Wind: The Mountains of the Midwest

Here's a photo of John, Natalie, and me, doing the family photo pose.


A couple of their friends have a show on community radio in Urbana and we went and they "interviewed" me. It wasn't the most...professional interview I've done so far, but it was a ton of fun. At one point I was asked about the music I listen to when I'm riding and I mentioned Tom Petty, and they wanted to play one of his songs on the air. They didn't have any in their collection, so they went to Tom Petty's Myspace page and played one from there. Turns out, all that's on that MySpace page are 30 second clips, so they kept ending up with dead air. It was really funny. Eventually, another friend, Dave, who we had played music with the previous night in John's basement and had been listening to the show in his car, came by the studio with two Tom Petty CDs in hand. Sweet.

This is one of the hosts, Matt:

This is me and Ian, the other host:

This is the Peanut Gallery:

So my rest day in Urbana was fun and it was great seeing John and Natalie again (friends from college).

The next day I rode into Indiana. I was riding south to get down towards Cincinnati when I rode into a torrential downpour near Terre Haute. I mean it was really coming down, for about 15 miles into town and it wasn't letting up. I stopped at the first motel I saw, desperate to get out of the rain and my soaked and dirty clothes (I didn't get a chance to do laundry in Urbana; or rather, I didn't bother to do laundry in Urbana), but they were completely booked. So I rode another couple of miles further into the city to the next motel, which was also completely booked. I asked if there was anyplace that might not be completely booked and the motel clerk looked at me blankly and said, "Nowhere." I asked what was going on in town and he mumbled something I didn't quite catch and asked the people standing behind me what they needed. They looked at me and made some stupid comment about it not being a nice night for a ride (thanks, that's very helpful) and then started complaining to the clerk about their bed not being a king-sized. I'm not kidding.

So I waited outside under the covered area outside the office, contemplating my next move while waiting for the rain to let up. After about a half hour it calmed down enough for me to get back on the bike. I used my GPS to find the city park, which actually wasn't very far. I rode through and found this really nice amphitheater where I decided to sleep for the night. I knew the park was closed after dark and was nervous that I would be asked to leave if the police came by, but I couldn't think of any other options.

I didn't bother setting up my tent, and just unrolled my sleeping pad and sleeping bag. Aside from one drunk guy that stumbled across the stage shortly before dawn and a maintenance man that came just after dawn to check the lights, there were no problems. The maintenance guy actually apologized for waking me.

There was some bad news though. Before I got set up for the night, I stupidly attempted to pull my bike up the steps of the stage, with the trailer attached. I think I was so tired and in such a mood that I wasn't thinking clearly. Predictably, I couldn't keep the trailer straight up the stairs, and it tipped over. Long story short, I broke the rear derailleur hanger, making the bike unusable. So I had that to think about all night long.

The next morning, again using the GPS, I walked my bike and everything to the nearest bike shop (thank goodness there is a bike shop there). Fortunately, the shop was open a half hour before the posted opening time and the owner was very nice when he told me I was screwed. You see, my bike uses a rear derailleur hanger that no other brand uses and is available only from the manufacturer. With my head in my hands and that slow feeling of dread beginning to take over at the thought of spending another night, showerless and exhausted, in the park of the city of Terre Haute, IN, a flash of lightning struck my brain and I remembered the shiny new replacement rear derailleur hanger that was sent with the bike and sitting in my seat bag! Thirty seconds later my bike was back together and I was on my way, once again.

Oh, by the way, the owner of the bike shop (Fat Bikes) informed me that the reason there were no rooms available anywhere in the city of Terre Haute and I had to sleep outdoors on a concrete stage was that there was a diesel truck pull at the fairgrounds that weekend. Yep.

Anyhoo, the rest of Indiana was actually quite nice. It's more hilly and has a greater variety of scenery than anyplace I've been since Colorado. I actually got to ride through a State Park, which had trees, instead of cornfields! Right on. There were places, however, that resembled much of the rest of the midwest (i.e., flat, cornfields, nothing else) where the wind was more of factor than it's been before on this trip. In fact, every time I've been riding south I've been reduced to a snail's pace. It's really demoralizing. During my radio interview in Urbana, Ian mentioned that wind is the mountains of the Midwest. I took that to heart. It really does slow me down as much as climbing does in some circumstances, but it's worse because you know it's going to last as long as you keep heading in the same direction, which at times is to the horizon and beyond.

I'm in Cincinnati, OH now at my friend Liz's place (we were roommates in Queens, NY a couple of years ago). Cincinnati is really hilly. Liz just got home from work, so more on Cincy later.