Mood:  down

As usual, I awoke around 5 AM.  I didn't want to get on the road too early because of darkness, so I took my time getting ready.  My hope was that my legs had recovered from the travesty of yesterday, and would be serviceable today.  I knew that today was going to be difficult.

My route was to take me into Virginia to a small town called Rosedale, about 45 miles away.  The first thing on the agenda was to cross the Breaks, and have breakfast at the lodge at The Breaks Interstate Park.  It was a Park jointly managed by Kentucky and Virginia.  It is called The Breaks because there is a deep canyon along the state line that separates the two states.  Of course, the lodge, thus the breakfast awaiting me, was on the other side of the canyon.  The Lodge was only 6 miles away, but how were the legs today?  How steep was the canyon?  I would find out soon enough. 

I took off around 7 AM.  There was little traffic on the road.  The first thing was a small hill right outside the motel parking lot.  Hmm, the legs didn't feel that great.  Three miles down the road was a convenience store  at which I would have stopped had it been open. Then the road dropped into the canyon.  Down, down down.  Oh boy, this was going to be a terrible climb to get back out, and soon I was creeping up the slope on the east side.  Yesterday was a miserable day but at least I climbed two hills before faltering.  Now I wasn't sure that I could even make it up the first.  Food is a good motivator, of course, but it is not good to bicycle hard on an empty stomach.  Still, the legs kept turning the crank, slowly making progress, yard by yard up the hill.

 I have to share a belief.  The belief is that all things come from God.  Yes, it was my body that was doing the pedalling, but the body was a gift from God, and I believe that it was His strength, in me, that carried me through a lot of difficult parts of this journey.  That is why I couldn't understand why He didn't give me the strength to get over Abner Mountain yesterday, and I sure needed Him to help me today.

Climbing, climbing, I slowly approached what appeared to be a rise in the road.  Oh no, it dropped off on the other side of the dropoff, which meant more climbing!  This was torture.  Wait!  What is that on the right?  It is the entrance to The Breaks Interstate Park.  It had taken 90 minutes to cover 6 miles.

One would think that the creators or this park could have put the Lodge down near the entrance.  But, no, they had to put it up on the highest place they could find, with the finest view, so it was more climbing, much in my lowest gear, just to get to the Lodge.  Once there, I ate.  A fog obscured any potential view, but the setting was nice.  Although it was not cold out, the lodge had it's air conditioning on.  Being soaked to the skin with pespiration, I was uncomfortably cold inside.  It is a common experience I had found when stopping to eat while bicycling.

Leaving The Breaks park, the road did, indeed, drop dramatically into another canyon.  This was steep and I was thankful for the disk brakes as the road twisted an turned going downhill.  Soon it was on the canyon bottom, following a stream for a number of miles.   Of course, I had to climb back out of the canyon.  It was funny because, I didn't feel strong at all.  I felt weak.  Yet I seemed to have enough to keep going uphill even in the lowest of gears.  You know where I believe the strength was coming from.

During breakfast #2, I studied the map to see if any more climbs were discernible.  Sure enough there seemed to be a rise called Big A Mountain that the road crossed over.  Oh boy.

Only too soon, I came to Big A mountain.  Once again, it was climb, climb, climb at a ridiculous grade of slope.  My legs were screaming.  For some reason, instead of focusing on how tired my legs were, I looked at my watch and decided that I would take a break in 25 minutes!  That seemed silly in light of how I was struggling, but it took my focus off my misery, and the minutes starting gliding by.   It really was pretty here.  Before the 25 minutes had gone by, I had crested Big A, and was on my way down.  Three big climbs today, and all of them successful.  Thank you, Lord. 

The views were absolutely spectacular.  I had forgotten how beautiful the Blue Ridge Mountains were.  They have a bluish green hue to them that is so attractive as they overlap one another into the distance.

The grade was downhill, for the most part, into Rosehill, Virginia.  I had stopped to chat with a local, who had said that Rosehill was just over a little hill.  It wasn't so little, but it was the last climb of the day. 

Seeing a touring bicyclist coming my way, I pulled over and chatted a bit.  I was particularly interested on what tomorrow would bring.  He said that there was one big hill between Rosehill and Damascus.  That sounds better.

It seems that restaurants were suffering during these economic times.  Most of them are closed.  Their replacements are the convenience stores, many of which now have tables to sit at, and some have their own kitchens.  Rosehill, another small and seemingly decaying community, had no restaurants but there was a convenience store next to the motel I was staying.  That would work for dinner and breakfast.

I was out of Kentucky!  Of course the terrain typically doesn't change with an arbitrary state line, but Kentucky was a long 9 or 10 days of sometimes difficult riding.  Ironically, I would only be in Virginia one more day, in tomorrow's ride to Damascus, then I would, hopefully, drop down into North Carolina.  My brother and mothers' town of Wilkesboro was potentially three days away.

It seemed that each day was getting shorter, distance-wise.  Hindman to Elkhorn City was 60+ miles.  Elkhorn City to Rosedale was in the mid-40's.  Tomorrow's trip to Damascus would be between 35-40 miles.  I wonder if I will find a church service at which I can worship.  At least there will be an evening service in town.

Will McMahan