I Traded Mountains for Wind

Just as mountains have their painstaking climbs and easygoing downhills, so too does nature's breath have its pros and cons. It can blow directly into your face, pushing you into a snail's pace or it can carefully guide and glide you along from behind. Good and bad. Ups and downs. Hot and cold. It's not two separate opposites but two polars of the same plane. That's looking at it dualistically. Enough philosophy.

Martin, Christopher, Sally, and Kielo had a small breakfast of cereal and orange juice this morning. Christopher ensured I ate the leftovers and I remarked, "That's awfully kind of you guys, I really appreciate it."

"We just don't want to carry it, Ralph. Don't get the wrong idea", joked Sally. I laughed heartily. The four foreigners were on the road around 830 but not before I got a picture of them all. I got out of the fire station around 930.

The winds today were slightly maddening. I found the best method of biking headstrong into bursts of 25 MPH winds is to "cooperate". Don't do battle with the invisible enemy as to attempt to fight fire with fire. Each time a particularly heavy gust would come along, I would switch to lower gears and slow until it died down a tad. The only problem was, it never really did. 

However, today was an incredibly relaxing bike ride to the nearby town of Sebree, where the First Baptist Church is taking care of me. Before I got here, I had an interesting predicament in the town of Beechgrove. There was a Marathon gas station on one side of the street with very low priced fast food. I went their and got ice for my drink. Directly across the street was a local gas station with a small food store by the name of "Smith's Grocery Store". I opted to eat at the local store.

I'm really glad I did. The owners were exceptionally kind and the food was actually really cheap (God, I am so thrifty). I got a ham sandwich with a chocolate milk and a side of homemade potato salad. It was stupendous! Afterward, I biked the remaining 10 miles to Sebee. A very nice, relaxing day today.  The pastor of the church, Bob, showed me around the place and I have a mattress+shower for the evening. It don't get no betta!

Oh, but it does.

Around 5 o'clock, Pastor Bob came through the church and asked me to join him, his wife Violet, and their friend Linda for "supper". I was also asked to come with them to the W.C. Handy Blues & BBQ Festival. There was no way I was missing out on all of that. 

Supper had squash with bacon, peas, corn, broccoli, mexican chicken, and cornbread smeared with a thick syrup made by the Amish. For dessert, we had cherry pie, ice cream, and a special brownie with coconut made by Violet. 

Violet is a wonderful woman. She's incredibly enthusiastic and charismatic but very grounded as a preacher's wife. Before the music festival, she was saying, "Oh, I love dancing but I'm a preacher's wife". The sentence struck me a bit. She's so full of life though, and has told me a plethora of historical information upon finding out my major.

Bob is a thin, wiry figure with a slightly nervous tick where he shifts his shoulders. He hasn't done it since we got to know each other though. Bob plays by the rules, and has a set for everything. He's the traditional type while Violet is the expressive Southern bell. Bob also knows a lot about history. 

On the way to the festival, Bob was kind enough to drive me into Indiana for the hell of it. The border was only twenty miles from Sebee. In fact, the music festival is located right upon the Ohio Riverfront. Just gazing over the tributary, I was looking into Indiana. 

Needless to say, the festival was amazing. The music was a genre know as Zytego, which is apparently extremely popular in Louisiana. One man on stage plays the washboard the entire time, moving rhythmically and wildly across the stage. The lead singer, "Chubby" jams on accordion and is backed by a rhythm guitarist and bassist. My foot never stopped tapping.

Bob drove me back to the church where I'm now getting ready for bed. 

Evening.

From left to right: Sally, Martin, Keilo, and Christopher.

In Colonial America, 90% of Americans farmed. At the turn of the 19th century, about 1/3 of Americans farmed. Today, amongst the 313,900,000 potential American laborers, the farmer makes up less than 1%.

Today, I met Ivan as we crossed paths in the town of Beechgrove. He'd already biked 4000 miles from his home of Montreal, Canada. All smiles, he managed to sputter with his French accent how happy he was for me that I was doing this trip at 21. He was 53 years old and still had a long ways to go. Basically, he's just biking all over the country. Full of life, this guy.

A Tyson Egg Hatchery. I've passed numerous Tyson facilities, butcheries, and chicken farms in Kentucky and Virginia. I can't say I'll be eating their chicken for awhile. That's all I have to say about that.

       Woohoo! Chalk up another state!

The Ohio River. A barge was running underneath the bridge while a railroad went over top. This is right where the Blues Festival was in Henderson, KY. That's Indiana on the other side of the river.