July 14, 2019 – Franklin, WI – Started the morning early at 6 a.m. to beat the 90-degree heat. Didn’t think I’d be wrapping up at 8:30 p.m. with 114 miles under my belt.
Munster, Indiana and along the lake shore in Chicago, then to Kenosha was my intent.
Kenosha had zero accommodations so I buckled down after I ran into Will and Phil. They were pedaling from Chicago to Milwaukee.
”We’ll drink beer and have different scenery,” said Will.
I hung with the pair for a bit and then dropped off. Caught them again up the trail where I thought they stopped because of some mechanical issue.
”We’re just having a celebratory beer at the state line,” said Phil, holding up a 16-ounce Pabst.
I love their style of bicycling.
I was burning daylight. It was 5:30 p.m. and my sister’s house in Franklin was 25 miles away.
By the time I got to Ryan Road I had to call for an assist. There was no shoulder, my headlight ran out of juice and it was too risky to ride.
“You look like you’re homeless,” she said, as I loaded my rig into her vehicle.
She dropped me at my other sister’s place in Franklin to spend the night.
I unloaded my rig. “You look like you’re homeless,” said sister No. 2.
We all seem to be cut from similar cloth.
A beer with the brother in law and some Brewers therapy, a quick rest and I should drift into West Bend this afternoon.
July 13, 2019 – Morocco, IN – Spent much of the day Thursday weaving my way north from Lafayette, IN towards Chicago with the goal to avoid Gary, IN, for safety reasons.
I fell shy of Gary and rolled into Morocco, Indiana; a metropolis struggling to eke out a population just over 1,000 and home to the saying “Hoosier Hospitality.”
I found the hospitality right away with Jack and Rita. The couple were relaxing in the shade under a metal canopy at the Moracco Car Wash as customers stopped for gas, smokes or a soda.
“The shade will cost you,” said Jack.
Rita admonished him and invited me to join them and “take a load off.”
Jack and Rita owned the business. The sign said car wash but it was really a gas station/convenience store.
Jack hailed from Texas and Rita from Chicago.
Jack wore a straw cowboy hat, smoked Marlboro and wore dark black cowboy boots that were so deep and rich they looked purple.
A truck driver in his first life, Jack also farmed steer and sheep.
“How do those truckers treat you on the highway,” he asked.
I told him I stayed on my side of the white line on the shoulder of the road, I’d stretch out my hand to warn them to give me room and I had a blinkey red light on back.
”A white line and a blinkey red light.” He said it like it was John Wayne talking.
I think Jack was quickly starting to care about me because he knew those two measures of protection I touted wouldn’t do squat with a semi bearing down.
“Where ya stayin,” he asked.
I said Morocco seemed like a nice spot but I was still waiting for one of the churches to call me back.
A few more customers, followed by some get-to-know-ya conversation and Jack offered me the keys to The Morocco Lions Club.
”I’m one of the last members alive that built that,” he said.
Rita came out of the store as Jack walked back in. They must have had a word in passing.
”I see you’ve got a nest for the night,” she said. “I’m pretty proud of Jack… he came up with that idea on his own.”
July 11, 2019 – Lebanon, IN -You know you’ve fallen into Mayberry when there is a Farmers’ Market on Monday evening across from the county courthouse and an IGA grocery on the corner.
Two clerks dressed in dark blue IGA shirts stood at the end of their checkout lines watching customers come through the front door.
Store aisles were narrow and the selection varied with necessities only. I asked a man In passing if he knew whether the store had fried chicken.
“We have a KFC in town,” he said. “They have chicken here you can take home and make.”
He looked at me like I was odd. “You’re in a small town girl… if it ain’t here, you don’t need it.”
Another treasured moment on tour.
Most would simply drive through Lebanon, Indiana but for one night on a bike I called it home.
A shout out to St. Joseph’s Parish for giving me a safe space for the night and the clerk at the IGA who called out MARY at The Cubboard as the place for the best breakfast in town.
“Mary was voted number one,” said the clerk.
There was a “you betcha” and an “okeydokey” thrown in the conversation as well.
I wish I could package this environment and bring it home.
The Cubboard was a little, old-fashioned diner located in the back of a pharmacy. There was a small sandwich board sign on the sidewalk listing the daily specials.
The clerk/pharmacist behind the counter offered a “mornin” as I walked in.
Past the gallery of Hallmark cards and kitschy collectibles I followed the scent of bacon to the back.
