"On the road again, goin' places that I've never been"

Thursday I woke up and proceeded to suit up for the first time since Sunday, having sipped some cough syrup and popped some non-drowsy no-pseudophedrine nasal decongestant. I also wore my new gel-padded shorts and reveled in their comfort. And so it began. Adam left that day to start his job in the city, so we were down to 16, and Keith would not only have to take him to the train station but also stop by a bike shop in Edwardsville to get everyone's stuff, so we would ride the day unsupported. Through whatever process and convoluted detouring and bridge closures, I ended up in front with Dan and neither of us had directions. And we were in East St. Louis; from my experience, the urban areas immediately east of other major urban areas are always lovely in that dilapidated, run-down and seemingly empty sense of the word. To the west I could eke out a view of the city skyline and its familiar Gateway Arch. It all turned into countryside pretty quickly, which was surprising as we were supposed to be winding along some kind of river. It turns out I was going east and about 10 miles out of the way, so we had to rendezvous on course before we could all proceed. I had done, at that point, 40 miles at the 25 mile mark.

That put me back a ways as we headed along the bluffs that line the the floodplain of the Mississippi. This was an extremely rural area, just tall stalks of corn on one side and a wall of rock and trees on the other for 40 miles. I ran out of water, which was not too great for my congestion and overall fatigue from the morning. So collectively we all suffered until we came upon a feed store/weighing station along the way to fill up. And then we suffered some more until reaching Prarie Du Rocher, IL where I basically gorged myself and downed a pitcher of lemonade. And so it went, eventually up into the bluffs and around some rivers until we reached Chester, IL, the home of Popeye, a mental institution and medium-security prison. I had yet to see the Mississippi River. We stayed in the gym of a Lutheran primary school, which meant more contiguous days with hot showers.

By Friday morning we had Alex back with us and cheerful as ever. It would be a good day to return if you like climbing. Coming down bluffs, the river presented itself and crossing the bridge into the hazy Missouri morning meant crossing into the west, going in the direction of those explorers who crossed the mountains and plains and valleys seeking whatever they sought. I don't think I had seen the river before, but having done so, it stands out in my mind as a milestone on this journey. It means that the only direction we traverse until Colorado is west and up. After a stretch of floodplain we climbed up into the Missouri-side bluffs and a world of hurt. It didn't flatten out like you think it would in Illinois, the hills and the inclines didn't stop. Keith remarked that we had entered Pennsouri, but I like to think of it as Missylvania. Either way, the state is more or less a series of hills. Outside of Farmington, MO a lady gave us tickets for free Taco Bell combos and told us they were redeemable everywhere, but I insisted to everyone that we should find the T-Bell now and read the fine print about it only being valid at one specific location. It would turn out that I was right, so if I ever want a free T-bell combo I have to go back to Farmington. Instead for lunch we ate in a state park and everyone threw rocks in my helmet. On the way to our stop, my legs got tired so I sped ahead, which if you think about it, doesn't make much sense. In Ironton, MO I spotted a deliberately vague Civil War mural painted on a building and I couldn't make out who was firing the cannon and who was being bombarded, the Confederate or Union soldiers. This question would plague me throughout my venture through the state, as well as the larger question of whether or not Missouri could be considered part of the South. At first I considered it "southern" in the way you would think southern Illinois is "south," but the Confederate flags, obsession with Civil War history, the evident antebellum leanings, and the delicious sweet tea were a dead giveaway, that yes, this part of southern Missouri could be considered the South, giving our route that much more geographic variety. We stayed at the First Church of the Nazarene in town and we were hosted not only by the pastor but a group of young locals. I started reading "On the Road" for the first time since I lost my original copy and felt good about it again. I also replaced my saddle having realized that it made no sense to use a harder saddle.

Saturday was the worst yet in terms of challenging climbs as we headed into the heart of the Ozarks and its many winding rivers and national scenic riverways, which are just fancy words for tough uphills and roller-coaster downhills. I hit 45 miles per hour one time and the second time I had a rear-tire go flat on me, and had to ride down on it until I could slow down on a flat. Fortunately it was only a pinhole leak and in my rear tire, but it was my eleventh tube-tire emergency by official count and I was stuck in the middle of scenic nowhere without a frame pump. As it would turn out, however, I was ahead of everyone by a long shot so borrowed Mark's awful pump when they passed by. I managed to get into town underinflated, but nothing ruins your momentum like a flat. I longed for a slushie, something cold and sugary. I ended up at some gas station in Eminence, MO and asked for directions for sixth street, but got directions to US 63 instead, so went along into the other part of town that wasn't full of vacationing mountain folk. It would appear that the town is like the Wisconsin Dells of the Ozarks, with tubing and swimming and canoeing and hunting and fishing and basically everything related to the Jacks Fork and Current Rivers but without hordes of midwesterners or an indoor water park. We stayed in the gym of Eminence High School, which was new as of two years ago and downright suburban if not for the fact that it was in its own building and also contained the cafeteria. We shot some hoops, played with the automatic ball return machine, and after attempting to put quarters into the Coke machine to only see them get spit out again, I had a Yoohoo for the first time in multiple years, which was delicious. I remember eating trail mix and not much else, having napped for a lot of my "free" time.

