Mood:  a-ok

I awoke in my tent at five in the morning.  It took a while to pack and get loaded, but by 6 AM I walked into the house, and breakfast was ready.  Cereal, coffee cake, fresh fruit, juice and coffee.  It was a little misty so I waited a bit before taking off.  Departure time was a little before 7 AM.

There was still some cloud cover so riding conditions were great.  It was not going to get too warm today, with highs projected at 80 degrees, far below the norm.  The ride was supposed to be grueling, but except for some small hills there had been nothing to get excited about. 

At 9 AM, I came to a small cafe, a perfect time for breakfast #2.  While eating I struck up a conversation with one of the local men.  He was retired, but used to run some coal trucks so he was familiar with the roads.  I commented on how easy the day had been so far.  He studied my map and replied that I had yet to get to the hills yet on the route.  He pointed out the window to some hills, smiled, and said that I would have two tough climbs over those hills.  One was short but steep.  The second was longer but not as steep.  He studied my route a bit more, mumbled something about another hill, then wished me luck.  Sometimes knowing what is coming up before you can give you time to prepare, mentally, for the challenge so this foreknowledge was valuable. 

It was obvious when the first hill started.  Yes, it was steep, but it didn't seem short.  However, I was able to do the steep portion without getting into my lowest gear.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself. 

The second hill came soon after.  It did seem long, but it didn't seem less steep than the first hill.  In fact, I rode a good portion of this climb in my lowest gear.  If you can just keep the legs churning, then the bike gearing will pull the bike along.  If it keeps getting steeper, then you have to really push hard on the pedals in order to maintain momentum.  It took an effort, but I finally crested the top of the hill and started coasting down. 

A little after noon, I came across another small cafe.  It seemed a good time to have lunch and celebrate conquering the big hills of the day.  When the waitress took my order, she asked questions about where I was going, etc.  She then exclaimed in an incredulous tone of voice "You're not going to ride over Abner Mountain, are you?"  I explained that I didn't know the names of the places that I rode, but I didn't think that Abner Mountain was on my route.  She gushed a sigh of relief because she said you'd have to be crazy to ride it.  Little did I know.

With a full belly and the tough part behind me, I took off  to enjoy the afternoon ride.  At one point the road started to climb, but gently.  It is amazing what elevations one can gain even on a gentle grade.  Then the grade steepened.  I kept climbing.  The road was freshly paved, but narrow.  It was slightly larger than a single lane.  Curve followed curve, and the road got steeper.  Where did this come from?  I was breathing hard, pedalling hard in my lowest gear, when I heard the familiar roar of a coal truck coming up behind me.  More afraid of losing my momentum than afraid of the coal truck (you can tell I was tired), I stuck to the side of the lane as it barrelled past me uphill.  It, obviously, didn't want to slow down either because it took a blind curve with the full assurance that there was no oncoming traffic.  Luckily, it was right.  Finally, I could go no further, so I pulled over, gasping for air, giving my heart a chance to recover.  Good Lord, this was steep!  After recovery, I took off again, but quickly had to stop for another rest.  I looked back.  I had covered 100 yards.  The road wound upwards for as far as I could see, and my legs were dead.  God, where are you?  You are my strength-why have you deserted me when I need you the most?  I could pedal no further so I dismounted and walked the bike uphill.  A good half mile later, I reached the top, thoroughly dejected, and started coasting downhill.

With twelve miles to go, I came to a small grocery and drank a gatorade, thinking maybe I needed the electrolytes.  In talking to another customer, he asked where I was going.  I replied "Elkhorn City".  He snorted "Geez, you've got one (expletive deleted) (expletive deleted) big hill to get over before you get there.  At least you can coast the remaining 20 miles."  I'm no math wizard, but I knew I was only 12 miles to Elkhorn City.  If there really was a big hill, I wouldn't be coasting twenty miles.  Soon I came to the hill.  It looked humongous.  I started up just as I always do, downshifting until I reach a gear at which I can maintain an easy cadence, then let the gearing pull me up the slope.  Just like before, there was no gear low enough to pull me along.  My legs were gone.  I could generate no power.  Finally, I got off the bike and started walking it just as before.  After 100 yards, the slope seemed to lessen, so I got back on again to give it a shot.  Within another 100 yards I was over the top.  And it was downhill all the way into Elkhorn City.  My legs felt like two wet noodles.

Why was this happening? Weren't my legs supposed to be stronger from the 3,500 miles of pedalling and climbing?  The terrain was only going to get worse tomorrow. How was I going to be able to manage that?  If God wasn't going to be there tomorrow, I was in trouble.

During the day, I rode past many churches, none of which was open.  I wanted to replace the devotional booklet that I had left at the B&B several days earlier.  Several churches had vehicles parked out front but when I stopped to see if anyone was inside, the buildings were empty.  Approaching Elkhorn City, I noticed ahead some sort of church in a dilapidated commercial building.  A man was out front doing some work, so I stopped.  Yes, a church used to meet here.  In fact they even had a tiny school there, but finances caused the school to close.  I asked if they might have any devotional booklets, new or used, that I could buy.  He went inside to look.  I followed.  The building was packed with boxes, most of them filled with clothing that the members had collected to give to those in need.  After much searching he came up with an old paperback titled "Second Cup of Coffee:  Proverbs for Today's Woman".  It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but it beat having nothing, so I accepted it.  Later on I thought, why didn't I make a donation to their church?  Why do I seem to think of these things after the fact?  At least, I will, hopefully, do the proper thing next time.  Before I left he and I had chatted.  He had met bicyclers before, and couldn't understand why the route took them over Abner Mountain!  Yes, my demise had been on Abner Mountain.  I understood now why the waitress was aghast at the thought of riding a bicycle up it.

Elkhorn City.  A half-dead town just like so many others I had ridden through.  Shop owners trying to survive.  Empty shells of buildings bearing witness to those that didn't. 

I didn't see the motel at which I had reservations.  It was going to be a dive, and I knew it.  At $30 per night, it had to be.  I just wanted it to be in town.  I stopped at a restaurant for directions.  The motel was 1 1/2 miles further out of town.  No, there was no place there to eat dinner.  Nope, no place for breakfast either.  You can eat here though.  I did eat half a sandwich there, even though I wasn't hungry.   The balance would be consumed later in the evening.  I know I would be hungry again. 

The motel was exactly what I expected.  Well, actually I expected running water, but that did come back on a couple of hours after I checked in.  I inquired about where to eat breakfast.  There were two possibilities:  a convenience store 3 miles down the road, or the lodge at The Breaks State Park which is six miles down the road.  I guess I could make it that far.  I prayed.  Alot.

Will McMahan