Day 2 (Sunday, 9/11) - Hodgenville to Elizabethtown
After spending a night in a log cabin almost close enough to hear a baby's cry from the Lincoln birthplace cabin, it was time to start out for Elizabethtown. There were no breakfast offerings at the cabin, so I headed back to the McDonald's I first encountered yesterday. Immediately to the north of the Birthplace entrance are two motels. The Cruise Inn on the east side of the highway was operating, but on the west side, the one-time motel was now offering its rooms as storage lockers! I wondered what effect the upcoming Lincoln Bicentennial will have on tourism and generating demand for overnight accommodations.
Hodgenville offered a number of Lincoln-named businesses: Lincoln Jamboree, Lincoln Farm Market, Lincoln National Bank and Ruthie's Lincoln Freeze. Athletic enthusiasm was also evident. I had to take a picture of some Hodgenville-ite's "WILDCAT HOUSE" decked out in blue and white with a hand-painted sign claiming the role of "NO. I UK FAN." I also took a picture of the vacant lot next door with its solitary sign, "Future Home of U of L Cardinal Museum."
I walked through a virtually empty town square, bid farewell to President Lincoln and headed north to Elizabethtown. I immediately realized that the backpack I was carrying did, in fact, weigh more than the backpack I had practiced with, and within an hour, I was considering ways to alleviate the problems it presented me with. When I passed a gas station that advertised a particular brand of coffee they offered, I had to take a picture because it characterized my growing attitude toward my backpack: "Millstone!"
I had learned in some of my trial walks around home not to defer rest stops, so fairly soon (an hour or so), I decided the shady area coming up would be fine. I took off the backpack, put it on the ground to serve as a backrest for me, and then noticed the vegetation. When Carolyn had bid me farewell the previous day, she had warned (in addition to something about snakes), "Leaves of three, let it be." Had I deposited my backpack on a clump of poison ivy? A more careful examination convinced me I was okay, but what a start to the trek that would have been!
I was travelling on State Route 210, Old Elizabethtown Road, a two-lane rural highway with barely 15 inches of space on the edge of the traffic lane. In this space there were grooves perpendicular to the highway every 3 or 4 inches; these are what make the warning noise when your car wanders over the white line. The vegetation next to the pavement was generally calf high and too much trouble to walk in. So I spent most of my time just walking on the white line, facing the oncoming traffic. Most cars gave me wide berth when they could, but if oncoming traffic was in the other lane, they had to stay in their lane. Whenever this occurred I simply came to a stop and stepped to my left into the vegetation. With the heavy backpack and the unsure footing of the grooves, I wasn't going to take any chance of tripping into the path of an oncoming car.
Somewhere along the path, a young man in a small red pickup stopped alongside, said he was headed to E'town, and asked if I wanted a lift. I told him I would love it, but that I was walking for charity and people were paying for each mile I walked. His look of befuddlement revealed his thoughts: "And they're going to know HOW???" as he drove off. It's tough when you have to live up to standards set by Honest Abe!
About noon, I passed a chemical plant where I saw a man walking on the grounds. He waved and asked how far I was walking. I told him I started in Hodgenville and asked how far ahead was Elizabethtown. He said I was already in Elizabethtown. I didn't realize then that I still had 4 or 5 miles left to walk. The temperature was rising and the backpack seemed to be gaining weight with each step I took. Another photograph called out to be taken as I passed the Bluegrass Casket Store and wondered if I should stop in for a fitting.
My original plans for arrival in Elizabethtown included meeting my former LexisNexis colleague Marcia Baugh who owns a manufacturing company located just south of Hodgenville. She was going to walk the final mile or two with me. Marcia's husband, Roy Williams, is the director of the airport at New Orleans. Marcia had been on one of the last flights out before hurricane Katrina hit while Roy stayed on to oversee airport activities. This day, however, Marcia was able to return to New Orleans for the first time; I got an email with the subject, "I'm deserting you for another man." In truth, I don't believe I would have been great company. The last few miles were uncomfortable, I was hot and sticky, and my millstone seemed almost to outweigh me.
