Chickahominy Riverfront Park to Yorktown

Miles Today: 28.80
Average Speed:

Total Miles: 3,787.09

Hi, guys. It’s been a while.

There’s a part of me that feels like sheepishly wandering back over here, tail between my legs, and apologizing for not making that final day’s entry until a full month later. But then the rest of me says, “Dude, you’ve been LIVING in that month. Stop apologizing all the time.”

So, no apologies. I’ll tell you in next blog entry what post-trip Abbi is up to, but for now, let me catch you up on the last day of the whole trip.

As you may recall (I forgive you if you don’t recall), I had trouble sleeping in the Riverfront Park, both because the thought of ending the trip the next day was pretty mind-boggling, and because the drunk Marines next door were boisterously giving renditions of Styx and Queen until a few hours too late for me to find it amusing.

Nevertheless, I woke up after falling asleep at some point, and it was light out. Lo and behold, it was also quite silent. Apparently, all of the Memorial Day Weekend Party Warriors And Princesses were late partiers, and late sleepers. Let them sleep, I thought, for a quiet campsite is a happy campsite.

And so we enjoyed the morning. I believe there was frozen cream cheese (thanks be to the effectiveness of dry ice!) and jam involved in breakfast, and I seem to remember toasting things over the camp stove. Coffee was served up cowboy style, which means the grits were included in the cup. As I chewed my coffee, I thought about how lucky I was to be camping with amazing people, to have a bicycle to ride away on, and to see the river birds. I also continued to think about how lucky I was that the Marines were asleep next door.

We took a last look at our setup, and I felt a little wistful. I could already sense the longing that comes with leaving a familiar thing, and this would likely be the last time I pitched that tent for a while, and the last time I packed up panniers for a while.

But clean up we must, and clean up we did. I think you can see the apprehension on my face. Evan looks overjoyed to be almost done. 🙂

John and Linda made sure to snap pictures of our departure, but I must’ve been in front of Evan.

We stopped pretty quickly after we started, because I spied two Snowy Egrets in the creek on the bike trail. Yes, we did have a bike trail again! What luck!

I guess that Snowy Egrets (which are also known as White Egrets, White Herons, and some other names) aren’t super common around here, so it was pretty exciting to see them. One had flapped away by the time I snapped the picture, which is why you don’t see it.

We la-dee-dah-ed on the bike trail for a good long time, enjoying our good fortune at having such a nice place to ride, and then the trail abruptly turned to the right, and our map directions became momentarily confusing. “Bear right, and turn left, all while standing atop your saddle and whistling Yankee Doodle. Optional: Use Snowy Egret feather for tri-cornered hat plumage.”

Umm, okay?

Once we had caught the Egret, plucked a feather apiece, and done a circus act (read: turned the wrong way, then gone back the proper way), we were spat onto the Colonial Parkway.

What’s that you say? That road looks funny?

That’s because it is a piece of crap. Wikipedia describes the Colonial Parkway, the road that would take us from near Colonial Jamestown through Colonial Williamsburg and to Colonial Yorktown for our Colonial Finish of our Colonial Trip, as made from (Colonial) “rounded “river gravel” set in a (Colonial) concrete-mix, providing an unusual (Colonial) earth tone color.”

In short, it’s a bumpy piece of Colonial Crap. Within the first fifteen minutes of riding on it, my knee had started to whine, and I had started to whine, and I’m pretty sure Evan was about to stab me with the Snowy Egret plume from his tri-cornered hat.

Luckily, there were myriad distractions, like these goslings.

Sorry, ladies, not Ryan.

Then there were these goats and llamas.

Then we saw Colonial Williamsburg, which seemed to me a giant tourist trap. We stopped for a cup of coffee and a cookie to calm my nerves and rest my knee, because we still had about 13 miles to go. After balking at the touristy Colonial Strip Mall, we got back on route and left that place, passing through the real Colonial Williamsburg. Here is a photograph of a building we saw as we quickly escaped the tourists.

Unfortunately, the surface of the road did not change one bit as we approached Yorktown and the ocean. I was pretty disappointed in myself for being such a big baby on the official Last Day of the Tour, but I think the lack of sleep combined with the rough surface of the road was a recipe for disaster.

My spirits were raised when I saw this sign, though.

Naturally, my only choice at that point was to prolong the trip by proposing a mandatory rest break. Or seven.

The day was pretty stinkin’ hot, so the rest breaks were, in a way, truly mandatory. We were sweaty and tired, and I was pretty emotionally fragile. Evan was a champ, as usual, and tried his best to comfort a total lunatic, and eventually we made our way closer to Colonial Yorktown.

Don’t get excited just yet, even though this appears to be a photo of the ocean. It’s not. It may be briny, but it’s in fact a big bay. The reason for the picture is the onions that were growing on the side of the road. Yorktown Onions are special because they only grow in York County, and you can’t pick them because they’re endangered. So there.

They’re pretty, and they’re purple, and HEY! We are in Yorktown!

At that point I could feel the trip doing something in my mind. My immediate thought was that the trip was unraveling, but I knew that wasn’t it. It was a strange feeling of recounting the days I had ridden, the faces I had seen, and the changes I undoubtedly experienced–physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

All this while trying to decipher the directions for Yorktown. If you thought the feathered cap and saddle-riding was crazy, let me tell you something. Yorktown had us riding through mobs of Memorial Day Weekend Warriors and Princesses, and they had slept in like champions and were now clogging the streets with their big pickup trucks and muscly arms and beautiful blonde wives. Yorktown contains a number of one-way streets, pedestrian-only streets, and streets that really aren’t wide enough for two cars to exist side by side. Somehow, though, we managed to wind our way across town, away from the ocean, and to the Victory Monument.

There on the sidewalk were John and Linda, waiting ever so patiently for us to roll up. They snapped a picture right as we got there, which I think turned out very well.

They had brought champagne for us to break over something, but once we realized that we were at a historic monument, and on bicycles instead of ships, everyone agreed that champagne would be best consumed later.

Then they pulled out more goodies! We got sashes with the Avenues logo on them (Rocki, Deb, Mike, everyone at Avenues, we SO represented at the finish line!), and a big banner! What a way to finish.

This is the Victory Monument. Darn straight we are victorious.

Obligatory picture of me…

We snapped many pictures, and did some little victory dances, and embarrassed ourselves thoroughly in front of a busload of tourists who were just there to see the monument. Then we went to a restaurant called The Carrot Tree, where we had an amazing lunch and escaped the hot sun for a while. Finally, we moseyed to the parking lot where John and Linda had parked, to figure out our next move.

And now the part of the story you probably knew was coming, the part in which a stranger helps us out.

In short, our hotel was NOT where we thought it was going to be (read: ten miles away. We are not riding ten miles unless someone is chasing us with an Egret plume.), and we found ourselves with two fully-loaded bikes, four people, and a Volvo which had John and Linda’s things in it. Hmmmmm…..

Against the wishes of everyone but myself, I began asking folks in pickup trucks if they had an extra half hour to spare in exchange for karma points to last them the rest of the month. It only took two tries before I found two nice guys who were at the Naval base in Yorktown, and had some time to kill, and an empty (save for a longboard) truck bed!

Seeing as it’s been a month, I’m super bummed because I cannot remember their names. However, I remember their faces, and I remember the wave of relief that washed over me when they, after listening to my plea incredulously and saying, “you did what? On a bicycle??“, finally said, “yeah, sure. We’re just waiting on some friends to call us back about the beach. Let me make space for you in the back seat.”

