"Sycamore Hills"

How is it possible for Virginia to have so many hills? They are relentless, endless. The good thing is that most of them are short, but they're also very steep. I have never had to stand up on the pedals to get up so many hills in my Oregon cycling life. I am thankful that I rode a lot on Haleakala Volcano on Maui last summer because training on those hills is proving to be invaluable here in VA. In all actuality, in Virginia I have come to dislike going DOWNhill because I know it will be short-lived and that there's a nasty UPhill waiting immediately on the other side. There isn't a flat road around. In the West, we have really, really long and moderately steep hills, with a very rewarding, joyous descent on the other side. In Virginia, I just pray for a flat road that never seems to materialize...

It rains every day in Virginia. And this isn't some Portland-Oregon-misty-shower rain; this is full force, cats-and-dogs, drench-you-to-the-core rain. It's sneaky too...the days start out quite nice, but at some point, just when you think you're blessed with the perfectly cool riding weather, the skies literally open up. Thankfully it hasn't been cold at all, so the rain has really been, to some extent, refreshing. In fact, I have yet to don the rain jacket and pants I packed, and have been just riding through the rain in my normal cycling shorts and a windbreaker that has nearly zero water resistance to it. So, suffice to say, I just keep getting soaked and it hasn't been much of a problem. Fortunately, on each rainy day thus far, I've ended up not camping for the night. Camping while wet just sucks. It's one thing to get in, set up the tent, and have it rain during the night; it's a completely different thing to get INTO camp soaking wet and then have to get into the tent with a bunch of wet gear. The only real issue has been the lightning and thunder associated with the Virginia rain. It's a little scary riding in a thunderstorm down a desolate country road, with no shelter in sight, with 80 pounds of metal between your legs, in a rainstorm so intense you can barely see. Today I nearly chose to take shelter in a ditch after I only counted 1.5 seconds from the time I saw the lightning to the time I heard the crack of the thunder, but I persevered and was too fast for the lightning to catch me.

I'm meeting so many great folks, random folks, folks who are just amazed by what I'm doing. Generosity and friendliness abound. In Lexington, VA's Sweet Treats Ice Cream shop, after I ate my chocolate-dipped waffle cone with cinnamon graham homemade ice cream, when the gal working the counter learned that I'm riding cross-country, she insisted on giving me a "Sweet Treats....Lick It Up" T-shirt. And, remember Larry and Junior Steppe from the last blog entry? Here they are:

Virginia accents are quite varied. Some people here have no detectable accent at all; others have such a strong Southern drawl that I literally cannot understand what they are saying and I have to ask them to repeat it. I got my first singular "y'all" the other day...when the gal asked me "what y'all gonna have?", I had to turn around to see if someone was standing near me. I was alone. She repeated it. Somehow I didn't laugh, and somehow I managed to NOT say "well, we'll have the....".

I was riding alone on a deserted country lane when I passed a woman who was standing in her yard. She waved. I stopped and turned around because she looked friendly. We had a great conversation about Portland. Her name was Nancy, like my mom. She kept turning around and yelling "BUBBA!!! BUBBA!!" It was clear she was calling for her dog. After a few times of this, I said "your dog is named Bubba?" She said "no, I'm saying 'Bama". Upon further inquiry, I learned that her dog's actual name is Alobama...name made up from those of Al Gore and Barack Obama. I never got to meet 'Bama, unfortunately. This is Nancy:

At the Cookie Lady's house, I showered under a garden hose in an outdoor shower. At night when it was 50 degrees out. It was frigid, ridiculous, and perfect.

And the Cookie Lady's cluttered home, with 34 years of bicylists' gear, memorabilia, postcards, etc:

Nick and I stopped at a fruit stand. We shared a massive box of strawberries and a box of 6 strawberry cider donuts. Can you say 'food coma'?

