Day 10: Berea, KY -> Frankfort, KY (58 mi)
*lost most of my photos of these next few days :( *
9:09 am – Slept in big time after a looong day yesterday. Camille mentioned she worked for a bakery on the way out of town and that I should stop by if I had time. Clementine’s was the name, and I highly recommend it if you ever pass through Berea. Camille and her coworker, Chris, whipped me up one of the most DELICIOUS sandwiches I’d ever had – a bacon egg and beer-cheese sandwich with garlic and kimchee. It’s scrumptiousness caught me totally off guard and I debated ordering another after I put the monstrosity away in just a few minutes. It was getting a bit late though, temperatures climbing, and I was eager to get rolling.
Not sure if it was the amazing bourbon the night before or the long string of one-stoplight-towns I’d been passing through on a nightly basis – likely a combination – but I decided rather spontaneously to deviate from the TransAmerica Trail to go see some more notable parts of Kentucky, starting with Lexington – a 48 mile trek due north of Berea.
It was a good ride most of the way, following mostly deserted farm and frontage roads absent of hills (thank god) that offered some fine views of the forgotten Kentucky countryside. I passed through Eastern Kentucky University in Richmond, KY which was a neat little college town. Not long after though, I approached Lexington city limits and the lovely farm roads quickly turned into busy parkways.
I nervously pedaled to the Town Branch Brewery and Distillery and signed up for a tour, the first of a few I’d planned on stopping through the next couple of days. An informative and delicious couple of hours passed, and I found myself a bit too buzzed to try and pedal onward to Frankfort, my original plan.
Thankfully, I found a motel that was willing to accept my passport photocopy (have been without an ID thus far thanks to the NYC DMV), and hitched a ride to Frankfort. After I checked in I went downtown for dinner (it was overpriced but a nice setting on the main cobblestone street). They wouldn’t accept my ID though, so I couldn’t have the wine I wanted.
I made my way to the dive bar next door where, thankfully, they funneled me beers without a second thought. Some of the guys I was talking to invited me to a “marina party” they were going to, and with no plans, we set off to a dinky bar nestled in a closed marina on the river.
Hilarity ensued as locales guzzled Miller Lite and belted Jimmy Buffet tunes from the Karaoke stage right on the dock. As fun as it was I was exhausted, and a little drunk, so I ubered backed to the Days Inn and passed out in my palace for the evening.