Waking up at about 5:45AM behind Chrisman High School, I was ready to jet out of there as fast as I could. In the dark, I took down the tent and packed up as fast as I could, and within about 20 minutes, I was loaded up, and riding out of the parking lot and onto the main road through town. I stopped at the Casey's convenience store to replenish my Ibuprofen supply, get water, and find out where the hell to get breakfast in this redneck town. I ended up chatting with the friendly clerk behind the counter for a minute - I told her about my odd experience with the freaks down the road in Scotland, and her exact words were, "Yeah, there's nothing left there anymore - the people who stayed are all a bit off". And when she said a bit off, I think she meant a bit inbred.
Anyway, I ask where I should get breakfast, and she says, "Well, there isn't really anything in this town, but just down the road there's a bunch of stuff." Pressed for specifics, she said, "I don't get out of town very much", but then said, "There's this one great place, it's got a silver exterior, and they have really great food there... hmmm, what's it called..." She asks her co-worker who says, "Oh yeah, you mean Denny's!" She says, "Yeah, Denny's, that's it!" Denny's?! A great restaurant?! Clearly I need to reevaluate the definition of 'good food' around here. I think I managed to hide my disgust, figuring if there's a Denny's, there must be some other options too. I went outside, popped some Ibuprofen, drank some water, ate my last apple, and got going.
Keep in mind, this lady said Denny's was 'just down the road'. It was a cool misty morning, the roads were empty and flat, and at my back the sun was just beginning to rise. 
Even after having such a horrendous night of sleep, I was in a pretty good mood, especially with the prospect of breakfast just down the road.(the night before, with no food to be had in Chrisman, my dinner consisted of an apple and water, so I was in a slight calorie deficit)Thing is, in place like southern Illinois where there really isn't anything other than corn/soybean fields, the occasional clusters of houses they ambitiously call "towns", and the odd gas station, describing a place as being "just down the road can mean 5 miles, or it can mean 50". After riding 17 miles, I came to a sign which said, 'Tuscola - 18 miles'. Super. By this point I was ravenously hungry, so I stopped at the next gas station, and downed the biggest Starbuck's Frappuccino they had. I hate Starbucks, but I just couldn't handle burnt gas station coffee, and when you're in the cornfields of southern Illinois, sometimes you just have to choose the best of the bad options.
After 18 miles, I finally reached Tuscola - remarkable only for the outlet shopping center which, luckily for me, meant there was a plethora of crappy food to choose from. As promised, there was a Denny's, then a McDonald's, Wendy's, Olive Garden, and a variety of other garbage. The one standout was 'Woody's Family Restaurant'. The parking lot was full, so figured what the hell, maybe the one non-chain in Tuscola has something good going on. I locked up the bike, and strolled in, feeling the eyes at table after table lock on to my spandex clad ass. I guess cycling isn't popular in Tuscola, IL. Shocker. I sat down at the table, and looked over at what at any other time would be a fairly gross breakfast buffet, literally 5 notches below bad college dining hall food. But this was not any day. I was tired and famished after riding 35 miles to breakfast on only an apple, a Frappucino, and Ibuprofen, so it looked better than eggs Benedict at Delmonico's.
I ordered the $6.99 buffet which included a bottomless cup of coffee, and walked up to the buffet tables. Trays of poorly scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links, pancakes, some sorry excuse for french toast, and hashbrowns greeted me. And then I spotted the eggs Benedict! Glorious! Amazingly, they hadn't made the Hollandaise with cheese whiz, so I loaded my plate with that, scrambled eggs, sausage links, a few strips of bacon, and a couple strawberries from the elegant fruit tray. Delicious. It's amazing what hunger can do to you... and in probably 4 minutes, I had eaten it all. Round 2: More scrambled egg mess, sausage links, the pathetic french toast, and just to make sure it tasted alright, I drowned it all in maple syrup product. Just as with plate #1, it was delicious. I was slightly ashamed, but feeling my energy levels return to normal with the probably 4,000 calories I slammed into my stomach, and the 5 cups of watery coffee I chugged. And hey, with tip, the entire experience cost me $8.00. After bombing their bathroom, I headed out to my bike, where I realized my cell phone was quickly dying. Across the street was a McDonald's, so I figured I'd go over there and get slightly less awful coffee, and sit and charge my phone for a few. I also hung my damp gloves out in the sunshine to dry, and about 45 minutes of digestion, caffeination, and cell phone charging later, I was ready to rock.