Just after 5 pm I arrived at the Hampton Inn in Elizabethtown. A long shower, a change of clothes, a good meal -- and my flagging spirits were lifted. Tomorrow, in Scarlet's words, is another day. I had awakened just footsteps away from where Lincoln was born and had walked 17 miles to the town where his parents first lived. And I already had some ideas on lightening the load of my back pack. I'd sleep well tonight.
Hodgenville offered a number of Lincoln-named businesses: Lincoln Jamboree, Lincoln Farm Market, Lincoln National Bank and Ruthie's Lincoln Freeze. Athletic enthusiasm was also evident. I had to take a picture of some Hodgenville-ite's "WILDCAT HOUSE" decked out in blue and white with a hand-painted sign claiming the role of "NO. I UK FAN." I also took a picture of the vacant lot next door with its solitary sign, "Future Home of U of L Cardinal Museum."
I walked through a virtually empty town square, bid farewell to President Lincoln and headed north to Elizabethtown. I immediately realized that the backpack I was carrying did, in fact, weigh more than the backpack I had practiced with, and within an hour, I was considering ways to alleviate the problems it presented me with. When I passed a gas station that advertised a particular brand of coffee they offered, I had to take a picture because it characterized my growing attitude toward my backpack: "Millstone!"
I had learned in some of my trial walks around home not to defer rest stops, so fairly soon (an hour or so), I decided the shady area coming up would be fine. I took off the backpack, put it on the ground to serve as a backrest for me, and then noticed the vegetation. When Carolyn had bid me farewell the previous day, she had warned (in addition to something about snakes), "Leaves of three, let it be." Had I deposited my backpack on a clump of poison ivy? A more careful examination convinced me I was okay, but what a start to the trek that would have been!
I was travelling on State Route 210, Old Elizabethtown Road, a two-lane rural highway with barely 15 inches of space on the edge of the traffic lane. In this space there were grooves perpendicular to the highway every 3 or 4 inches; these are what make the warning noise when your car wanders over the white line. The vegetation next to the pavement was generally calf high and too much trouble to walk in. So I spent most of my time just walking on the white line, facing the oncoming traffic. Most cars gave me wide berth when they could, but if oncoming traffic was in the other lane, they had to stay in their lane. Whenever this occurred I simply came to a stop and stepped to my left into the vegetation. With the heavy backpack and the unsure footing of the grooves, I wasn't going to take any chance of tripping into the path of an oncoming car.
Somewhere along the path, a young man in a small red pickup stopped alongside, said he was headed to E'town, and asked if I wanted a lift. I told him I would love it, but that I was walking for charity and people were paying for each mile I walked. His look of befuddlement revealed his thoughts: "And they're going to know HOW???" as he drove off. It's tough when you have to live up to standards set by Honest Abe!
About noon, I passed a chemical plant where I saw a man walking on the grounds. He waved and asked how far I was walking. I told him I started in Hodgenville and asked how far ahead was Elizabethtown. He said I was already in Elizabethtown. I didn't realize then that I still had 4 or 5 miles left to walk. The temperature was rising and the backpack seemed to be gaining weight with each step I took. Another photograph called out to be taken as I passed the Bluegrass Casket Store and wondered if I should stop in for a fitting.
My original plans for arrival in Elizabethtown included meeting my former LexisNexis colleague Marcia Baugh who owns a manufacturing company located just south of Hodgenville. She was going to walk the final mile or two with me. Marcia's husband, Roy Williams, is the director of the airport at New Orleans. Marcia had been on one of the last flights out before hurricane Katrina hit while Roy stayed on to oversee airport activities. This day, however, Marcia was able to return to New Orleans for the first time; I got an email with the subject, "I'm deserting you for another man." In truth, I don't believe I would have been great company. The last few miles were uncomfortable, I was hot and sticky, and my millstone seemed almost to outweigh me.
Just after 5 pm I arrived at the Hampton Inn in Elizabethtown. A long shower, a change of clothes, a good meal -- and my flagging spirits were lifted. Tomorrow, in Scarlet's words, is another day. I had awakened just footsteps away from where Lincoln was born and had walked 17 miles to the town where his parents first lived. And I already had some ideas on lightening the load of my back pack. I'd sleep well tonight.
posted by Bob Willard @ 1:30 PM
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