John and Linda followed close behind us, and within a half hour, we were safely to our hotel. Big ups, thanks, mad props, and accolades up the wazoo to these two young men.

The story ends pretty quietly in my mind after this. We found our hotel, checked in, had a nice dinner of chicken and salad (the hotel was one of those extended-stay places with kitchenettes, so we were able to cook and not eat out), swam in the pool a bit (Evan and I impressed all the hotel customers with our glaring white thighs and upper arms), and celebrated with some champagne.

The next morning would see the departure of John and Linda (back to Philadelphia), and the arrival of Evan’s cousin-in-law John, who was taking us to Raleigh for a few days to visit and fly home in a cheaper fashion.  We got to bed at a reasonable hour, and I guess I don’t have anything else to say about the day.

There is still a lot of disbelief in my mind when I look at a map and realize that I crossed the entire country by bicycle, with the exception of a truck ride up a big hill when I wasn’t feeling well, a ride through the rough neighborhood of East Saint Louis, and help from a fellow bicyclist when we got into a bind in Elizabethtown.

I have trouble wrapping my brain around the number of people I met, whose presence in their towns was a blessing. We’re talking hundreds of towns here. I have trouble comprehending the enormity of this journey, the amazing support that resulted in over $8,000.00 in donations to Avenues.

When I started, I thought I could raise maybe $500.00, and that would be awesome. When I hit $1,000.00 I was awe-struck at the generosity of people. Now, I’m just completely shocked, and amazed, and… you guys. This is such a great thing.

There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to gush about how much you all mean to me, how much this trip has meant to me, and how big of an impression it has left in my little brain.

So I guess I’ll close this entry accordingly.

 

Thanks. Wow. Holy crap. Kudos. Bravo. WE DID IT.

Mechanicsville to Chickahominy Riverfront Park

Miles Today: 53.50
Average Speed: 10.4mph

Total Miles: 3,758.29

It was another one of those mornings that began with an unexpected phrase.
“Abbi, wake up…Abbi…There is someone outside the tent.”
All of this whispered by a half-asleep Evan, and since I was the one wearing a shirt, I was elected to investigate. Mind you, the moment I popped my head out of the tent, any small traces of nervousness I may have had disappeared when I saw a well-kept white pickup truck from the 70s with a husband and wife enjoying their Sunday morning McDonald’s.


Brad is the landlord who owns the property, and Helen is his wife. It was an absolute pleasure to stand at Brad’s pickup window for the next half hour, barefoot as I was, and hear about his four gardens, the joy of traveling the world in search of things that grow, and the resulting efforts to grow those same things here.
It was fascinating to hear his strange accent, which he and his wife both tell me are from their Richmond upbringings, but whose vowels seem reminiscent of those heard in small fishing island towns.
And I cannot express to you the lifting of heart that I have experienced a few times on this journey, upon feeling that a person–or people, in this case–finds satisfaction in their life, continues to pursue their ultimate happiness despite obstacles.
Helen has found walking harder and harder as time goes on, but she still accompanies her husband on his trips to the gardens and orchards, reading in the pickup truck with a big, floppy hat to shade her from the sun that creeps over the side of the building until it’s bright and solid and hot.
Brad continues to tend to his four gardens, though his helper is no longer able to prune or weed or dig. Helen told me that he’s got too much garden for one person to take care of, but in her voice I could hear that she supports him regardless, that she knows this is a big part of his lifeblood. I think that a big part of hers is to be there for her husband, however she can.
As we got ready that morning, I couldn’t help trying to suss out the elements of their relationship that I admire so much. It has been on my mind often since meeting them, and I find their faces popping into my head during funny times of the day.
Have you ever met someone who affects you, and you’re not sure why? I have, and it entertains my brain to try and figure it out.

While packing up, and after we packed up, we chatted with Brad and Helen. At one point, Evan and Brad were talking trucks and the economy while Helen and I were talking about whatever it is ladies talk about (honestly, I was still trying to figure out that accent, and was asking about where they were from).

I’ll say it once more, before I continue on with our day: meeting Brad and Helen was fantastic. I could have stayed in that morning for a whole day.
But alas, we had world to see that day. Or goal was to escape the sprawl of Richmond (look at a map sometime, and you’ll see that we had a fair bit of sprawl to escape) and get to the great wild Chickahominy River.
We had to ride through some developed areas before getting out of Mechanicsville, but as soon as we did, we got right back into the farmland that has dominated much of this country.


We have been finding that the Nescafé Taster’s Choice instant coffee we make on the stove does not cut it when it comes to morning caffeine, so we made a beeline for the first gas station we saw to get some real caffeine.
When we pulled up, Evan said, “what is THAT?” and pointed to a winged creature resting on the brick wall.


I can’t remember the last time I saw a Luna moth in real life, and they’re really beautiful. We looked at it for a while, and then the air conditioning’s siren song became too much, so we went inside.
It was a beautiful and sunny day, but when the sun is out in a humid place, most bikers sweat and whine. So there we were, sweating and whining, when we saw signs for the Glendale National Cemetery.
I had read about this cemetery on another blog, about its eerily beautiful concentric circles of headstones marking both unknown civil war soldiers and soldiers of other wars who have chosen to be buried there. I wanted to know more, and it looked as though the visitor’s center was open, so we made a stop there to check it out.
Inside, we found two very helpful rangers (I think they were rangers…), one working on her Masters in History, and another pursuing an undergraduate degree. They were more than helpful in informing us about the history of the cemetery, and the visitor center was full of information about the various battles that took place in that area, and about the mass burial of soldiers that eventually were given a more beautiful resting place with the organization of this memorial space.


After talking with the rangers and wandering the grounds for a while, we realized we needed to keep going. This day of riding brought us to within 30 miles of Yorktown, where the tour finishes, and Evan’s parents were driving down from Philadelphia to camp with us for the night, and see us finish the tour the next day!
We kept riding, knowing that we would see John and Linda soon, but our need for shade breaks didn’t grow smaller as the afternoon wore on. It was still hot, so we pulled off often to cool ourselves. I was surprised to look behind me during one of our breaks and see a big wall of bamboo!


I don’t believe I’ve seen that much bamboo in person since high school when I went to China, if ever.
A few miles later, we reached the Capital Trail, which is an under-construction bike trail that should span about 50 miles when finished, if I remember correctly.


For the time being, we only got to ride on it for about 11 miles, but 11 miles off of the roads is a blessing nonetheless! With no cars to contend with, we were able to ride side by side and chat, all while admiring the ever-changing scenery.


I enjoyed my first-ever sighting of a ‘slippery when wet’ sign specifically for cyclists, which depicts a bicycle slipping around in wavy lines. Goofy, because I know that’s not what a bicycle would do if it hit a slippery, wet patch.


Eventually, our traffic-less joy ride ended, and we had to brave the shoulder-less, traffic-ful road once again. Evan began displaying signs of unskilled biking in order to gain us a little berth. Drivers are more likely to move over if they perceive cyclists to be mere moments from veering into traffic! (a brief note: at no time did Evan nor myself ever lose control of our bicycles. Instead, we simply weaved ever so slightly, giving the impression that we were perhaps uneasy on our bikes. We weren’t.)
We stopped at a gas station, which turned out to be a good choice, because there were no others between this one and the campground. They had no chocolate milk, but instead chocolate “milkshakes”, which seemed only to be chocolate milk with added thickening agent. It would have to do.
Outside the store, we met Tom and Linda, a really nice couple who lived in the area. They were excited about the end of our trip, and had encouraging words for us. It boosted our spirits, and gave us a good mindset for the rest of the day’s ride.