The day's goal was to get to Friend's Creek State Park just outside of Decatur, IL, and with my early start, and the flat road, I thought I would get there in time to find decent food, as Decatur appeared to be a decent sized city. Once again, as a stranger to southern Illinois, one does well not to make assumptions about anything.
As I approached Decatur, I had yet another spoke give up the ghost, with a slight ping as the spoke nipple once again rattled into the rim cavity. Damnit. Fortunately, the wheel was only slightly out of true, so I loosened the rear brake, and kept going. It was only 3PM, and just outside the city I spotted a Kroger grocery store, so I stopped to get a banana, an apple, and a half gallon of soymilk. Ate the apple, chugged the soymilk, and sat for a few, looking over the map. It had become clear to me that the maps of Illinois(I had two) completely suck. Distances are off, the maps are not to scale, and landmarks are misplaced. I honestly think Blagojevitch embezzled the money earmarked for an accurate survey of the state. Bastard.
After resting, I continued on into Decatur, which on the outside looks like a run down industrial city. Upon riding to the city center, you realize that even in the interior, it is a run down industrial city. More to the point, I simply had a bad vibe from the place. It seemed depressed, and slightly hopeless. As I rode slightly Northeast towards the opposite side of the city, and on to Oreana, where the state park and campground was located, I realized that gangs have a massive presence. In particular, the Bloods. Everywhere, people were sporting red flags, shirts, even pants. More depressing, as I passed a city park where some people were having a cookout with their kids, by any measure a normal activity, I noticed many of them wore, on some part of them, the color red. Definitely wasn't feeling too safe, so I jetted out of town as fast as I could, only to end up fighting a serious headwind the entire 12 miles to Oreana, and the additonal 3 to Friend's Creek park.
Once there, I was tired and hungry, but in my haste to get settled before dark, I hadn't gotten any food. I had three Belgian Moser Roth chocolate bars in a bag for special occasions, and decided that alleviating the sensation of my body eating itself merited chomping one down. Let me tell you, after a long day of riding, 85% cacao Belgian chocolate has a smooth, richly complex flavor profile which, if experienced by more people, would likely lead to world peace.
By this time, I was all set for the night, and walking towards the bathroom, I introduced myself to my friendly-looking neighbors settled around a campfire next to their RV, and had a good chat for a few minutes. Upon walking back from the bathroom, with darkness minutes away, I saw a couple of the guys walking past, and they asked if I needed anything. I said I didn't want to trouble them, that I was just too tired to ride the 6 miles round trip into Oreana and back. Then, in one of the moments of kindness which have added such richness to this trip, they said, "Well, just come along with us, we're getting some pizza at Casey's." Music to my ears! Pizza... even marginal pizza from a convenience store in Oreana, IL sounded incredible, as my brain is programmed at this point to focus in on things like carbs and melted cheese.
At Casey's, I order a large 'Supreme', which has sausage, pepperoni, olives, green pepper, and mushrooms on it. Oh yeah. We all get back to the campground, and sit together at the picnic tables, and begin eating our pizza. Piece by piece, I steadily demolish the entire pizza, noting that while it isn't exactly gourmet, Casey's actually makes a pretty damn decent pie. The great thing about this ride is that you can sit and eat a large pizza, and unlike at any other time, feel pleasantly full instead of contemplating forced vomiting to relieve the pressure on your digestive system.
Their wives turn in for the night, but the campfire is still burning, and providing relief from the evening chill, so Denny, Slug, and I have a good time just sitting around talking for a couple of hours until about 11, when I decide I should probably get some sleep.
*Side note: Slug, who is around 75, a former railroad engineer, and one of the nicest guys I have ever met, has one of the most interesting nicknames. Even his wife calls him Slug. He wrote his real name and address in my journal, but I can't read the name - so why is he called Slug? As he said, "I can't fight my way out of paper bag", but apparently in his younger years some big guy gave him some trouble at a bar - Slug connected with a perfect hook to the chin, knocking him out instantly. And henceforth, he was called Slug.
Once again, I fell asleep after another day closed in the company of strangers who had quickly become friends.
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