It was everything you could have imagined…. a land that time forgot.
The board of directors with suspenders and hats supporting their favorite farm implement manufacturer held court on the table to the right.
There was a bar rail to sit up front and watch the waitresses scurry about, and there was the famed Mary in her perch behind the grill filling orders hung on paper tags.
“Were those eggs exactly how you wanned um?” said Mary.
She was a gem. All smiles, easy-going country attitude. Sounded like she was breaking in a new waitress and she did it with patience and sound advice. “You’ll get the hang of it,” she said, supportively knowing it would be the board of directors that would really train her.
With coffee, two eggs and toast my bill was less than $5.
If you’re ever in Lebanon, Indiana, The Cubbard is a must.
Indiana is not known for being too biker friendly but the Farm Heritage Trail was a great ride and a good way to cover some miles north under a canopy of trees and away from traffic.
Highway 52 was another story and thanks to Mother Nature’s furnace I only managed 43 miles up the road to Lafayette.
Spent the night at my first Airbnb. Shout out to Ryan who hosted me at the fabulous Kip’s Place in Lebanon. So far it’s been the best stay of my whole vacation.
July 10, 2019 – Gettysburg, PA – The amount of history represented in Gettysburg is phenomenal, if not a bit of a sensory overload.
The grand statues, somber cemeteries, and stories of war, advancements, retreats and death.
Lincoln Cemetery in Gettysburg was created by Sons of Good Will in 1867. It was designed to ensure “the proper burial of Gettysburg’s African American citizens and Civil War Veterans.”
It holds about 30 members of the US Colored Troops; buried here after being denied burial in the National Cemetery because of segregation.
Also visited Gettysburg National Cemetery (video above). It’s where President Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address in 1863. Lincoln thought his speech a flop because of the lack of reaction but it was brief, thoughtful and well paced, and those in attendance stood in stunned silence.
The Soldiers National Cemetery contains the graves of more than 6000 US servicemen, including 3580 union soldiers killed in the Civil War. Nearly half the Civil War burials are unknown soldiers.
The best display, in my opinion, was the Seminary Ridge Museum. The school was turned into the largest battlefield hospital on the first day of fighting the Civil War.
Exhibits are graphic and gruesome as the museum did justice to the aftermath of war with photos of grisly amputations, bloody battlefields and cleaning up the dead.
The Civil War was the bloodiest in the nations history; 720,000 soldiers and sailors died fighting over three fundamental issues: the survival of the union, the fate of slavery and what it means to be an American.
Soldiers from both the north and south brought their religious convictions and spiritual needs with them when they marched to war.
The possibility of sudden death and the need to break God‘s commandment against killing often tested their faith.
Pocket-sized Bibles were common possessions offering solace and moral strength.
July 7, 2019 – Gettysburg, PA – Dodged a number of horse apples on the highway as I made my way from Lancaster to Gettysburg, PA.
The 62 miles could best be described as a “slog” or a ride with searing temps in the 90’s, growing inclines and harried Saturday motorists. I spent much of the day riding on the sidewalk for safety.
The best part of the day was a 9 a.m. stop at the Prospect Diner on Hwy 30.
“Alllll right sunshine,” drawled the waitress. “Whatareyouhavingtoday?”
Said waitress was about 5’9 with blue jean shorts, lime green shirt, black apron around her waste and a big water stain on the stomach of her shirt.
She treated everyone like she was grouchy. “And have a crummy day,” she yelled to a regular heading out the door.
She made everyone feel at home.
The Prospect Diner had been around since the 1950s. A local favorite that still had a $1.99 breakfast scrawled in marker on the windows.
Cindy and her friend Susie snugged up to eat at the bar. “What are you doing… biking cross country,” said Cindy.
Short hair, direct, originally from New York. Cindy ran a 3-story antique mall in Lancaster. “I love PA,” she said.
We were fast friends. Swapping stories, family history and dishing on the Amish. “Nobody’s kids wants their parents glassware collection anymore,” she said matter of factly. “And if your kids don’t want it nobody wants it and that’s why it’s priced so low.”
The waitress came around and told the ladies their order. Then she asked Cindy if she had something for a headache.
An industrial-sized bottle was pulled from a purse and a vista of colorful pills splayed on the counter and divvied up to help cure headache and kick start the day.
The ladies bought my breakfast, gave me the usual motherly warning about safe travel and good hydration.
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” said Cindy. “You’re an inspiration.”
Photo Gallery to Gettysburg:
Interesting art along the highway.
