No rest for the weary -- today's ride is 75 miles and includes over 2500 feet of climbing. Normally I would hide in my tent as long as possible, but my campsite was treeless and thus lacked shade. On open ground, my tent (assuming the rainfly is on -- a sure bet with Kentucky's nightly thunderstorms) becomes a convection oven by 8:15, making it the most efficient alarm clock I have ever seen. I simply cannot sleep, nor even remain in my bag, once the sun strikes my tent. So I got up and started riding.
Guess what? I had a headwind. I no longer register anger at this -- it has been a constant for several days and I have resigned myself to plodding through Kentucky with my head down. I tried to snap a shot of the wind's activity on a field of tall grass, but I'm not sure I captured the event. Just trust me, the wind was gusting impressively, okay?
I gambled a bit on a shortcut -- a road that I could see, but not identify, on my map. I ended up shaving about three miles off of the day -- and I avoided some climbs -- not really that big of a deal, but cause for excitement until I knew that I was on the right road. Later I would discover that this shorcut allowed me to bypass the Dutch, but I waited for them at my next stop anyway. We rode together for a while, but they use a constant pedaling style, while I prefer to race down hills and carry my momentum into the uphills. Of course, I outweigh Jan by about 50 pounds, so our riding styles necessarily differ, and I eventually passed them.
Here's a beautiful home that I saw fronting a fantastic field of some planted crop or another. The kind of crop is not important to us. I'm sure the farmers know what it is.
I reached Sebree, thoroughly exhausted, and stopped to do laundry. I then headed to the city's park, where I camped for the night. The park's restrooms were locked, but what the hell? It's a free campsite. The park, like every other city park I have stayed at, was about fifty feet from train tracks, and after warning the Dutch about the noise that would ensue, I hit the sack. It was a sticky, salty night in the park, with no shower after 75 miles of hills and heat.