The Awkward Pose

Start:  Columbus, OH

Finish: Muont Vernon, OH

Weather:  80 degrees, sunny

Miles: 62

Distance to date: 2,106

I got up this morning and was fortified by donuts at my continental breakfast.  My first donuts of the trip.  Actually, my first donuts in about five years.  Fortified by all that is bad for me, I rode into Columbus.  It was a remarkable experience because I had passed many of the areas yesterday in the car with Ken Stevens, and I was once again struck by how different things look from a bicycle.  You see the street you are on,
but also the side streets; you see all the signs and get a better sense of scale.  As I approached downtown I spent some time looking at their really unusual train station, sort of Egyptian windmill style,
and revisited the State Capitol, which I liked so much yesterday.  Then I headed out on the bike path along the Scotio River.

Oops, that one ran out and ended.  I pedaled over to the Oligrachy River path.  Oops, construction.  I pedaled over to the Alum Creek Path.  Oops, more construction.  Guess it is fair to say the bike paths through Columbus are still a work in progress, but no matter.  Like all good Midwestern cities, it is a gird of north/south and east/west streets, so I wound my way from the southwest to the northeast and about 20 miles later crossed I-270 and was out
of the urban area.  Along one bike path detour I came upon a high school band group practicing their routine in a parking lot.  Great fun to watch.  Ohio State has a very famous band, and I understand
that bands are big all over this area. These kids were very serious in their maneuvers.

I headed north and east and hit bike paths about half the time, and roads about half the time.  The unfinished paths are under construction, so this is a very real project to connect Cincinnati and
Cleveland. Guess I’ll just have to come back when it is all done…

Ohio has very patriotic and basic names.  Today I left Columbus for Mount Vernon. I have been in Madison, Franklin, Knox, Jefferson, and Monroe counties.  Along that line, I stopped for lunch in Centerburg, which, you might guess, is the geographic center of Ohio.  I had incredible meatloaf with a huge warm roll, cottage cheese and salad.  The waitress, who had enough attitude to get
a job at Durgin Park in Boston, looked at me crooked when I ordered those sides.  “Don’t you want mac’n’cheese?”  I figured, with meatloaf and gravy and a roll, there is a limit to the carbs I need.

Mount Vernon is a lovely town with a great square and I am staying at a hotel right on the square. I always enjoy it when I am away from the highways.  No Internet access, but the good folks at the YMCA let me use their lobby to post this.  Ohio specializes in people who are blond and friendly.

Old Railroad Mile Marker along a Bike Trail

Start:  Yellow Springs, OH

Finish: Columbus, OH

Weather:  90 degrees, sunny

Miles:  59

Distance to date: 2044

I rolled over 2,000 miles today, as I continued to tour along bike path heaven.  My sweet little motel in Yellow Springs had breakfast baskets, so I wolfed down
bananas, crumb cakes and orange juice and hit the trails in the early morning
sunlight.  It was a dozen miles or so to
Cedarville, a tidy little town that seemed the antithesis of Yellow Springs, with a Christian College in lieu of Antioch.

The Ohio to Erie bike trail system through Ohio is about 80% complete, and the portion towards Columbus went even further than my map indicated, but eventually the good thing ended, though construction on the next phase was evident.  I met a great pair of volunteers along the path who were cleaning debris and cutting up fallen limbs along the trail.  One had made a 3,500
miles trek from Seattle to DC about ten years ago, the other is about to embark on an 11 state journey with his bike hooked to his car, which he rides on completed rail trails.  No sooner did I get off the trail than I ran into another local cyclist who was rich in stories
from the trail.  Ohioans love their bikes!

I hopped on US 40, the National Road, and even that had a bike lane right into Columbus.  I found a very serviceable hotel and was settled by 1 pm.

I had a fascinating tour this afternoon.  Ken Stevens, a local radio newscaster in Columbus (he is my brother-in-law’s brother) has been following this blog and when he realized I was coming through Columbus, asked me if I would do a radio interview with him.  Ken picked me up, took me to the Clear Channel studios in Columbus, and gave me a terrific tour of how radio works today, which like everything else involves more and more technology with fewer and fewer staff.  He interviewed me for a feature spot that may air tomorrow or Saturday.  It was great to see Ken after too many years, and fun to be interviewed.

