Three States in a Day!

It’s 12:30 on Monday, May 7^th and I am just writing my blog for yesterday’s events. Usually I write in the evening, but yesterday was a pretty long day and I was just too tired last night. Yesterday I cycled in three states, although admittedly 99.9% was through Kentucky. I started the morning just across the state line in Tennessee, so I cycled there for 5 minutes. I ended the evening in Cave-in-Rock, Illinois, where I cycled for 5 minutes. And I biked for 7 hours right through the state of Kentucky! Yikes! It was my longest day of cycling in a while (92 miles to be exact) but it felt goooood. Oh, yeah.

But first things, first. Andrea’s prom was Saturday and Christa sent me some pictures so I could see what I was missing. Now you can see them, too. She’s a grown woman and looking pretty fine, if I do say so myself. I couldn’t be prouder, and am pleased as punch that she’s finishing high school and starting at Northern Michigan University this fall. That means Christa and I will be empty nester’s; maybe we can get a tandem bike for another adventure, right honey ;^)

Adam just got back home from Michigan Tech, and I am happy he will be there to do all of the manly chores before I get back home. Thanks, Eggman!

The ride was pretty uneventful for such a long one. I saw the same motorcycle group about five times throughout the day. They were as surprised as I was each time we passed each other. I also passed over the Cumberland River and thought how nice a houseboat vacation would feel right about now. I was about to camp out in Tulo, KY at the end of the day, when a fellow mowing his lawn told me that I was only 8 miles from Cave-in-Rock, IL, my targeted destination. So I sucked it up, and kicked it in for the final stretch. I’m glad I did.

In order to get there you have to take a ferry across the Ohio River into Illinois. Cave-in-Rock is named after a natural cave carved in the bank of the river, big enough for 8 semi-trucks (or so I’m told.) As I was waiting for the ferry I met Steve Doty and his daughter Sierra, who were searching for sea shells. Sierra found some, but later admitted she just tricked me. Here I am with them, as well as his son Gage and wife Lori. Steve was born in Cave-in-Rock, where his parents owned the golf course for a while. He told me some cool stories about the town, which is no more than a few hundred people. The breakfast crowd confirmed once again, no town has a finer personality.

By the time I got settled in and made my nightly phone call home, I had to set up my tent in the dark. Little did I realize it was on a hill, until I kept rolling to one side the rest of the night. At least it was my cushy side, so I still slept pretty good.

Please write comments; I love reading them just as much a I hope you like reading my journal. Just like the Doobie Brothers would say; "It keeps me running, yeah, it keeps me running!"

Also, don't forget that I would really appreciate any contribution you'd make to the Kyle Casey Memorial Scholarship Fund. Like I said before, it may help a youth achieve their life goal, and that's what this is all about.

Cinqo de Mayo (and de Stato)

It’s Cinqo de Mayo and I just reached my cinqo state: Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, and now Kentucky. I am camping at the Rushing Creek Campground in the “Land Between the Lakes” National Recreation Area, right on the border of Tennessee and Kentucky. It’s surrounded by Lake Barkley on one side and Kentucky Lake on the other side. It’s very rustic and scenic; perhaps the most isolated part of my trip so far.

I almost got caught in a thunderstorm but when I stopped at the Erin, TN library to check my e-mail it poured while I was nice and dry under the awning. Begosh and begorum, it’s the luck of the Irish!

After traveling in the Land Between the Lakes for an hour, I thought I heard another thunderstorm rolling in. The sky was clear and it just didn’t make sense. Then I remembered what Kevin Costner did in Dancing with Wolves. I got off my bike and put my ear to the ground. Tatonka! There was a huge field with a bunch of Bison! I wanted to tell all of the Indians to get on their horses for the big hunt, but I couldn’t find them. Pretty cool, anyway.

