Friday, June 3rd
Nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah nah. That’s Centerfold by the J Geils band. A song playing on an Indiana radio station, transmitted to a radio on the picnic table of the campers next to me, Jimmy and Debbie, and now, into my tent in the camp spot next to them, spot no.28. I’ve paid $32.10 to camp here, for one night, with just a tent which occupies less space than the average American cooler and backside, but I’m trying not to care. I sat down with Jimmie and Debbie earlier after I set up my tent when they offered me a spare burger which I jumped on since my dinner up to that point was hot dogs and coffee.
Jimmie is a welder. I’m not sure what Debbie does. They moved in together recently and are here for the weekend with enough liquor to last a week. It makes me think of that Jack and Diane song. They must be in their mid or late 40s. I sit down in one of their blue folding camping chairs and we talk about my trip and some other stuff. It helps me switch off from a day on a bike. Jimmy sits on the cooler and pours another drink.
After the burger followed a 16oz tin of Budweiser, and whiskey on ice in a large plastic cup. Jimmie said ‘say when’ then carried on pouring for another 10 seconds or so. This made it easier to forget about the thirty odd dollars I spent for the privilege of hearing slightly muffled 80s hits in a field of RV’s.
I’m being cynical of course. I like American camp sites as it feels like I’m in a yogi bear cartoon or something. And this is a beautiful, well kept park. I’m less keen on the price, only because it doesn’t take into account my vehicle (bicycle) the number of people I am (1), and the space I take up (almost nothing). I lost a little confidence wild camping in the US after an edgy night before I got to Toledo, but I want to regain that – it was only a month ago I put my tent up by a beautiful lake with a view of Mt Fuji you couldn’t pay for, but of course Japan is a very different place, with very different people.
Potato Creek park is 75 miles from last nights stay in Chain O’Lakes and the journey here has been easy and more interesting than yesterday’s ride which had me questioning everything more than I needed to. The farmland persisted by the scenery was much greener overall, a lot of rolling hills which were fun to climb up and speed down.
Before I exited Chain O’Lakes I bought two cups of coffee at the parks General Store, caught up on emails and messages and checked my route to Chicago on my phone. I add some artwork to my helmet.
Shortly after leaving the park I stop at ‘Half Acre Cafe’, an old diner come family home cooking restaurant. I order eggs and toast and bacon and potatoes and orange juice. Soon after a woman comes in and sits in the booth over from me and we end up sharing a conversation, from booth to booth, over the course of my meal. Her name is Tanya and she works as a professor part time in nearby Fort Wayne but lives here, near Albion, Indiana, and maintains some kind of farm or a few acres of land which is her real passion. We get on really well, the conversation is interesting and I don’t have to simplify what I’m doing like I sometimes have to here. It puts me in a good mood for the rest of the morning.
I make it to Syracuse around lunch and stop for coffee there, over the road from the gas station I buy ice cream at Joes Ice Cream Supreme. I’d seen a lot of roadside ice cream places like this but until now hadn’t quite been in the mood to stop. I order what I think the twist – soft scoop ice cream, vanilla and chocolate combined. I sit at the tables at the back and try and plan Chicago a little, messaging an old colleague, John, to see if he could put me up for a couple of nights.
I want to get back to making earlier starts. I can make 25-30 miles easily between 9 or 10, and 2. But then I stop. I eat. The heat increases. And the afternoon is a slog.
I also need to sync more podcasts as these are helping me get through the tougher, duller stretches. Particularly 99% Invisible and their episode on Edith Masefield and her house in Seattle.
As I approach Nappanee I’m aware of the Amish residents of this part of indiana for the first time. I pass expertly manacured farms with carts parked in the driveways and a few horse and carts on the roads.
Back in the 21st century I stop at McDonald’s and have a regular sized chicken McNuggets meal (10). It was going to happen sooner or later. It’s just fuel after all, and McDonald’s has the benefit of toilets, free wifi, and ice and water you can get from the soda machine. I sit outside and message John back – he can let me stay but warns me he has four cats, this is a bonus if anything.
I’m back on the route 6 for a while, then some quieter roads which essentially run parallel but through smaller villages and farmland.
I make it to La Paz and try and make a decision on where to spend the night. No warm shower hosts have got back to me, so I look for a campground or state park. That’s when I find potato creek, about 10 miles away, it’s north, but slightly north-east, meaning I’ll have a 100+ mile day tomorrow, but I’ve been wanting an early start so try and look forward to the challenge and set off for the park.
The last few miles to the park are the best. I know where I’m going to stay. The humidity is dropping but it’s still sunny. The road is smooth black topped tarmac. The farmland doesn’t seem boring at this point, but soothing.
Back now in my tent I hear the opening riff of Summer of 69 reverberate in the warm night.
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