Fish Poop

I figure since Jslowsky5 continues to give me new and entertaining linky names, I had better go ahead and do some updating. The forth of July brought about my first true long-haul-trucker ride. My set-up is below, but I decided to ditch the sleeping bag in favor of a sheet. With the GayWhackRack version 2.0 (turns out this one is much less gay and definitely much less whack than version 1.0) loaded up with my tent and cloths, my frame bag stuffed, my tent poles bungeed to the top tube and my camelbak loaded with H20 tools and tubes, Thad, EastBound Jeff, and I headed out. The plan was to meander eastward to meet Jeanie and her brother at Dale Hollow Lake for some camping and boating. The first hill greeted us and boned (no not the last name...more on that later) us and our 40 pounds of extra gear rather roughly. In hind sight, I don't know what Thad was complaining about. I carry 50 more pounds than him every where I go...

After 9 hours of flawless navigation, 1 smokin' redneck chick, my obligatory "hey check out that blond...Ah, Mike that's a dude" moment, and numerous grueling climbs we rolled into the camping area.

After an expensive night of fireworks we headed out on the "Wave Boner" for some maritime fun. Turns out Boner was one of the couples' last names...UNFORTUNATE!!! What seemed like nine hours of boating, drinking and kids that smelled like fish feces had me wishing for dry land and some air conditioning. All I could think of was the 115 miles we faced the next day.

Morning came quickly following the best night of camping sleep I have ever had. J5 and I packed up and got ready to roll out (Eastbound Jeff had headed back to town with his wife the day before). We faced a stiff headwind and a blazing sun, but managed to knock about 45 minutes to an hour off of our previous time. I guess sending all the gear back in Jeanie's orange box helped more than a little. A driveway sprint was the perfect way to finish the ride even if I got edged out by half a wheel.