Day 33 - Friday, June 12
Start - Houston, MOEnd - Marshfield, MO
Miles (on the route) - 63.5
Miles (total) - 72.4
Avg Spd - 13.1mph
Max Spd - 38.5mph
Total Ride Time - 5:41
I woke up once again trying to get things back on track, hoping for a bit of a better start than yesterday. Kids from a nearby school or daycare center were in the park playing, screaming at each other and their teacher, "Look, there's a tent! And there's a man in there!" I didn't want to make anyone nervous, so I got going and was on the bike by 9am.
It was another day of hill climbing and heat, thought not the worst of it like previous days. And finally no warnings of severe storms or possible tornadoes. My ride took me through a few small towns and eventually brought me into the sizable Marshfield, population 5720, around dinner time. I immediately got directions to the firehouse and headed there to check about tenting and getting a much needed shower. Turns out it was only staffed during the day, but a volunteer fireman who happened to be there directed me to the fairgrounds where I could camp and even shower. Awesome! Just before heading over I met a couple walking by who immediately wanted to find out what I was up to.Turns out they had been travelling for several years by RV and we swapped several questions about the practicalities and logistics of each other's chosen journeys. They also informed me that I had already travelled on a brief portion of the infamous Route 66, but I never did see any signs.
I got showered up and found a laundromat, which was also needed, and then biked out for a wild Friday night at the Marshfield Pizza Hut. This was kind of a big deal after the last several days in smaller Missouri towns. I was dreaming of just diving into a giant pizza. It may sound sad at times, but finding tasty satisfying food can be one of the only treats on this trip. Many days I find myself climbing hills a biking sweaty miles motivated by the prospects of an amazing dinner, and then settling into the tent and chatting on the phone with a friend or two. This trip has boiled life's joys down to the basics.
I ended the night camped under a pavilion at the Marshfield fairgrounds. That night I was awakened by the strangest noise, the sound of something whaling and running around the park several times. Whatever it was, it circled the pavilion and ran off, whaling and howling into the night. I was briefly worried it may be the ghost of Donny the Dachshund, back to torment me and seek revenge.
It was another day of hill climbing and heat, thought not the worst of it like previous days. And finally no warnings of severe storms or possible tornadoes. My ride took me through a few small towns and eventually brought me into the sizable Marshfield, population 5720, around dinner time. I immediately got directions to the firehouse and headed there to check about tenting and getting a much needed shower. Turns out it was only staffed during the day, but a volunteer fireman who happened to be there directed me to the fairgrounds where I could camp and even shower. Awesome! Just before heading over I met a couple walking by who immediately wanted to find out what I was up to.Turns out they had been travelling for several years by RV and we swapped several questions about the practicalities and logistics of each other's chosen journeys. They also informed me that I had already travelled on a brief portion of the infamous Route 66, but I never did see any signs.
I got showered up and found a laundromat, which was also needed, and then biked out for a wild Friday night at the Marshfield Pizza Hut. This was kind of a big deal after the last several days in smaller Missouri towns. I was dreaming of just diving into a giant pizza. It may sound sad at times, but finding tasty satisfying food can be one of the only treats on this trip. Many days I find myself climbing hills a biking sweaty miles motivated by the prospects of an amazing dinner, and then settling into the tent and chatting on the phone with a friend or two. This trip has boiled life's joys down to the basics.
I ended the night camped under a pavilion at the Marshfield fairgrounds. That night I was awakened by the strangest noise, the sound of something whaling and running around the park several times. Whatever it was, it circled the pavilion and ran off, whaling and howling into the night. I was briefly worried it may be the ghost of Donny the Dachshund, back to torment me and seek revenge.
Mmm... pizza....
ReplyDeleteDonny's demise was not your fault. If he haunts anyone, it should be the caretaker that didn't care for his safety properly. Dogs need proper training to be happy and survive.
~J Lowe