When I arrived at the campground I was greeted by a family that passed me on the road three times today. They almost couldn’t believe their eyes when I rolled in. The youngest girl gave me her “Smokey’s Friend” wristband, kind of like one of those Armstrong wristbands, which I promised to wear the rest of the trip. Another family (three generations of women/girls) that I had lunch with at The Pit Stop Pizzeria in Erin, TN passed me an hour later as I was headed out of Tennessee. This kind of thing seems to happen with regularity. I wish I would have taken their pictures, but there’s lots of things we wish for, aren’t there?

It’s Andrea’s Prom tonight – I had a nice chance to talk with Christa after the big photo session. She bought a fabulous dress while we were in Chicago, which I’m told was on sale but don’t believe it. I wish I could have been there, but there’s lots of things we wish for…… Christa promised to send me her pictures, so I’ll put them on tomorrow’s blog. I won’t miss the graduation on May 25^th though, dag nab it.

Land of Loretta Lynn

I called into the Eagle (Gaylord's local radio station) this morning, as I have been at 7:00am every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and Mike Rieling told me that the only storm in the United States was right over Tennessee. Great. It had been raining all night. My choice was to hang out at the campground or move on. I threw my tent in the dryer, packed all of my stuff in plastic bags, and made the right choice by moving on. It rained part of the day, but for the most part, my ride was storm free.

About ten miles into my day I had to walk my bike up a hill. It didn’t seem to high at the time and I was thinking: “Maybe you’re losing your mojo, baby.” I ate a Powerbar (not the one you gave me, Joe) and tried to kick it up a notch, but who doesn’t get self doubts on occasion. An hour later I was a corner, thinking about what way to turn, when an old timer in a beat up pickup stopped and asked if I was lost. He gave me directions and warned me about the hills I would encounter along the way. I told him “Oh, my gosh. I just ran into one that knocked me out”, and he just laughed. “Whell, boy,” he said with a toothless grin, “that thar was the biggest hill in Perry County.” I forget what he called it, but it sure made me feel more confident again. Turns out that steep hill was over 300 feet high. Needless to say, it’s been difficult to make the big miles I was further south.

I passed the Loretta Lynn Museum but didn’t stop, after all, she wasn’t going to be there until later this month. The picture above is an typical example of the scenery throughout the day. I decided to stay in a hotel, and just as I pulled up the Imperial Lodge in Waverly, TN I got another flat tire. Luckily I’ve got plenty of time to patch some tires tonight. I should reach another bicycle shop in two days. It will be nice to ride on tires that don’t have patches. After eating the authentic and excellent food at the Mexican restaurant across the street, all I could think is “Life, she is good.”

P.S. Just a point of interest; I’ve stayed at four independent hotels along the way, and all are owned by people of Asian Indian descent, who live right behind the hotel office. Hmmm.

P.S.S. It’s 9:15am (central time) and I just found another hole in my tube. I guess I’m getting a late start this morning.

I'm One of the "Good Ol' Boys" Now

This was supposed to be a nice, easy day. Although it was enjoyable, I am finding none are really what you would call “easy”. I was about the first person at the Shiloh Museum this morning, and I could tell the staff was wondering how a dude on a bicycle could be there so early by the inquisitive look on their faces. I took off from Shiloh thinking that I would get done riding early so I could do my laundry (see last entry.)

I stopped for a barbeque chicken wings and potato wedge brunch in Crump, TN at gas station diner, similar to many I have eaten at along the way. I sat down to eat with a couple of “good ol’ boys” named Lowell Tyler and Paul Plunk who warned me about the earthquakes just north of here. They gave me some good advice on my route and mentioned that I would be passing right by their house. Sure enough, an hour later there they were shooting the bull in Lowell’s front yard. He gave me a Tennessee map, which will come in handy during the next couple of days.

When I posted my blog at the Decaturville, TN library I was still feeling pretty good about my day. The elevation changes were more serious than a shoestring, rising over 300 feet throughout the day, so I was a little pooped out, but my camping plans only meant another hour of cycling.

