Come in she said I'll give ya, shelter from the storm

Today's ride, while long, was the cream filling between two days of Oreo cookie.  In other words, it wasn't going to be a tough day, sandwiched between two really, really long days.  Our plan was to go from Springfield, where we stayed at the very nice Springfield Inn, to Berea.  This was a bit over 80 miles, and after our 97 miler yesterday and our planned 96 miler tomorrow, was planned to be fairly uneventful.  We had a place to start, a supply city on the way to get lunch victuals, and a planned end.  The hot sunny days of the past few was replaced by overcast skies, possibly meaning a cooler day.  

We took off from Springfield and I was immediately struck by how, when our route needed to be going southeast, we traveled northwest.  This has been typical of the route, and I'm getting increasing suspicious of why this happens.  I'm sure this route is tried-and-true, but we've found some good shortcuts, such as yesterday's to Lincoln's boyhood home at Knob Creek, that have saved time and our legs from climbing so much.  In this case we seemed to be going through Springfield's suburban developments and the Lincoln golf course.  We did come upon another Lincoln heritage site, the place where Thomas Lincoln, Abraham's father, had grown up and where he was married.  HIS father, another Abraham, had come from England, made his way to Kentucky, and was killed in an Indian attack.  Thomas' mother then moved the family to this plot of land north of Springfield.  We saw another re-created log cabin, but again it was on the land owned by the Lincolns.  

Lincoln cabin

We continued along our way, arriving at a snack point in Harrodsburg, about 25 miles along the way.  We were looking for somewhere to buy some sandwiches for the long journey along barren (no services) roads.  After securing the recommendation of a local establishment, the Olde Bus Stop, we chose to ignore yesterday's advice to not eat in.  We were ahead of schedule and we saw a number of locals enjoying breakfast.  The Springfield Inn had a breakfast, subsisting of packages of oatmeal, which wasn't cutting it.  We ordered full breakfasts at the Bus Stop, then began the inevitable wait.  I was okay, but I could tell Jerry was getting very agitated by the wait.  He couldn't let it go, and again it took too long, but this time we actually enjoyed the meal.  We had also talked to them about making lunch sandwiches and ordered them to go.  

After finally getting going again, without too much delay, we made good time.  Again, because we left early (7:15AM, because it's now Eastern time), we put in 40 miles by about 11:30.  Since we had eaten the late breakfast, we delayed eating our lunches until we had hit 60 miles, meaning only 20 left to do.  We found a shade tree under which we pulled out our chairs to sit and eat.  Jerry happened to look at his weather app, Dark Skies, and said that we had just missed a big storm in Harrodsburg, which must have come through right after we left.  We finished our sandwiches, which turned out to be miniature sandwiches (another lesson, check the lunch before leaving with it), and realized that we were going to be quickly overcome by this same storm.  Just about this time, a gentleman on a golf cart had come over to where we were sitting.  He was at a property across the street, and it was for a Baptist Church Ranch.  He had picked up mail from his mailbox, and he noticed those same clouds.  He offered us somewhere to stay out of the rain that was quickly coming.  It turns out his "ranch" was a few hundred acres of what had been a tobacco farm in Lancaster, KY.  It is run by Clays Mill Road Baptist Church of Lexington.  They had cabins for campers and staff, a lot of open land, but because of Covid-19, you guessed it, they couldn't open this summer.  Brother Dave Smith was our benefactor, and he is the director of the camp and assistant pastor of the church in Lexington.  He was there with an assistant, James Tienhaara.  They couldn't have been nicer.  Dave offered us ice cold bottled waters, and we all huddled under a pavilion near their "Cowboy Camp" and talked for a while as the rains swept through.  Dave has been doing this ministry for years, came from Iowa and served in the military for a number of years.  They were getting ready to go to Indiana for another camp, so they had to go, but we were welcomed to stay until the rain passed, which it eventually did.  This interlude of about an hour to hour-and-a-half, still didn't hurt the day as we had only about 20 miles to go.  

Circle C Baptist Ranch

Coming storm

Ranch pavilion

After the rain we took up our bikes and were on our way, hoping to get to Berea before the next wave of rain was due to hit.  This worked, and as we pulled into Berea, the rain started lightly again, not even enough to put on our rain jackets.

We looked through the list of places to stay: One was a America's Best Value Inn, which didn't answer their phone ( gone) and a couple of others that were located out of town on I-75.  We opted for the best one, the historic Boone Tavern on the campus of Berea College.  We called and got a rate that was about $10 more than a double room at the Fairfield Inn, and the rate was $40 below normal as we were on bikes.  We took it.  As we rode in we realized this place was historic, beautiful, and very nice.  I felt a little out of place as we were sweaty, wetty, smelly cyclists.  We checked in and they showed us a room where we could store the bikes for the night.  They couldn't have been nicer.  We showered and had dinner in their Tavern, which now serves beer (Jerry and Barb were here years ago and it had been dry).  We had a very nice dinner, feeling like celebrities in the fancy hotel, where the next night - well - who knows?  Let's just take advantage when we can of opportunities to have a few luxuries.  In the next week we will see, but I doubt we'll find this again.

Historic Boone Tavern in Berea

Numbers for the day: 80 miles ridden, 5,786 feet climbed, one storm averted.