We left the parking lot of the gas station and got back on highway 5, the only way to get across the river to Williamsburg. It had the traffic to prove it was a main thoroughfare, and we found ourselves wishing to be back on the bike trail.
As luck would have it, Evan looked off to his left and shouted, “bike trail!”–a sight for sore eyes, the bike trail which had ended early according to our maps was now starting early according to our maps. We did not voice any complaints, and crossed the road.


The fabulous part about the trail showing up where it did was that we had our very own lane to cross the big river on! The Chickahominy River opens into the James River just south of the highway, so it was pretty wide at this point, we were thankful not to climb a quarter-mile-long bridge in traffic.


We even had the freedom to take a bike picture!


When we finally found the park on the other side of the bridge, we were excited to see Evan’s dad, John, waiting at a fence near the check-in building. After a bit of wandering and trying to find the campsite, where Evan’s mom waited patiently, we finally saw the family Volvo and a smiling Linda. Apparently, the campground was bigger than any of us had anticipated, but we were glad to be tucked back near the river.
Once we got our bikes parked, we took the obligatory pictures that come with a reunion of this caliber.

Yes, that last picture is an obligatory reunion picture. You see, accompanying Evan’s milkshake was a can of Birch Beer, which is native to Pennsylvania, Evan’s home state.
The rest of the evening demonstrated to us just how large this campground was, as we wandered great distances to find restrooms and water. There were hundreds of families at this place, and RVs with screen porches, cars with music blaring, and food, food, and more food surrounded us. It is interesting to be a cycling tourist with only what can be carried on a bike, among car camping types who can bring every conceivable convenience in the back of the suburban, and if it doesn’t fit there, it’ll certainly stuff in the back of a friend’s escalade…
We found the bathrooms at an ideal time, and I was able to get a shower without waiting for anybody. The water was hot, and after a hot day of riding, it felt great.
We cooked hot dogs on sticks over a fire, baked beans on the stove, and Linda had packed a wonderful salad. After dinner, we were delighted when they pulled a pint of Ben & Jerry’s out of the cooler! What luxury!
It was so nice to see John and Linda, and not just for the goodies they brought. They are wonderful people with a wonderful calm air about them, and it is a pleasure to get to spend more time with them!
Once we had gotten the dishes washed up, Evan and I went for a walk to chat with a woman I had met upon leaving the shower building. Kim and her husband Mike live in Saint Louis, and they were excited to get to spend the Memorial Day weekend in Virginia, as Mike’s daughter lives in Maryland with her mom. From left to right, Kim, Mike, Allison, Erin and Emma.


They invited us to stay and make s’mores, but we had our own family reunion to continue. I’m glad we wandered over to meet these awesome people.
I can’t say that we heard the noises of the big river as we fell asleep, and I can’t say it was a quiet evening. The campground was booked solid through the weekend, and Evan had to go to the next campsite over to ask them to please stop singing along to Bohemian Rhapsody because it’s 10:30pm and we have to finish crossing the country by bicycle in the morning so we need sleep…
Oh, well. A major campground at the juncture of two rivers isn’t a quiet place on memorial day weekend, and that’s just the way it is. John and Linda seemed to have gotten to sleep pretty quickly, but I found myself unable to ignore the Styx, Gotye, Beastie Boys, and Queen thumping from the next site over. I guess their definition of “turning it down” was a loose interpretation of my own. At almost midnight, I finally was able to talk the two Marines, Jim and Chris, into shutting up. This process may or may not have involved dropping their childrens’ names into the conversation, stating my love for good music during the daytime hours, and making them shake hands on their commitment and promise not to turn the music back on again.
Here is a picture of the spider we saw, so that we don’t have to talk (or read) about party animals anymore.


I think that if the merrymaking hadn’t been going on, I still wouldn’t have been able to sleep. The realization that the trip would soon be over, kaput, done, and not just on hold was by no means staggering, but it had been creeping at me slowly over the last few days.
In the morning, Evan and I were to bike another thirty miles, and then we would be done. Not for the day, but for the trip. Talk about something to stay awake over… I thought about what it would be like to see the ocean, to see Evan’s parents waiting at the end point, to get off of the touring bike and not have to get back on in the morning.
Man, oh man. It’s a wonder I fell asleep at all.

Mineral to Mechanicsville

Miles Today: 63.22
Average Speed: 11.7mph

Total Miles: 3,704.79

The morning brought us sun again and, as always, a dewy tent. We had decided on a quick breakfast, and walked to the gas station for coffee while waiting for the sun to burn off some dew from the tent.
When we got back, a baptist church was setting up for a revival! We enjoyed the music being pumped from the speakers–some good ol’ gospel.

Leaving Mineral, we enjoyed the rolling hills, and kept our fingers crossed that the tree-lined road would stay shady. It was already getting pretty warm and by 10am, we were sweaty and hot.
Stopping for an icy cold drink, we realized that we were close to Lake Anna when a man came into the store asking for directions. We rode past a church group offering to wash our bikes and sell us muffins. We had no cash, and our dirty bikes were beyond the cleaning prowess of a church group.
The lake had little fingers that went under the road, so we got to see it a few times.


We passed through the town of Bumpass, and Evan and I enjoyed the obligatory giggles. Then, more open road.


We got really excited to see a double bike route sign–after turning onto a new highway, we found that we were on Atlantic Coast Route, alternatively known as US Bike Route 1. Cool!


It was a gorgeous day–tons of white, fluffy clouds, and the heat didn’t slam us as hard as we thought it would in midday.


We passed through Ashland, home of another old-wealth college, and rode on one side of the railroad, while oncoming traffic drove on the other.


Then, we saw our favorite treat: a giant bike lane! It was almost as though they had given up an entire lane of traffic just for us.


Eventually, the bike lane disappeared, but we did retain some shoulder to ride on, relatively free of sand.


We had called ahead to a bike shop because, not knowing where to sleep, we figured they might help us. The owner, Mark, informed us that there was a grassy patch out back, and we were welcome to camp there. The shop closed at 4, and as we got closer and closer to that time, and closer and closer to the big city of Richmond, both our ride and the roads got more hectic.
We found ourselves stressing when we realized that the bike shop was on the other side of a fairly large town, and called the bike shop to see if they might wait two minutes after closing so we could meet them and thank them.
As we booked it across town, two boys on mountain bikes appeared on the street behind us. We crossed a busy road together, at which point they asked where we were headed. Once we told them, they said, “Follow us! We know a safer and quicker way.”


Our heroes for the afternoon. Thanks, Mitch and Josh!
We pulled up at about 4:02, to find a locked door. Mitch and Josh headed off to Dairy Queen, where they were originally intending to go, and we knocked on the door, peeked in the window, and called the shop.
Then we saw someone walking to the door! Randy was still inside!


I was able to get a sticker from the shop to stick on my bike frame, and Randy showed us to the back of the shop, where a small orchard and a big garden awaited us! There was a hose for water, a dumpster, grass, and as far as we could tell, no floodlights to illuminate our tent at night.
We ended up pitching our tent under two apple trees, excited to have our own little fairy forest.


Randy informed us that the landlord probably wouldn’t mind if we had a few carrots or peas from the garden, so I tried a (very sour) apple, a yellow carrot, an orange carrot, and some sugar snap peas. Amazing! What a lucky day.

