Sunday 4^th April, Cave In Rock Motel, Highway I, Illinois

20.45

This morning I had breakfast surrounded by Victorian paintings and objet d’art in the grand dining room of the Hammack-Moore Guest House in Madisonville, Kentucky. This evening I am writing this by a dim lamp in a musty-smelling motel room in Cave In Rock Illinois. The signs above the reception desk included the following pleasantries “Don’t ask to see a room, the answer will be no” “I don’t rent to tramps, people on drugs, snobs or drunks”. “My rooms are not a public toilet” “People making reservations are mostly liers (sic). Walk –in clientele preferred”.

Well it makes a change doesn’t it?

Shirley, the owner of Hammack-Moore House, turned up in the morning to cook us breakfast (which included Easter eggs) . A nice lady, an ex-banker, she told us the story of the house, as we ate (see hyperlink.) They’ve done a fantastic job and it really is worth seeing.

We left at 07.45 and the first 15 miles were really enjoyable. Flat roads on a bright sunny morning with no wind whatsoever. Kids with baskets out on lawns hunting for Easter Eggs. “Aw shucks!” It was still a lot like Surrey apart from the names, Manitou, Nebo, Marion (Why can’t they have sensible names like Stoke Poges and Winnersh Triangle?).

We are off the ACA defined route at the moment because a lot of the places are camping only. So we are occasionally flying a bit blind. Today we tried to use Google Maps to help us navigate and it didn’t really work. It’s a great planning tool but not really usable for navigation on the hoof (or on the pedal, I suppose that should be). Sometimes they give street numbers when the street actually only have names, and vice-versa Also, their bicycle routes must be designed for mountain bikers because we came to a road covered in very rough gravel –difficult enough on a mountain bike –impossible on a tourer. We ended up having to walk our bikes for a couple of miles. I stopped an old couple, in a pick-up truck, to ask how long the gravel lasted, stressing how difficult it was for our bikes and looking longingly at the back of their truck, But the miserable old scrotes weren’t having any of it. “About 2 miles” they said, “after that it gets easier”. Then they drove off. And a happy bloody Easter to you.

To make matters worse, Mike got his second puncture, just as the gravel ended. When you get two together like this, there is always the nagging doubt that something is lodged in the tyre but he couldn’t find anything . We’re down to one new inner tube left now plus two repaired ones.

It was getting noticeably hotter now and we were losing faith in Google. Finally we stopped at a farm house and an old lady gave us directions to Marion, ten miles away. We arrived about an hour later, badly in need of a rest. We had a good meal in The Marion Diner, a long, light-filled, airy room, nicely furnished and staffed by a very friendly group of women. I had chilli and fried chicken. An odd combination but they all seem odd to me. A bucket of cherry cola with this.

The ladies in the diner told us that Cave in Rock was eleven miles away and, as it was Sunday, we would see lots of young Amish couples out courting “ with their buggies all scrubbed and polished”. Well they’ve either all fallen out, or got beyond the courting stage, as we didn’t see one couple. Just a long grey road that seemed to go on forever as the temperature soared in to the eighties.

We finally got to the Ohio River just before 4 and had to wait a few minutes for the free ferry that takes you over to Cave In Rock. The river is very impressive. It’s about a quarter of a mile wide, and forms the border between Kentucky and Illinois so we entered our third new state.

Memories of Kentucky. Three very interesting women: “Lonesome Ornery and Mean” Eugenia from the Rusty Fork in Elkhorn City. Linda Marcum from Booneville, blasting away with her guns in the middle of the night, and Shirley Thomas , in Madisonville, restoring that beautiful house. Kentuckians generally are really warm and friendly, but when I eventually rule the world, I intend to come back and round up all the owners of dogs (and cockerels), who let them loose on the highway, and deliver them to the care of Dorcas Figg for a very long time.

We asked directions to the motel from a family near the ferry point. “You’re not STAYING THERE are ya?” did not bode well. It was only a mile away and when the owner eventually did emerge, after 5 minutes of us ringing, he turned out to be a cheerful old soul in his eighties. He was trying to sell the motel. (All the older owners seem to be doing this) and offered to exchange it for our bikes. I was quite interested but Mike wanted to haggle and it came to nothing.

It is very basic, but the shower works and the bed is clean. After 56 miles hot miles I will settle for that.

Dinner at Gee-Jays diner in town. Beef, fried cabbage, carrots and corn. (At last, vegetables!) Followed by a cherry cobbler and ice cream. And two cans of Sprite. One day I will look back at this and laugh.

This is the end of our third week and we have done over 900 miles now, which is further than Land’s End to John O’ Groats. (oh, what I wouldn’t give for a Cornish pasty or a plate of haggis, neeps and tatties). We’re definitely getting fitter. Fifty miles is not too onerous now, as long as it’s not too hot.

During one of our lost periods Mike and I were discussing what we would do if we got totally lost and stumbled into a foreign country where we couldn’t speak a word of the language. What phrases would be useful to learn quickly? I came up with predictable stuff like “Can you help me” “I am lost”. etc. Mike’s suggestion? “ Please eat my friend first.”