Afterwards Ken took me on a quick tour around Ohio State University campus, which is as enormous as I expected, and through the main downtown areas.  Most striking is that the Ohio Statehouse, a well-proportioned Greek Revival building, has a flat roofed drum instead of the more traditional dome capping the building.  It is quite handsome once you get used to the dome one expects being absent.

My thanks for the volunteers of the Ohio to Erie Bike Trail System

Start:  Loveland, OH

Finish: Yellow Springs, OH

Weather:  90 degrees, sunny

Miles:  56

Distance to date: 1985

Today was touring cycle nirvana along the bike trail trial in Ohio.  No trucks, no traffic, the sun filtered through the trees, the gentle slope up as I followed the Little Miami River north.  The trail is beautifully
maintained, the trailheads have bathrooms and there is good food and services all along the way.

I cleaned up after my camping last night at the facilities at the Loveland Trailhead and was on the trail by 6:30 am.  I stopped
in Morrow for a great breakfast, then on to Xenia which is touring cycle Mecca.  Four different rail trails meet in Xenia, the town has bicycles everywhere.  I enjoyed a great lunch of barbeque and spent the afternoon in the Library mapping my route through Ohio to avoid being without a hotel again. (Once was fine, but I don’t need to make a regular thing of it).  There is this concept of an Ohio to Erie bike trail that will connect Cincinnati to Cleveland, but it is not finished yet, so I had to understand the gaps.  It is all well documented online, but there are no printed maps of the entire route, which is frustrating for us old school guys who want a piece of paper in our hands when we come to the intersection of four cornfields and want to know which way to go.

After I planned my future, I biked up to Yellow Springs, counter culture haven and home to Antioch College (which went belly up and is now reformulating itself).  I enjoyed dinner at a street café chatting with other guys. There are probably three times as many bicycles as cars in Yellow Springs.  Bikes rule.

I am staying at the most perfect roadside place, Springs Motel, a mile south of town.  Twelve rooms, each with a little rocker in front. As I type I am rocking and watching the sun set on the field
across the road.  My neighbors come and go, we chit chat, exchange our stories of the road.  When do you ever meet your neighbor at the Holiday Inn?

Springs Motel  Yellow Springs, OH

Start:  Markland, IN

Finish: Loveland, OH

Weather:  90 degrees, sunny

Miles:  80

Distance to date: 1929

I always knew that one day my refusal to make reservations for motels in advance
would catch up with me – and today was the day.  Fortunately I could not have better conditions for sleeping under the
stars.  The sky is clear, it is about 75
degrees, there is a light breeze off the Little Miami River running along my side, I am safe off any roads on the Little Miami Bike Trail, have a charming gazebo to sleep under, and water and bathroom facilities at the nearby Loveland
Trailhead.

Today was chore day.  I had to get to Cincinnati, get Ohio travel information, get my bike tire situation fixed, plan my Ohio stops, and prepare to go on the Little Miami Bike Trail.  Like chore days at home, the day felt scheduled, but aside from not finding a room at an inn, I got everything done.

Morning brought a blanket of fog over the Ohio, so figuring I had at most 50 miles today (NOT!), I lolled around and left after 9 am, took the bridge from Indiana over to Kentucky, and headed up US 42.  The ride along the river was gorgeous.  Even though they are separated by only a strip of water, Kentucky is different from Indiana, more Southern, more spacious.  The corn is superseded by tobacco, the houses along the river are manorly, the town squares genteel clapboard or painted brick instead of rusticated stone.

When the road headed inland I hit serious hills.  After the cushy terrain of Illinois and Indiana, going two miles up and up and up winded me, but felt good on the legs.  I didn’t have a Kentucky map, but had carefully written MapQuest directions.  Still, I took a right turn too early and wound up adding six miles to my trip.
Eventually I got back on track and descended into Covington.