Glorious magnolia from behind the historic Wright’s Ferry Mansion in Columbia, PA. The aroma was powerful and sweet.
The skyline overlooking Columbia, PA and Richard was my new best biker friend who helped guide me safely out of York.
A rest stop in the shade about 10 miles outside of Gettysburg.
July 6, 2019 – Lancaster, PA – A horse and buggy pulled out in front of me as I pedaled west on Hwy 23 toward Lancaster, PA on Friday.
Aside from the clip clop of the hooves on the pavement and the traditional straw hats and suspenders, it’s the anomaly of the simple life that reels me in.
Then, while buying post cards at an old country-school-turned-Amish-information-center, the bearded clerk’s cell phone rang.
“I’m Mennonite,” he said.
One of the reasons I enjoy traveling by bicycle. I’m able to stop and take photos of the things that normally I’d drive right by.
Ran into these fellas on the trail this morning. They were all headed to work in a pseudo car-pool fashion.
One of the other roadside shows was coming out of New Jersey. These guys said they were training to stay in shape.
Knocked down about 50 miles on Friday from Valley Forge to Lancaster, PA. I should pull into Gettysburg later this afternoon.
The heat and humidity have been pretty intense. My glasses steam up consistently; I try to clean them off but spandex doesn’t really absorb well when it’s already soaking and my camera phone doesn’t respond to moist contact.
The terrain is beautiful and there are lots of rolling hills which also means some speedy descents along with rigorous climbs.
My biggest mistake was picking up a 2-pound bag of cherries at a fruit market. They looked so good and then I slogged those things 60 miles up the road. By the end of the day it was all a hot mess. Add it to the 80 pounds of gear and I’ll have to better reassess my choices moving forward.
Found a cozy motel below just outside of Lancaster.
All my church connections are enjoying the long July 4 weekend. The flowery bed spread and decorative pillow made it feel like grandma’s house.
Thanks to Tom at Steffy’s Garage for the Pennsylvania plate.
July 5, 2019 – Philadelphia, PA – A whirlwind of a July 4th in Philadelphia that was loaded with red, white and blue history and an Amazing-Race effort to complete as many of the Philly attractions in six hours as possible.
First order of business: bike 25 miles from Bristol, PA to Philly. The key was to start at first light, about 6 a.m.; that way you avoid the heat, and all the pimps, drug dealers, Bloods and Crips who were still asleep and off the street.
There was a miscalculation, however, as the pimps and drug dealers apparently are early risers on July 4.
Playing tourist in Philly:
The Liberty Bell, also known as the “Statehouse Bell.” This is a free indoor exhibit by the National Parks Service. The bell bears the inscription “Proclaim Liberty Throughout All the Land Unto All the Inhabitants thereof,” which is a verse from the Bible (King James Version).
An interesting history nugget about the bell is when it went on tour in 1915 people lined up to kiss the bell and have their babies photographed with it. Posted near the bell “The Liberty Bell’s famous gap-often called a “crack” and running from tip to crown-makes it instantly recognizable.
That gap is really the result of an attempt to fix a thin crack that destroyed the Bell’s tone at some moment after the American Revolution. Exactly when that crack developed is lost to history.
The repair work dates to 1846. It failed when as the bell rang for George Washington’s birthday anniversary, the original crack reappeared and lengthened. It zig-zagged up toward the top of the bell, silencing it-at least physically-forever.”
Philadelphia’s Museum of Art: Famous for its front steps. The visit to the museum steps is dedicated to wonderful WashingtonCountyInsider.com supporters and the Museum of Wisconsin Art.
Across from the Cathedral is the town square and the required visit to the “I Love Philly” photo.
Funny, the 20-something kid in front of me had to ask directions on how to make a heart symbol with his hands. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Two c’s.” Sadly he was still confused.
Jim’s on Fifth Avenue and South; it was packed. I paid a kid $5 to watch my bike. The foot-long sandwich was $8. Loaded with green peppers and onions, I’d have to agree with the locals. The cheese was a spatula slide of cheese whiz from a tub and the meat was chopped to mush.
Architecture in Downtown Philly: Was briefly adopted by a cyclist in Philly who took me on a spontaneous bike tour of the architecture in the downtown area. “It makes you look up when you bike,” said Curtis.
It was fascinating to view the detail and how ornate the construction was. The artwork of a simple fire escape was most impressive.