A few days ago I got a flat tire. The tire just immediately went flat, over about a 2 minute span. We stopped and I took off the wheel, pulled the tire and tube from the rim, ran my hands along the inner side of the tire looking for an embedded sharp object, and pumped up the tube a bit to look/listen/feel for an air leak. Nothing. I searched that tube and tire for 5 minutes looking for a leak, but the newly pumped up tube was holding air. Unable to find a leak, I put the tire and tube back on the rim and pumped it up. I've been riding now on that same tire for 5 days without a flat. Weird!! How does a tire go instantly flat but not have a leak? Perhaps it was a valve stem thing. Perhaps the bike gods just were making me practice flat tire repair. Perhaps I pissed them off.

Today was a long day...a sluggish and moderately inclined 15 miles in the warm and sunny late morning, a cooler but hillier 15 miles in the early afternoon, and a really damned hilly 30 miles in the late afternoon, in a crazy thunderstorm. We safely arrived at Beckie and Ronnie's house and they greeted us with beer, water, and plastic chairs in the garage where we could sit our soaking wet asses.


My stepdad Lloyd's family lives in Blacksburg, VA and Nick and I are here visiting them tonight. I met brothers, wives, cousins, and kids and what a fun, crazy group of characters they are...generous to a fault on one hand, but then they'll turn around and throw insults back and forth right afterward. Sarcasm rules, and conversations are really light-hearted. We went out to a local brewpub (YES!!! An actual microbrew!!) and had a delicious meal that no one would let us pay for. I've had a great time, though it's only been one evening, and I am really glad I got to meet the clan. I wish I could stay longer. Of course I do...free food and beer...who wouldn't want to stay?! (Just kidding, Beckie...)

I'm shocked by how much I can eat right now. Last night I had a big bowl of chili, a huge turkey/bacon/guacamole sandwich, and a big piece of blackberry/raspberry/apple/strawberry pie. This morning I had two eggs, a huge chicken fried steak, fried apples, and two biscuits.  All day long I'm eating nuts, bananas, ice cream, sour gummy worms, Bit o' Honeys, etc., and drinking Gatorade. Tonight I had a huge plate of fettucine with shrimp and sausage, along with a bunch of bread, and topped off with three pork ribs. Actually, I'm wondering if it's possible to ride a bike across America and get FATTER. If so, I'm well on my way.

Well, I gotta go. It's time for some dessert. I'm hungry and I think there may be some chocolate in my food bag...

A 30% chance of rain means there's a 100% chance that you're gonna get absolutely soaked over 30% of the day's route.

An 80% chance of rain? You're screwed. No way around it. However, I have learned that getting absolutely soaked isn't so bad, and in fact can be surprisingly refreshing, when the temperature is hot. Hot and wet? Goooooooooooood. Cold and wet? Baaaaaaaaaaaaddddd. Remember this.

The last couple of days have been amazing...about 60 and 56 miles, respectively, of some of the most gorgeous forest, farmland, plantations, and lakes I've ever seen. I did get poured rain on for the last couple of hours of each day, but it was nice and warm, so it wasn't so bad. At least it cleaned off my nasty, salty, sweaty, sunscreen-caked body.

The one thing I've learned about Virginia is that, surprisingly, going downhill sucks! Why? Because the descents are short, and you're met immediately on the other side by a really difficult ascent. I'd heard that the roads out in the West are of an easier grade, but are longer, while the Virginia hills are really short and really steep. Now I understand. In fact, I have now learned to hate going downhill. Really?! That's usually the fun part.

Since my last post, I camped one night behind an Episcopalian church, and was offered housing for the night by the Mineral (Virginia) Fire Department. The Episcopalian church in Mechanicsville, VA was just conveniently located near the Mexican restaurant I wanted to eat at, and it was located on a hill so there was a little concealed area down and to the rear where I could put my bike and not be seen. Bonus: there was a concrete slab in front of a door to the preschool that had a ROOF over it!!! Woo hoo!!! No tent hassle tonight, and no drying of the tent tomorrow.