Charlottesville to Mineral

Miles Today: 53.67
Average Speed: 9.5mph

Total Miles: 3,641.57

The morning began in nearly the same place the day ended–after we had some breakfast with Stephen and said our goodbyes, we headed to the Mudhouse coffee shop on the pedestrian mall, hoping their coffee would be cheaper than their chocolate milk.
Fortunately, it was, and we were able to enjoy a wonderful cheddar-chive scone, to boot. We left Charlottestown at a leisurely pace. With the knowledge that we were done with the Appalachians, nothing seemed too daunting. It was pleasant riding out, with a good clearance for bikes and friendly cars… Until we actually got out of the city.

The shoulder disappeared, and the road started to twist and turn. We were approaching Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home, and traffic was pretty heavy for a small, winding road. We had decided the day before not to visit Monticello, after finding out that a ticket to see the manicured lawns, perfect gardens, and elegantly restored home of our third president would cost us $24 apiece. I’ve seen plenty of old buildings, awesome gardens, and enough lawns to feed all the cows of America–for free.
Just after we passed Monticello, we saw an orchard to the right. A crew was out working on the trees, and we waved hello.

My favorite find of the morning was this snail, who was seen crawling across the gravel during a shade break. His shell was probably the size of a gumball and his little antennae were so fascinating.
As we rode, I pondered the physical properties of snails and slugs. Does anybody have any idea how they project those antennae? Are there tiny muscles in their heads?
This question baffled me until Evan shouted, “check out those trees!” and pointed to the right.

The trees were wispy and colorful, and yet again we were awed by the stuff that just grows here. Those trees seem like the kind of thing that would take a whole lot of effort to grow in most places.
Soon we passed a road called “Wyoming View Place” or something similar, and I wondered if this is what all Virginians think Wyoming looks like.

I certainly don’t think that this landscape reminds me of Wyoming. When I think of Wyoming, I think of beautiful sunsets, and mountains, and lovely things, not dying trees and sand.
As we rode on, the road straightened out a bit, and we were flying along. It feels so nice to have our speed back!
Under a tree, we found Choi Sung Gyoo, a Korean medicine doctor who has set out to cross the country by bicycle.


We had a great chat. Since we are ever approaching the east coast, we are appearing earlier and earlier in people’s journeys, and we were actually the first cyclists he’s seen! It has got to be a big relief to see cyclists after riding for a few days, wondering if you’re doing it right.
After a little sleuthing, we discovered that Choi Sung Gyoo has a ton of videos up on YouTube. We don’t speak any Korean, but if you’re interested in watching, you can visit his web page at Choi Sung Gyoo.
After we continued on, the shady areas became scarce, and the landscape slowly transformed into one dominated by fields. The temperature was rising, and we hadn’t seen a good town in a while.
Since we knew the towns would be sparse today, we ended up stopping in at a post office (the only building we could find at an intersection), where the clerk was very kind and filled our bottles for us. With the heat of the afternoon sun, she saved the day by helping us battle dehydration.
Out of nowhere, about five miles down the road, a bike lane appeared on the road. We were excited to see the little biking man painted on the pavement, until we looked at the cruel joke being played on us.


A bike lane is only a good thing when it’s clear of debris and sand, and this beach of a bike lane was not going to be graced by the rubber of our tires until it cleaned up its act.
The bike lane left just as suddenly as it had come, and we continued to ride in the road, since the shoulder was still covered in sand. Then we saw a sign for the tiny town of Kent’s Store. I liked this, because Kent is my pastor at Excelsior United Methodist Church, and the idea of him having a store in the middle of Virginia is amusing.


The thing we saw the most of this day was lawn-mowing. Apparently, Friday is lawn mowing day in these parts, and we were serenaded by tractors and mowers and weed whips (oh, my!) all day.


Evan is probably getting tired of it, but I inevitably sing the line “for amber waves of grain…” at least once a day.


It’s always followed by “but where are the purple mountains?”–I guess I saw those on the other side of the country.
The next giggle of the day was brought to us by Goochland County–if you ever watched Diff’rent Strokes on tv, you might remember the Gooch, the bully who didn’t ever come on screen, but was a presence in Arnold’s life for a while. Gooch is also the name of my good friend Jenny’s dog, and a funny word to say.


Then we saw Beer Can Alley, and forgot all about the Gooch, doubling over in laughter yet again.


Okay, we didn’t actually double over in laughter, since we were on bikes. But man, there are some great names out here.

We had a bit more riding to do, and were anticipating getting to Mineral for the evening, since the fire station awaited us, and Evan’s friend Tim was driving all the way from Washington DC to visit! We stopped briefly at a gas station for chocolate milk, and then pedaled the last three or four miles into Mineral.


As promised, the fire station was there at the end of town, with its gleaming trucks and smiling firepeople.


And then we rounded the corner and saw Tim!


Tim left his little baby Will, and his partner Jen, and drove all the way from DC in memorial day weekend traffic (that’s on top of the normal DC traffic, which I’ve heard is horrendous) to have dinner in the tiny town of Mineral with us.
It turned out to be a nice break from the monotony of home for him, and it was really nice for us to see a familiar face. The dinner wasn’t half-bad, either.


It was great to hang out with Tim, who has been following the blog pretty devotedly–Evan would try and tell him a story, and he was able to finish half of the stories because he had “seen it on the blog”. We laughed because the only time he would logically have to look at the blog would be at work, where he’s blocked from visiting most websites. I guess my blog flew under the radar!
We were so incredibly grateful to have a friendly, familiar face in an unfamiliar place. I had met Tim at Christmas, when we visited the east coast for a week, so it was nice to get to know him a little better.
He left after dinner, deciding it best not to camp out and drive in the morning, and we ended up spending a good portion of the evening after that chatting with Steve and Carlos, who had showed up in Mineral while we were at dinner! Their original group of four had dwindled–Matt had only planned to do part of the loop, and had gone home after that, and David had to leave early due to an issue with his bike. We were sad to hear that David couldn’t stay on, but of all people, I know that it’s not a good idea to carry on when things aren’t right.
Steve and Carlos were on their last night of camping, and the next day would see them riding back to Richmond to complete their loop. After some story-swapping and discussion, we all realized that we were wiped out, and headed to our tents for the night.
The firehouse yard was relatively quiet, and we fell asleep pretty quickly, the joy of seeing old and new friends fresh in our minds.

Vesuvius to Charlottesville

Miles Today: 60.76
Average Speed: 8.5mph

Total Miles: 3,587.9

We woke up to a soggy tent, per usual, but the sun was shining so we decided to let it all sunbathe while we had breakfast.

Walking into Gertie’s, we were pleasantly surprised to see the actual Gertie herself. A wonderful woman who did a stint in Philadelphia, she and Evan had a good chat about Philly life, and Evan got scrapple (an Amish food traditional to Pennsylvania) out of it. Gertie even remembered Jesse (he and I stayed in touch after meeting in Eureka, NV last fall), a Jenkintown, PA native, who passed through her store last fall on his bike trip.
Once we were finally packed up, we rolled around from behind the shop to find cyclists pulling in.

Steve, Matt, David and Carlos are out on a week-long loop beginning and ending in Richmond, VA. They were the cyclists we had passed at the campground outside Vesuvius the night before, and they informed us that we were better off having taken the camping behind Gertie’s, as a dog had kept them up all night, and it didn’t end up being a very pleasant place at all.
We told them that we were about to head up toward the Blue Ridge Parkway, and they informed us that our route had “an average grade of 7%” and wished us luck. 7%? I don’t need luck for that!
Well, it turns out we needed all of the well-wishing we could get, because you can get an average of 7% by combining stretches of 22% with stretches of 4%. We were none the wiser at that point, and the four of them were about to attempt an alternate route, so everybody was excited–them for breakfast and adventure, and us for a constant 7% grade. They snapped our picture, and off we went.


