This morning I was rudely awoken by all the birds in Houston singing as loudly as possible just outside my tent. The cacophony began at 5:45 and was still going when I clamored out of my tent at 7:30. While I managed to roll over and go back to sleep during this unrelenting onslaught, I was spent the morning in dazed Hitchcock inspired nightmare. If you think this description is extreme, you obviously have never spent a night outside in Houston, Missouri.
"You're number four!" yelled the sternly excited young man with his feet up behind the gas station counter. I looked at him in shock, replying "what, today!" "No, this year," he corrected me. It was quite an honour to be the fourth of the roughly 700 people who transverse this trail every year. His store was the only commercial establishment for thirty miles in either direction, so I considered him an authority on the matter.
The steep hills of the Okarks are slowly being replaced with increasingly large fields and vistas. I finished the day in the surprisingly friendly town of Fair Grove. After calling around I figured out I could camp at the Historical Society pavilion, and someone would be there shortly to unlock the bathroom and shower built primarily for cyclists passing through. Thereafter I ran into at two more people in town who offered to let me in. Such a friendly place!
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