Day 11, Lookout to Buckhorn, 97 miles (!!)

I call this entry 'Ken-Trucky'.


We set out from our airconditioned sports-hall home after a bowl of cereal - which is a special treat these days! From there, it was a hot uphill slog. Our route through Kentucky so far has taken in differnt sights to Virginia. Industry rather than agriculture, trailer parks instead of houses. Moreover - hills! Big, slow burning ones. The brightside of these hills is that they are inevitably followed by fun donwhills. Sure they require full concentration on the road, but also blast your tired, sweaty limbs with a cool breeze while you rest your legs. Plus you feel like you're in a car ad (without being in a car.)

A word on trucks. Being a mining state, big trucks abound. Where there is no shoulder, we pull into the first driveway and let the blighters pass. As we are on the Trans-Am route, cyclists are a common fixture and the truckers are courteous. Doesn't make for peaceful riding though!
Along the road we met Mark from Arizona, cycling in the opposite direction. He was nearing the end of his Trans-Am, which he started in May, from Oregon (the traditional Trans Am route; whereas we take the 'Western Express' from Pueblo.) It was reassuring to hear Marks' stories from the road, and while he admitted theres' been trying days, he concluded 'looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way'. We shall look out for his blog in a few weeks, to see his victorious ending-picture, at Yorktown (where we set out.)

After 40 miles, we stopped at a lonely gas station for caffeine & carbs. This place was like a museum of items from the special aisle in Aldi. Amongst the eclectically-positioned ready meals, candy and cereals were: a blazer (for sale)- and fishing equipment. We sat in a nearby church yard and refuelled. It was at this point that I discovered that Matt had planned another 50 miles for us this day. Not one to back down, I simply nodded and got on with it. However I will say this (with Dave in mind)- I had to seriously 'give it some Gordon' over the next hours that passed. The road was too busy for ipod distraction, so I had to set my internal radio to a mash-up of Alice in Chains, AC/DC and Iron Maiden. I later discovered Matt was doing much the same! Several times I thought of Churchhills line 'When you're going through hell; keep going.' It was about that hot, the roads kept stretching upwards, the trucks kept passing... Crikey, it was hot! I meditated on the sense of accomplishment we would have once we arrived, and moreover - the cold beer we would chug-alug once we rolled into the campsite. This was hands down the hardest day so far, but we made it.

After a few more hills, we finally reached Buckhorn National park. Without discussion, we stopped at the Gas station for beer. Having frantically scanned the fridge, we asked the morbidly obese teenager behind the counter where the beer was at. He smugly told us this was a 'dry county'. I will restrain myself from expressing here the dark thoughts I had at this point... If I wasn't quite sure there was some kind of firearm behind the counter, I would have shaken the tubby expletive. Kentucky; you don't have to wear a helmet when you scream down the road on a motorcycle; you dont' have to have licence plates on the front of your car; but you can't drink a beer after cycling 97 miles in blazing sun. (More dark, unpublishable thoughts here.)

The campsite was lousy with mesquitos and unsavoury characters, so that we avoided leaving our bikes and gear out of sight. We relayed showers etc, finally got to eating the tinned stuff we bought for dinner days ago, put our knees on ice (literally)- and soon crashed out. Onwards and Upwards (in every sense - as we are surrounded by hills here!)