Until I reached the first campground, which didn’t have a washer. But that was OK, since there was another campground only 8 miles down the road. Then I had a flat, meaning I had to patch a tire at the side of the road, because I haven’t come to a bike shop in about 800 miles. I finally reached Mousetail Landing State Campground, only to find I was at the site without washing facilities. But that was OK, the other site was only a few miles down the road. Until I saw the hill you have to climb to get there. You know how road signs warning about big hills show trucks climbing up the 30 degree side of a triangle. Well, this sign had the triangle tipped up on it’s 60 degree side. And it wasn’t an exaggeration.

So here I am, at 11:00pm writing this entry in the laundry room and feeding a new mouse friend Rice Chex. Christa thought I should give you some statistics, so here they are: 1219 miles, 15 days (including my first days ride from Ft. Myers, FL to Marco Island), average speed 14mph, 89 hours of pedaling time. How’s that, honey?

Tomorrow promises more adventures, so I’d best be hitting the sack. One final thought: I’ve been writing haphazard thoughts that I think you’d find interesting, but if you have any questions post them on the blog. I’ll try to answer them tomorrow night. In the words of the famous Red Skeleton, “Good night, and may God bless.”

Camping on Hallowed Ground

Shhhh. You’ve got to keep quiet. I am secretly camping at the Shiloh National Military Park in southern Tennessee. (Yes, I am now in Tennessee.) They don’t know I’m here because camping is not allowed. I am hidden in a little valley with a stream called Rhea Springs, about 100 yards from a Confederate burial trench. A ranger has driven by a few times but I don’t think they notice the light from my laptop. I’m typing this under a garbage bag because it just started to sprinkle, but it’s also keeping me under cover.

Who was it that wrote “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Well, that kind of describes my day. Let me first get the worst of times off my chest. For the first time weather was a factor. There was a light rain most of the afternoon, not enough to keep me from riding but just enough to make it annoying. I also had to walk my bike up a couple of hills for the first time, not that I’m embarrassed. Cycling up hills is not so bad, even if the hills are high. The problem comes when they are steep, and a few were dang steep. That’s all for the worst of times – not so bad I guess.

Now for the best of times. I ate my first Chicago style Italian Steak Sandwich in Iuka, MS and it was gooooood. Eating I one of the most basic pleasures in life, and I am enjoying it immensely every chance I get. My brother Joe said that I am burning 5,000 to 6,000 calories a day, so next time I’ll have to eat two of them.

As I pulled into Shiloh the rain stopped and I took my time cycling around the grounds. If you are not aware, 24,000 Union and Confederate soldiers died or were wounded here, making it one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. Until that point, Lincoln’s goal was just to try and preserve the Union. After the Battle of Shiloh, the Civil War became a struggle to end slavery. It almost feels like hallowed grounds, with all of the memorials and cemeteries. I feel blessed to have a few hours to just pedal around and experience it. This has been the highlight of my trip so far. And the Italian Steak sandwich, of course.

On a final note, many people made fun of a line I told Jeremy in the Herald Times about washing my clothes in a stream. Check out the picture for living proof! The only clean clothes I have are a couple of pairs of underwear (which, if you know me, is a couple more than I really need) and a pair of socks. I’ll do my laundry at a campground tomorrow, but in the meantime, I’m washing a couple of items the old fashioned way. So to all of you nay-sayers – HA! I laugh in your face!

PS: There was a huge thunderstorm last night but I was nice and dry, cuddled up in my little tent. I'm nicknaming it Christa 2, because she keeps me safe and warm at night.

On to Shiloh!

It’s been 12 days since I left Marco Island and I feel GREAT! I have to be careful about arriving home too soon, because I know Christa is keeping a honey-do list that will be much more taxing than riding a bike.

I was going to take it easy today, but as I took a wrong turn and passed the campground I planned on staying at. The good news: I had a chance to cycle the Nachez Trace Parkway, perhaps one of the most scenic routes of the country. No commercial vehicles are allowed on it and it was well worth the cruise. The bad news: I ended up backtracking ten miles before coming to the Tishomingo State Park campground. I guess it’s not all bad news, because I’ve got a nicer site than we ever had camping at Young State Park.