Leaving Vesuvius, we enjoyed a flat ride through the tree-shaded town.


I had a nice look straight down the railroad, which has always fascinated me.


Then we received an omen. A sign, just before we turned onto the road that would take us up to the parkway, a sign. “Baah Humbug”.


Soon we were taken upward, but no 7% grade awaited us. Instead, we spent the next two hours attempting to be optimistic while cranking our guts out on steep grades. Luckily, there were things to distract and entertain us, like the fog in the mountains.


We entered the George Washington national forest, which was proving to be quite lovely despite its steepness.


Then I slammed on the brakes for this lizard, which apparently caught Evan by surprise. Luckily, he stopped in time to not run into me.

Anybody have an idea what kind of lizard this is? It was bright red with light spots, and seemed very lethargic. I touched it, and it didn’t want to move more than an inch at a time.
We could tell we were getting closer to the top of our climb as more ridges came into sight that were almost the same height as where we were.


After almost two hours of very hard work, we finally made it!


It was an exciting moment, to be on top of the Appalachians. The Blue Ridge Parkway is 469 miles long and runs along the ‘backbone’ of the Appalachian mountains. This means that we had views on both sides of the road at times!

Also exciting was the fact that no commercial vehicles are allowed on the parkway, which means no hurried FedEx drivers, no big box trucks, and no semis.

All morning, we had beautiful scenery, and the photo ops abounded.


The Parkway was also dotted with historical markers and information, like this fascinating tidbit about telling time without a watch.


Because we were on top of the mountain range, we went up and down peaks, in and out of gaps. We passed an exit for the town of Love, and then went into Love Gap. Lovely.


When we dropped into another gap, Reed’s Gap, we decided to stop for lunch. A group of people was standing nearby with packs and pick axes, receiving what we assumed to be a lesson in trailblazing. Behind them, a storm appeared to be brewing above a mountaintop.


We rode on, keeping an eye on the clouds, and watching the fog start to drop in.


There is no photographic documentation of the next hour, because within that time frame, we were completely dumped on. The rain poured down, and we got soaked. Since my camera is also my phone, I decided it best to keep it dry.
After the rain finally subsided, we were completely enveloped in fog.


We were a bit nervous as we reached the descent at the other end of our 27 miles on the Parkway, because we weren’t in our raincoats when the rain came, and our wind-resistant jackets were, as a result, soaked.
Fortunately, we soon found out that our jackets were wind-resistant, even when wet. That’s what I call technology!
Soon, the fog lifted a bit, and we had our spectacular views back.


Unfortunately, we blasted through the tiny town of Afton, home to the Cookie Lady and her TransAm memorabilia museum–an institution in the world of the cross-country cyclist. The town was on a downhill, we were quite wet, and we were cutting it pretty close in terms of timing for the day.
A bit further down the road, the sun had come back and we were getting sweaty. It’s amazing to see the weather changes that can occur in a day near the mountains. We saw an orchard, and then got excited when we saw they had a shop!


The orchard had strawberries, peaches, and apples, pies and jellies, doughnuts and cider, but the jellies were pricy, the peaches were hard, and strawberries are quick to get smooshed, so we settled for some strawberry cider doughnuts, peach cider, and some apples. A delicious snack, and a much-needed shade break.
We enjoyed an afternoon of rolling hills, and breathed repeated sighs of relief at finally being east of the Appalachians.


And as we started to get weary, we finally saw the signs for Charlottesville.

Our Warmshowers host for the night, Stephen, was out on an errand and wouldn’t be back for a bit, so we settled in at the Mudhouse, a coffee shop on the pedestrian mall, and enjoyed $9.00 worth of chocolate milk.


In case you were unable to do the math on that price and the two pint glasses of chocolate milk, that’s just over $4.00 for 16 ounces of milk, plus a tip for the barista who poured it from the jug.
We were a bit taken aback, but it was pretty good. Oh, well. We get enough cheap chocolate milk… Gotta splurge sometimes, right?
We made our way to Stephen’s house, where we were greeted by the downstairs neighbors. They became our saving grace for the day–we were staring incredulously at the super-steep 20 concrete steps separating us from the front porch of the house–when they informed us that the alley would take us to a back door with any stairs.
Around the back we went, and then we met Stephen, who showed us a shed where we could put our bikes, and then brought us upstairs, where we showered, chatted, and relaxed. I even got Stephen’s very timid dog, Bean, to sit still for a petting session!


This was a wonderful end to our day, and we are so excited to be east of the mountains–it’s all flat to rolling from here!

Troutville to Vesuvius

Miles Today: 62.51
Average Speed: 9.3mph

Total Miles: 3,527.14

I had briefly mentioned Indy and Mission, our camping buddies in Troutsville, in my last post. Waking up this morning to see them still atop the picnic tables, snuggled safely in their sleeping bags and not in heaps on the cement floor, was quite a treat.

We tiptoed around so as not to wake them, but after the trains started sounding their horns after 7am, it was difficult to stay asleep for even the most weary hiker. And so arose Indy and Mission, looking fresh like daisies.

We had some breakfast, but knew there was a bit of riding and a few tough climbs to tackle, so we tried to get on the road as soon as we could.
Not an hour into our ride, though, we found ourselves with full bladders and no good place to stop. The types of places that are good places to stop include public restrooms, like those in gas stations and libraries, and the woods, where there are no houses in sight. Unfortunately, we were far from any town, and close to many driveways. Then we spied this gem hiding on a church porch!


Anybody reading this can breathe a sigh of relief with me, because I know we’ve all had to hold it before! And honestly, though it seems odd, this little church port-a-potty was the highlight of my morning.
Other highlights include riding near the train! I always enjoy looking at the cars as they go past, and thinking about what might be inside.


We also saw the old depot, which looks like it had seen better days, but I find this kind of stuff fascinating. Imagine what this station looked like a hundred years ago!


We had a nice, overcast day for riding. It hasn’t been sunny lately, but as long as it isn’t raining, we are happy as clams in mud. The weather appeared to be staying in the mountains, so we kept an eye on it and rode happily.


I slammed on the brakes for a turtle in the road, and enjoyed his hinged shell, which allowed him (in hindsight, I realize he was probably a she, en route to lay eggs) to close up shop entirely when scared.
Evan pointed out that another turtle was on the side of the road, so I set them down together to hang out and discuss what had just happened to them.


Then we rode until we reached Lexington!


As we rode through the wealthy neighborhoods, we saw countless huge houses with well-manicured lawns and lovely gardens. Brick and ivy seem to dominate in old-wealth neighborhoods like this one.
Somebody had the good sense to name their estate after me, too.


We stopped in the bike shop in town, and had a nice chat with the owner, who’s been there for some 37 years. He seemed not terribly interested in making money, but moreso keen on enjoying his space.
After that, we rolled down to a coffee shop for an afternoon drink, and met the nice barista, whose name I can’t remember. It was great to sit in a little coffee shop, because they only seem to exist in slightly larger college towns like Berea, Blacksburg, and now Lexington.
We got back on the road with some miles yet to ride, and saw many enjoyable things, including cicadas,

goats,

and weather that was not falling on us.


