Day 21, Sunday, May 11
Our 21st day of the trip was relatively unremarkable, which is just the way I like it. We rode 50+ miles through flat Illinois farmland, with mostly cool temperatures and blue skies.
I suppose the only adversity we had all day was the northerly wind. For the most part it did not bother us because we were almost always headed west. But then we had to turn north on the county road grid it was directly in our faces. But those stretches were short and we would soon turn westward again.
We did see a few things of note. For instance, I had no idea southern Illinois had oil wells.
We also saw the first Harris/Waltz sign of the trip.
In fact, it was the first indication we have seen that the Democratic Party even exists.
Also remarkable was the distance we traveled without seeing anywhere to spend money. We cycled over 40 miles before we saw a store, unless you count the Soda Shack at Rose Hill, which consisted of three vending machines, at least one of which did not work.
We ended up at another private campground, this one on Lake Sara. The owner of the Lake Sara Campground, Zach, let us stay for free. When I asked why, he said "Because you're doing something cool." I don't know about that, but it was much appreciated.
After setting up camp we took a ten-minute walk to Pinky's, a beach bar and restaurant on the shore of Lake Sara. We sat at the bar and watched the hard-working bartenders make such delectable cocktails as the Adult Capri Sun, some sort of sweet, juicy concoction, with presumably a high alcoholic content, that is served in plastic pouches with a straw. I'm not sure "adult "is the adjective I would use.
As John noted, you know what kind of bar you're in when you see that much whipped cream in the cooler.
Still, I liked Pinky's, and I would go back if I ever found myself here again.
We finally went back to camp and waited for the sun to drop behind the trees, around 8:00 PM, to hit the tents. Laying in my tent I realized that a large proportion of people that seek their recreation at lakes also have a loud engine fetish.
Comments
Post a Comment