Time for another 1000 miles update… this time from the luxury of a hotel. The first in 3600 miles, woop. I am currently in Berea, Kentucky. Since writing last in Colorado, I descended to the city of Pueblo, where I prepared mentally for the long, flat and windy days I knew would come with leaving the cool Rockies and crossing the Great Plains. Despite many reports of favourable winds when travelling across the continent from west to east, I can confirm that such is not what I experienced in Kansas and the flatter parts of eastern Colorado. The next 2 weeks would see me riding either into a headwind or a crosswind every day; pretty brutal. By the time I reached the brutally steep hills of Missouri’s Ozark mountains, I wasn’t complaining, I was merely thankful to get out of that wind.
Despite the wind though, I enjoyed Kansas and met some great people there. Also enjoyed getting my head down and putting some miles in, with a new found focus that I had started to lose after some awesome days off in the mountains – back to business. A lovely guy called Rick in the town of Chanute, Kansas hosted me, and we had an awesome time going out for dinner and attending the high school homecoming football match at the school he used to teach at. I was also thankful to be inside during what was one of the most epic storms I’ve ever seen. I was also in town during the yearly arts festival, where I got to witness a real life, proper, American parade!
Rested and well fed, I then left to chew up the remaining flat land of Kansas, and entered Missouri. Out of the wind, I continued with the long 90+ mile days, enjoying getting the miles behind me, with the new goal of meeting my dad in Virginia well within my sights. The landscape changes again from flat, hot and at times relentless corn fields, to beautiful green rolling countryside not dissimilar to that found in the Cornwall. With the change in scenery came a real change in the culture, accent, and architecture of my surroundings – I felt like I was in the east, or, at least, not in the west. Although on the eastern seaboard, the states I am riding through (Missouri, and Virginia chiefly) are considered, culturally, southern. Less cowboys, more rednecks, that sort of thing…
At Chester, Illinois I crossed the Mississippi River, a definite milestone and a moment I certainly won’t forget. Dogs have also become a problem; having ridden in parts of Eastern Europe I though I’d be prepared for them. In a way I am, but I’m still shocked at how aggressive they are, and how many are not on chains. I’m told the worst of this is to come in the next couple of days as I ride from Berea to the Virginian state line. Looking forward to meeting my dad and riding with someone; it’s been almost 2500 miles since I rode with someone and I do catch myself questioning my own sanity a bit.
