The day after The Breaks was to prove no less eventful. We were in a new state (Kentucky: Unbridled Spirit!) and in the heart of the Appalachians. The hills were incredibly steep, both up and down. Pulling the bike and the gear up each one made me knees ache and, after a while, start to make an interesting clicking sound.
We stopped after the first 25 miles or so at a Dairy Bar, which are a dime a dozen out here. Everything on the menu seemed to be deep fried, but I spied a “vegetable sticks” entry, so I ordered it up. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be deep fried veggie nuggets. Mmmmm, trans fats. Luckily, the veggie sticks were only intended as an accompaniment to the tuna and veggie sandwiches J was whipping up from the contents of his pack.
J is trying to make it across America on $10 a day. This means he buys food (lots of peanut butter) at grocery stores and carries it with him along the way. I had decided not to do this because of the associated additional weight. But given what I’ve discovered the commonly available restaurant foods are (at least in the parts I’ve seen so far,) I’m beginning to think that carrying food is pretty smart.
In any case, the tuna sandwiches got us within striking distance of the town wherewe planned to camp: Hindman, Kentucky. Just before we reached it, I spotted a fruit and vegetable stand on the side of the road. Starved for fresh produce, we picked up a somewhat silly quantity of food, including (after some deliberation, mostly over its transportability) a large watermelon. I managed to strap it onto the back of my bike, and we coasted into town.
Our ACA maps told us that camping was available at the Knott County Historical Society which, as it turned out, was located at the top of the steepest hill I’ve ever seen. Of course, I’d climbed a lot of hills that day, so perhaps it was just coming up on the last straw.
After some sweating and swearing, we made it to the top. We were greeted by the proprietor, Dave. Now, my drunken radar is abysmal, but J assures me Dave was three sheets to the wind. Within minutes, we were served ice cold glasses of Southern iced tea with sprigs of fresh mint. We were introduced to the house cat, and instructed in great detail how to prevent it from getting outside.
Dave, as it turns out, is a cat lady. He had about 10 cats of various sizes and descriptions playing in his house and back yard. He told us stories about his youthful days touring as an actor with the church theater. He pointed out an area of his yard in which he dreams of building an amphitheater for outdoor performances of mountain songs. He warned us extensively about the local poisonous snakes — apparently they are a big part of the reason he keeps so many cats (more cats, less mice; less mice, less snakes.) His house is a strange divide of a few very orderly, appointed ones, and a few that are utter chaos (he fears throwing things away in case there turns out to be something historically significant included.)
We sat outside sipping tea, talking to Dave, and also to his cousin who was visiting. Now, Joe has a hobby of striking up conversations about religion with people. He likes to discuss it. As it turned out, this was particularly entertaining in the case of Dave’s cousin, who believes absolutely that man was brought to earth by an advanced alien civilization in a kind of UFO Noah’s Ark. This belief apparently springs from an extremely strong distaste for evolution (“there ain’t no way I’m related to no crocodile.”) As you might imagine, this made for quite an eye-opening discussion.
Dave has a large tent in the back yard for cyclists to stay in, so we didn’t have to pitch our own. In the middle of the night I got up and went over to the house to use the facilities (everything in the bathroom is pink, a little dirty, and the water smelled like sulphur.) I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a dream. There was no one in the kitchen (through which you enter,) nor anywhere else to be seen. But, there was a frying pan on the stove, with two hamburgers cooking in it. I hurried back out to the tent.
The next morning, Dave served us chocolate hazelnut coffee, and large glasses of carrot juice. He was tremendously hospitable — it seemed like he was always trying to find a way to make our stay more comfortable. You gotta give it to the South: it certainly has some characters.
Posted by: sam