I rode up the White Deer pike into the mountains. I thought I could evade the heat, the cars, and the pollution up there. At first there was some nice nature to look at.
You kind of expect things to be nice and pristine, because it’s where the town’s drinking water comes from.
I got a little further up the road, and I was kind of surprised to see that dumping used motor oil on the road is an acceptable paving method this close to the reservoir. Residents of White Deer, I do not recommend drinking that tap water…
At first, it wasn’t too bad. The oil was mostly dry. Here is a shot of the “Mile Run” exit on Interstate 80. The funny thing about this exit is that there is no such place as Mile Run. The exit just dumps you into a dirt road in the middle of the woods. Legend has it that some politician involved in the design of the Interstate has a hunting cabin nearby, so that’s why this particular part of the woods has it’s own exit.
A little ways past this, I was literally splashing through some fairly deep puddles of used motor oil. It was getting everywhere, and generally ruining my communion with nature. So, I turned around and blasted down the mountain.
I stopped off for a snack and to catch my breath, when some older gentlemen in a pickup truck asked me for directions to a fishing hole. It went something like this:
Older guy: Do you know where the fishing hole? Me: Uh..? Older guy: Don't fish, do ya? Me: Nope Older guy: Do ya chase the girls then? Me: yeah, sometimes.
Apparently if you don’t fish, and if you ride a bicycle instead of a pickup truck, you must be gay.
Well buddy, I know full damn well where the fishing hole is, but I’m not telling you. Here’s a hint.
After I got down out of the mountains, it got hot out. Really effen hot out.
Now, I know my cyclocomputer is not 100% accurate. It might not even be 90% accurate. But that’s 111 degrees F. That’s too hot for bicycling no matter what.
Of course, I was only 22 miles into my ride, and I really wanted to make 42 miles so I could cross week 4 off the plan. So, like the pigheaded retard that I am, I plowed ahead into Milton.
I stopped off in Milton State Park to rest and use the potty. See those soccer fields in the background? When I was in 6th grade or so, I played soccer here.
Welcome to Milton. The sign is broken and rusty. Just like the town. I was starting to go looney from the heat at this point, and this sign seemed quite poetic at the time.
A few miles later, I started hallucinating. Not good. I turned around and headed for shelter.
I stopped to chat with the cows along the way.
When I got back, I got a stern ass-chewing from Brandi’s sister (a nurse). It seems I was covered in salt crystals,…blah..blah…blah…heat stroke…blah blah blah…dehydration…….blah blah blah.
Elapsed Time: 02:28:32
Max Speed: 34.0mph
Average Speed: 11.8mph
Distance: 29.4 miles