Berea, KY to Christiansburg, VA

My dad woke up in heavy fog, so his tent was wet when packing. It lifted by 10:30 a.m. He rode through a town called Hazard, which was an appropriate name. My dad said it could have even been named Road Hazard. The roads had big potholes, lots of debris, and rumble strips that were had to see and all over the place. There were a lot of trucks and fast drivers going about 65 mph. On one road there were even rumble strips perpendicular to the lane, so there was no way to avoid them, which slowed my dad down. He stopped for the day in Hindman, Kentucky, at the Knott County Historical Society B&B Tent. This place was located on top of a really steep hill that my dad walked up since he had already rode 65 miles and didn't feel the need to ride anymore. When he got to the top, David, the guy who runs the place, had lemonade waiting for Dad. It was a sort of primitive place, but he was treated like a king. Bill ordered dinner from a restaurant in town. They brought it to him and David added a beer and baked potato topped with whipped cream and maple syrup, which my dad found delicious. They did his laundry, brought him a banana split for dessert, which was followed by brandy. He was even able to use their clothing line to dry all his stuff from the heavy fog the night before. He slept in a huge tent that he was able to stand in and slept 4 people on big air mattresses. It was the first time he slept in a tent like this.

In this case, what goes down, must go up.  Another climb coming.



The road to the lodging.


On Tuesday, my dad had a wonderful breakfast before heading out for the day. David told my dad how to avoid big hills by riding through a college campus, but that did not help him avoid a huge mile-long hill in the afternoon. My dad decided to just walk it. He took 50 steps and then rested. This area took forever to get through. The humidity and 90 degree heat in the afternoon didn't help. After 52 miles, he stopped at Lookout, Kentucky, and spent the night in a Baptist Center. He was a little anxious because he called ahead and none of the calls went through. The next place to sleep was far and it was getting late already. When he got there, the place was locked, but the locals said to just relax for a bit and the people running the place will be back. Sure enough, they returned and my dad slept on a tumbling mat placed on the basketball gym floor, another first for my dad. He had the place to himself and was able to cook dinner in their kitchen and had a comfortable night's sleep.

On the 22nd, Dad had set a personal record. He was chased by 5 dogs in 4 miles. There was lots of climbing in the mountains along the 45 miles to Council, Virginia, where he stayed at the William P. Harris Recreation Park. When he showed up, he didn't know what to do. The contact person didn't work there anymore, so the people who worked there just said he could camp wherever he wanted. He wanted to be out of the way and near a restroom, but it was closed. Luckily, they opened it up for him.


Entering Virginia.



Beautiful view.



Camping in a playground; how appropriate.

 On the 52-mile trek to Damascus, Virginia, there were 2 climbs greater than 1,000 feet high, which made for another tough day. At least it seemed hard. He can't remember if the Rockies were this hard, but he was struggling this day. My dad stayed at a hostel called The Place, run by Damascus United Methodist Church. It was a 2-story building where one just walks in and claims a bunk bed. No one is there to run the place. He logged into the guest book and paid his $5 fee in a secure box. These types of hostels are common along the trail, but this was another first for Dad to experience. It had a shower, kitchen, and signs on what to do. There were only two hikers there that night too, but the whole place could probably sleep 30 people.
On Friday, September 24th, Dad rode the first 11 miles along another rail-to-trail conversion called Virginia Creeper Trail, which was an easier way to ride another 1,000-foot pass because of the gentle slope, but the rough gravel and cinder surface made it tough in spots. In the afternoon, there were strong tailwinds, so instead of stopping at Rural Retreat like he originally planned, Dad rode on to Wytheville, Virginia, for a total of 62 miles. While in Rural Retreat, a man approached him while he was parking his bike by leaning it along the diner wall and debating on going to find ice cream in the diner or the gas station. The guy asked him about 2 Scottish cyclists my dad had seen. They chatted a bit and then my dad decided to go into the diner because the guy thought they had ice cream. Unfortunately, they didn't, so he headed over to the gas station. He got his ice cream, and as he was returning to his bike, the two Scottish guys were parking their bikes near my dad's bike. They talked for a few minutes before my dad headed out of the parking lot. It was kind of hard leaving because of the traffic and railroad tracks. By the time he got about a mile away, he realized that his computer that tracks his miles and speed was missing. He called the police officer listed on his map, but he wasn't working, so he called the Sheriff and they came to take a report before Dad went on his way.



The road less traveled.



The New River in Virginia.  Nobody will tell Dad where the Old River is.



