I have mentioned smells before, and I must say I liked the smell of Western Kentucky, the fields, the woods, the meadows. Cycling along means you are very aware of this sensory aspect and it adds a lot the the experience of the trip.
In Western Kentucky, they seem to be into pig farming, which is unmistakable from the smell coming off the farms and passing trucks. However, this didn't detract, rather belonged to the experience of the day's ride. Also, the smell coming off timber trucks here is that of hardwood, rather than pine as in Colorado.
Tuesday and Wednesday night it's the Falls of Rough Motel. What I like about the setup of American motel, apart from the air-conditioning, is that you can take your bike straight from the car park into your room. Very convenient for getting in and out with all your gear or doing bike maintenance. With a Premier Inn that would be a bit more of a problem.
The ride through Western Kentucky, from Marion to Sebree, was probably the most relaxing ride to date: rolling hills, woodlands alternating with meadows and fields and well maintained, small country roads with very little traffic. I started at 7 in the morning, just as the sun rose and I couldn't get the smile off my face.
Overnight I stayed in another air-conditioned church hall. Again they had been on the go since 1976, although the premises had been rebuilt. When I got in (the cyclists accommodation was at the lower level), there was something familiar about it. I couldn't quite place it, then I saw the notice on the wall about it serving as a storm shelter. It had the same solid built and heavy doors as the nuclear shelters each house had in my time in Switzerland. With the beautiful weather I have had, you can forget about the destructive storms they have here. It is in a completely different league to the 70mph expected in the UK over the next few days.
On my ride today I again met some japing dogs. However, this time a truck slowed down between me and the dogs and stayed there until they had given up. The driver, an older guy, could clearly see what was happening and knew what to do. Very helpful. One the whole, I was impressed by the drivers behavior. At times, there were steep climbs and always with blind summits where I would slow down to maybe 4 mph, and a car or truck would come up behind me. Usually, the driver, rather than being right up my bum, would slow down way back, maybe a 150 yards, put on his or her hazard lights, and just crawl along until I got to the top. You can imagine this again made for a much more relaxed ride.
The only time I had consistently seen such behavior was on the West Coast when I did the Scotland 500.
On Sunday I had my first real encounter with dogs. You read a lot about the challenge for cyclists from semi-feral dogs in Eastern Kentucky. Anyway, out of a garden came a pack of 7 dogs barking and circling around me. I duly got off my bike and started walking, as recommended. However, they keep up with me, barking and snapping at the panniers. By that time I had removed the safety catch from the bear spray. At one point, there were 5 of them in a tight pack blocking my way. Even after half a mile they didn't let up, so the question was what to do. Was there going to be an escalation or were they just going to give up? I didn't know and I didn't want to take a chance, so checking the wind direction (you don't want that stuff to blow in your face) and for the likely leader of the pack, and I gave him a short blast of bear spray. The effect on the pack was imminent. Only one got a dose, but all of them stopped barking and in an instant retreated. I suppose that's the positive aspect of pack mentality, they react as one. The positive outcome from this was that the guy I met on Day 23 in Yellowstone was right: the spray is very effective. Very comforting to know for future encounters.
However, the next few miles I keep looking in my rear-view mirror to check, not for dogs, but for his irate owner, probably in a battered pickup truck, since it was obvious that the dog in question would have been a bit under the weather. Anyway, I got safely to the next town without further encounters, either dog or man/woman. There, sitting outside a petrol station, eating a well deserved ice-cream, a scruffy cat kept me company. What a difference. With the exception of you, Sorsha, I think on the whole I prefer cats!
After that, I got to the Ohio River and the ferry at Cave-in-Rock. The last time I had been on a ferry with my bike was crossing the River Fowey at Bodinnick in Cornwall on my End2End trip. The ferry was free and rather rudimentary: a raft with a tug attached by a push bar, switching over after each crossing. Also, the docking was very simple, coping with the variations in in river levels. I suppose they had years of experience developing a system that was cheap and effective.
The crossing of the Ohio also took me to Kentucky, the one but last State of my trip!
That night I stayed in the Marion United Methodist Church. The pastor's phone number was on the church door, and being a Sunday afternoon, I wonder if I would get him. Sure enough, 10 minutes later he came around and let me in. Apparently, the church had been offering cyclists accommodation since the TA was established in 1976. So, for 47 years, any cyclists, appearing at their doors, was offered free shelter, a bed, and most importantly, a shower: Christian values in action. They had stacks and stacks of visitors books to prove it. James, the pastor even took a picture of me and will stick it next to my entry. Looking back the most recent book, I saw a number of people I had met going either W-E or E-W. There must have been hundreds and hundreds of them over time. What an amazing service!
Friday was a rather short ride of only 46 miles as I did additional miles yesterday. The route was hilly at first, but then I hit Mississippi floodplains. The first flat roads since leaving Kansas! Then up the ramp and onto the bridge across the Mississippi. It was rather exciting but I couldn't really enjoy it, because the bridge was just two lanes with no hard shoulder. So, no place to stop and take photos. Nevertheless, it felt as if I was passing another milestone on the trip.
Then it was off to the cycle hostel, run by the Chester Eagles Club. Coming up to the building, with the Stars and Stripes flying, an Eagle and Liberty, Truth, Justice, Equality and FOE written around it. There were two choppers parked outside and it could have been a redneck roadside bar.
Luckily, I had looked up the Fraternal Order of Eagles (FOE), a charity founded in 1898 and has been actively engaged in promoting social issues ever since, even extending to supporting cyclists in need of shelter. It felt welcoming and very genuinely so.
On Thursday, I planned a 70 mile ride from Eminence, MO to Pilots Knob, MO. The ride took me through lovely forested part of Missouri, the Ozarks Mountain Range. A few climbs along the way, but otherwise really relaxing.
Along the way, I stopped of in a small town called Centerville, population 191. There must be something about a cyclist looking lost that makes people want to be helpful. I needed somewhere to fill up my water bottles and a guy in a wheelchair came out of the courthouse, called me over and offered water from their cooler and the use of the restroom, all gratefully accepted.
I think I am getting rather good at looking lost and helpless! It's an underappreciated art form that brings almost immediate results.
I was in Pilots Knob by 2.30, too early to set up camp, so I pushed on to Farmington, making it 87 miles, and stayed in Al's Place, a cycling hostel run by the town. When I got in I was gob-smacked. It looked amazing for a 20 bucks donation, and to think that I paid 60 bucks per night for a small room the night before.
When I looked at the visitors' book I saw that Adam stayed the previous night. We have been shadowing each other since Day 35. Let's see if I cache up with him before Yorktown, VA.
Anyway, I am glad I pushed on, and tomorrow I will only have 45 miles to get to the Mississippi and Chester, IL. This means a sleep in, leisurely breakfast, a visit to the local bike shop to check the tire pressure and then setting off around 11.
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