thirtysixer
It was another hellishly hot day. I had left the Baptist Church before Alex and Iris, but still not before 9:00. I was making stops every 10 miles just to cool off. When I stopped for lunch at Jeri’s Cafe, I got to hear some stories about the outlaws that reigned over my next destination, Cave in Rock, IL. I ran into yet another XC cyclist, for just a second. After climbing some hills that had no place existing in the midwest, I made it to the Ohio River. I got on the ferry and made my way across another state line. Welcome to Illinois!
As soon as I got to Cave in Rock, I stopped and talked to some locals. I then went and sat in front of the welcome center. From a distance I saw two smaller vehicles board the ferry on the opposite side of the river. It was my new friends Alex and Iris. So I went and snapped some pics of them getting off the ferry. Almost immediately, the local I talked to earlier came and invited us to sit and listen to some music. We accept and join them for the festivities. From there we got dinner at the local cafe. We sat around until after dark, and after close. I had my first fried cactus as an appetizer.
We decided to go check out the cave that’s so famous in Cave in Rock. And while we’re looking for the path to the cave, we run into the missing cyclist from earlier in the day. We had all thought that he just kept on riding towards Elizabethtown, and passed me while I enjoyed another meal in Marion. He was set up in the campground, but we found him loitering by a closed restaurant and we decided to join. Once it got late, and we got tired, we went our separate ways.
We got to the cave and wandered around checking out possible places to sleep. There was water dripping just about everywhere inside. So we found a semi-flat, dry place to cowboy it, way off the ground near the entrance of the cave. It was a beautiful night, lit by the almost full moon. Almost time for a night ride. Maybe tomorrow.
In the morning, we packed up. I was the first to get out of the “campground.” When I got to town, everything, and I mean everything was closed. It was before 6 am after all. The local I met the day before, on the other hand, was up and managing the moles in his yard. He gave me a couple sodas, and I hit the road.
Following my basic instincts, I went off route looking for breakfast, and found SO much more. There was a group of old men sitting in Bri-onna’s Cafe, the only place open for miles. They recommended that I visit the Garden of the Gods. This sounded like a cool detour. So they gave me directions, and before I had the chance to, one guy bought my breakfast. Always follow your instincts.
I rode and rode, and eventually made it to the Garden of the Gods with the help of the post office. I left my Uni at the Backpacker’s Parking Lot, and started hiking. I got to this huge rock face, so I climbed up it. Didn’t feel like climbing back down, so I wandered further. I find the observation trail, and wow. I found some spectactular views, and awesome rock formations. There are signs up everywhere telling people NOT to climb on the rocks, but everyone is. I follow in stride and take a few good pics. And not before taking a 10 minute nap on a park bench because I woke up too early, another park attendee gave me a ride back to the parking lot. I told him what I was doing with the next few months of my life. I get riding, and sure enough, before I make it back to the main road, a whole bunch of people come screaming round the curve. They want an autograph.
I kept riding, got lunch at a country store, and made my way toward Harrisburg. While I’m riding, I’m stopped by a police officer. He’s been getting calls about me riding “eratically.” Me and the officer are in agreement that I’m being safe and not braking any laws. I continue on and stop at a radio station, just before town. I do a quick interview and continue my ride. The contact where my saddle meets body is pretty much done at this point. And I find out that my triathalon shorts are tearing at the seams. I’m riding down 13 and I start to hear thunder. And not before long, LIGHTNING is cracking all around me. I’m riding pretty fast at this point, trying to reach my destination for the day. I stop to check out Tuff Luck Tattoos just before Carbondale. And as I’m looking through my first artist book, It just starts pouring. Crazy sideward rain and lightning. I hang out, and use their phone to call my host. She comes and picks me up in the rain.
Finally in a comfortable building, off of my seat, Shannon, my host, makes up a huge meal of salad and tuna. Afterward, she invites some friends and we all converse and have a few beers. Beat from the day, I’m the first to elect to go to sleep. New personal record today: 94 miles.
