a traffic light. He had us up to his house, we graciously accepted a few beers, ate some adulterated (samilukenick style) boxed mac and cheese, and passed out under the stars (Bill, Nick and Luke discussing life's adventures over a drink and map).

Thanks to Bill for the hospitality, beer, english muffins and the escort!

Miles: 50 (in addition to the aforementioned 14 mile detour)

Morale: Earnest enthusiasm-perturbation-relief-starbucks induced perturbation-exploding exuberance over meeting Bill

no storms

no flats