TransAm Day #18 Carbondale, IL - Farmington, MO
TransAm Day #18
June 12, 2018
Carbondale, IL -
Farmington, MO
99 Miles
Ride Time 8:35 Hours
Tour Total Miles 1307
I slept well last night at the dingy Heritage Motel in Carbondale. All of my clothing, except for my socks, was dry in the morning. I got up at 4:30am, and was on the road by 5:13.
As I was leaving town, a motorist hollered out to me, “Dangerous road, man! Be careful!” He waited forever to let me pass. If I had been in Brooklyn a Hassid would have cut round me in a New York second. I don’t miss those F-ing Hassids.
There were so many deer out this morning. I usually spy them before they notice me. Once they see me, they bolt, often across the road right in front of me. They’re so graceful! The skies were cloudy this morning, and I was hoping they’d stay that way all day.
The Mississippi is referred to as the big muddy, but there’s actually a Big Muddy River in Illinois, and I crossed it several times today. Actually, all of the rivers around here are muddy.
Yesterday was the triple whammy of New York stuff. Hunter College contacted me about my fall classes, Parsons contacted me about my fall classes, and NYC DOT contacted me about my public art commission. When I get back to New York in late August, I’m gonna have one ginormous months-long uphill.
I miss the barn quilts of Kentucky. I saw one in Missouri today, but it wasn’t the same. Kentucky you’ve got something special going on. The height of the corn stocks here is just below my chest. I feel like I can see it grow.
I passed numerous roadkill armadillos today. The first was near the Mississippi. In addition, I saw tons of dead raccoons and snakes. I rescued yet another turtle from the middle of the road. He was a big one, but was so scared of me he wet himself twice.
The map presented me with two options, and I chose the Mississippi Levee Alternate route. I was excited to see the river and I was secretly hoping the route would be flatter. There wasn’t much food available today. The restaurant in Neunert was closed. Fortunately I still had pastries left over from the Rose Hotel.
In the Mississippi flood plain I encountered my straightest flattest road so far. Hallelujah! I wish it had gone on forever. The sun came out and things warmed up. I was able to see Missouri across the river. Before I enter this state I want to go over it’s pronunciation with my readers. The last syllable of Missouri rhymes with key. It's not pronounced Missoura. We’ll do another pronunciation lesson when I get to Colorado.
Riding the Mississippi levee reminded me of my unicycle rides down at Lunken Airport in Cincinnati, which is encircled by levees where the Little Miami empties into the Ohio. Here, though, I had to share the road with trucks.
There are enormous grain elevators here alongside the Mississippi. They are linked by conveyor belts that whisk the grain to barges. I was startled by the sound of gunshots coming from the Mississippi Gun Club. No comment on that activity. I followed the Great River Road, Illinois State Route 3 along the Mississippi bank. A freight train heading north sped alongside me and then passed.
I encountered a coal operation that almost spoiled my visit to Chester. They’re mining tons of the dirty black stuff and trucking it down to barges on the river. The roads are thick with coal trucks, and when one of them blasted its horn, I threw up my first middle finger of the tour. F coal and F coal trucks! I pity the residents of Chester who have to deal with these noisy speeding trucks every day all day long. It put me in a foul mood.
Chester Illinois is the home of Popeye. Popeye's creator, Elzie Segar, is honored here, and several of his characters were based on people from Chester. I met up with Brian, and met westbound TransAm cyclist Becky in front of the post office. I felt foolish for buying a can of Popeye spinach at the gift shop. It’s heavy! I need to pawn this off on someone.
I crossed the Chester bridge to Missouri, my fifth state of the tour, and my first west of the Mississippi. Missouri has bike 76 signs again, which is awesome! It greatly helps the navigation. The highways in Missouri are given letters instead of numbers. I took highway H to the Z to the P to the B to the F. It reminds me of subway directions in New York, but we don’t have a P train. I went to ‘Our Place’ convenient store in St. Mary where I drank a gallon sized Gatorade and signed the cyclist registry. A west-bounder named Miles is just ahead of me.
There was a lot of cursing going on today on the steep uphills of eastern Missouri. It’s a good thing nobody was around to hear it. In the middle of one big long nasty uphill, totally in the heat of the sun, a van with Pennsylvania plates slowed down and a man with a French accent leaned out of the window and asked me if I needed any water. He was kind.
Later at Crown Valley Brewing and Distillery, I walked in to enjoy the AC and get a cold beer. Several people were inside seated at the bar enjoying their frosty frothy pints. It was ridiculous hot outside and I was exhausted. The bartender scoffed to me that they were closed. Huh? I rode 1300 miles for this shite? People think New Yorkers are rude? No. New Yorkers are awesome. People from Coffmans, Missouri are rude. Do not patronize Crown Valley Brewing and Distillery. They’re rude. F that place.
I was exhausted when I arrived in Farmington. A pair of locals literally had to escort me to Al’s Place Bicycle Hostel, atop the historic St. Francois County jail house. I am joined by Brian and Becky, and this is by far the nicest place I've stayed. Farmington is a really nice little town, but it was a challenge to get here.
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