We stopped for ice-cream cones in a small town named McClure, and then chased the sun as it proceeded to dip down towards the earth. We located a picture of a picnic table on the map, and aimed to camp at the park there. When we finally saw the picnic area, we were dismayed to discover the tables smack in the middle of a town, trapped between a heavily travelled road and an active set of railroad tracks.
We asked some firemen about alternate camping spots in town.
A man with grey hair sitting in a rolling office chair in the parking lot by the fire truck responded.
"Well, you could pitch a tent right here behind the station. There's a water tap and some electrical outlets over there, too."
Fantastic.
After a few minutes of chatting with the sociable firemen, another woman walked up.
"Excuse me, but are you two looking for a place to spend the night?"
"Why yes, in fact, we are."
"You should come to my house for the night. We have two extra beds and a shower that you are more than welcome to use."
Even more fantastic.
It turned out that Carolyn and her husband Vern parented a bike-touring son who pedalled from Ohio to Maine to Florida at the age of 19. Since then, they have hosted many touring cyclists. They were welcoming and kind, and gave us food to eat (which is a dangerous offer to give to bikers who have just pedalled 96 miles with full gear, and have the potential to completely demolish any available food supply).
However, the home-made chocolate chip oatmeal cookies were excellent.
