Refreshed from our pleasant night's rest in Staunton, Illinois, about 79 km (49 mi) northeast of St. Louis, we hopped out of bed (the writer wrote with mild exaggeration) and suited up and packed up for Day 2 of our trek from St. Louis to Chicago on Historic Route 66.
Bro Mark and I fueled our physiology for the next few hours at the Super 8 Free Breakfast counter with oatmeal, waffles, cereal, yogurt, toast, and whatever else we could get hour hands on. Strong coffee appears to fuel Niece Laura in the morning. And it must, for I surely could not keep up with her.
Bro Mark and I fueled our physiology for the next few hours at the Super 8 Free Breakfast counter with oatmeal, waffles, cereal, yogurt, toast, and whatever else we could get hour hands on. Strong coffee appears to fuel Niece Laura in the morning. And it must, for I surely could not keep up with her.
Having literally roasted yesterday in the excessive humid heat of the American Midwest, which corn apparently thrives on, but not so much we human beings, and understanding the same insane heat awaits us yet again today, we planned smart and purposed to get an early start to capitalize on the relative cool of the morning, .
After a quick stop for water and sport drinks to sip along the way, we pedalled down the road around 7:00 am.
We pedalled out of Staunton on Old 66. No bike trail, but enough of a shoulder as to feel reasonably safe from the morning commuters.
I nominate "House Reflection In Front Yard Pond" as my coolist photo of the whole trip.
Breakfast time! in Carlinville, where, as the signs says, Lincoln walked and Route 66 rolled. I suggest it should read "Where Lincoln ROCKED and Route 66 Rolls," because he did and Route 66 still does.
So I'm standing on a corner in Carlinville, Illinois, and such a fine sight to see, it's a jail. (I think I have a rough basis for a hit song somewhere in that catchy sentence.) I'm kind of "double parked," but didn't think it would be a problem.
As I click the pic, a deep voice behind me says, "I'm Sheriff Shawn" (not John). I jump and wonder, "What did I do?"
As I click the pic, a deep voice behind me says, "I'm Sheriff Shawn" (not John). I jump and wonder, "What did I do?"
Sheriff Shawn continues, welcoming me to his community and county (He's Sheriff of the largest county, I believe, in Illinois), and tells me about the beautiful old jail I'm looking at they hope to restore and turn into a Route 66 museum as soon as they raise enough money to get all the toxic lead out of the walls, ceilings, and floors so all the tourists who step inside won't someday die slow and painful deaths unlike the prisoners who once died quick and painless deaths within these venerable walls.
Sheriff Shawn was also kind enough to recommend what would be a great little restaurant for breakfast.
Mark and Laura socializing at our second breakfast.
I nominate this photo as one of the Best Example of Creative Marketing winner. I'd ask these ladies to defend me in court any day.
No, I did not pour a bottle of water over my head. It's just really hot, and not even noon yet.
I'd say these two old men look like they are having the time of their lives, wouldn't you.
Route 66, motorcycles, and biker bars all go together.
We reach the city limits of our day's destination just a few minutes before we reach our limits.
We pedalled the red line, arriving at our motel at 3:45 pm.
A warm day. Temperature reached 30C (86F), with a humidex temperature of 33C (92F).
Our pedalling time was 5 hours and 25 minutes.
Our total trip time for the day was 8 hour and 45 minutes because I was stopping almost every hour at the essential midwest town fixture of a Dairy Queen where I would cool off sipping iced tea and eating ice cream or cheese burgers.
At a pretty-good-for-us average of 18.5 kph (11.5 mph) we cycled a long day of 100.8 km.
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