No Time Like The Present

July 17, 2023

DAY TWENTYTWO

I’m really getting into this routine now. I wake up just before dawn, repack the sleeping bag, pillow and mattress in the first light of day and then secure all the panniers before tossing them out one by one. I’m officially one of those people that the other campers wake up and realize I’m already gone. They probably say things like, “Damn, dude’s gone already,” and “I didn’t even hear him pack up.” I like that. I like imagining what other folks think about me while I live on the bicycle. A cold coffee and a breakfast bar are all I need on a humid morning like this to get going and I’m on my way.

A tailwind pushes me along. I coast down to the bridges and climb up out of creek bottoms. The sun rises in my face and the world feels good. I approach a road closed sign and skirt it in the normal manner but before long I’m confronted with a missing bridge. The trek around it is muddy and steep and the construction crew ain’t having me in their mix. They explain the detour - a dirt road that cuts between two long country driveways linking both sides of he bridge. Just as I’m about to turn down the dirt road a four wheeler comes flying around the corner and we nearly collide. He’s super apologetic and just as freaked out as me as he bolts away and up the closed road. Dang, close call. Before long I’m pushing my bike through actual creeks and along deep muddy ruts but it’s only a short mile before I’m back on asphalt again. The road on this side is closed for miles and I have a great traffic free section to enjoy.

At the next town I stop for eggs, bacon and hot coffee. The service is wonderful and the food delicious. I’m ahead of schedule and should cross into Indiana today.

I’m climbing another long slow grade when I feel the first sting. I swipe at my back and tug on the safety vest. I feel a second sting on my right shoulder and pull over in the gravel. I’m dancing around pulling clothes off and swatting at nothing as cars pass. Bewildered gazes delighting only in my chaos. The stinging is minor ad I have no idea what got me. The whole debacle fades to a light itch as I put my shirt and vest back on and begin that uphill battle again.

Intersections that cross the interstate are always fraught with danger and this one was no different. As I approach I see a green municipal truck pulling to a stop at the sign. I’m waving and braking from his left but he’s not seeing me. Sure enough he pulls out right in front of me. I’m prepared and swerve back behind the monstrosity while he finally hears me yelling a few choice expressions his way. Maybe he’ll tell his buddies he almost killed a cyclists today and they’ll have a good laugh, maybe not. Maybe he’ll pay more attention to his surroundings and the next cyclist will get the open road they deserve at the intersection, maybe not.

I know I’m in Indiana because I notice the clock change. Otherwise, there is no signage, no fanfare, no markings whatsoever that I’ve left Illinois. So be it. I’m in Terre Haute quickly and I stop at a bank for some cash for the campsite. It’s $15 and doesn’t sell firewood or have a shower. The price is right. The rain is coming so I hold off on pitching the tent and find a nice shelter that has electricity. I pull out my trusty chair and enjoy the cool breeze of the passing storm while everything recharges. I cook my ramen and eat more candy, life is good.

At my site I pitch the tent expertly fast and prepare for nightfall. The trees rustle and I can hear an argument between two campers float over as I drift off to sleep.

Today's ride: 44 miles (71 km)
Total: 890 miles (1,432 km)

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