Going WildKat

Day 63

Louisville, KY to Harrodsburg, KY

Distance: 88 miles

New team member: Skippy – not the infamous Bush Kangaroo, but the lesser-known yet prevalent “incorrectly fitted bike chain”

Guest appearance: Talwin – the God of the Tail Winds – yayyyyy!!!

No, don’t worry. I haven’t gone off boozing again…

But I did get to dance my own steps at the Pan Pacifics (ref: Strictly Ballroom). Yes, I was wild and off-bike map today, and slightly making it up as I went along. And yet it all worked.

I set off into a sleepy Sunday morning in Louisville. Following a lovely route out of downtown itself, I rode through the historic 3^rd Street area, with the beautiful, grand old townhouses, past the University, and took a detour of a couple of blocks to visit the hallowed “turf” – yes, ladies and gentlemen, I present you with… Churchill Downs.

Two Thoroughbreds Compare Notes...

As I swung into the space in front of the Stadium, I got talking to Charles and Bishop, who were trying to guess where I was from (they thought Ireland to begin with). We had a nice chat about lots of things, and it emerged that they’d never been to England and really wanted to see what it looked like. And so they wrote down their addresses and I promised to send each of them a postcard when I get back to London!

Bishop & Charles

With a mix of highways and country roads, I picked my way out of the metropolitan area and into the countryside, with a little bit of help from the Gamine for once.

Yes, the Gamine is still lacking a name. It’s mainly because she’s been so hopeless I’ve struggled to come up with one. For some time I thought maybe Paris (Hilton) because she is plastic, expensive and useless, but really that even seemed a bit too insulting to Paris.

She can just about keep score of distance, time, speed, elevation and the like… when she deigns to stay awake. A bit like an extremely overpriced bike computer. But the Gamine’s main issue has been her inability to follow a route… kinda essential for a GPS device.

To use the crow analogy again, the Gamine believes she is attached to a crow, so if you set a route, she thinks that you will miraculously fly between the waypoints. Heaven forbid you should be on an actual road with bends in it. She will shudder at the thought and chirrup away with an “off-route” warning coming up on the screen at the same time. And so I have given up trying to set a route on her.

But today, being able to see where I was, the direction of travel on the compass and the names of the roads around me was invaluable.  So thank you nameless Gamine.

And another thank you to Talwin, the god of the tailwinds, who blessed me with a tail wind or “oblique tail” at times, for pretty much the whole way. The difference in energy levels and overall morale with a tailwind versus a headwind is massive, and so I was grinning as I flew along.

About two thirds of the way through the ride I came across Eric and Beckett, two Eastbound cyclists, chilling out with their bikes in a field just outside of Bardstown. They were fixing a flat and we had a chat before heading off in the same direction.

They were carrying a lot more gear than me. Including, in Beckett’s case, what appeared to be somewhat of a mobile bar. Including (but I’m sure not limited to) a bottle of moonshine that the mayor of Cloverport, KY had given to them (all I remember about that town is being chased through it by a group of teenagers on ear-blasting chicken chaser mopeds), and a half-bottle of Patron Silver.  I was tempted to suggest that he invest in a shot belt and a whistle to make his way through the streets, but kept that thought to myself.

And they were slightly hungover from finishing a bottle of bourbon at the festival in Bardstown last night. What can I say?

Anyhow, as I said, they were carrying a bit more weight and so I decided just to press on and get to my hotel for the night. 

The only fly in the ointment was the new chain. From quite near the start it was slipping and skipping as soon as I put any power through the crank, and I was cursing myself for being too hungover to check it yesterday after collecting Steed from the bike shop. I also kinda cursed the bike shop a little too, of course, since really if they had checked it, they would have felt it slipping. And given that Steed's accoutrements cost double the price of my new hair do, it was extra galling. 

It was just about bearable most of the time (the tailwind and moderate gradient helped) but in the stretch after meeting the guys, twice the chain not only skipped but came off half way up a hill, eliciting a host of expletives (from Steed not me ;-)) and the need for me to get dirty, oily hands putting it back on, and then do the tricky dance of clipping back into the pedals while on an uphill incline. I guess a visit to the next bike shop is in order, since I have no idea how to fix it.

Despite the mild annoyance, it was a beautiful ride, and so I arrived at my hotel feeling pretty chipper and ready for a relaxing evening eating the renowned home cooking in one of their fantastic restaurants. Only the restaurants were all closed (despite the fact that I specifically asked when booking and was told that they were open). The lady behind reception suggested I might like to ride 16 miles to the next best restaurant in the Shaker Village… yeah, right. I almost suggested she try riding it and then tell me whether she would still recommend that…

And so it was a schlep down the highway with the head-torch, negotiating the parking lots, to a local Mexican, which was actually very good.

I miss Louisville already!!

Me x