Men working on the Virginia Creeper Trail.



The Virginia Creeper Trail is also part of major hiking trails.

On Saturday, Bill rode another 62 miles to Christiansburg, Virginia. Over the last several days, Dad has seen many Bicycle Route 76 signs. They actually use them in Virginia, so he doesn't need his maps as much, and it is much easier to navigate, which is helpful since he doesn't have his computer to help him out. Also, the leaves are falling, but they don't have the brilliant color one would find in the northeast. Still, he finds the leaf showers neat. During lunch, my dad got a call from the Sheriff to tell him his computer has been found. Dad was too far away for the computer to be brought to him, so it will be mailed home. In Radford, there are two bike shops, so Dad bought the same model computer as the one he had at one of the bike stores. He checked into a budget motel at the end of the day and will take a rest day on Sunday. He finds he loses about 20 psi of pressure every week, so one thing he will be doing is pumping up his tires, along with laundry and other rest day activities.

Sebree, KY to Berea, KY

First, I want to say, feel free to post comments if you are interested. I read them to my dad when we talk, and think he likes hearing from you and knowing who is thinking of him. You might also have questions, and I can get answers and post them.

Anyway, my dad left Sebree, and made his way to Feltus Holler Farm in Caneyville, Kentucky, the place 10 miles off-route that he learned about from another cyclist earlier in the trip. The 74-mile ride was a pleasant trip, except the last 4 miles, where there were really steep hills. The last 1/2 mile was on gravel road, and my dad ended up taking a spill when the front wheel slipped out from under him while going downhill. He got some road rash on his elbow and gravel in his pockets. Dad was thankful he was wearing a helmet. He could have asks the host to pick his up, but it seemed like that was really for riders who were in distress and couldn't make the last 10 miles. The farm had a cabin where the hosts, who were also cyclist, lived prior to building the structure which is their current home. It was very comfortable and the people there were awesome. They asked my dad if he had any allergies and brought his delightful dinner with wine to the cabin since my dad is allergic to cats, which they had. They also served homemade after-dinner liquor made from lemons.

On Tuesday, September 14th, Dad rode 61 miles to Abraham Lincoln Birthplace National Historic Site. The first 38 miles were getting back on route. The host from Feltus Farm gave my dad directions to avoid the steep hills that he didn't like from the day before. At lunchtime, my dad was at an intersection when a guy who was painting lines on the road for a weekend bike ride came across the street to offer my dad a drink. Bill appreciated the friendliness. After lunch, a little dog almost got killed while it was trying to attack my dad. It came up barking on my dad's left, went back around to the right of the bike close to the shoulder, and then when it went back around to the left, it went out into the road and a car was coming from the other direction. The driver slammed on the brakes and the tires were smoking. My dad doesn't think the dog got hit. In Missoula, Montana, my dad remembers Australian cyclists who were crossing the country in the other direction, warning my dad about the Kentucky dogs. Apparently, they are world famous. My dad was chased by dogs every day this week and he is in the worst area right now, so hopefully, he won't have to deal with that much longer.

The fragrant aroma coming from this tobacco drying barn caused Dad to stop and take this picture in Kentucky.

On Wednesday, it was 62 miles to Lincoln Homestead State Park, Kentucky. Dad experienced rolling hills, discourteous drivers, and 2 dog attacks on this day. At the park, there was a pavilion where cyclists normally stay, but it was reserved, so they let my dad stay in a picnic area, but there weren't any showers. My dad had to take his second sponge bath of the trip, but he wasn't complaining because he had to take a lot of them on his first cross-country trip.

 The log cabin where Lincoln was born is protected inside this structure.

Another view of Lincoln's Birthplace.

My dad was awoken by thunder and lightning the next morning, the 16th. He ate his breakfast in his tent, piddled around until he got tired of waiting and doing nothing, so he packed up in the rain. By the time he finished packing, the rain stopped. The roads were wet for a long time because of the high humidity and there was a lot of traffic spray. He rode 27 miles to Harrisburg, Kentucky, checked into a motel, and began drying everything out. It was his first day back in touch with the Internet and he had things he wanted to take care of. One of those things was to send an email to Richard Schwinn to ask him if they used frame saver inside his bike when they made it. Frame saver prevents rusting. Rusty water comes out of the bike when it rains. The guy who gave my dad a free drink a couple days before had a bike shop and sold Waterford bikes. He said that my dad should find out if frame saver was used. Richard emailed back and said it wasn't, but not to worry because he can have it added when he gets home.

