Ken-ta-kee

So Kentucky spring turned evil on me. After some very nice and bright days, a severe storm rolled in. We're talking T-storms, the tips of tornado tails sweeping through Arkansas and Tennessee. They even talked about a weather condition labeled "Twister", nothing more than a lollipop on stick to me but I have a feeling we're not parceling candy here. Maybe cause we Belgians have no weather like this, I don't seem to be able to picture the gravity of the situation. It's all a bit unreal, fictitious, like something Dorothy 'd run from in her world of tin men and cowardly lions. So when a truck slowed down next to me and informed me about an oncoming storm I waved it off as a lame conversation-maker. But before ignorance almost got my feet wet pretty badly, let me track back to my first steps in Kentucky.

I experienced some nice cycling days, pleasing weather and pleasant rolling hills. The Iroquois (historically powerful and important northeast Native American people) called the land Ken-ta-kee, which means as much as rolling prairie- or meadowland. I can see that. It's beautiful. I cycled from horse farms (Kentucky Derby!) to cow farms to, something-of-everything farms. There is one drawback all cyclists talk about though when Kentucky centers discussion, and that's its dogs. And unfortunately I am no different. These privately owned (most of them, some are, or at least seem, pretty stray) unleashed dogs have a kind of uncontrollable chase-instinct when it comes to two-wheelers. And it's not cute. It's not playful. It's a full, hands-on, assault. I for sure had my hands full keeping them from launching at my ankles. And how bright the whistle-idea is, it did not impress them all too much. Swinging a water bottle and shouting did though. It was ... good I'm out of there.

Sleep-spot-wise Kentucky will stay with me as a challenge. One night I stranded in a valley and went up to the Appalachian-Arts center to ask for a place to camp. They were happy to set me up in their dorm. For $35. They caught the look on my face and quickly added I was welcome to camp in the recreational area next doors as well. I could still take a shower though. For $10. Or not. Showers are for snobs anyway.
One other night I got enchanted by a dozen or so wind chimes that lured me onto an old women's doorstep. Wind chimes remind me of home so I got sentimental and walked up to her house. Being an elder and living by herself, she was cautious at first, about me, this little girl, travelling by herself. "You sure there's no men, guys with you? I don't know ... You see ... I hate to say no". She tried to powder me off with "dangerous to camp in the garden because of all the deer running through it" (Deer you say?? Sounds like a done-deal to me!) It felt weird to be perceived as a potential predator for once. But the moment I convinced her of my genuine intentions, I landed twice as hard on familiar-victim-ground again. She ended up being great, very sweet. I got coffee and sweets, delicious breakfast and a shot back in personal- and Kentucky-history time. She was happy to host me for another 2 or 3 days, but I had to move on.
Yet one other night, I asked another woman (early thirties) to pitch my tent in her garden. If granny thought I was weird, this one thought I was outrageously out of my mind for travelling by myself. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is??!" "Euhh yeah, I've been out here by myself for over a month now and true, I exhausted all the navy-seal-skills I master (does opening a wine bottle with a Swiss army knife count?)". She felt very uncomfortable with me so I moved on. Later I learned only 4 days before a woman, a teacher, and her daughter got murdered in their house in the neighboring county. The police so far have no clue whatsoever. So I understand, and I don't want to make people feel uncomfortable with my presence. That night I stranded in My-old-Kentucky-Home-Bardstown. Think Bourbon. That's it! On my way I got that man warning me about the storm. I went up to a church and asked to pitch my tent. But I got saved. From rain, thunder and lightning and killers on the loose. A lovely couple, returning from Sunday-evening-service, invited me to stay at their place. Dry! A bed! A shower! (at last).