Approaching Covington, KY from a distance and absorbing it slowly is a textbook example of how American cities evolve.  Far out there are huge acreages with looming houses.  Then I hit the towns without centers, the places defined by their highway intersections and collections of big box stores.  These give way to lower middle class development, rows of identical starter homes. Outside of Covington, $120,000 is the starting price for a two story square house with a two car garage, probably 2,000 sf total.  Moving towards the center I came upon the older suburbs, leafy green, larger houses, better proportions, with quaint shopping areas, established churches, immense schools.  Then I came down a sharp hill into Covington proper and the scale changed again. Two and three story brick buildings sit tight to the street, built from the early 1800’s right into the 1930’s, many still boasting articulated cornices and other fine details but now all in disrepair, if occupied at all.  Block after block of potential abandoned.  Finally, I came to the river where urban renewal paid a call.  The narrow streets open into wide expanses of concrete with unrelated buildings plopped along the river. Marriott’s and office towers and a fascinating sail shaped condo building all of which turn their back on Covington to address the view of Cincinnati.  It is a jarring progression, yet similar to that repeated in city after city.

In one of those ugly office towers facing the river I got Kentucky and Ohio travel information. Those states should learn a thing or two from Oklahoma and Colorado – states that are terrific with their information. With a middling map of Cincinnati and a torn out centerfold of the state of Ohio I crossed the incredible Roebling Bridge (predecessor of the more famous Brooklyn Bridge) and
crossed into Cincinnati.

Ohio gets high marks for Historical Markers, and I learned quite a bit about Cincinnati.  I had no idea the city had such a strong German heritage. Catholics were not even allowed within the city
limits for many years.  During the anti-German fervor of World War I the city changed hundreds of street names to remove the German references.

Cincinnati feels big.  It has muscular square blocks of stone buildings, a pair of gigantic stadiums flanking the skyline, followed by blocks upon blocks of flats, some of which are being spruced up, many of which are not.  I found my way to Campus Cycles
adjacent to the University of Cincinnati campus, and the guys there did a terrific job tending to my bike, repairing the tire problem and changing out my chain.  I left happy and headed towards
the bike trail with great hopes of finding a hotel along the way, but no luck.  My maps led astray more than helped, so I gave up relying on them and enjoyed rolling through a new city on a fine day. I
wheeled in a south and east sort of direction and eventually came to the start of the bike trail.

The Little Miami Bike Trail is one of the oldest and one of the longest paved trails in the country.  It is in terrific condition with well-tended trailheads and mowed side strips.  I did about fifteen miles before stopping; though it is so easy to ride on I could have pedaled longer.  In the evening there are a good number of cyclists, runners and walkers along the trail.  The trailhead at Loveland is a perfect place to camp, and I will be right on my route in the morning!

PS – Yes, there was an amazing buffet at the BelTerra casino in Markland, IN last night.  All told, I took six plates of food.  I could tell you that each plate was modest, but it still added up to quite a lot. My dessert plate was particularly colorful!

Dusk on the Little Miami BIke Trail

Start:  Salem, IN

Finish: Markland, IN

Weather:  70 degrees, cloudy

Miles:  79

Distance to date: 1,849

Greetings from Switzerland County, Indiana, the birthplace of American winemaking!  Could I make that up?  Switzerland County is in the southeast corner of Indiana, tucked amidst many turns of the Ohio River.  It was first settled in 1800 by a Swiss immigrant who thought the steep hills facing south would make good vineyards.  He established the first commercial vineyards in America and produced wine that Thomas Jefferson drank.  The industry tanked during Prohibition, but has been resurrected with micro-vineyards.  There are wine tasting places all along the banks of the Ohio that look quite nice.  Unfortunately, they are all wasted on me.  Now, if it were beer…

The day began with overcast skies and a boring 20 miles along a too wide highway between Salem and Scottsburg. Each of those towns have lovely squares, though, as do most of the Indiana country seats.  Unlike town squares in Oklahoma and Texas, where the courthouse occupies a central block, in many Indiana towns the courthouse is set right in the intersection of the two main roads.  The roads turn around it, with the commercial buildings in four L’s defining the town square.  It is very nice because the courthouses,
which are in every conceivable style and often have tall towers, can be seen from great distances since they are on axis with the main roads.  The one in Salem is a beaut.

Past Scottburg the road got tighter and rolling, the farms got more picturesque, and the sky showed spots of sun.  By eleven it was a pretty day and I rolled into Madison, IN, on the banks of the Ohio
River, an antebellum river town with an incredible assortment of Italianate architecture.  It was one of the earliest towns to pursue historic preservation of an entire area; the downtown is the largest historic district in Indiana and one of the largest in the US.  The town is absolutely beautiful.  One striking thing to me was the mix of northern and southern styles.  Many of the prominent buildings, three story brick with tall narrow windows and articulated cornices, could sit just as comfortably in upstate New York, which experienced economic prominence in the mid-nineteenth century as well.  But the smaller dwellings are mostly shotguns, long and narrow with full width front porches; traditional southern forms.