There was no riding on Friday because his brother, Jack, and sister-in-law, Joy, drove 3 hours from Columbus, Ohio, to visit my dad. Dad felt grateful and humbled because they exerted so much effort to come see him. They visited Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill because Jack likes Shaker furniture. It seemed like everyone enjoyed it. They also spent some time at Old Fort Harrod. My dad was really happy to see his brother and sister-in-law, and liked their visit.

Jack and Bill

Jack and Joy at Old Fort Harrod State Park, Harrodsburg, KT.

Bill trying out to be a blacksmith's apprentice.

After a day of play, my dad concluded his attitude towards hills is much better after some rest. He rode 53 miles to Berea, Kentucky. He was still complaining in his head with thoughts like, "Why am I doing this?" until he learned about the Spoonbread Festival. Then he remembered one of the reasons to do this trip is to discover things like this. Spoonbread is sweet, cornmeal bread. My dad savored it along with a foot long corndog, Amish cinnamon bread, and 32 oz. of lemonade. Afterwards, my dad was happy again. He checked into a Super 8 Motel, which is where he was when we spoke. He told me that American Cycling Association considers Berea to be the gateway to the Appalachian Mountains. It is also a college town, home to Berea College, whose mission is to provide educational opportunities to the people from Appalachia. They offer free tuition to all students and have a work assignment program. The college promotes the people of Appalachia to be proud of their heritage and do what they can to preserve it.

This is the Spoonbread Festival in Berea, KT. Spoonbread is a delicious form of cornbread.

Entertainment at the Spoonbread Festival.

Lone Dell, MO to Sebree, KY

After the day of rest, my dad got started again to Farmington, Missouri, 52 miles away. It was his first day back in the hills and he had to reacclimatize himself to using his shifters. He spent the night at Al's Place. Al was a local cycling racer who was very active in the community. He died of cancer at the age of 49 in 2005.

Starting outside the city limits are painted signs and arrows on the street giving directions to Al's Place.

Al's Place is in an old jail.  My dad thought that was fitting somehow.

On Tuesday, September 7th, Dad rode 51 miles to Chester, Illinois, home of the cartoonist who created the Popeye characters. He spent the night at a hostel for cyclist that was sponsored by the Fraternal Order of Eagles. They served $.75 draft beers and my dad liked hanging out, eating a good dinner, watching baseball, and drinking beers with two recent college grads from the University of Oregon, Eugene, who were also riding cross-country. They had met originally at Al's Place, but my dad started the day before they did. They met up again on a bridge outside the Chester tourist center. Dad had the address to the hostel and the three of them went there together. Before the end of the night, a lady had bought the three of them a round of beers and that was the first time my dad had someone buy him a beer for being a cyclist.

Bill had to get a picture of a vineyard/winery sign since there were so many.

Welcome to Illinois Sign

Picture of Dad at a Popeye statue after entering Illinois.

The next day, Bill rode 54 miles to Carbondale, Illinois, home of Southern Illinois University, Carbondale. Along the way, my dad was daydreaming and missed a turn, so he took a shortcut. Also, he noticed his back tire was low and he thought he had a slow leak. He went to a bike shop to pump air into the tire. When he got to the hotel, he did some investigating and found that he had a real leak that he fixed. He also went to get his haircut and beard trimmed. He walked into the barber shop and he was the only white guy in the shop. All was good and he felt 10 years younger after being trimmed.

Thursday, my dad went on to Eddyville, Illinois. After 38 miles, he set up camp even though he knew it was going to rain that night. He could have pushed on to the next town for a motel, but didn't want to do a 70-mile day. It rained all night, sometimes hard, and he got water in his tent somehow. It was even raining when packing to leave the next morning, so everything was wet. Even the saddle was wet, because the cover he kept on it somehow blew off during the night. He was able to bring his bike into the warm shower room that had a fan, so his seat was almost dry after leaving it in front of the fan for two hours before departing. It's a leather seat and it's not good to ride when it is wet.

Also, he only rode 14 miles on Friday, so it didn't matter too much that the seat still had some moisture in it. When he got to Golconda, Illinois, he stayed in a hotel to dry out.

Saturday, September 11th, my dad stopped in Marion, Kentucky, after 38 miles, because the next spot was 42 miles away, and he didn't want to go that far. He is starting to feel conflicted as he is getting close to the end of his trip. On one hand, he doesn't want the trip to end, but on the other hand, he is sort of tired of getting on the saddle every day. On another note, my dad had a new discovery today, which occurred after another fried catfish meal, the second of his trip; he decided he likes catfish. It's good.