We stopped for a little break at a pull-off, and discovered that it was the local dumpster collection. The dumpsters looked nice in the afternoon light.


Then Evan pointed out that someone had left flats of tomato plants beside the dumpsters. I hope that somebody comes and gives them a home!


The road toward Vesuvius was pretty flat, and we saw some cyclists in a campground about fifteen miles out of town, but we had places to go and so continued on. Then Evan said, “is that a pig?”


We stopped to make noises at it, until it started coming toward us. I’ve seen pigs in action, and they’re mighty heavy, and can be ornery. Best observed from afar.
There was a slight incline coming into town, but we hardly noticed because it was so evenly graded. What a pleasant evening ride. A few miles later, we were in Vesuvius!


I really expected it to be a bit more impressive.
We rolled into our camping spot for the night, Gertie’s. I was excited because the youth pastor at Excelsior United Methodist, where I’m a member, has a little cutie pie daughter named Gertie.


We had a nice dinner of barbecue sandwiches, some amazing chocolate milk, and then we got all set up for the night. The lawn was a bit squishy in places, but we found the most dry spot we could, and pitched the tent. Unfortunately, the ground was too squishy for a bike to stand upon.


The creek here was a bit too tiny to hear as we fell asleep, but Vesuvius is a sleepy little town, so we had a very quiet night.

Blacksburg to Troutville

Miles Today: 43.10
Average Speed: 9.6mph

Total Miles: 3,464.63

We woke up after our day off full of energy, and excited to meet up with Mason for coffee. First, though, we said good morning to Lena.

Then we walked upstairs and found Kristin behind a dresser that she had pushed into the hallway and then gotten stuck behind. So we rescued Kristin, who is moving to Illinois in a couple of weeks, said our goodbyes, and headed into town for coffee.
Mason and one of the riders, Cassie, showed up and we had a nice morning story-trade, wandered to the hardware store for stove fuel (no more gasoline!), and left town. Goodbye, Blacksburg, you were so good to us.
More glorious countryside today, and no rain all morning!


We met Stan and Danielle, riders from the Netherlands who are, like everyone else, headed the other direction.


After chatting with them about Warmshowers and trying to sell them on a visit to Blacksburg, we kept riding. The clouds were beginning to look a bit ominous, but it hadn’t started raining yet, so we pushed on.


Then, a few miles out of Catawba, the clouds opened up, and we were suddenly stuck in a massive downpour with lightning straight overhead.
We huddled in a little ditch, far enough away from our bikes so as not to be struck by lightning, and hoped it would pass.
At one point, a car that had driven past came back the other way, and a man opened up his window and offered an umbrella. Unsure what we would do once finished with the umbrella, how we would return it, and already completely soaked, we declined but asked how far it was to Catawba.
It was a mile, and there was a gas station with an awning!
We took refuge there once we could get to it, avoiding certain death with great skill…. And then we hung out and drank coffee and ate free cheeseburgers. Thanks to the gas station lady, who was closing in an hour and let us have cheeseburgers!

The rain passed, and left us with damp belongings and a thick fog in the air.
It was pleasantly warm, though, and the views were amazing.


We rode on a ridge, across a gap from the Appalachian Trail hikers who were on the other ridge. I wondered if anybody from Trail Days in Damascus had made it there yet, and whether they were staying dry.


I will sum up the rest of our ride by saying that it was quite loud, because it’s Cicada season.

They will hit you in the chest as you ride, they will land on your shirt, they will scare you as they buzz by, and if you stop, you’ll be covered in them.
We stopped for a rest and ended up leaving with our ears ringing.
I can’t remember much of the rest of the afternoon, other than the part where I was freaking out about cicadas on me. That probably sums up the rest of the afternoon, now that I think about it.
Anyway, Troutsville!


We went straight to the Town Hall, because our maps listed the city park as a camping place. We were greeted by Mary, the town clerk, and Cheyenne, who were running the desk that afternoon. They told us about showers and laundry at the fire house, gave us a map of town and the number of the park director, and sent us across the street to sign the grocery store’s visitor register.
After our chocolate milk, we headed to the park, where a nice pavilion waited for us.


There were hikers inside, too! Indy and Mission are hiking the Appalachian Trail this year, and had stories and food to offer us. We enjoyed some sugary cereal, which I haven’t had in quite a while, and then we did laundry and set up camp in the pavilion. It was good to be under a pavilion because, for the zillionth day in a row, rain was forecasted for the evening.
And so, with evening setting in, we settled into the pavilion, Indy and Mission put their sleeping pads on the picnic tables to camp, and we enjoyed the sounds of crickets and trains and children playing in the park.
Troutsville is a pleasant little town, and I’m glad we decided to stop here.

Wytheville to Blacksburg

Miles Today: 54.89
Average Speed: 9.5mph

Total Miles: 3421.53

I didn’t think I’d start my morning with the phrase, “there’s an earwig in your pannier,” but this morning began with just that. Normally, I don’t take my panniers off the bike, but when approximately 23 earwigs decided to warm up in a sun-warmed, cozy place for the night, then scurry about when I so rudely disturbed them in the morning… There was cause for pannier removal.

And pannier shaking, pannier beating, pannier throwing, dumping, and The Cursing Of The Earwigs.
Then we got on with our days, I reassembled both my composure and my bike setup, and off we went to the bathroom pavilion for some toothbrushing.


And stink bugs. I accidentally washed this guy down the drain. Really, though, it was an accident. I didn’t expect the water to come so forcibly from the tap, and he didn’t scurry away like I thought he would, so down he went. I feared his stink, and thusly couldn’t bring myself to rescue him.
Once we discovered one more earwig in my fanny pack and zipped him up securely inside for the ride, we left Wytheville by crossing over and under two freeways and passing the Gatorade factory. The landscape was pretty, and we could see mountains in the distance.


It’s interesting to think about the differences between the lush, green, round Appalachians and the pointy, tall, and rocky… Rockies. I guess that’s why they’re called what they are!
We really liked seeing the route sign that had both a goatee and an Afro. There have been many signs in Kentucky and Virginia that, surrounded by so much thriving greenery, have no choice but to be overcome by leaves and vines that grow right up through their posts.


About halfway through our day, after passing three cyclists, none of whom stopped to say hello, we witnessed the pulling over of three other cyclists.


Abi, Thomas, and Michael are riding together as the result of an Adventure Cycling “companions wanted” ad! Thomas and Michael will be riding toward Oregon on the full TransAm route, and Abby will be continuing on toward San Francisco, the same way I came. We were pretty excited to find out that Thomas works in a bike shop in the town we were headed for, Blacksburg, called East Coasters.
We talked for a while, and as we have been doing with every cyclist headed toward Salida on the Western Express, we told Abby that she’d be more than welcome to stay at our house once she gets there. We sent them on their way, and marveled at Abby’s Vans tennis shoes, and the fact that they were riding with a little radio playing.
Not even five miles later, we saw another cyclist!


