a handful of sand in the face
What felt like a grizzly bear licking my ear startled me awake at 5:30. Or, more likely, it was just the rain hitting the metal roof of the pavilion under which I was sleeping that woke me up. I stayed awake just long enough to register that it was raining, then fell back asleep until 9:30. When I woke up, it was still raining so I played solitaire for a while.
The pack of cards I used was tiny. It wasn’t an essential item, and I’m not sure why I decided to take it. I took it on my second trip as well, then my third. Now, even though I can play solitaire on my phone I continue to pack it with me on each trip, mainly because it’s the only item that’s been with me on every single tour I’ve taken.
The rain stopped an hour later and the sun peeped out shortly afterwards. I started packing up as the church groundskeeper, a widower, came over. We chatted a few minutes before I took off.
I realized this morning how important sleep is on a bike trip. It’s nice to get a good night’s sleep at home, but it seems like I require more on a bike trip.
Ever since Kansas I’d periodically have an odd sensation. On occasion, it felt like someone was throwing a handful of sand at me. I was sure THAT wasn’t happening because most of the time I could see for miles and miles in every direction, and knew that I was the only breathing two-legged creature within my field of vision. Today is when I finally learned what that sensation was. When it happened this morning, I looked down and saw I had about fifteen gnats on each arm. I brushed them off, but probably should've considered what my face and hair looked like as well before I went into the next store.
Crossing rivers can be problematic. I didn’t want to come up to the Wabash river, which divides Illinois and Indiana, then not be able to cross. I’d have to backtrack, so I carefully inspected the map for clues. I wanted to make it to Mt. Vernon (the one in Indiana, 72 miles away, not the one I stayed in last night) (there are, apparently, 28 Mt. Vernons in the US) and wondered if there’s a road from Carmi to Mt. Vernon. The map was vague, so while I was buying lunch I asked one of the locals in Dahlgren at the Shell gas station for some assistance. No bridge, so my route would go through Norris City instead.
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