Covid Cross Day #11 Xenia, OH to Ft. Thomas, KY
Covid Cross Day #11
June 11, 2020
Xenia, OH to Ft. Thomas, KY 72 Miles
Start 7:30 AM Finish 3:23 PM
Ride Time 6:04
Ascent 1266 Feet
Descent 1349 Feet
Tour Total 938 Miles
I slept well stealth camping along the Little Miami Bike Trail outside of Xenia. There was a rushing stream besides my tent, which I believe helped my sleep. I was on comfy grass and level ground. I woke up with the birds at sunrise and nodded off for a few more winks. I was out of my tent by 7 AM and on the road by 7:30. My gear was packed before any of the joggers and cyclists came through on the trail. I took a poop in the woods and put on fresh socks and underwear. A couple miles down the road I saw small animal in the middle of the trail. It was not that much larger than Blanka. The small doe scampered away as I approached.
I was now off the ACA Chicago to NYC route as I head south down to Cincinnati. I’d use Google maps but was somewhat familiar with this area, although this bike trail was not here when I was growing up. There was cool fresh air, and it was sunny and bright, with not a cloud in the sky. A faint half moon hung in the sky above me to the south. The path was littered with tree branches from yesterday’s storm. I stopped in Spring Valley and went to Slims for an egg sandwich, coffee, and orange juice. The folks in the cafe were talking about the tree damage from yesterday’s storm.
There were many day cyclists out on the trail, and all sorts of bikes, from racing bikes to recumbents to cruisers to mountain bikes. It was a great bike path. The trees lining the sides of the path bent towards the center to create a canopy. Despite it being sunny, I was primarily in the shade. There were hills to either side of me, but I was on a railroad grade. Having grown up in Cincinnati I was familiar with several of the small towns that I passed through.
I was following alongside the Little Miami River and passed Morgan Canoes, the outfit where I used to rent canoes when I was in high school. It was still in operation 40 years later. I’d enjoyed countless thrilling, drunken, sunburned rides down the Little Miami River. I passed underneath the ginormous Jeremiah Morrow Bridge that carried I-71 over the little Miami River. It was the tallest bridge span in Ohio, and the structure has always marveled me. I noticed that the twin spans had been replaced with a box girder construction.
I could see canoeists enjoying the river and I was traveling much faster than them. I passed through the center of Laurel. There were small American flags lining the bike path. It served as a trail head and many cyclists, whom had just arrived by car, were getting ready for a ride. There were lots of small shops that catered to the rail trail. The bike path had a brand new asphalt surface after the town of Morrow.
I talked for a while with a day cyclist from Wilmington who was putting in his 42 miles. He told me about the Monkey Bar which I would be passing in a few miles. It was now a microbrewery, but back in the day they had an orangutan in a cage that would smoke cigarettes and drink beer. I passed the powder factory where I used to come after work in high school, when I worked at Kings Island amusement park. Back in those days it was derelict and rather sketchy. At present, the windows had all been replaced and new drywall partitions were being created inside to make apartment units. Apparently a microbrewery was going in on the ground floor.
I passed the Monkey Bar, which was a lot nicer than what I had expected. Had it not been so early in the morning I would have stopped. I’ve seen several tandems today, and there was quite a bit of bike traffic on the trail. This thing really gets used. I stopped in Loveland at Ramsey’s Trailside for an Alaskan Amber. The servers were all wearing masks.
I was continuing to enjoy my ride down the trail and noticed that I was crossing the Miami River on a bridge where an abstract mural had been painted on the side truss beam. I found myself in a golf course on the east side of the river with numerous forks in the trail, and I was confused. I consulted Google maps and was all turned around until I realized that I was in Newtown, about two miles from where I had grown up. It had all changed from when I had lived here.
I had thought that the Little Miami Scenic trail went all the way to downtown Cincinnati, but apparently it dead ended in Newtown. I had to turn around and backtrack back over the Little Miami River and get on state Route 32, which was busy with traffic. After a fantastic relaxing morning out on the bike trail, having to share a busy highway with motorized traffic with a narrow to non-existent shoulder was not fun. I circled around to Lunken Airport where I used to ride perimeter laps on my unicycle when my mom was still alive. I had an encounter with an aggressive motorist, the driver of a tow truck who yelled something negative. I didn't retain it. Welcome back to Cincinnati. I never did fit in here.
After Lunkin, I found myself back on the Ohio Erie bicycle trail, an asphalt path off to the side of the road. It was pleasant to once again be separate from motorized traffic. The trail led to a bike lane on Eastern Avenue, which paralleled the Ohio River heading toward downtown Cincinnati. When I was a kid growing up here, this area was filled with scrap metal and auto salvage yards. It's been gentrified in the last decade. They've built all sorts of horrible faux upscale condominiums that I imagined sold for lots of money.
I went to fountain Square the iconic symbol of downtown Cincinnati and took a photo of my bicycle in front of the landmark. I headed to the Over-the-Rhine section, which in recent years had become a trendy destination. I was hoping to sample a local pint, but all of the storefronts had been boarded because of recent rioting. I circled back around towards the river and noticed Brewdog, a big fancy brewpub, where I stopped and ordered two Clockwork Tangerines and a Patriot Burger.
After my lunch I rode back down to the Ohio River and crossed it on the Purple People Bridge, which had been a train crossing when I was a kid. Now it was exclusively used for pedestrians and cyclists. I met two guys on the Kentucky side riding 29" wheel mountain bikes. They were big bike touring fans and knew about the Great Divide Mountain Biking Trail. I gave them my card and then crossed into Kentucky, the tour's sixth state.
I was headed up to the hill to Fort Thomas and realized that I had forgotten to turn on Cyclemeter after Brewdog. I rode through the sprawl and up the steep hill to cut over to my uncle Herbie's house. He greeted me at the front door, and I rode my bike down around to the basement. I unpacked all my gear and set up my tent, tarp, sleeping bag, and Thermarest to air out. I had an ice cold Brooklyn Lager, then I shaved and showered, and changed into my civilian clothes. I was ready for two nights in a bed, and an off day.
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