Hayden is 18, and he has made his way from Virginia Beach, VA, using only his wits, intuition, and something other than an Adventure Cycling map. A soon-to-be sophomore at JMU in Virginia, he is riding to raise funds for a rare cancer that attacks involuntary muscle groups (think eating and breathing organs) called Leiomyosarcoma.
We felt pretty stinkin’ proud of this guy, who is, in the best sense of the phrase, ‘winging it’. We were able to give him some advice on hydration and electrolytes, camping, receiving packages while on the road, and even how to find hosts on Warmshowers! We got his solar panel up and running, and offered everything we could in the way of advice, question-answering and general affirmation. I told him I’d comment on his fundraising page so that his parents could see that he was doing OK out there in the world, after he excitedly saw my Razoo page on my business card and told me he was fundraising through Razoo, too.
What a blessing Hayden must be to his family. He is so incredibly full of excitement and willingness to have this adventure. Please go visit his page, and show Hayden that he’s got support from all over the place. You can find his fundraising page at From Sea to Shining Sea.
I felt pretty pumped up after meeting this ambitious guy, and it was a good thing because we had some climbing to do. We went back into the dark woods, of which I will never tire on a hot day.


After climbing on a shallow, steady grade alongside a river for a long time, we came to a busy road and crossed the river into Radford.


I’m going to leave out all description of Radford, because it sucked. The hills were too steep for our liking, and it was hot and busy, and after we thought we were done, we got slammed with the 19% graded hill to end all other hills.
Instead of whining about it, though, I’ll show you some goats.


These goats were at the bottom of a hill (FYI, the goats did NOT make up for the terrible uphills of Radford). As we watched them, a woman came out of her driveway and told us we should come back and play with them sometime. I wish we could’ve told her we’d be back next week! What an opportunity. There were the sweetest little kids in a variety of colors and all were kicking and skipping and tail-wagging! (aren’t you glad I told you about goats and not Radford?)
We had just a bit more grueling climbing until we got into Christiansburg. It was definitely not on the scale of the Radford hills, but after using every last ounce of energy we had to get over those, there wasn’t much left for Christiansburg.
Enter Mason!


We were blessed by last-minute responses from all of the warmshowers hosts in Blacksburg, which is a couple of miles off-route from Christiansburg, and in addition to our luck in being offered numerous backyards and sun porches (thank you so much to the Abrahams for your patience as we came toward Blacksburg, and we hope to meet you next time through!), a nice guy named Mason offered up a ride into town in his swanky van.
Mason is one of the founders of Bike the US for MS, an organization that runs several US tours every year in order to raise funds for research and treatment of Multiple Sclerosis. This year, they’ve already raised over $180,000 and the tours haven’t even started yet! Money goes to a clinic in Charlottesville, VA (that’s where I’m typing from this very moment), and also toward home modification projects across the country. You can check out the organization and the awesome work they’re doing at Bike the US for MS.
So Mason came to the rescue in a huge van emblazoned with the Bike the US for MS logo, and tossed our bikes up top. We were so absolutely grateful to not have to bike on sketchy roads into Blacksburg. There would’ve been a bike trail for a portion of the ride, but we honestly were exhausted and ready for a meal and some relaxation.
We grabbed an awesome meal at The Cellar, and met Mason’s roommate Kristin, and then as we were leaving I saw this awesome bug.


The caterpillar hunter comes out in the night to eat caterpillars, and this one was sitting in a gutter, not hunting caterpillars. Guess he didn’t get the memo.
When we got back home, we were greeted by a dog named Lena, a cat named Claudia, and a fish tank full of coral and a striped fish. Lena was the only one willing to pose for a picture.


Blacksburg is a nice town. We decided to stay another day here, since our rest day in Damascus was somewhat of a flop.
The rest day resulted in Evan getting a new iPhone (his bit the dust a week or so ago), a lot of coffee and blogging, a birthday present purchase for my sister, whose birthday is May 22 (happy birthday, bug!), and an evening with the route leaders for this year’s Bike the US for MS tours–they had driven from Carbondale IL to Blacksburg, and descended upon Mason’s house for a cookout!
It was a much more successful rest day in Blacksburg, and our evening with the other bikers, and multiple dogs, was fantastic.
I wish I could’ve caught a picture of Aroo, Lena, Martin, Emma, and Ivan all playing together, and of the bikers hanging out after a long day of driving. It got me thinking about doing a group tour… But that’s for another year.

Damascus to Wytheville

Miles Today: 61.66
Average Speed: 8.6mph

Total Miles: 3366.64

We had a rough time getting out of town the morning after our day in Damascus. We headed down to Mojoe’s, the coffee shop where I had spent a portion of the afternoon blogging the day before, and they had a breakfast deal going. We enjoyed good coffee, biscuits and eggs and bacon, and even more conversations with hikers.
When we finally got going, we hopped on the Virginia Creeper Trail, which was listed as an alternative route going out of Damascus.


For the next 11 or so miles, we bumped along a rocky trail. It was quite pleasant at first, until the boy scouts started careening toward us.
The Creeper trail goes uphill in the direction we were headed, but most folks prefer to take it downhill. There are several companies in Damascus that shuttle groups to the top of the mountain, and then send those groups down on bicycles. Unfortunately, many people are not exactly adept in the ways of downhill off-road biking, and the people flying down the trail toward us did not, for the most part, appear to have complete control of their bicycles.


It was a lovely trail, and I got a good chuckle out of the young girl who went rattling past us, feet off the pedals, legs stuck straight out, barely able to reach the brakes, screeching at her friend (who had stopped on the side of the trail) “you didn’t tell me you were stoppppppiiiiinnnnggggggg!!!!!!”
I wish I had been able to take better pictures, but it was quite bumpy and my camera was having a rough ride, too.


We ended up a bit confused after the trail, standing for 20 minutes and trying to figure out where exactly we were, but eventually got going in the right direction. No thanks to the man from SC with TN plates, angrily looking for a place called “Bear Claw Holler”, and many thanks to the nice man from Pennsylvania who looked at our map with us and gave us his educated guess as to where we were.
Today was a milestone for Evan, because this is the day he finally fell off the road. A hiker had asked him the very same morning whether he had ever fallen off the bike. He said that no, he hadn’t, but I think that Evan forgot to knock on wood after saying it because sure enough, I heard an “oof!” from behind me and down he went.
No injuries to Evan, but Elvis did not fare so well. We spent the next ten minutes staring at the gravel in search of an integral part of Elvis.


The King will no longer be able to tune his guitar, because we have forever lost the head of his guitar.


Sorry, Elvis, but the head of your guitar looks a whole lot like a rock, and we couldn’t recover it this time.
We saw a neat leaning church today, which looked pretty dang old.


And we saw a lot of cows, including a cow in front of a house who did not seem interested in getting away from us.


Then we saw a cow with a heart on her head. She was a little more wary, and wandered off before I could get a proper picture.


After many rolling hills and lots of cow-whistling, we reached the town of Rural Retreat.


What a pleasant name for a town. Supposedly there was a hostel here, and since it was already 6pm, we decided to call them just to see if they had space for us. Unfortunately, they were no longer hosting cyclists, so we decided to suck it up and ride the full miles for the day to Wytheville.
On the way, we stopped at a farm shop, where we bought some fresh green beans, local chocolate milk, apple cherry cider, and peach jam. They had a really cool bus out back. I’ll bet you can guess when and where they use it!


Finally, finally, finally, not long before dark, we reached Wytheville.


I had no idea, but this place is the HUB of southwest VA.


We moseyed our way to the park, where a grad party was going on, and set up camp as far from them as possible so as not to bother the proceedings. We discovered this thorny tree in the process. It appears to be something straight out of the woods in Beauty and the Beast.


Our night ended in fresh green beans.