Horse and Carriage Sign

Dad leaving Illinois.

Dad's bike gets a free ferry ride.

The Ohio River

It was 44 miles to Sebree, Kentucky, where he stayed at another cyclist-only place, First Baptist Church, where he was treated like a king. He had a great lunch and waffles and bacon for dinner. This place has been hosting cyclist for over 30 years and they have meet some interesting people. About 275 cyclists come through every year. There are many international cyclists, and also a cyclist on a tricycle powered by hand, who kept his wheelchair in a Bob trailer, a cyclist on a unicycle, and two people riding on Penny-farthings, the type of old-fashion bikes that has big front wheels.

Dad will continue through Kentucky and plans to meet his brother, Jack, during the week.

More on Jim (of Jim and Dean)

Jim has an interesting blog of his own regarding cycling in general and his preparations for his Southern Tier cross-country adventure in 2009.  Thought I would share in case anyone would like to take a look: http://jimsbikeblog.wordpress.com/.

Herman, MO to Lone Dell, MO (164 Miles)

On the 2nd of September, my dad started his day slowly on the trail, which was softened to a wet sand-like condition from the strong rains the night before. He could tell Jim & Dean were not too far ahead of him because he was able to see Dean's tricycle tracks in the trail. He rode 70 miles to St. Charles along the road known as Wine Road, where there are many German-style wineries. In between Marthasville and Dutzow, there was a tree down in the middle of the trail from the storm, so my dad had to backtrack to the highway to go around. It added 4 miles to his day. It occurred to my dad that his trip started where Lewis & Clark reached their destination, and now he is at the place where they started their exploration. In St. Charles, Dad was reading a historical marker and a lady came and chatted with him. She ended up providing him all the information he needed to get to a bike store, a visitor center, and how to get into St. Louis.

The wide Missouri River at Herman, MO.

The entrance to a wine/entertainment area in Herman, MO.

The tree that fell.

On the 3rd, my dad toured around St. Louis and visited the Gateway Arch and the City Museum, as recommended by another cyclist in Kansas who was going the other direction. My dad was disappointed with the museum as he thought it was more of a kid museum with lots of slides and climbing structures. Afterwards, he rode to Huckleberry Finn Youth Hostel, which he learned about at the St. Louis Visitor Center. He completed 42 miles that day.

Bicycle race around Lafayette Park in St. Louis.

Gateway Arch in St. Louis

Another view of the arch.

Saturday, September 4th, my dad rode 52 miles to a private campsite at Lone Dell, MO. He spent the rest of the day, as well as Sunday, camping, chatting with other campers, and lounging around the pool. He was having a good time.

Hutchinson, KS to Herman, MO (503 Miles)

My dad tooled around the town of Hutchinson, Kansas, for about 10 miles taking care of various things like his front panniers, which were sliding back and rubbing against the fork, so he put some clamps on them to prevent them from sliding, and talked to someone at a cycle shop who determined his foot problem does not have to do with his bike, but his shoes. He plans to eventually find a cobbler to stretch his shoes wider. He savored some pit bbq that was similar to Carolina bbq at both lunch and dinner. At the church he was staying at, he noticed that one of the stain glass windows was donated by Paulina Wolf. When my dad was born, he was named William Paul Wolf. He wondered if there was any family connection, but there wasn't anybody to ask to find out.
On August 24th, my dad had a slow day with headwinds from a storm the night before and interesting wind patterns pushing him around as big trucks passed by him. He rode 51 miles to Harvey County East Campground, which is 7 miles east of Newton. It was a beautiful campground with swollen rivers from the big thunderstorm the previous night. The campsites were hard to find and he spent about 3 of those 51 miles trying to find a place for his tent. He went to the bait shop, but it was closed even though he visited during working hours, so he talked to some campers and finally found a place to sleep for the night.

A Moderate Headwind

The beautiful campsite.

He left the Transamerica Trail on Wednesday, August 25th, and started heading toward the Katy Trail. He met a bunch of people along the 74 miles to Eureka, Kansas. Many people said that doing the Katy Trail was a good idea because it avoided the Ozark Mountains, which consists of steep slopes and drivers who don't necessarily care for cyclists. He met 5 cyclists going to San Francisco: 3 young men, 2 of them rode the Katy Trail and had a map and recommendations to give to my dad, and a couple, who gave him a business card for a hostel in Kentucky, which is 10 miles off-route, but they pick cyclists up and provide both dinner and breakfast. Most of the day was spent going up and down the slopes of Flint Hills. Along the way, he saw several deer, prairie chicken, several vultures, and about 50 quail, which kept startling him with their sudden fluttering, crying, and flurry of activity right on the side of the rode as he passed through the usually quiet roads.

