Our goal for the night was to reach Selinsgrove, home of Alex and my alma mater, Susquehanna University. Since we decided to leave the TransAmerica Trail in Kentucky, we wanted to make our path so that we passed through Selinsgrove and then headed through the Poconos to Bear Lake, where Alex's family has a lake house. We weren't sure if we were going to make it to either, because we wanted to take the most direct, least mountainous path possible, but since we ended up following the Ohio River, both Selinsgrove and Bear Lake ended up being directly on our way.

The only problem with reaching Selinsgrove tonight was that it was 92 miles away and we've been covering some pretty good miles the last few days over some pretty serious mountains. Throughout the entire trip, I've been able to judge pretty accurately how far we could go and how long it would take. In Pennsylvania, I have no idea. The AAA maps that we're using are good for showing roads, but lousy at showing mountains. We have no clue what lays ahead and don't really have an accurate sense of distance. For the most part, we can guess within five miles how far something really is, but if the five miles that we are off are super mountaneous, then it can add an extra hour and a half to reach our destination. In a car, you don't need to worry about that, at the end of a long day on your bike, the final five, hilly miles can be an absolute bear.

So, with optomistic visions of reaching our old stomping grounds, Alex and I headed out in the rain. We were fortunate not to be hit with any downpours at first, just a steady mist that sufficiently satisfied my urge to get wet and muddy. In case you're wondering, I have a rain suit to keep me dry. I have a rain jacket and rain pants and the bag on my trailer is waterproof. For further protection of all my gear, I have my sleeping bag bag lined with a plastic shopping bag, and my tent is wrapped in a garbage bag. I store my computer in a tupperware container and keep it along with all of my other electronics in a white water rafting dry bag. Unless I fall off a bridge and get completely submerged, all of my gear is safe from the elements.

The one thing I don't have, which I did, is waterproof booties to put over my shoes to protect my feet from getting completely soaked. I had them on the first part of my trip, but for some unknown reason, I decided to send them home when I got to Denver. Fortunately, today is the first day, I had to really question my logic. Since Alex didn't have booties either, our MacGyver instincts took precedent over any style instincts that we had left. To keep our feet dry, we wrapped them in plastic shopping bags, tearing little holes in the bottom so that our shoes could clip into the pedals. I can assure you, we weren't the suavest pair of riders on the road, but our feet did remain reasonably dry.

The riding for the day was, as we've come to expect, pretty difficult. While we didn't have any major mountains to climb, the roads were very hilly. To make conditions even more difficult, we were faced with a stiff headwind the entire day. The wind made the hills seem even steeper and once we got to the top, prevented us from effortlessly cruising to the bottom. The whole day was a struggle. The periodic downpours and constant wind chilled us.

At four-thirty, we reached Mifflintown, 35 miles from Selinsgrove. We stopped for shelter at the local high school to eat some snacks, get out of the rain and figure out how much further we could go for the night. At our current pace and assuming the hills and wind would remain pretty much the same as what it had been, we figured we'd get into Selinsgrove around 8:00, thirty minutes after it would have gotten dark. Unfortunately, neither one of us thought we had any choice but to try and make it. There were no motels between here and there and when we got on our bikes to start riding again, it started to pour again.