Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. 199 miles.

"Sylvan idyll"? "Suburban dystopia?" Sorry, got a bit carried away there. I'll try writing in plain English from now on.

There are two major events in Gettysburg this weekend. One is a spectacular annual reenactment of the battle, which I'm ashamed to say I didn't visit because I have a translation deadline approaching. I'm accepting little bits of work here and there to while away the endless hours in motels, though I must say blogging and answering emails passes the time in a very agreeable fashion. So I've hardly set foot out of my room, but at least I've had my very first rest day since I started. I went out without my 40lb pack for the first time, and it felt really strange.

The other event is Bike Week, in which tens, if not hundreds of thousands of bikes converge on the town - that's bikes as in big growly Harley-Davidsons, not little tinkly Halfords Fifty Quid Specials like the one I ride at home. I love bikes of both varieties, but I had their rumbling constantly in my ears from dawn to dusk as I trudged down highway 30 yesterday, and by the end I was fed up with them.

It was a good day distance-wise - in fact my best so far, at 20 miles. That might not sound very much, but I spend half of each day oversleeping, getting lost, having rest breaks and adjusting the straps on my pack, so that's not bad going.