After the blue plate special lunch at the Hammond Family Restaurant, which I chose because it clearly predated preservation mania, I cycled on to Vevay, a smaller town of the same vintage.  The twenty miles between the two towns was a wonderful ride with tall hills (remember its Switzerland) to my left and a drop-off to the Ohio on my right.  There were few buildings between the road and
the river, I assume due to flood plain issues, but there were dozens of RV parks with trailers parked for the season along the shore.  Vevay’s preservation is less precious and the town is less affluent than Madison, but I liked the more casual feel of the place very much.

My resting place of the night, the Fairway Inn, is an exceptional value.  It is located across the highway from the BellaTerra, a riverboat casino that consists of a simple boat tied to an immense tower..  My, how we can contort a concept. My motel must cater to gamblers who don’t want to pay for swank rooms. It is probably steep on the weekends, but on a Monday night, they are glad to
see even me.  As I am in the middle of nowhere, the only place to eat will be at the casino. Hope they have one of those huge buffets!

Courthouse Salem, IN

Ohio River  Madison, IN

Mansion  Vevay, IN

Start:  Jasper, IN

Finish: Salem, IN

Weather:  65 degrees, cloudy

Miles:  61

Distance to date: 1,770

The great bicycle days are the ones where you have no idea what lies between point A and point B, and find all sorts of interesting stuff along the way.

I got up early this morning and left before a gorgeous sunrise over the Indiana farms.  For two hours I rode through glistening fields with the moon descending to the west and the sun brilliant in the
east.  Being Sunday morning there was virtually no traffic and the pavement was smooth.  By around 8:30 a few clouds began to appear, the dramatic shadows disappeared, and within a half hour the sky was a solid grey dome, the kind of overcast that only occurs in the East.  Everything seems like the East now.  I am rarely out of sight of a house, there are lots of services, the farms are small, the trees plentiful.  It is all very domesticated.

I passed through French Lick, which has a grand old resort that began around springs but now is a casino.  It is a huge and
elegant place circa 1920’s, with many guests eating breakfast on the veranda.  Since I don’t exactly have resort attire, I ate at the Rainbow Café where I had my first ever breakfast that was served with an appetizer course.  They bring you biscuit and gravy as a starter, and then eggs, bacon, fried potatoes and toast.  I am not a huge fan of biscuits and gravy, but these were the best I ever had.  I am pretty sure I was the only one in the place on a major bike ride; the rest of the patrons were hefty from so much country food.

Fortified with calories to burn, I rolled through more bucolic farmland and past many country churches with congregations coming and going and socializing.  I past many elaborate houses – a French Chateau, an English country house, and a limestone hunting lodge concoction.  There are people with money around here and they indulge their fantasies.

I knew there were highway motels in Scottsburg, but when I rolled into Salem, I discovered the Salem Motel with a lot more local color, so I decided to make it a short day and stay here.  I took a McDonald’s break to use their WiFi and spent an hour sitting next to a local family of wife, husband, and eleven year old granddaughter.

My heart was both warmed and broken by this struggling family as they ate their thin hamburgers, debated whether they had enough change to buy a second packet of fries, and quizzed the girl on rudimentary multiplication tables.  The grandmother had no front teeth but was full of questions about my trip.  She had a bike with a tow trailer that she considered very speical and wanted me to get a rig like hers. The granddaughter was precocious about my netbook and did not have the social skills / impulse control we expect in eleven year olds.  She was totally perplexed by the idea of a vacation, could not believe I stayed in a motel every night, and worried what I would do when I ran out of money.  I told her I saved my money in advance to go on the trip, but her grandmother said the girl did not understand saving.  They were poor people, perhaps the poorest I have met, yet I loved their curiosity and spirit.  A different sort of folk than those who live in the fantasy mansions.

