I wake up at 6:30 feeling pretty well rested, but most of all, I'm totally pumped to be getting the hell out of Illinois! After getting packed, I cruise into downtown Meredosia, stopping at the same gas station as before. As we learned last night, this place didn't have much to offer, and I still have an apple and a little package of honey roasted peanuts, so I figured I'd just wait - assuminng I would come upon something with better options(I still hadn't learned my lesson about assuming things about southern Illinois). In retrospect, I should have grabbed another pack of those tasty S'mores Poptarts, but hey, I'm trying to be healthy. I load up on water and a huge coffee(that was actually okay), and have a breakfast of an apple and ibuprofen. Definitely feeling like a champion.
It was another quiet, misty morning, and like I said, I was feeling happy about saying goodbye to the never ending monotony that is southern Illinois. Rolling through town, I realized I'd be crossing a bridge over the Illinois River. Cool! It was fun riding across this thing, with the fog cloaking the muddy water below.
Cruising through more cornfields, I finally approached what was my first real climb in days, and soon the terrain became an irritating set of steeply rolling hills. On any other bike, it would have been fun, but fully loaded, the thing just loses momentum so quickly when going up hills. I had obviously been spoiled with flats for the past few days, and with only an apple in my stomach, I was getting fatigued really fast, and there wasn't a store in sight. I downed the rest of peanuts, and because they were so salty, I ended up drinking the rest of my water. Damn. I also came across the following sight that was so hysterically ironic that I had to share it with you. No comment necessary:
Not far beyond this, I came across a deer carcass crumpled on the side of the road. Nothing strange there, as I see all sorts of roadkill out here all the time. This deer, however, was different. Clearly the hit was fatal, but then I noticed the head was missing! And where the neck should have connected to the body, it was obvious that somebody had taken a knife and neatly removed the trophy from the rest of the animal. I suppose if you can get it without going to the trouble of shooting it, why not.With the sun beating down while I constantly battled the hills, I started feeling tired and dehydrated, but knowing I'd be out of Illinois by mid-day, I kept spinning. I finally came to a town with a convenience store, so I grabbed a bunch of water, and chugged a liter of that delicious Tiger Woods flavor Gatorade. Definitely helped a bit, and while my legs didn't feel much stronger, overall I felt better.
Eventually, I came to what, on the maps, looks like a 4 way intersection 7 miles before the bridge into Missouri. But, Illinois maps being the laughable garbage they are, one is required to play Magellan, and figure it out. For those of you taking this route, turn left, go about a quarter of a mile, and then turn right onto route 51 - I must note route 51 is marked on my AAA map, but not the one I got from the Illinois State tourism center. Nice.
On this road, you feel like you're going to merge into the highway, and eventually you do - but the map still marks the bridge as controlled access interstate - i.e. no bikes. On the map I saw another railroad bridge next to the other, and figuring it would be more legal than riding on the interstate, I thought, why not. I ride down the road, and roll up to the tracks next to some kind of industrial plant there. Walking the bike up to the bridge I realize there's a problem - not only are there signs very clearly stating that trespassers will be prosecuted, but more importantly, the bridge has a section which rises so that river barges can get through, and this section was up. No dice.
Back to the highway, where I figure that, being a state line, there shouldn't be any cops, but then I spot two cyclists who had passed me earlier rolling onto the highway to the bridge. I figure hell, if they're doing it, then why not. As I reach the on-ramp, I see the sign, 'Cyclists Use Right Shoulder'. Thanks for making that obvious, Illinois.
That said, at least I'm on the border of Missouri, and out of this ridiculous state. The run up to the bridge on the highway:
The view as you head across the bridge:
Actually entering the state of Missouri, and the turn down into Hannibal:
After making a quick stop at the tourist center in downtown Hannibal to get a map from Karen(stop and say hi if you're ever in Hannibal - she's the best), I rolled down to Kerley's, which was a friendly-looking bar/grill that had a BBQ pork special listed on the sign outside. Either way, it was air conditioned, and at 2:30, after not eating anything other than an apple and some peanuts, I was famished. The manager put a cold wheat beer in front of me(called Shock Top), and told me they had recently been awarded best BBQ in Hannibal. Well hey, I can't argue with that, so I ordered the special. It was amazing, but I'll let the photo do the talking:
It was delicious, and feeling tired, I asked her if she knew of any parks/campgrounds in the area. Turns out, the Mark Twain campground, also home to the famous Mark Twain cave, was exactly 1 mile down the road. 1 mile being relative, as it's exactly .5 miles uphill, and then .5 downhill to get to the place, but hey, why not. I got a good vibe from Hannibal, so I figured I would stay the night. I thanked her, and after a couple more cups of water, headed down the road to get settled for the night. The campground was nicely taken care of, and I planted myself in a quiet spot near the shower house/laundry facility. By 5:30 though, I was once again starving, and with town only a mile away, I decided to head back in. Without seeing anything else particularly remarkable, and impressed with what I'd had before, I went back to Kerley's, and ordered a bacon cheeseburger and a couple more beers. I end up talking to Chris, one of the cooks there, and he asks me if I want to grab a few beers later. I liked the idea of having a tour guide, so I hung around until 8ish when he got off work, and we went across the street to another bar. Eventually, we end up at a place called 'Rookie's' which is a karaoke bar... the funny thing is, walking in, Chris says, "Yeah, this is the kind of place where you don't fit in too well if you have all your teeth..." 
Nothing like local flavor... and while I had thrown shorts on over my spandex, I was still wearing my bike shoes from riding into town, so I'm pretty sure I didn't fit in too well either. Either way, we had a hilarious time, with Chris telling me everything about everybody in the place - from the wackjob kid who in high school got caught with a gun on school grounds, to the ex stripper licking the face of her toothless girlfriend while their boyfriends looked on. Nonstop amusement. It DEFINNITELY pays to have a local tour guide. At about 12, I was a little drunk, and figured I should get on the bike and get to sleep before I wasn't capable of riding anymore, so we called it a night.I made it back safely, and falling asleep a little tipsy was definitely an amusing contrast to all the other nights thus far. As I drifted off, I hoped I wouldn't have too much of a hangover the next day...
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