Has it been a week already?
How the time flies. It's hard to believe a week has passed since we posted last. Heidi and I are now in Berea, Kentucky, home of Berea College, started in 1855 to provide a free education to Appalachian students. The town has many shops selling the work of local artists, many of whom were trained at the college. I already added a $2,000 hand-crafted rocking chair to my Christmas list. Santa, are you reading?
Heidi and I are splitting up our update today. I'm going to write about the first few days of bicycling in Kentucky, and Heidi will complete the update into Berea.
Heidi and I first attempted to leave Evansville a week ago, Tuesday. John Eads loaded our bicycles in a borrowed truck and drove us out of Evansville to a nearby small town. We got on the highway from there, with the intention of navigating our way back onto the Adventure Cycling maps. We soon realized our route was a truck route, as well as shoulderless, and so we decided that we were going to have to get back to Evansville and figure out a different way. We were able to hitch a ride back into downtown Evansville, and then using our collective memories from our few days in town, we found our way back to the house where John and Leah live. Let's just say John was pretty surprised to see us standing at his door again, only a few hours after he'd dropped us off!
We decided that Leah and John would drive us the 30 miles down to Sebree, Kentucky, which is on the Adventure Cycling route. Sebree is also home to a great cyclists hostel at a local Baptist church, so we had lodging for the night. All in all, our foiled attempt to leave Evansville turned out really well, because we were able to spend more time with Leah and John, including cooking supper for them and watching a movie together on the big-screen in the church basement. We have it so rough.
Leaving Sebree we knew we had a long day ahead--about 65 miles through hilly country. A highlight of the day was meeting a man out doing a century ride (100 miles). We chatted for a few minutes and discussed an alternate route we were considering. Later in the day we met up with him again. He'd cycled around to meet us and make sure we got on the alternate. He biked with us for a few miles. It turned out he's into endurance racing, and had completed a 750 mile race in 82 hours, including 50,000 feet of climbing. Needless to say, I started to feel a little bit less sorry for myself. I attempted to pick his brain for the secrets of staying motivated when the body grows weary. His response? "I guess I'm lucky. I don't have much room in my brain for thinking about that stuff." Or something like that. It wasn't the mountaintop epiphany I was looking for. But he was a very nice man, nonetheless, and gave us a boost.
After 72 miles, we reached our camping spot for the night at Falls of Rough State Resort Park. It was built by a resevoir and had a 1960s flare. We had to laugh at ourselves--Unlike many people camping who want a quiet spot far away from other campers, lights, and foot traffic, we now try to camp as close to the bathrooms as possible.
On Thursday we planned to bike from Falls of Rough to Hodgenville, home of the Lincoln Birthplace National Historic Site. The day dawned chilly, though, and a mist began to fall. By the afternoon hours, after another stop to warm up at a convenience store (Kentucky, by the way, offers a table of friendly, talkative folks at almost every gas station), it began to RAIN. We soon discovered that although rain gear does help a person stay dry from rain, one's sweat soon soaks all clothes underneath the rain gear, anyway.
At the top of a long hill, two snarling dogs ran out into the road and I, not up for a chase, stopped my bike and hoped they'd back off. No such luck. They contined snarling and circling us. Heidi and I were screaming at them and not knowing what else to do, we just kept biking by and tried to outrun them. A neighbor standing at the end of her driveway called to us, "They ain't going to bite ya." Heidi and I both wondered how a person is supposed to be able to tell that snarling, barking dogs are actually just friendly pups in it for some fun.
After the run-in with the dogs, Heidi and I soon realized that we couldn't make our hoped-for distance with the rain, reduced visibility, and reduced braking capabilities. We stopped at the gas station in White Mills and decided it was time to start calling churches at the next town. However, a friendly gent quickly suggested we call White Mills Christian Camp. We did, and they said they'd put us up for the night. It was such a RELIEF to get out of the rain and into the boys' dorm (no campers there at the time), where we had space to lay out all of our wet belongings. We were both rather giddy with joy as we looked outside and saw the cold rain continuing to fall and an icy wind blowing. We cooked dinner out under the awning on a bench--*only* one hour to make 10-minute noodles using wet twigs in our wood-burning stove.
Leaving White Mills we had another longer day into Bardstown. It was very chilly, but the rain had stopped and the roads had dried off. When we started our bike trip, even biking shorts and a short sleeve shirt felt unbearably hot. Now I wear biking shorts, biking tights, an ear warmer, a short-sleeve jersy and a long-sleeve jersey, my rain coat/windbreaker, and wool winter gloves...and it's cold!
Near Bardstown we chatted--again--with the locals smoking cigarettes at the table in the gas station, and they gave us an alternate route into town. We took it, and they met us as we came into town to make sure we'd made it and we chatted with them again. Kentucky is full of the nicest people you will ever meet! Bardstown is home to "My Old Kentucky Home," an old plantation house that Stephen Foster wrote a song about. It's a very touristy town. We camped at the state park there, and Donnie the friendly gate-keeper gave us a deal on camping. He's planning to do the Transam route in a year. Some folks gave us a ride into a buffet restaurant farther into town (since it was dark), and we guiltlessly ate southern cooking.
Although the Kentucky terrain and weather have been hard, we continue to meet great people on a daily basis, who help us out in little ways: chatting with us about our trip, offering us free hot tea and hot coffee, serenading us with mountain songs, and offering us warm places to sleep.
Heidi and I are splitting up our update today. I'm going to write about the first few days of bicycling in Kentucky, and Heidi will complete the update into Berea.
