TransAm Day #15 Rough River State Park, KY - Sebree, KY

TransAm Day #15

June 9, 2018

Rough River State Park, KY - Sebree, KY

78 Miles

Ride Time 6:36 Hours

Tour Total  Miles 1067

details at: https://cyclemeter.com/4b2d99e24f1383f2/Cycle-20180609-0621-28323

A Rusty Crank Sushi Hammock Roll consists of me in merino wool boxers, slipped into a silk bag up to my head, placed inside a goose down sleeping bag, carefully balanced on a narrow nylon hammock, all enveloped by mosquito netting hung from an overhead line, all attached to a tree on one end and a steel pipe on the other, that may or may not make it through the night. 

When I got up in the middle of the night to add the down layer, my campsite’s neighbors still had their party lights twinkling and bad country music playing. It rang out all night long. 

I had set my alarm for 5am, but in the middle of the night I changed it to 6. I woke up at 5:30 regardless- it would have been 6:30am eastern time. All my laundry was still wet on the line, and I had made the mistake of washing both short jerseys and both pairs of riding pants. I set off in wet riding pants and my long-sleeve jersey, with with all my laundry in the rolling drier. The wet clothing added considerable extra weight. 

I was all excited about the thousand mile mark I would be hitting early in the ride, and I was careful not to miss it the way I had snoozed through 500. I trained my camera on the odometer as I cruised downhill. The mile hundredths climbed to 999.99. The moment I clicked the shutterer the display read 0.00! What?! I had just been robbed! I was furious. My odometer only has three digit placements to the left of the hundredths decimal. How was I supposed to keep track when the tour reached 2000 or 4000? Would it only be me who knew that there were so many more miles than 0.00? I fiddled with the odometer and score! I found another display setting that doesn’t show hundredths of a mile and gave me my thousand miles back. 

Coming into Fordsville, I stopped at a Marathon Service Station and asked Bubba, the man out front sweeping, where could I get breakfast. He said they served breakfast here until noon. I bought two pre-made egg sandwiches on muffins, orange juice, and Starbucks Frappuccino. I sat outside and watched Bubba sweep. He showed me his cousin’s old pickup truck, which I regret not photographing. 

It was another typical day of roadkill, dog chases, uphills and downhills. The elevation profile for today looked like a comb. Lots of steep short ups and downs from here to Sebree. Cyclists blogging from west of me complained about the steep hills combined with the hot sun. I knew what I was getting into. 

I passed daisies, brown-eyed susans, Queen Anne’s lace, clover, and lots of corn. It was Saturday and everyone was out mowing their lawn. 

In Utica, I stopped for lemonade at Doolin’s Country store. It was getting wicked hot outside, so I sat inside where it was air conditioned. These country stores are a blast from the past. They’re part restaurant, grocery store, hardware, you name it. Doolin’s had a handsome display of springs for sale. Everything you need. When I leave these places the clerks all tell me to be safe. 

It was so hot that my stops became more frequent. I got a Gatorade at a Marathon, run by an Indian family. I remember from my childhood Marathon Oil commercials for Cincinnati Reds radio broadcasts. Marathon is only in this part of the country. 

A humongous piece of farm equipment came down the road and passed me. It was wider than a lane of traffic, and the tires were larger than me. I believe that I could have ridden underneath it, but didn’t. They sure look a lot smaller in the fields. 

I saw a giant bird in the middle of the road ripping apart a snake that had just been hit. The sun was so strong that I had to frequently stop underneath the shade of trees to escape the sun. I realize the tour‘s taken a shift. The mountains were the challenge before. Now it’s the sun. What am I going to do in Kansas when there aren’t any more trees?

Like crossing the desert and plotting from one oasis to the next, I went from tree to tree and store to store. I finally made it to Beech Grove, eight miles out from my destination. I found a Marathon, got another Gatorade, and sat at a table inside where it was air conditioned.

In comes Harold, the guy who was driving the giant sprayer that had passed me earlier. I asked him if it would have been possible for me to have ridden underneath it. He didn’t know anyone who had ever tried it, but believed that if a cyclist crouched, it would be possible. I asked all about the sprayer. He said it was like a Cadillac inside, and that it could drive itself, the straights and the curves. Harold had been to Brooklyn. We were talking for so long that his wife came in realizing he had forgot her in the car. They were both sympathetic about the heat. 

Rain was in the forecast and large puffy clouds, the type so common here in the Midwest, were accumulating. It started to get dark and windy. I moved my laundry bag inside the panniers, put on my shoe covers, and turned on my lights. 

Sebree got its start as a railroad town in 1868. It has 1500 people, 23.3% under the age of 18. The median income for a family here is $35,221.

I found the Sebree First Baptist Church, which offers itself as a hostel for cyclists. Whom should I meet inside, but Brian! I showered and did my laundry, and the two of us went out for pulled pork. 

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