Castle Knoll Farm, Outside Paoli, IN

Start:  Princeton, IN

Finish: Jasper, IN

Weather:  75 degrees, cloudy, afternoon thunderstorms

Bike Time: 4.5 hours

Miles:  49

Distance to date: 1,709

Today was a short cycling day. I left late, around 8:30 and arrived in Jasper by 2:00 pm, even after losing an hour for the time change.  With thunderstorms in the forecast I did not want to push on, and good thing I didn’t because when they came, just after my visit through town and a late lunch, they were fierce.  I got to watch them from beneath the porch roof of my quaint room at Camelot Inn, a formerly fashionable place that suits me very well.

My bike has developed an annoying condition – a very slow leak in the front tire.  I noticed it two days ago, and changed the tire on the road to Carmi, IL.  Then yesterday I noticed that I needed new air every two hours or so, but did not want to change out the tube until I got more spares, which I did at the Wal-mart in Princeton.  This morning I did a thorough maintenance on the bike, changed the tube again, inspected the inside of the tire and the rim and got a solid thirty miles before I noticed the tire going flat, again.  I pumped up until I got to Jasper, disassembled everything, and still cannot find anything wrong.  Perhaps I need a rim liner, though I really don’t know for sure.  The bike shop in Jasper was already closed for the weekend, so I will just shoulder on, pump as often as I need and change the tube if I have to until I get to a
place with a bike shop, which will probably Cincinnati.

There is nothing I can do but take a Zen attitude about this undiagnosed problem.  Clearly, the Surly wants more attention than I have been giving, and if I have to take more breaks to pump the tire, that gives me more chance to take in the surroundings.

My room at Camelot Inn in Jasper, IN reminds me of my grandmother’s house

Start:  Carmi, IL

Finish: Princeton, IN

Weather:  90 degrees, sunny

Bike Time: 5 hours

Miles:  54

Distance to date: 1,660

A visit to New Harmony, IN is inspiring, informative, thought provoking, but ultimately dispiriting.  The bucolic tree lined streets, the sedate architecture, the bountiful gardens, the charming downtown
with cafes and drug stores, the cheerful  people tootling around nirvana in their golf carts  all speak to a level of cultural refinement absent from the material world I have been riding through.  The community represents so much that is worthy, but so little of it translates beyond the twelve block area of the utopian experiment that the town is more of a tourist curiosity than a viable model for how we might lead more meaningful lives.

New Harmony was founded by Rappists who built the town out of nothing between 1814 and 1824.  The Rappists believed in a strict interpretation of the Biblical Rapture that required they build three communities, ten years, ten years, and five years apart.  After arriving from Germany they built Harmony, PA, then Harmony, IN, and then returned east to create Economy,
PA.  They shared many of particular traits of American bred religion of the nineteenth century.  They were celibate, like the Shakers and extremely industrious, like the Mormons.  In their ten years in New Harmony they built a very profitable community and exported goods all over the world.

In 1824 they sold the town to the utopian philanthropist Robert Owen, who invited a series of prominent educators and scientists to live there.  Within two years his personal role was
curtailed (he was a poor manager and forgot to do things like get the crops in on time) but the seeds of an agriculturally highbrow community were set, and have played out for close to 200 years.   In the 1970’s the preservation bug hit New Harmony and it crafted itself into a period destination, though not so thematic as Plimouth Plantation or Williamsburg, VA.  They added exemplary contemporary architecture and landscape design, and have developed a focus on spiritual retreat that reinforces many of the founding utopian concepts.

It is all very nice, if a bit precious.  My primary interest was to see the Athenaeum, a 1979 Richard Meier building that is considered one of his masterpieces (along with the Getty in LA).  It won the AIA 25 award, so my exceptions were high.  It is a captivating piece of sculpture, all white planes and stairs galore, and the tour guides stress a ‘steamship’ metaphor for the building, though in truth steamships did not churn up the
Wabash; the building is a cool abstract concept upon which the steamship partie is applied.  My problem with the building
is that there is nothing in it.  It is literally 20,000 square feet of reception desk, museum store, projection theater and scale
model of the original town.  Where is the Athenaeum part?  When compared to the pristine structures of the early settlers or the equally simple yet evocative Chapel without a roof by Philip Johnson (1960) Richard Meier’s building just seems
gimmickry.  Cool? Yes.  Appropriate?  No way.  The building is showy, but it lacks any meaning beyond wow.  In that respect I suppose it represents our age as well as the sturdy and serviceable buildings of the past represent theirs.  Perhaps the building is really ironic, in which case the praise is probably
deserved.

