Journey's Break

So, I've made it to the Tarheel State.

I'm staying at the house of Dr Kat and her family. Which is very kind of them. In return I am trying to be jovial and entertaining. I am also being schooled in the lawn mowing arts and I'm sure, since history tends to repeat itself, I shall soon break part of the house.

As most of you know I have been looking forward to this section of the journey for ages. Although, I guess it's more of a chronological section than an geographical one. You know? I have been looking forward to it for about 3 reasons, which I list here in inverse order of importance: One, I get to stop cycling. Two, I get to sleep in a bed. Three, I get to see Kat, whom I have known since she was knee high to a grasshopper.

Since she was about 5'5" at the time, I would estimate that this grasshopper would be eight or nine feet long, if it is the back knee in question.

Talking of knees: Ow. MRI sir? Yes, yes please.

So, where was I with this cycling story? If I remember correctly, we had just made camp on the banks of the Susquehanna. From there we headed south following routes 405 and 147. It was all going well, the terrain is gorgeous and the people were a mixed bunch of grumpy, crazy and friendly. We stopped at a tiny road-side fruit stand and June (one of the ancientest and most sun tanned folks I have ever met) showered us with various carbohydrates and refused our monies. Which was nice. A raw sweetcorn each and some blackberries later we continued rolling hills and coming down a long downhill we were overtaken by a few juggernauts.

The very last one of which had a surprise for me. The surprise consisted of a plastic bag, which was full of rotten cow entrails, which were...how to put this...also full.

Which, the gentleman driving applied to the back of my neck, my left leg, my bike and worst of all my face. Liberally. Through his window. At 50mph.

What a bastard.

Whatever, I'm a vet, I've been covered in worse.

So, over I pulled and I strode fully clothed into the river, rinsed off, got given some water by some bow-fishing gents and get ready to re-depart. Incidentally, while doing so I go chatting to one of these bow-fishermen and it turns out that he's a member of both federal and local law enforcement. So a detailed description of the truck followed and I was given the firm promise that if the offender was caught up with he would be hauled from the cab, placed gently upon the ground and kicked to faecal incontinence.

He didn't word it quite like that.

I politely declined their offer and mentioned that perhaps jail time was more appropriate, but, to be honest, I'm not sure if they were listening at this point.

Off we set again and we made good time, stopping for lunch after about 40 miles. My knee was giving me some serious trouble by this point and the wrenching of nearly being taken off my bike hadn't helped much. This being the case, when my favourite bow-wielding copper drove past, stopped and offered me a lift to Millersburg (which has one of the oddest things I've ever seen in a town: An Order Of Loyal Mooses) and a shower, I accepted gratefully. My bike went into the boat he was towing and I went in the cab.

So, I must report that the house was lovely, the shower was even better and he's got one cool son, one young daughter and one incredibly hot daughter. And an awesome dog. And some odd (possibly not odd for an American) views on capitalism and healthcare. And a nice house. Did I say that?

Arrived Ashton and Charles in town and we made a break for Harrisburg, our daily destination. The cycle itself was uneventful apart from the stress-based auditory hallucination of my right patella grinding on my right femur.

There was one final hurdle to surmount before broaching Harrisburg. That being the stretch of Cycle Route J which goes along Route 22. That being, for some of its length, a raised highway. Made of concrete sections on concrete supports above the forest canopy below. Being hit by a car on 22 would go something like this. Screech, bang, mash against the concrete barrier, flick over the edge, fally fally fally, crash into forest below.

Needless to say we booked. The three of us formed a pace line and flew through there. Knee pain notwithstanding. I was not going to get squished and the mental image of a truck right behind one does wonders for one's endurance and acceleration.

And then it was Harrisburg and the fun of an evening spent relaxing, flirting with a purpose (which I've not really done before, but it occurs to me that it would be an easy was to secure lodgings, aside from it not working on hot waitresses which have angry housemates), enjoying my first, or possible second beer of the summer and bidding farewell to Ashton and Charles.

Which pus me on AMTRAK and you all know how that went :P

Right, I shall write more when more occurs. Right now I'm going to go watch Sherlock.

G