As I crested a hill, I noticed another cyclist walking his bike in front of me. He decided to ride the Underground Railroad route too, but used his mountain bike instead of a sleek road bicycle like mine. He’s only able to go 40-50 miles a day because of big treaded tires and gear problems. I felt bad for him, but after talking for 15 minutes I had to move on. We were both going to stop at a bicycle shop in Fulton, MS – me to get tubes and him to get his bike fixed. The “bike shop” turned out being an old second hand thrift store; they didn’t even have tubes for my bike and his mechanic needs were out of the question. Then I felt REALLY bad for him! About an hour later I ran into a fellow at a party store who saw my friend in town, still looking for the bike shop. Now I wish I would have gotten his phone number. At least I gave him my blog address. I hope he’s OK. Even though I am the first to admit that I didn’t know what I was doing before my adventure started, I sure made a lot of correct decisions by accident. Sometimes life is like that.

Tomorrow I am staying the night in Shiloh, home of one of the most important battles in the Civil War. If my American History classes are reading this, I will give you extra credit if you can tell me why.

Now, as for the movie, I would like to play myself if it's a musical. Tom Hanks and I are like this (imagine my fingers crossed) and he said that he would do a cameo, but he had enough of that cross country stuff with Forest Gump. Maybe Jim Carrey could play the crazy logging truck driver that tries to run me off the road. (This hasn't happened, but if we're making a movie I can take some creative liberties, can't I?)

One final note: I am getting abut 200 hits a day on my blog, which is awesome. I'm glad so many people are living vicariously through my trip. I know Christa and I have lived vicariously through Adam and Andrea as they are transforming into adults, and it's nice to return the favor. Keep checking out my blog - I hope it's entertaining for you. It sure is fun to write!

Mom's Birthday, Armadillo's and Flat Tires

First, I’d like to wish my mom a happy birthday; her 39^th to be exact. That make’s her 8 years younger than me, which I can’t quite figure out, but she sure looks it so who am I to argue.

Next, I would like to answer a question that Jeff Kalember posed me: Have I seen any interesting wildlife on my trip, such as wild boars, zebra or giraffe? Although I did see a hummingbird and some wild turkey (not the liquid kind), the one thing I have found fascinating is the number of dead armadillo at the side of the road. Evidently, they are quite the pests in the south and their habitat is slowly moving northward. Mr. Brown, the Cochrane Camp host said there were so many last year they spent the summer exterminating them. He said that Armadillos are so stupid you could just clunk them over the head. I was going to hang one on my flag, but thought better of that idea.

I crossed over into Mississippi today, as evidenced by the photo from the state line, and am resting in a campground in Aberdeen. I stepped into a mud puddle and got a “soaker” setting up the time elapse for the picture. The things you do for your blog.

The day started out with a flat tire before I started. I was due, since my last one was a week ago. Unfortunately as I was riding through Columbus, MS I heard an ominous “POP…FFSSSSS” as I blew a second one. Good thing I had another spare (even though it’s a patched one from earlier.) I guess it’s time to find a bike shop.

As I was taking a break and drinking a Gatorade, Betty Holliman of Columbus stopped by to talk. Now I don’t know if it was my charming personality or the fact that I’m beginning to look pretty grungy, but she slipped me a $5 bill before she left. I told her I would put it toward Kyle’s scholarship fund. That’s the first time something like that has happened on my trip. Do I look homeless and destitute in my pictures? Maybe I have a career in panhandling.

I’m spending the night at a campground right off the Tenn-Tombigbee Waterway, a series of Dams and locks that I have been riding past for the past couple of days. They connect the Tennessee River with the Mississippi River, making it a kind of inland waterway superhighway. The locks raise boats higher than the Panama Canal. Pretty cool. If you look at the picture you can see my campsite on the left. If you look really close you can see me waving.

Your comments are greatly appreciated – they serve as extra motivation so please keep them coming. Also don’t forget that if you would like to show your support of “living your dreams”, make a contribution to the Kyle Casey Memorial Scholarship Fund. As Sue and Pat Casey would surely tell you, the amount is not important, but the thought is precious.