I had enough capital A architecture for one day, and there is no place appropriate for a cyclist to stay in New Harmony, so I rolled out of town, had an incredible lunch of catfish fillets, baked beans, cole slaw and Kentucky Silk pie, and pedaled thirty miles to Princeton.  On the way I passed
several tiny towns and hit my brakes hard in Poseyville where there is a dead-on late period Louis Sullivan bank.  I thought he only did them further west, and research tonight showed
that I am right – the bank is a 1924 knock-off by Shopbell, but it is still a stunner.  Capital A architecture where I least expected it!

The day was glorious, the landscape lush, the corn taller than me and tight to the narrow shoulder.  I was so mesmerized by how the stalks stand on such narrow bases, that I actually dismounted and inspected the tiny web of ‘feet’ that support the main stalk about 3-4” from the ground.  The balance of a corn stalk is balletic.  It is plant of total grace.

Athenaeum, New Harmony, IN, Richard Meier, 1979

Boseman Waters National Bank Poseyville, IN, Shopbell, 1924

Feet of Corn

Start:  Cape Girardeau, MO

Finish: Carmi, IL

Weather:  85 degrees, overcast morning, sunny afternoon

Bike Time: 11 hours

Miles:  114

Distance to date: 1,606

In one short stretch of bridge this morning I crossed from the West to the East, and from the South to the North.  The Illinois side the Mississippi River was much as I remembered –long stretches of flat, marshy land with flooded fields and elevated roads.  But otherwise it felt like the East. People
drive faster and they wave less, there are fewer churches and nicer houses, more manicured lawns and less stuff on them.
The level of affluence in rural Illinois is a notch above any place else I’ve been, and several notches above Missouri.

It was a perfect day for cycling and Illinois is a perfect place for cycling, so even though I did a century day, it had none of the strain of previous centuries.  After crossing the mighty
Mississippi in the early dawn light and pedaling along the river flats, I took a gamble on an unmarked grey road on my map and turned right at Reynoldville.  I rode for a dozen miles
or so on the most beautiful stretch of my trip, Old Cape Road.  It started winding around Layla Lake, then climbed through a dense deciduous forest that had a huge variety of trees, until it leveled out in tall walls of corn fields. The road deposited me just outside of Jonesboro, the pinnacle of home cooked food with at least five independent restaurants around the town square. I chose JR’s place since it was the most crowded and enjoyed an amazing breakfast of pancakes and bacon for under
$5.00 while overhearing local farmers settle the problems of the world (stock market not good).  Jonesboro was the site of the third Lincoln-Douglas debate, so I spent some time visiting the debate site, which was interesting.

From Jonesboro I cycled through Anna and Vienna and headed up towards Harrisburg.  Along the way, a man stopped and told me about a bicycle rail trial for Vienna to Harrisburg and gave me directions on how to access it.  I asked if it was paved, he said not exactly but that is hard pack and much preferable
to the highway.  I followed his directions, rode on it for a few miles (through a neat but scary rail tunnel) but got back on the highway at the next opportunity.  I can’t stand riding on caliche – all that dust.  I stayed on US 45 for the next 30 miles.  Sometimes the bike trial was right next to the highway, but I far preferred the road to the trail.

Illinois is awash with Historical Markers. I saw the site of archeological remains, the crossing of General Clark (before he was Lewis and Clark) and the grave of King Neptune, the Navy Mascot pig who raised $19 million in war bonds in WW II.  Although I stop for all historical markers, I do pass on a few local culinary specials.  The store advertising Tuna and Bologna Salad did not get my lunch trade.

In Harrisburg I stopped at the travel information where a uniquely useless clerk was unable to give me information on local motels.  Wouldn’t you think that was basic to her job?  Finally she said there three, but had no names, numbers, or addresses.  I visited the very cool collection of period structures at the tourist center, including the original Poor House for Harrisburg, and then went in search of the motels, each of which turned out to be full.

It was almost four, but I decided to push on to Eldorado (pronounced with a long ‘a’, the Hispanic influence around here is nada).  The City of Eldorado web site said there was a motel.  Not so. I fortified myself with a quick early dinner (Subway) and then peddled 26 miles more on to Carmi, where I finally
found a basic place.

