Linda’s Victoria B&B Booneville KY 21.00 Friday 26^th March

A very hard couple of days. 130 miles in wind, rain , hail and snow (and the occasional glimpse of the sun). Sometimes, if the only thing that is getting you up a steep hill is the dogs chasing you, you have to ask yourself if you are really enjoying this. I am sure this will pass.

Sign seen outside a church “Christianity is a verb”. Wait till I tell them back at school.

Yesterday

Left the motel at 07.20 yesterday morning and crossed the state line in to Kentucky about a mile down the road. My main memories of Virginia: The warmth and friendliness of the people, (although they did become noticeably more reserved as you moved south). The churches - each town, no matter how small, would have at least one, usually two or three, usually Baptist or Methodist, well kept and prosperous looking and always with a small white wooden steeple. The endless hills. And a bag of bananas.

We had breakfast in the Rusty Fork, a diner in Elkhorn City , managed by Eugenia, who could have been Dolly Parton’s younger sister and was “proud to be a hillbilly” . Everyone very friendly and offering advice on the route.

Eugenia said that if we hung around till evening we could join in the karaoke.

Customer “what ya gonna giv’em Eugenia, ‘Oh lonesome me’?

E. “Hell no. ‘Lonesome, ornery and mean’. That’s me. They lurv that one”

We headed on.

Real poverty here in Kentucky. Old shacks everywhere ( though some with 2 or three cars outside). Dogs barking and sometimes chasing you. Roosters crowing everywhere. People on porches usually waved or said “hallo”. Some would just wordlessly stare as we passed. Generally very quiet – a bit eerie, really.

It’s coal mining country but the industry is dying. They do both strip and shaft mining and you could see the veins of coal cut through the rock in the hills above us. What do people do for work now? Not a lot, by the looks of things.

The day had been forecast to be tough and it was. Five steepish hills at regular intervals. Cold and windy with a steady drizzle of rain. Energy sapping stuff. Lunch was a coffee and a hastily grabbed burger at a small hut in Melvin, about half way to Hindman.

Despite the length of the trip we were making good progress and got to our destination at 5.15 which was pretty good going all things considered. We were knackered but after 70 miles the day was over.

Or so we thought. We were told there was nowhere to stay in town, Not a motel, hostel, or even a council skip that we could nestle down in. The nearest was in Hazard (where the Dukes come from), 20 miles away ! Sod it. Nothing to do but go on. This was when the rain really started. ( I discovered that it is difficult to cycle when you are weeping hysterically.) Then something strange happened. A sort of mad, Zen calmness took over. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it but I suddenly felt very detached and relaxed . We had to go on and we did. Huge trucks flying past, drenching us with spray. Mud and gravel all over the road. We tore along, completely drained, eating and drinking everything we had in our bags. Gatorade, water, cashew nuts, Snickers bars, At one stage I was thinking about eating my bicycle pump but decided I couldn’t break it down into bite sizes pieces . At 7.30 we reached the edge of Hazard. Outside Wal-Mart someone directed us to a hotel, just down the road. It was a GH Guest House (they used to be Holiday Inns) with large, really comfortable rooms and wireless internet. Our first stroke of luck all day. I discovered that Fulham had been knocked out of the FA cup the previous day but was past caring.

We had been cycling for 12 hours and done 85 miles. We tucked into beer and fajitas at a local Mexican place before crashing out, tired but horribly smug and pleased with ourselves.

Today.

We slept late and headed off at 09.45. It was raining when we left but this quickly turned to snow and the first 6 miles were the scariest of the whole trip so far. Visibility was very poor on a fast moving busy road. It really wasn’t safe. We eventually turned off the main road and on to a quieter one and the snow slowly eased off. From then on it was just a grind. Only 44 miles but it seemed a lot longer and the hills, nothing special really, seemed even more annoying than usual. I was probably just tired from the day before . Chased several times by dogs and once by a cockerel.

A good lunch in Buckhorn, 18 miles from Booneville. Roast beef, mashed potatoes and green beans. Most of the clientele seemed to weigh about 30 stone and moved around each other slowly and carefully, like sumo wrestlers.

We had booked Linda’s B&B before leaving Hazard as it was the only place in Booneville and we didn’t want to get caught out again. Linda said she would let us have her summer house as it was vacant and, as her house was out of town on a hill, if we rang when we got to Booneville she would come in and pick us up in her truck. (Our second, saintly Linda).

We did as directed and while waiting for Linda to arrive, I went into the store to buy some food for the evening (there was nowhere to eat in town). I bought steak and jacket potatoes and asked an assistant where the wine section was.

“Sir this here is a dry county. So’s Buckthorn and most of the counties hereby. Only place you’ll get liquor is from a bootlegger. “

I asked him where I could find the nearest bootlegger but he thought it inadvisable for a stranger to go around looking for one in town.

How much more can one man take?

Linda picked us up and drove us the two miles to her house, or rather houses. A feisty lady, full of life, with an easy, hearty laugh. We stayed in our own large two-bedroom house just up the hill from her own place. Very roomy and comfortably furnished. Linda’s own house was full of antiques and curios, the walls covered with her own paintings of flowers. The garden was also full of strange bits and pieces including a fully dressed, shop window dummy. A strange and wonderful place. Lots of birds including some Red Cardinals, small and bright, a wonderful shade of red.

We ate our steaks, washed down with root beer (disgusting mouthwashy stuff), and, at dusk, watched the deer creeping cautiously into the garden to eat the corn that Linda lays out for them. Then we retired to our rooms (Separate rooms – what luxury) .