96 miles

I woke up early to an unwelcome surprise, and discovered that I had exactly one tampon, so I got on the road pretty quickly. Crandon was the first real town, about 18 miles away. I visited the grocery store, and granted myself a coffee break. The humidity is very high today.

After Crandon there wasn’t another town or bathroom for about 50 more miles, so I basically just went for it. I’d been planning a long day anyway, though not for this reason. Fortunately, I’ve had a tailwind all day and there has been a lot of smooth pavement and easy downhill riding.

I’m sitting on the ground outside the Mattoon Market now, having a little impromptu picnic with my tortillas, beans, cheese, peanut butter and coffee. An older man walked out of the store with a Billy Gibbons beard and not many teeth. He had bought a box of ice cream sundae cones, and he gave me one and wished me well, and didn’t ask a million questions, which I very much appreciated. He told me he bought a van so he could go kayaking, but “then Covid ruined that”. I didn’t ask how, I just told him this is his year. I hoped I sounded encouraging, because I really did mean it.

I biked to a place called Hayman Falls County Park. There’s a nice little river with a walking path, a bathroom, running water, and even some rustic campsites, which I wasn’t expecting. It’s a little spooky though. Maybe it’s because it’s kind of remote, but the vibe is different than up north. It seems like a place teenagers might go to get high or make out or something. Twice, a car has pulled in, and pulled out, as if just using the park as a turnaround. 

Maybe I’ve just been in my head too much this week, but it’s amazing how different it feels here than it did at the (beautiful) East Star Lake tent site. Most of the sites here have dead or downed trees in or near them, which fills me with foreboding. I’ve slept in my hammock all week, and it’s honestly been great to not have to break down and pack up a tent in the morning. I think I may have to tent it tonight though—these trees make me nervous, and I’m the only person here.

In spite of all my gripes about this place, I rode almost a hundred miles today bleeding profusely, and this is the place that has running water and a real bathroom, which feel like a necessary respite in my current condition. 

One of the best parts of the day was that so many of those buttery smooth county roads were bursting with ripe, wild raspberry bushes. At one point, I stopped for a handful and found myself wondering how bears might eat raspberries, because I’m sure they do. I suppose they grab the branch and just go face first, but for a while I had fun imagining them delicately plucking berries between their claws, maybe poking a claw into each berry the way Henry does, eating them one by one off his fingers. There are some more berry bushes here at the park—I am excited to pick some to add to my oatmeal in the morning.