78.24 miles (Total: 1316.81) Avg Speed: 12.4mph Max Speed: 39.5mph
Terry had left early this morning again leaving me an Joe to sleep in. One thing I forgot to mention in the previous post was the roads into Chester were literally melting it was that hot and the ridges on my new tyres picked up the sticky hot tar followed by every small stone I past over. So I spent about and hour this morning combing through and picking out every last bit. The ride out of Chester and over the Mississippi was going to be hairy. We had to pass over a very narrow bridge so used by yesterdays coal trucks so we waited for a small car to get behind us and shepherd us over the other side. Once across we had passed the state line and arrived in state number 4, Missouri!
State No. 4
Only 15 miles into the ride and we spotted a gigantic black cloud forming on the horizon. Everything went eerily quiet and the day suddenly descended into darkness. We took shelter at a gas station as the dark clouds rolled over each other as the thunder rumbled, I’ve never seen anything like it. The storm soon came and past after spending about an hour sat inside. The weather was clear skies and sunshine again so we pressed on.
We met with a couple of East-bounders from California who had taken the Western Express route from San Fran then joined the TransAm trail in Pueblo. They talked to Joe about the first section of the route because that is the one he will be taking when we reach Pueblo, then advised us on a detour today that would save us around 6 miles.
After reaching the end of the detour we were only about 20 miles from the campground we had planned to stay at. We stopped at a small store in a place called Pilot Knob for some milkshakes and then cruised the last stretch of the ride both in our top cranks barely going under 20mph. I had deer running in the fields beside me and an Osprey swoop down in front of me, I hadn’t expected the Missouri scenery to be this good, its probably the best yet.
We arrived at Kyles campground to find Terry already set up. They had showers but the small creek was more inviting. Tiny fish nibbled the dead skin of my feet, I bet people pay good money to get that done. The place had a dingy looking bar at the entrance but inside it was actually great fun, the locals swilled beer and played rock music and were really friendly, although a pregnant woman drank and smoked in the corner whilst having a domestic with her husband. We crawled into our tents thinking about the ride tomorrow which would mark the start of the Ozark mountains, described by the maps as one long self propelled roller coaster.
Terry was gone again before we stirred, off early as always, leaving Joe and me the rare luxury of sleeping in. I’d left something out of the last post too — the roads into Chester had been melting outright in that heat, soft enough that every stone on the shoulder stuck straight into the fresh ridges of my new tyres. I spent the better part of an hour this morning just combing tar and gravel out of the tread. The ride out of town wasn’t much gentler: the bridge over the Mississippi was the same narrow one the coal trucks had been running all day yesterday, so we waited for a small car to fall in behind us and shepherd us across rather than chance it alone. On the far side we crossed into state number four — Missouri.
State No. 4
Fifteen miles in, a black cloud the size of a mountain range rose up on the horizon and the whole world went quiet and dark in a way I’d never quite seen before. We ducked into a gas station and sat it out — thunder rolling, clouds folding over each other for the better part of an hour — until it blew through as fast as it had arrived, leaving clear skies behind it. We got back on the bikes and pressed on.
We fell in with a couple of east-bounders out of California, who’d ridden the Western Express up from San Francisco before joining the TransAm at Pueblo — the very stretch Joe will be riding himself once we reach that town. They talked route with him for a while and pointed us toward a detour that would trim about six miles off the day.
That put us about twenty miles from the campground, close enough to coast the rest of the way in our top gears, barely dipping under twenty miles an hour. Deer ran the fields beside the road, an osprey dropped low right in front of me, and somewhere along the way I gave up my expectations of Missouri — the scenery here might be the best of the whole trip so far, not that I’d said as much out loud before today.
Terry was already set up at Kyles when we rolled in, seventy-eight miles behind us and the total climbing past thirteen hundred. There were showers, but the little creek running past camp was too inviting to pass up — tiny fish came and nibbled the dead skin off my feet, which I understand people pay good money for elsewhere. The bar at the entrance looked dingy from outside and turned out to be a genuine good time within, locals swilling beer to rock music, friendly to a fault, save for one pregnant woman drinking and smoking in the corner mid-argument with her husband. We crawled off to our tents thinking ahead to tomorrow, which the maps promised would be the start of the Ozarks — described, not very reassuringly, as one long self-propelled roller coaster.
2 comments from 2010
Keep up the good work man, loving the progress you guys are making. Watched the last match in the Cluny, was tempted to get a little peach beer in your honour, but im too manly for that :P. Keep on rollin baby!
Your making great mileage everyday now, Ryan lad. Keep up the good work. x p.s. Pics are epic!