Or so I thought. After our awesome dinner of beans and quinoa and cider, I wandered up to the other pavilion to use the restroom, and the grad party had just broken up. The mother of the graduate was cleaning up, and wondered why we hadn’t come up to party! I told her that two cyclists in spandex wouldn’t have fit in very well with high schoolers in cute dresses, and she told me I was ridiculous. We chatted for a while about her daughter Brandy, who just finished high school and plans to go to the local college for Physical Therapy, and then she sent us off with bottled water, cupcakes, and single-serving bags of chips.
We are so lucky lately. The cupcakes were butterscotch flavored, the water was ice-cold (Evan always craves an icy drink), and we were camped right next to a stream.
We had to spend a bit of time contacting folks in Blacksburg, VA, after realizing that our goal of Christiansburg no longer had any available camping, and once we had taken care of those details, we were fast asleep with the sound of a trickling creek for background noise.

Council to Damascus

Miles Today: 51.41
Average Speed: 8.0mph

Total Miles: 3,304.98

It wasn’t quite sunny when we woke up, but nature called both Evan and I out from our tents and through a very dewy, freshly mowed, clipping covered field. By the time we got back to the tent, our feet were more than sufficiently covered in wet grass clippings.
Bryan emerged from the other side of the pavilion looking fresh as a daisy, and we enjoyed using only one stove for our breakfast’s hot water needs. After a good chat and some oatmeal, we finished packing up and said goodbye to Bryan.

Good luck to him as he crosses the country!
We rolled across the field, and within the first twenty feet, Evan discovered his fenders were so clogged with wet grass that the wheels wouldn’t roll. Mine weren’t as bad, but we had some fun getting it out of there.


Because Darla had taken us in the park by way of a secret backyard and driveway route (we were privileged enough to be let in on the locals’ secret!), we didn’t have to climb the big hill that goes to the park’s entrance the night before. And because we had watched all the lifeguards exit by way of a different place than the top of the hill, we avoided that sucker altogether. The road spit us out on the other side of the hill. Thank you, William P. Harris, for your amazing rec center and its fantastic dual entryways!


Shortly after we got to riding, we passed a very curious street sign. Can any Hebrew speakers tell me if this might be an interesting English interpretation of Hebrew ‘house of peace’? I’ve only ever seen the English interpretation of ‘peace’ spelled shalom. I guess that’s the South, or the East, or the Southeast for you!


Today’s riding was pretty awesome for the most part. We wound through the woods, spent a lot of miles next to a creek, and didn’t find many hills that got us too riled up. It has been a pleasure to ride on roads that follow the stream, because streams don’t flow through the really hilly areas, so our roads have been fairly predictable in terms of grade. The views were pretty incredible once we climbed out of the stream bed, too.

After some nicely rolling hills and a glorious, exhilarating descent, we came across a field of goats!


We couldn’t convince any of them to come to the fence, so we decided to keep going.
We kept flying downhill for a couple more miles, and enjoyed increasingly beautiful views.

Then we reached Honaker, which is apparently the Redbud capitol of the world, but didn’t see nearly as many Redbud trees as we thought we would. Bummer.


Then the hills started to roll a little more vigorously, and we knew we were getting closer to our big climb of the afternoon. Luckily we were in the woods, which made the steeper hills a little more manageable.


We stopped for a shade break and a little snack next to this old house, which looked to be abandoned and probably at least a century old. Spooky, but cool.


We were spat out into the sunshine at the top of a few gentle climbs, and enjoyed the last descent before our big climb.


The descent left us at the creek bed again, and after a hairpin turn, we started to climb. One more switchback and we were plunged into the cool shade of a forested mountainside.
The road wasn’t very busy at all, and we kept seeing giant millipedes which amused both of us. Then an owl flew overhead and perched in a tree nearby.
The drop-off from the road was quite impressive, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to accurately depict it with my camera. Trust that we would’ve been goners had we gone off the edge.


I didn’t take any other pictures because I was mostly focused on not going over the edge of the road, and listening for cars, and pedaling and other things one does on a hill, but trust that we climbed a lot, and it was pretty sweaty but overall enjoyable.
Cut to the part where we are at the top!


We had a little lunch, admired more crazy bugs, and then got to the downhill portion of the epic hill.


It was good for us to go east over this portion of the route, because we were plunged into Hayter’s Gap (pronounced High-ter)–had we been going west, the climb OUT of the gap would have nearly killed us, I’m sure. Instead, we had a smaller climb, and a bigger descent. Obviously, we still had to climb back out on the other side, but it wasn’t terribly steep or long.
Then we rode some more, the same as every day.
Our destination for the day was Damascus, a little town that crosses the Appalachian Trail. We figured we’d take a day there to re-coup, do laundry, use wifi, and drink copious amounts of coffee. Hooray, Damascus!


Our first sign that something was amiss was the ducks.


There were ducks everywhere. And they were mostly white with red faces.
Actually, it wasn’t the ducks that tipped us off. It was really the hordes of hikers and the “Trail Days 2012” signs that were plastered everywhere, the dogs and the tents and the packs and the general busy-ness of the place.
We had stumbled into a festival. Oh, my.
Shortly after rolling into town, stunned and in need of chocolate milk, we were wandering up the street when a guy in clean clothes walked up.
Nick, who is about to go into seminary in Denver for the United Methodist Church, led us to a city park, where ten or eleven tents a bunch of cyclists were hanging out!
Our knight in shining armor, a gleaming army of familiar folks… You have no idea how relieved we were when their trip leader, Steve, said we could pitch our tent in the park with them.
You see, we had been wandering amongst talk of “tent cities”, where hikers can pitch tents for 5 dollars, where drum circles and drinking abound, where we definitely wouldn’t sleep a wink. Nick is a part of an unsupported Adventure Cycling trip, and he and his companions are riding toward Oregon. They had permission to use the park, normally a no-camping area, for the night. Their leader, Steve, had his 23rd birthday that day, and we enjoyed a pizza dinner with them.
I had a lot of fun around the hikers, but it was definitely nice to know I was among folks doing the same thing as me, who understand the need for rest.
I wasn’t able to get any pictures of the whole group, nor can I remember more than a few names, but Nick was kind enough to send me a picture of the whole group.


We enjoyed hanging with them, but they had taken their rest day while we were riding into Damascus, so in the morning we had to say goodbye and find another place to sleep.
Kudos to Dottie, the only woman in their group of ten. She and her husband Don are riding together.


Our awesome site was right along the river. We had a nasty thunderstorm that night, which caused the river to rise a few feet and sent many tent-campers scurrying away from the receding shore line in the middle of the night, but fortunately we were safely away from the shore. We decided to let the tent dry for as long as possible in the morning before striking out to find a new camping spot.
The ducks were out, and one of the bikers brought me a bag of bread loaf ends to feed them!


By 7 or so, everybody was packing up, and I had to get a picture of all the tents behind the ‘no camping’ sign.


Lastly, but not least-ly, here is a picture of a duck on a porch.


The day in Damascus is a whole ‘nother story–one of hikers and trail names, Evan’s crazy trip to the laundromat in an over-capacity van, seam-sealing the tent, and ending up camped on the river in the backyard of the Lazy Fox Inn with a quieter bunch of hikers.
We met tons of people, all of whom had trail names, some of whom had trail dogs… Papillon and Yoyo were a hiker-dog duo, Belch and Shine and a guy who I called Two-Syllable (his trail name has two syllables and was hard for me to remember), Segue and Kraken and Sarge, Sweet Tea and her dog Heavy, King Tut, Machete Mitch, Pepper, Sicilian Gypsy, and a host of others were welcoming and wonderful and full of questions for the bikers without hiker names.