Chinese Lantern Festival : While vehicle traffic was extremely limited because of the July 4 parade, you could really get anywhere on a bike. I beat the morning rush and quickly took a spin through a Chinese Lantern Festival. While impressive, I’m sure it would have looked magical at night.
Schuylkill River Trail: Wrapped up my visit to Philly by taking advantage of the Schuylkill River Trail. I had my doubts about Siri and her Google biking suggestions after my dicey morning commute, however, the locals said I was through the worst and this trail would get me 32 miles to Valley Forge. It did not disappoint.
The trail was paved in the city and wound it’s way along the Schuykill River. Further out it morphed into a hard-packed gravel and even a wooden plank path. Always safe and well marked.
Fast fact: Schuylkill is pronounced SKOO-kill. It comes from Netherland Dutch and means Hidden River.
Ended the 4th with 62 miles on the day. Today it’s off to Gettysburg.
July 4, 2019 – Philadelphia, PA – Live from Philadelphia on July 4. I’m at the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, where voices are being geared up for the free grand finale concert starring Jennifer Hudson and Meghan Trainor tonight. Side note: As this is her hometown, the city of Philadelphia named a street after Patti LaBelle on Wednesday, July 3. A stretch of Broad Street, between Locust and Spruce Streets, has been renamed “Patti LaBelle Way” for the legendary soul singer.
July 3, 2019 – Madison, NJ – Pushing along on the 2019 bike tour from Newark, NJ to Wisconsin.
My new best friend Scott from Gulf Service in Madison, NJ had a pile of plates and he was happy to shed one from his collection. It made my day.
Madison was full of niche shops such as an elaborate pedestal Main Street clock and an old library converted into a Museum of Early Trades and Crafts.
The staff was welcoming and the architecture with ornate walls and arched ceilings was magical.
The displays on life, farming and early industry were fun; a very hands-on museum that welcomed children and families.
The clay marble collection was one of my favorites and the outline of a butcher’s life is dedicated to WashingtonCountyInsider.com sponsors Tommy and Kathey Schwai.
Completed 44 miles on the day from Caldwell to Somerville. Stuck mostly to Hwy 202 except when I found a well-paved path that ran through a swampy area of Bridgewater.
A shout out to my hosts at Immaculate Conception Parish in Somerville. Janet, Beverly and Diane made me feel more than welcome.
The trio were an example of women in action as they opened The Nazareth home (normally a home for unwed mothers). The facility has since closed but is owned by the church they offered me the second floor as a safe haven for the night. They also cobbled together a bag lunch with plenty of water to prep for the next day.
Another tour filled with the kindness of strangers.
Off to drop a thank you note and make my way to explore history in Philadelphia.
July 2, 2019 – Caldwell, NJ – A holiday tradition is alive and well in New Jersey, and I expect Washington County as well, as folks hang their red, white, and blue bunting to celebrate the Fourth of July.
The President Grover Cleveland boyhood home in Caldwell, NJ has its bunting hung for the holiday.
Sharon is the executive director of the home and her husband Bob is her right-hand helper. The couple live up the hill and around the corner from the home.
“When I took this job they asked me how long I thought I’d stay,” said Sharon. “I gave it three… maybe five years.”
It’s going on 39 years Sharon that has held down the fort at the Grover Cleveland boyhood home.
A fantastic historian. Sharon has met the son of President Cleveland and she’s helped grow the collection of artifacts with clothing, photos, pipes and even some items from Cleveland’s medicinal collection.
Bob provided a personal tour of the home and was kind enough to open the doors to me on a day that it was closed.
Then, in neighborly fashion, he offered me a place to stay. I suppose I could have slept upstairs at the Cleveland Museum; Bob and Sharon lived upstairs for years when they first got married.
“It was so hot up there during the summer we’d come downstairs and lie on the wood floor in front of the screen doors,” said Sharon. “The year we moved out they added air conditioning.”
Bob and Sharon were gracious hosts. Breakfast on Tuesday morning was out on the back porch. Through the thick stand of trees you could see the Cleveland home.
“You know you’re sitting in the neighborhood where the home is from the HBO series The Sopranos,” said Sharon.
A quick Google search and, sure enough, Tony Soprano and his wife Carmella lived in Caldwell, New Jersey.
A hat tip to my generous hosts who made me feel extremely welcome.
On a side note, Sharon actually used the slang “they rubbed her out” while talking historically about the death of a pastor’s wife during the Revolutionary War. It felt very “New Jersey gangster.”
