update
40.
heat, headwinds and an evening with an exorcist
Cycling in America: biking through Missouri and
Kansas
26 July 2009
Total kilometers cycled: 58,635
Specific country info available here.
a woman who
walks with angels

After a grueling day of ups
and downs through the foothills of Missouri's Ozark Mountains, we
rolled up to a quiet farmhouse. A petite brunette with
sparkling eyes followed by a bouncy 5-year-old hurried out to
greet us. After introductions I motioned to the
Bread and Wine Ministries
signboard in front of the adjoining building, "So, this is your
church," I ventured. "Oh, yes, I'm the pastor and a trained
exorcist, too." Pastor Sharon gave us a warm smile,
Eric let out a little gasp of surprise and I managed a polite, "Is that
so?"
You never know whose house you'll end up at when you
couchsurf.
Traveling has helped us to become more open-minded. We didn't
bolt when we heard the word EXORCIST. If you're like most
people, disturbing images of demonic possession from movies like
Rosemary's Baby and
The Exorcist are
what pop into your mind when you hear the word
exorcist.
In fact, exorcists are surprisingly mainstream. The
Anglican church (the
official
church of England) has a trained exorcist assigned to each of its
diocese. Even the Catholic Church practices the ministry of
exorcism. In 1999 the Vatican went as far as
issuing guidelines for driving out demons.

But I can assure you that in the conservative
Methodist church in which I grew up, nobody talked about casting out
the devil and the freeing of possessed spirits. Eric and I
have spent time surrounded by saffron robed monks in Buddhist
communities, done yoga and participated in chanting while staying in
Hindu Ashrams and enjoyed unbelievable hospitality in Muslim Mosques.
Why not give the exorcist a chance? We may not
agree with everyone's religious views, but feel it's best to at least
hear someone out.
Sharon (the exorcist) shared her story with us. She talked of
seeing angels, of having a direct link to God, of being able to drive
out evil. She didn't strike me as an off-kilter quack.
I found her warm, energetic and immensely
interesting to chat with. Her son Hunter was celebrating his
third birthday and we were invited to take part in the festivities.
There were balloons, ice cream and cake and the usual shouts
of glee as gifts were unwrapped. Basically your average,
everyday all-American birthday party. Mom just happens to be
an exorcist.
riding across
america

The colorful cast of
characters we've encountered has made up for some lackluster landscapes
and dangerous road conditions as we ride across the central part of
America. Missouri was a never-ending succession of steep
hills and fast descents. On one particularly perilous stretch
of road, a Wal-Mart semi-truck attempting to pass a slow-moving farm
vehicle and me--an even slower moving cyclist-- almost came head on
with another 18-wheeler moving goods in the opposite direction.
Wanting to avoid being turned into road kill, I swerved onto
the gravel and slid into a ditch. Eric threw up his arms in
typical French fashion and went off on a harangue, "C'est pas
possible! Ils sont fous, ces Américains." He then
insisted that we hop on a truck in order to avoid being flattened like
one of the many turtles, dogs and cats whose remains we regularly see
splattered across the tarmac. I wasn't entirely in agreement (
What will people think?
Maybe another cyclist will see us. We're turning
into wimps.), but after a little coaxing gave in.
We stuck out our thumbs and waited. The cars and
trucks whizzed by without even a glance in our direction.
After spending 40 minutes under the baking sun, we gave up on
hitchhiking, tightened up our helmets and forged on. Some
things just aren't meant to be.
a morale
booster

Just when we thought our legs
were about to give out from the Ozark Hills torture treatment, we hit
Kansas. And headwinds. And to top it all off, heat.
The kind that comes in waves and makes the tarmac melt and
stick to your tires. We slogged on through tiny two-horse towns with
boarded up shops and tidy white-washed churches. We were in
the heart of the bible-belt, and as one local women put it, "If they're
atheists round here, they better keep themselves pretty well hid."
Not far from Wichita, we were scouting around for a place to
camp and met up with Bud and Marcella. They offered us a spot
on their farm to pitch our tent, then decided we should move into the
shed because a storm was brewing and after thinking it over a bit, came
to the conclusion that we'd sleep much better on the
queen-sized bed in their spare room. Before we knew it, Bud
was scrubbing potatoes, putting hamburgers on the grill and tossing up
a fresh garden salad and Marcella had a load of our smelly laundry in
the machine. An hour earlier, I'd been whining about the
roads, the wind and my swollen eyelid (something had stung
me)--even going so far as to fantasize about having a job in a cubicle.
I don't know if it's angels, or karma or some powerful
prayers, but it never ceases to amaze me how the right people come into
our lives just when we need them most.
it's all about
people
As we ride across the hot, barren country of
the Great Plains, it becomes ever more apparent to me how much the
people we meet have made this trip what it is. The friendly
woman out walking her dogs past the rodeo grounds in Abbyville
(population 128) who sees us camping and invites us over to her place
to take a shower. The tough old farmer who spots us bouncing
along a gravel road and pulls over in his pick up to ask if we're lost.
The volunteer fire fighters who regularly offer hospitality
to touring cyclists. The random individuals who honk and wave
and give us a smile and a thumbs up as they pass. And of
course all our hosts from couchsurfing and warm showers who go out of
their way to make our tour comfortable. We would have given
up long ago without the encouragement of those we have met on the road.
reaching the
rockies

We're almost halfway through our more than
6,000 kilometer ride across the USA.The snow-capped peaks of the
Rockies lie ahead. In a few days we'll leave the heat and
headwinds of the prairies behind and begin the long climb to crest the
Continental Divide at Hoosier Pass, elevation 11,542 feet (3,514
meters). Current weather conditions in that part of Colorado
are 55 degrees Fahrenheit (13 Celsius) and thunderstorms.
We'll be in for a big climate change. Time to pull
out the wool socks and rain gear.



check out more photos
from our trip
contact us at: worldbiking@gmail.com