Heidi and I first attempted to leave Evansville a week ago, Tuesday. John Eads loaded our bicycles in a borrowed truck and drove us out of Evansville to a nearby small town. We got on the highway from there, with the intention of navigating our way back onto the Adventure Cycling maps. We soon realized our route was a truck route, as well as shoulderless, and so we decided that we were going to have to get back to Evansville and figure out a different way. We were able to hitch a ride back into downtown Evansville, and then using our collective memories from our few days in town, we found our way back to the house where John and Leah live. Let's just say John was pretty surprised to see us standing at his door again, only a few hours after he'd dropped us off!
We decided that Leah and John would drive us the 30 miles down to Sebree, Kentucky, which is on the Adventure Cycling route. Sebree is also home to a great cyclists hostel at a local Baptist church, so we had lodging for the night. All in all, our foiled attempt to leave Evansville turned out really well, because we were able to spend more time with Leah and John, including cooking supper for them and watching a movie together on the big-screen in the church basement. We have it so rough.
Leaving Sebree we knew we had a long day ahead--about 65 miles through hilly country. A highlight of the day was meeting a man out doing a century ride (100 miles). We chatted for a few minutes and discussed an alternate route we were considering. Later in the day we met up with him again. He'd cycled around to meet us and make sure we got on the alternate. He biked with us for a few miles. It turned out he's into endurance racing, and had completed a 750 mile race in 82 hours, including 50,000 feet of climbing. Needless to say, I started to feel a little bit less sorry for myself. I attempted to pick his brain for the secrets of staying motivated when the body grows weary. His response? "I guess I'm lucky. I don't have much room in my brain for thinking about that stuff." Or something like that. It wasn't the mountaintop epiphany I was looking for. But he was a very nice man, nonetheless, and gave us a boost.
After 72 miles, we reached our camping spot for the night at Falls of Rough State Resort Park. It was built by a resevoir and had a 1960s flare. We had to laugh at ourselves--Unlike many people camping who want a quiet spot far away from other campers, lights, and foot traffic, we now try to camp as close to the bathrooms as possible.
On Thursday we planned to bike from Falls of Rough to Hodgenville, home of the Lincoln Birthplace National Historic Site. The day dawned chilly, though, and a mist began to fall. By the afternoon hours, after another stop to warm up at a convenience store (Kentucky, by the way, offers a table of friendly, talkative folks at almost every gas station), it began to RAIN. We soon discovered that although rain gear does help a person stay dry from rain, one's sweat soon soaks all clothes underneath the rain gear, anyway.
At the top of a long hill, two snarling dogs ran out into the road and I, not up for a chase, stopped my bike and hoped they'd back off. No such luck. They contined snarling and circling us. Heidi and I were screaming at them and not knowing what else to do, we just kept biking by and tried to outrun them. A neighbor standing at the end of her driveway called to us, "They ain't going to bite ya." Heidi and I both wondered how a person is supposed to be able to tell that snarling, barking dogs are actually just friendly pups in it for some fun.
After the run-in with the dogs, Heidi and I soon realized that we couldn't make our hoped-for distance with the rain, reduced visibility, and reduced braking capabilities. We stopped at the gas station in White Mills and decided it was time to start calling churches at the next town. However, a friendly gent quickly suggested we call White Mills Christian Camp. We did, and they said they'd put us up for the night. It was such a RELIEF to get out of the rain and into the boys' dorm (no campers there at the time), where we had space to lay out all of our wet belongings. We were both rather giddy with joy as we looked outside and saw the cold rain continuing to fall and an icy wind blowing. We cooked dinner out under the awning on a bench--*only* one hour to make 10-minute noodles using wet twigs in our wood-burning stove.
Leaving White Mills we had another longer day into Bardstown. It was very chilly, but the rain had stopped and the roads had dried off. When we started our bike trip, even biking shorts and a short sleeve shirt felt unbearably hot. Now I wear biking shorts, biking tights, an ear warmer, a short-sleeve jersy and a long-sleeve jersey, my rain coat/windbreaker, and wool winter gloves...and it's cold!
Near Bardstown we chatted--again--with the locals smoking cigarettes at the table in the gas station, and they gave us an alternate route into town. We took it, and they met us as we came into town to make sure we'd made it and we chatted with them again. Kentucky is full of the nicest people you will ever meet! Bardstown is home to "My Old Kentucky Home," an old plantation house that Stephen Foster wrote a song about. It's a very touristy town. We camped at the state park there, and Donnie the friendly gate-keeper gave us a deal on camping. He's planning to do the Transam route in a year. Some folks gave us a ride into a buffet restaurant farther into town (since it was dark), and we guiltlessly ate southern cooking.
Although the Kentucky terrain and weather have been hard, we continue to meet great people on a daily basis, who help us out in little ways: chatting with us about our trip, offering us free hot tea and hot coffee, serenading us with mountain songs, and offering us warm places to sleep.
posted by Heidi & Liz at 11:52 AM
2 Comments:
You continue to meet such interesting people! I am glad for the kindness and courtesy of Kentuckians. I am just imagining the rolling, curving roads you are traveling and pray that October weather will arrive soon. Out with the cold! Mom Amanda
Yay Kentucky!! I'm so glad you gals are having a great experience with the folks out there. I have a special place in my heart for that state. It is beautiful and filled with kind-hearted, genuine people. I know exactly what you mean! Be safe. Sounds like you are doing great. We missed you at the Shirk-Birky extravaganza.
Love,
Rachel C.
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