Just because he wanted to, my dad decided to ride 91 miles the next day. He went all the way to Fort Scott, Kansas. He met a lot of people this day too. He met a Canadian cycling to Pueblo, Colorado, and then back home to Canada. There was also a guy in a truck who was running support for people on the Katy Trail. He had rode across France twice and just seemed like he wanted to chat with someone while waiting for his group. There was an unemployed man riding from town to town looking for work, as well as a family moving to Arizona. My dad thought it was a little odd that the family didn't have any stuff with them, they weren't on touring bikes, and the wife and son didn't say much. He would expect a kid to be excited about taking such an adventure. My dad assumed that maybe they were down on their luck and were moving because they had to. My dad also chatted with a highway patrol officer who was setting up speed traps; my dad saw him catch two speeders. At the store where my dad met the family, the clerk asked my dad to sign the guest book and she gave him a rubber lizard, which he is now carrying around with him.

Friday, August 27th, Bill spent a few hours touring Fort Scott before riding 54 miles to Butler, Missouri. Part of the way was along U.S. 71. It usually had a really wide shoulder, but it often disappeared and he found himself having to take the lane in 70 miles/hour traffic. He met a guy named Tim who was from Vallejo, the neighboring city to where my parents live. He worked at Fort Scott with the National Parks Services, but used to work at Mare Island Naval Shipyard. The National Park Services might take over this shipyard, in which case Tim would like to return to Vallejo.

He's not in Kansas anymore.

On Saturday, after having to backtrack 2 miles to retrieve his water bottles he left chilling in the motel room fridge, Bill rode a total of 51 miles to Clinton, Missouri, which is the western most trailhead of the Katy Trail. He stopped at Clinton Lawnmower and Saw, which was on the map as a cycling shop. Dad got information about the Katy Trail, camping, and wanted to borrow a pump to fix a slow leak. The guy working there took charge and fixed most of the leaking problem on his own. My dad usually likes to support cooperative and helpful people and wanted to purchase something as a way to thank the guy, but he didn't have anything he could sell him being a lawnmower and saw shop. He appreciated his kindness and spent the night camping behind a community center as recommended.

He started his ride along the Katy Trail on Sunday, August 29th. Pilot Grove, Missouri, on the Katy Trail was where he stopped for the night after spending the day feeling like he was doing a lot of climbing because he was riding on crushed limestone, which makes for a harder ride being a soft surface. So far the trail has been in a woodsy setting. He met two cyclists, Jim, retired and 68 years old, and Dean, retired and 70 years old, coming out of a supermarket after they had finished their lunch. They told my dad that the Pilot Grove campgrounds didn't have a shower and that they were heading to a B&B. My dad decided to stay at the same B&B after a 65-mile day, and ended up riding with Jim and Dean for the next few days.

Notice the turtle road hazard, which blends in with the leaves and shadows.

I asked my dad to send me a current picture of himself.

The start of the Katy Trail in Clinton, MO.

They rode to Hartsburg, Missouri, on Monday. It was a pleasant day with no hills or winds because they were surrounded by trees. Dean is on a recumbent tricycle which cruises at about 10 - 12 miles/hour, so my dad would ride ahead to historical markers and read the signs while Dean and Jim caught up and passed him. They rode like this for 50 miles until they arrived at a nice B&B that Dean had reserved and fit them all nicely.

Jim and Dean on the Katy Trail.

On the 31st, it was 57 miles to Herman, Missouri, with Jim and Dean. This time they had more of an adventure in finding accommodations because they didn't have a place lined up and they are off the Adventure Cycling maps, which provide those kinds of details. They went to the Chamber of Commerce, which wasn't much help, so my dad recommended they stop at a bike shop to ask for recommendations. They eventually found a decent place to stay in this German town made up of a lot of touristy spots that had little activity because it wasn't yet October when they have huge Oktoberfest celebrations.

Jim and Dean left the following morning while my dad stayed behind for a rest day. He rode a couple miles as he did his laundry and went to the post office. The goal now is to get to St. Charles, the end of the Katy Trail by Thursday, Sept. 2nd.