The second night, at the fire department, was awesome. The firemen and women were super hospitable (they didn't have any inventory of patches or shirts to trade or sell....sorry, Orlando...I tried!!) and offered us the top floor where there were electrical outlets (phone charging), sinks (washing hands, prepping food), laundry facilities (washer and dryer...free), and indoor storage for our bikes. We had the run of the place. They're used to cyclists passing through, and so it's kind of become a tradition for them to house us wayward sweatbags. It was a real blessing to get to Mineral that night because the thought of camping out in the POURING rain, after getting soaked for the last two hours of riding, was not sounding really appealing.

You'll note that I said "us" in the last paragraph. Though we are all riding solo, I met up with Sam (Colorado, age 25) and Nick (Pennsylvania, age 20) who are also riding the TransAm. We all got along famously and had lots of stories and tips to share with each other. It was really interesting to see what other people are using for gear and what they did/didn't bring. I have the most shit. That equals the HEAVIEST load. (And this is after I stopped at a post office in a small town along the way and mailed 10-12 pounds of stuff home). I may have a few more things to get rid of soon because the biggest hills (so I'm told) of the trip are coming in the next two days. Some say they're worse than the Rockies. I can't believe that, but I gotta believe that!

Sam is riding 60-80 miles a day and trying to get across in 2 months...much faster than Nick and I plan to go. So, today, Sam took off...then Nick took off...and finally I took off. That's nice thing about being alone, but meeting other people. You can still be on your own schedule, but have familiar faces around. We all traded cell numbers, so that if anyone got in trouble or stopped somewhere for lunch/dinner/sleeping, we'd maybe all be able to congregate. As it turns out, Sam was LONG gone, but I caught up to Nick at lunch where he was eating a turkey sandwich under a shade tree. After a nice lunch of chocolate milk, turkey sandwich, a small bag of cheetos (they came with the sandwich!!), and a banana, I was mostly refreshed. Nick and I hit the road, and it turned out we ride at a very similar pace so we stayed together all day.

Finally, getting close to Charlottesville and the end of today's ride, we passed Ashlawn (James Monroe's beautiful acreage...he was our fifth president) and Monticello (Thomas Jefferson's opulent hillside spread...he was our, uh, whateverth president). Nick and I managed to get ourselves kicked out of Monticello. We didn't know that you couldn't just ride in the gates, ride up the hill, and get a photo of the famous house that's in all the history books. No, apparently you have to dismount, board a bus, pay 20 bucks, and be shuttled up to the house to take a photo. Maybe you get to go in and have a look around too, but we were way too waterlogged and tired by this point to go through all of that. We just wanted a picture and had no idea that we were trespassing if we rode up the hill on our own. We got part way up the hill and an old dude started yelling at us and chasing us down....he ripped us pretty good and told us we had to leave and then stood there and watched us go until he was satisfied we were really gone. He was kind of a dick. Yes, he was just doing his job, but still. I was pissy after riding for hours and being soaked to the bone so I kind of yelled back at him for being such an asshole. Then we left before he called in more nasty, old man troops for backup.

Now, we sit in the Budget Inn, drying out, and drinking the best damn Budweisers we ever tasted, courtesy of Virginia Jerry, some motocross-racin', chain-smokin', local boy who just moved back from California and for some reason felt like greeting us outside the hotel with encouragement. I love nice people. The last few days have been filled with them; there have been lots of smiles, waves, "where y'all goin's", and "be safes" out there on the road. It's encouraging to see that there are such great, supportive people out there. They are definitely outnumbering the assholes who pass closely, those who honk, and others who pass at speed on blind curves only to swerve back in front of me when there's an oncoming car. There are also "No Trespassing" signs on private property everywhere, but it's nice to see a number of "Welcome" signs out in front of peoples' houses too. I may need to take advantage of one of those "Welcome" signs soon when I need water or a place to camp.

Nick and I are off to dinner. I was able to do a longer blog entry tonight because Nick is carrying his computer along, whereas all my entries up to this point, and probably in the future, have been by my cell phone keypad.

Thanks for listenin'...thanks for followin'...

Love to all.
D