Berea, Booneville, Hazard

Departed West of Danville on Thursday just in time for a photo op. Ben Kleppinger, a staff writer for the Danville AM News, wrote a follow-up story about my return to the trail. I thought it was well done, however, I am not so sure about the stubborn part. Anyway, I couldn't help but be a little nervous as I got back on the bike and headed to Berea. I was armed with two cans of pepper spray and an air horn to ward off the next attack. But the trip was uneventful and actually somewhat enjoyable. The terrain was fairly level with occasional medium sized hills to climb. I rode 40 miles to Berea and found a red dot hotel two miles outside of town and bedded down for the night. Berea is dubbed the arts and crafts capital of Kentucky. I didn't venture into that arena, but I did go by the small college. Berea College was founded in 1855 by Rev. John G. Fee and a benefactor, Cassius M. Clay. Both were ardent abolitionist and wanted the college to accommodate all races. The college today has 90% enrollment of local "mountain children", mostly underprivileged, and only 10% on a special basis from others areas. The students aren't charged a tuition fee and enrollment is highly competitive. Friday I got back on the bike feeling pretty confident about my return and headed to Boonville. There isn't a hotel in Boonville so I stayed in Hotel Richie behind the Presbyterian Church. Welcome back to the hard ground. Getting to Boonville was a lot more difficult than Berea. First off, it rained almost the whole way and there were hills and hills. Also, the last ten miles my legs were cramping and I had to nurse my way along. Luckily, the last seven miles were fairly level or I don't think I could have made it. Along the way I did see one thing that caught my attention. As I was approaching this house on my right that was set pretty close to the road, I noticed about 15 cars parked in the yard, across the street and basically anywhere they could find room. I wondered what was going on till I got a view on the opposite side of the house. About 15 yards off of the east end of the house was a pond, not a very big one, in fact no bigger than a large swimming pool. The water in the pond was the color of the Broad River after a heavy rain. And around the "pond" must have been 50 people fishing with poles and floats. I don't know what the occasion was or what they were fishing for, but it sure looked funny: all those people fishing almost shoulder to shoulder in that small area. Now today. It was brutal. I was worried about cramping up again, so I drank lots of Gatorade and water before trying sleep. I say trying to sleep because of the hounds chasing something till midnight and the all night mechanic reving engines it was hard to drift away. I got on the road early and decided to go only forty miles since I think I over did it yesterday. Lucky that I did. Today I climbed hills that rivaled any grade that I saw out West. I just wish I hadn't eaten all that ice cream during my recovery. After climbing what seemed to be never ending hills I finely got to flatter terrain about ten miles from the Daniel Boone Motel. There were some small hills along the way but had they been steeper, I think I would have slept under a bridge.

http://www.amnews.com/stories/2009/09/18/boy.290847.sto