So I woke up hungry Sunday and did what I could with peanut butter and multiple slices of bread. The last of the dreadful climbs came about and it was worth the scenic overlook we stopped at with the hills far and wide below us and the green of the Missouri softwoods behind a veil of morning haze. It flattened out insomuch as the hills had shallower inclines, but were nearly as long, but merely blips on the overall feeling of the day. I picked myself up with a mountain dew slushie and didn't realize that most of it was injected air as I put it in my water bottle to drink along the ride. At 70 miles I had no water left and stopped at a church along the way to fill up. The folks there were nice enough to not only give me ice but an extra bottle of cold, Sam's choice water. I was grateful to them and for once in my life, Sam Walton for making such delicious water. My delusions ended there, but I recall seeing one incline that winded up and to the left and thinking it looked like the Great Wall of China, and climbing up it, Jerry Lee Lewis started singing "goodness gracious Great Wall of China!" before banging on the piano. I made it to Hartville, MO alive. No one could tell me where the Church of God in town was, not the folks at the gas station from where I bought a gallon of sweet tea that I would ingest over the next few hours, nor the girls at the corner Subway from where I bought two footlongs. I was a hungry fella and had to make up for yesterday's lack of alimentary relief. The manager of the Subway told me a team of cyclists had been through a couple of weeks back and had camped out in front of the courthouse across the street. She also let me use the phone to call ahead to the church, which suprisingly was just behind the courthouse. I know we had trailed along the Johns Hopkins ride back in Ohio, but it would appear that their route through MO is north of ours. It's a comforting thought to think that there are other teams doing similar work for different causes. I could imagine the camraderie or madness that would ensue if two such teams crossed paths and inhabited the same town at the same date. It started raining, so I tiptoed as fast as I could in my cycling shoes to the church. There pastor Lowell greeted us and showed us the church. And then a blur of Subway sandwiches, sweet tea, teammates arriving, a glance at the first in the "Left Behind" series, more grilled cheese sandwiches; I fell dead asleep.

Monday it drizzled. Then it poured. I broke out the rain jacket for the first time and felt cozy but sticky inside from a lack ventilation. It was necessary to keep the legs moving for fear of cooling off or just losing that edgewise momentum, but I made the necessary stops for what little water I consumed and my usual rations of granola bars ever 20 or so miles. At a gas station in a town outside my stop, I found out my rear tire had gone flat, making it number 13 and potentially stranding me. Number 12 was Sunday, when it went flat all of a sudden at a gas station and I patched it up and managed to break one of my Park Tool levers. For this I buckled down and decided I should not only get a slew of new tubes but also a new rear tire. Back at the gas station, Anish showed up and saved me from the inevitable doom of having to wait it out at the gas station, but it started to pour like nothing else so I bought Hostess donettes and 80% of my daily values of saturated fat for a 2000 calorie diet, which is clearly below my required amount. We left and once again, I biked into our destination underinflated. Our stop had been moved closer, to a bigger town. We were originally slated to stay at the extensive city park in Ash Grove, MO, but ended up with accomadations at the First Christian Church. So we showered at the park after I tried to finagle people into racing me arond the 350-meter or so concrete oval in the middle of the park, but it was relatively unsafe for high-speed sprints. Also everyone was clearly tired. After getting settled at the church, we walked over to the local pizza place where the owner had dinner and a long table waiting for us, which was extremely generous and delicious, especially their pinapple and canadian bacon. So, if you're ever in Ash Grove, MO go to Time Out Pizza on Main St. James became the second of our ride leaders to leave the ride, but much unlike Brian, he will return with to us in Pheonix to finish off the adventure he helped to start. I mounted my new tire and hope like crazy that Schwalbe won't fail me until California, it can fall apart on the beach for all I care, I just want it to last. It became apparent to me during lunch when I had a Big Bopper (Cheeseburger and fries with a cherry Coke and other people's onion rings) that I am going to run out of money if I keep spending it like I am. Especially if my equipment keeps breaking and I keep eating out instead of drinking gallons of chocolate milk and calling it a day, I figure I'm going to run broke somewhere in Arizona, when I had previously expected to go broke just before San Diego. So I proposed to spend no more than 3 dollars a day or better yet, spend nothing at all to ensure that I won't have to eat my seat cushion on the airplane back to Chicago.

Today I managed to not spend anything yet, but I still think some chocolate milk would be delicious. Missouri never stopped having a lot of rolling hills until 30 miles to Kansas when it was finally generous enough to flatten out. That and Kansas kind of just happened, no signs, no signals that we were in another state other than changing road signs and newer asphalt and road markings, so we took a photo-op moment in front of a big, fiberglass cow outside of a radio station just over the border. We stopped for lunch in Pittsburg, KS and I napped more than I ate. I'm now in Girard, KS and have been blogging for about 2 and a half hours, it's just that long of a process. I'm hungry and there's a public pool somewhere in town that would be nice to shower at. This is also our fourth rest day stop and first one since Champaign last Monday, so I will probably put up photos tommorrow.