A good night’s sleep until around 3 am at which point Ivor the Engine and his pals decided to make an appearance and that was it for the remainder of the night as far as deep sleep went. When the body clock went off to demand we get up and start the day we weren’t refreshed, that’s for sure.
We clambered out of the tent into a morning that we hadn’t seen for a long time. It was overcast with a cool northerly wind blowing, just as the Windy app had predicted.
We had been tinkering with the idea of taking a day off, but due to the proximity of the railway line (how did we miss that one yesterday?) and the cooler weather, the idea of sitting under a tree in the shade and reading a book was less appealing than it had been just 12 hours before. I packed up the tent while Deborah took a shower, then I took a shower while Deborah did something that may not have been immediately obvious, but I am sure it was just as important to a timely departure.
By the time I returned she also seemed to have made friends with one of the campground’s permanent residents, a lady that lives in a part RV part static caravan combo, out walking her dog. She described the dog as part terrier and part swamp rat. I did think about asked her why her partner was hitting his ageing pick up truck with a monkey wrench last night, which seemed an odd thing to do, but I didn’t so the mystery will remain just that forever.
Florence was once a cyclist herself and currently owes a bike built-in 1950, but she doesn’t use it any more due to the ‘drugged up crazies’ on the road, at which point she wished us safe travels and headed off to allow her dog to urinate again someone else’s RV.
Packed up we head back on to the same road that brought us to the campground the night before, battling through a headwind in 35oC heat, but this time with a slight tailwind and a more reasonable 23oC to contend with. Perfect cycling weather, the weather that we thought we had signed up to when we came up with the idea of this trip last year.
While the road was the same road, it was a completely different experience cycling on it. Instead of the battle to make headway, getting up to 9 mph on the flat if we were lucky (9 mph being the speed that the Garmin computer stops bleeping every 2 seconds due to not getting enough charge from the charging hub on the front wheel) we were able to easily get up to 15 mph on the flats and faster then we should be moving with fully loaded bikes on the downs.
We hadn’t made any firm plans where we were heading for today, just that we would like to make it a short day, possibly finishing around lunchtime. There weren’t many camping options showing up on the Route 66 map or even Google Maps for that matter, so our best chance was a campground near Chandler.
The road continued as before, one lane in both directions with a reasonable hard shoulder, although the shoulder did have a tendency to disappear occasionally, usually at the same time a big truck came along. That said, almost without exception, all of the other road users gave us plenty of space, with the waves and smiles continued as they have done from day one.
Stroud was our first stop of the day. It was a possible last stop of the day yesterday when a motel was a consideration, but deciding to save a few dollars we stopped at the Ivor the Engine campground instead. As Stroud was only a few miles into the day’s ride it felt as if we had only started to turn the pedals and our leg muscles working again when we pulled up at the Rock Cafe, a Route 66 iconic roadside attraction.
We can only put it down to coincidence, but again upon arrival, we were greeted by an interesting local character, Jerry Murfin. So far we are having better luck meeting interesting local characters than your average eight-year-old on their first visit to Disneyland.way of an introduction Jerry asked if we needed any spares for our bikes as he has built 149 bikes himself, giving them to local disadvantaged kids in the area. He also rebuilds old muscle cars, which I hope he doesn’t give to local disadvantaged kids, a passion that he has passed on to his three sons. In his spare time, he is a minister in a non-denominational church he built over forty years ago.
Born and bred in Stroud he also told us a little history of the place we were standing outside of, the Rock Cafe, remembering the time it was open 24 hours a day with the car park full from 6 am in the morning, a time before the interstate was built, bypassing the town.
This is a sad story we here on a semi-regular basis and the effects of which we witness every hour of every day on Route 66.
Just as I thought he was about to leave, following a call from his wife, he asked me something that I haven’t been asked in a long time.”This is bible belt territory son, are you a Christian?”
I would never lie about my beliefs unless it happened to be a question on a resident visa application for a certain Middle East country, but I would not wish to get into a discussion about religion either. I, therefore, answered in a truthful manner by stating that I was brought up a Roman Catholic, which is correct.
Politics and religion most certainly play a big part in the lives of many people we meet on a daily basis cycling this route.
As Jerry sped away in his big white pickup truck we had a quick look around the cafe then headed down the town’s main street, before finding ourselves back out into the open country.
We next came across Daveport. While the only service station in town didn’t sell any of Deborah’s brain freezing beverages we decided to make this the lunch stop anyway.
Pitched on the small wall at the foot of the Welcome to Davenport sign, hoping a queue wouldn’t form of people wishing to have their photos taken with is as the backdrop, we munched on a delightful selection of tortilla wraps, peanut butter and macaroni salad. Yum!
The lunch stop to the night stop at Oak Glen RV Park was less than 3 miles. From the road, this looked like a good decision and after checking in and being shown to our site it was confirmed.
We quickly erected the tent, pulled all of our electronics into the wall socket in a sheltered area provided for the tent areas, then set about chilling for the afternoon.
Even though we had enjoyed our lunch, for some reason the thought of a cooked diner was on our minds throughout the chilling session, so decide on an early feast so that we could chill more in the evening.
We set up the kitchen in the shelter just as the school bus dropped off the kids that clearly lived in the RV Park. The pasta boiling we were joined by a teenage couple. They hardly acknowledge our presence as it became clear we were invading their courting space. I guess if you are living in a caravan in an RV Park and the nearest town is a couple of miles away your options are limited.
With the food cooked we decided to eat on the grass rather than 5ft from a couple that was declaring their life for each other, both verbally and physically. Twenty days in and this wad the first meal we had cooked on our own stove. We most definitely should do this more often.
By the time we had finished eating the flies had found us, so we quickly wash up, packed away and headed to the lounge to replan tomorrow. We were originally planning to stay in Arcadia tomorrow to attend a Bluegrass Festival, however, while we were eating that had invited us dropped the bombshell that the festival was in Guthrie, not Arcadia. This by car is not a problem, but by bike, the 60-mile round trip was a little too far to consider.
With a new route planned to get us int Oklahoma City, we headed back to the tent for an early night.