Paris, Kentucky

 

The light was much dimmer in the forest when my alarm went off at 6:30 than it had been the day before when I set out from the motel in Central City at that early hour.  I was surprised the foliage could make that much of a difference. Fifteen minutes later when I glanced at my watch, I was taken aback when it read 5:45.  I had crossed into the Eastern time zone without being aware of it, though my iPad registered the time change.  I was too far along in my packing to go back to sleep for forty-five minutes and instead could be happy for an early, early start, giving me a better chance to get to Lexington and beyond. 

I arrived at the first library of the day in Bardstown just as it was opening.  There were several others awaiting, including a mother with two young children.  In the foyer was the usual display of notices of community interest on a shelf. The one with the largest, boldest type was titled Felon Expungement, something I’d never seen before.  The rest room door had a sign warning of camera surveillance in response to vandalism.  Fearing I may have ventured into a den of ne’er-do-wells, I went back outside and moved my bike by a window where I could keep an eye on it.  A nice older gentleman engaged me in conversation, taking the edge off my concerns. He recommended an alternate route to Lexington with less traffic.  After several minutes he wished me luck, and added, “I don’t envy you,” with the implication that he knew that maybe he should.

A few drops of rain and forecast of more for the next hour prolonged my stay at the library.  The day remained overcast and cool with intermittent drops though never enough to more than dampen my clothes.  The hilly terrain kept my average speed below eleven miles per hour, which I needed as a minimum to reach Lexington and get beyond it to find a place to camp, so I stopped ten miles outside the city when a vast unplanted pasture with a ring of trees around it presented itself.

It was a lucky oasis, as I was already in the Lexington sprawl.  I was relieved to be able to pass through Lexington early on a Sunday morning rather than in the bustle of Saturday evening traffic.  As I approached the big college town I came upon the first indication that I was in the state known for horse racing.  It was a sign for Man O’ War Boulevard leading to Blue Grass Airport.  

Man O’ War was considered the greatest horse in history until Secretariat came along, though ironically Man O’ War did not race the Kentucky Derby, as his trainer thought it was too long of a race for him.  He went on to win the Belmont and the Preakness, the rest of the Triple Crown, setting a record time for the Preakness.  He was so dominant, winning nineteen of twenty races, that the New York Times named him the athlete of the year in 1920 along with Babe Ruth.  

The high status of horse racing in Lexington was further evidenced when an intersection had benches at each of its corners named for a Derby winner—Secretariat, Seattle Slew, Citation and Alysheba.  College basketball is also regarded with religious fervor in Kentucky.  Every few blocks a sign indicated Rupp Arena, the basketball stadium named for the great coach, was ahead.

Just as in Lawrence in Kansas, home to another college basketball powerhouse that I passed through earlier in the trip, there was a strong element of homelessness here.  Older women were pushing around shopping cards loaded with all their earthly possessions.  Others were huddled by piles of their belongings.

Just a block off my route through the center of the city I passed its Carnegie, which I had seen in a previous visit to Lexington.  It had been the city’s main library from 1905 to 1989.  It is now the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning.  A plaque out front said its predecessor had been the first library west of the Allegheny Mountains in 1795.  The plaque named two people instrumental in the founding of the Carnegie,  a trustee on the library board who obtained the large $60,000 grant from Carnegie, and Mary K. Bullitt, the first librarian of the Carnegie.  It also acknowledged that nearby Transylvania University provided the land. 

The day before I passed another Carnegie that I had previously visited in Lawrenceburg in November of 2014 on a north to south crossing of the state on my way to the School of Americas vigil outside Fort Bennington in Georgia.  It continues to serve as a museum.

My previous rides though Kentucky hadn’t gotten me to Winchester, fifteen miles east of Lexington, where Kentucky Wesleyan College had a Carnegie.  The Methodist college was founded in 1858 and relocated to Owensboro in 1951.  The Carnegie is presently vacant sitting in a large park across the street from the main building of the college, still looking as gallant as ever.

I turned north from Winchester after coming over four hundred miles since crossing into Kentucky six days ago.  For the first time I saw horses.  Some of the farms offered tours and had signs saying what horses had been bred there.

My route took me through Paris in Bourbon County, the heart of horse breeding country.  A small park had a large mural of Secretariat.

It also boasted a Carnegie I had previously visited.  When I was last there it was in the midst of a large expansion to its side.

One final Kentucky Carnegie awaits me in Covington, on this side of the Ohio River across from Cincinnati.  Then it will be on to West Virginia and more coal mining along with three Carnegies.