Truth is, I have not ridden much in the late afternoon and it was very lovely today with long shadows cast over the fields, the road was good, the terrain gentle, the land green and lush.  Even with my third flat to stop and repair, I got into Carmi well before sundown, invigorated by the lushness of Illinois.

Site of Lincoln- Douglas debate  Jonesboro, IL

Tunnel Hill Bicycle Trail outside Vienna, IL

Start:  Piedmont, MO

Finish: Cape Girardeau, MO

Weather:  85 degrees, overcast

Bike Time: 8 hours

Miles:  81

Distance to date: 1,492

I have crossed the Mississippi many times, and in each location the land eased out into a long, flat plane, miles of forecourt before the main event.  So, I thought today would be a long, easy
descent to that Ole Man River.  No way.  Southern Missouri just kept slapping up at me, hill after hill.  Cape Girardeau sticks out into the flow of the river like a polyp, and I guess whatever ground
is beneath it defies erosion.  But I made it to western shore and have a nice room in the only motel left in the old part of town, within walking distance of the historic (read neglected) downtown.

Riding through Missouri I find myself thinking a lot about stuff.  Every town here has a Wal-Mart, lined with aisles of stuff.  Knowing that I would be short on services today, I stopped in the one in Piedmont to pick up energy bars, and I am pretty sure there was enough flat screen TV’s on display to
provide one to every resident of the tiny town. Even if a pandemic of TV buying occurred, Wal-Mart would have them replenished within 48 hours.  The store was jammed with goods, and it wasn’t even a Supercenter (see how well I know my Wal-Mart classifications).  Within a short shelf life, all of that stuff will get moved out of the store and into people’s
houses, or cars, or yards, which are already brimming.

Along rural Missouri people live close the road, and their stuff is everywhere.  Sure, there are the trailers with careless yards of tires, refrigerator hulks and dead RV’s, and there are the rural Grey Gardens folks, pathological hoarders whose yards are stacked with stuff they can neither find nor live without; one expects to see those oddities in the rural woods.  What is really remarkable, though, is the standard issue ranch whose garage has been turned into a room, with a double wide metal carport in front, and four vehicles, and a tracker, and a stack of bikes, and plastic toddler toys, and a love swing, and ceramic pots, and a stone wishing well and three barking dogs behind a fence and satellite dish on the roof.  And that is not all, because every one of these small towns has rows of rows of U-Storage buildings, for all the stuff that doesn’t get scattered around the yard.

Even I, pedaling everything, have more than I need.  I wanted some Neatsfoot Oil to soften my saddle.  Two or three ounces would have been fine, but the smallest size was pint, so that is what I am carrying. I haul four liters of water, though I have never dipped into the fourth one.  I carry at least three extra tire tubes and energy bars.  My extra baggage is determined by contingency needs that give me comfort.  I never want to run out of water, or tire tubes or energy bars, but if my tire blows, which can happen, I have no back-up.  It is my calculated risk. Are such calculations valid for the stuff that I see along the Missouri highway, or stuck in the garage turned spare room, or
locked away in a storage rental?  Our stuff is choking us.

So with all this excess baggage filling my brain, it was lovely this afternoon to come upon the Bollinger Mill, a State Historic Site with the oldest covered bridge in Missouri and a stately, pre-Civil war mill along a small waterfall.  The pristine simplicity of the mill and the bridge settled my mind and provided a counterpoint to the chaos of the contemporary dwellings.

By 3:30 pm I rolled past the typical confusion of a major Interstate intersection at I-55.  I discovered there was one
remaining motel left downtown, tired but clean and run by Indians, as most of the non-chain motels are these days.  It
was only a short walk from the motel to the historic center of Cape Girardeau, a charming downtown with muralled levee and walkway along the Mississippi River.  City Hall sits high on a bluff with a commanding view of the river.  It is all rather grand, and once upon a time was much livelier than it is
today.  I found an excellent barbeque joint to satisfy my latest craving – rib tips and cole slaw and baked beans, and that squishy white bread that only barbeque places serve with a straight face.  This is a very satisfying place to spend the evening.

Bollinger Mill and Covered Bridge, Burfordsville, MO

Looking South, the Mississippi River at Cape Girardeau, MO