Mood:  a-ok

Today, by all indications, was not going to be an excedingly difficult day, unlike the previous two.  The weather was excellent.  The distance was short. To my knowledge (which is always limited), there would only be one major climb.  I can certainly do that.

The book "A Second Cup of Coffee" is ending up being a pretty good devotional book, even though it is intended for women.  It is an old book, published in 1981, and is featherlight from aging.  I'm finding that the proverbs discussed tend to be gender neutral.  Those that aren't still have messages.  The Spirit will let me know what it wants me to learn.

Breakfast next door at the convenience store, was not appealing and was hard to chew and swallow.  Only the fact that I needed the calories helped me finish it.  It would be quite a while before I would be near any place to eat. 

Several days earlier I had made an executive decision, in light of the steepness of the climbs, that I would carry less water, so I had drained my Camelback resorvoir of water, about the equivalent of two large water bottles.  I still had my large water bottle, a spare, and my water filter if I needed to get water out of a stream.  Water carries so much weight that I wanted to carry just what I had to have, with no extra.  On a day like today, with few services available to replenish my supply, I might need the water filter later.

Through the countryside I rode.  It was very pretty, but soon I could see the road take a sharp upswing.  This must be the large hill I had been told about.  It started out at an acceptable grade until it came to its first hairpin curve.  You can't keep the grade the same in that situation, so the hairpin curves are much, much steeper until the road straightens out.  In my lowest gear, it was all I could do to make it around the corner gasping for air.  Once the road straightened out, I shifted up a gear and settled into a nice cadence.  This was a typical climb:  for the most part no outrageous grades.  Steep, yes, but not ridiculously so.  Long, perhaps, but a steady easy cadence, combined with unlimited patience will win out over any hill (except for the really, really steep ones!), and that was the case today.   I set up a time to take a break 30 minutes later, and that took my mind off of the continuous effort.  By mid-morning I was over the top, coasting downhill.

Seeing a bicycler stopped while going uphill, I pulled over and started a conversation.  He was not a touring bicycler.  He was just exercising by riding his bike, and he would climb the big hill three times each week.  (Trust me, it's more difficult with an extra 40 pounds of gear, but still that is a laudable accomplishment.)  Yet he was carrying an extra 40 pounds of weight and decided three weeks ago to shed it through bicycling.  He used to exercise this very way, and he knows how much more difficult the additional weight on his body makes the climb.  I suspect that he will succeed on his goal of losing weight.  When talking, he disclosed that he was raised in Indiana, and worked for a number of years in my hometown of Fort Wayne.  His wife was raised in Fort Wayne, but when she showed up in her car (he had forgotten his water)  we were not able to find any common friends.  This conversation ended up taking most of an hour, so I needed to get moving on.

Several thoughts  were in my mind once I resumed my ride.  One was the ever-present thought of food.  When would I have an opportunity to eat at a cafe or convenience store?  This being a Sunday, I also wondered if there would be a church service in the morning that I could attend. 

A few minutes after 11 AM as I was rounding a bend in the road, I saw a nice white church with a full parking lot.  The service had started at 11 AM.  I turned in.  Before going inside, I pulled out a short-sleeved collared golf shirt, and exchanged my colorful but dirty bicycling shirt for the golf shirt.  Entering from the rear, I found a seat halfway down one side.  Unlike most of the services that I have attended, there was no message that stood out for me to contemplate.  It felt good to have communion.  Afterwards, people were friendly, as always.  Being situated on the Transamerican Trail, they see alot of bicyclers coming through this area either going to, or out of, Damascus, Virginia. 

It was probably 12:15 PM before I started riding again, and I was really getting hungry.  A long time had passed since breakfast.  Within 15 minutes, I came across a convenience store.  Hunger was no longer a problem.

There were several issues needing solving in Damascus.  First of all, I needed advice on how to best get from Damascus to Wilkesboro, North Carolina.  It would be a two day trip, and I needed to secure lodging for Monday night.  Additionally, I needed to secure lodging for tonight.  There was a hostel for hikers and bicyclers that would likely fit the bill.  My bicyling clothes were dirty and salt-encrusted from perspiration, so it would be nice to find a laundromat.

Damascus is a busy town that focuses on hikers (the Appalachian Trail comes through Damascus) and bicyclers (the Transamerican Trail cuts through Damascus, and a number of local bike trails were available for exploring).  Whereas I had severe difficulty, in the past finding a bicycle shop, in Damascus there were five of them.  The town has built a thriving economy based on hikers and bikers, at least through the warm months.

Upon arriving in town, I came upon my first bike shop, so I went inside to gather advice.  Two men were chatting but took time to help me out with their opinions.  They each advised going to Wilkesboro via Boone, N.C.  They said the grade to Boone was reasonable and there was plenty of lodging available because Boone was a college town, the home of Appalachian State University.  They also directed me to a couple of restaurant possibilities, andshowed me where the hostel was located.

On the way to the restaurant, I rode past a laundromat.  I turned around, went inside with my panniers, changed, in the bathroom, into my swim suit and golf shirt, then washed all of my dirty clothing.  While there, I quizzed a couple of locals about the best route to Wilkesboro.  They also chose the route to Boone.  That was nice confirmation.  Now where is the nearest restaurant?

After putting clean clothes back into my panniers, and eating dinner, I found the hostel.  The hostel is a house owned by, and sitting behind, the Methodist Church.  The church maintains it, cleans it and keeps it stocked in toilet paper, soap, etc.  It costs a whopping $4/night. A two story house with bath and showers both upstairs and down, there are three or four bedrooms, each with three bunk beds.  The beds are without mattresses, so the traveler has to provide their own, as well as their own sleeping bag.   Two rooms were great for groups to sit and talk.  The living room had lots of stuffed chairs.  the dining room had a picnic table in it.  The front porch had several chairs for resting.  If one wanted, one could camp in the yard.  It was a wonderful and inexpensive gift to the weary traveler.  Nearing the end of the summer, it was also quite dirty, reminding me of what my apartment might have looked like in college at the end of the year.  Another pair of bicyclers were the only other occupants that night.  They were two men from Holland, and were a week to ten days from finishing their trip east.

I have passed many churches since entering Kentucky and only two that I can remember were not Baptist Churches, one being the Methodist Church who had the hostel.  (The other was a Presbyterian Church)  Since it was Sunday evening, I decided to go to an evening service.   A Baptist Church was next to the Methodist Church so I went to it.  Surprisingly, it was mostly full of people.  My experience was that these services were the ones to save souls, but tonight was going to be an exception to that.  A large contingent of youth and adults had just returned from Belize, and they had a long presentation on what they did.  It was fascinating.  I always thought of Belize as a destination resort area with pristine beaches,  but it is a third world country, and most of it is very poor.  The church youth were shocked at the extreme poverty, and surprised at the positive attitude of the Belize children.  Besides a building project of some kind, the church members ran a summer camp for the Belizean children, a real treat for the kids.  Without going into all of the details of their trip, I was given a strong feeling that this church was a very close knit community, filled with fun and laughter, and the Spirit of the Lord.

Today was a good day.  Even though the big hill was strenuous, it was reasonable, and I now had a plan for tomorrow.  Tomorrow, I would be leaving Virginia, crossing through a sliver of Tennessee, then getting, finally, to North Carolina.  I received a call from my mother wanting to know if everything was okay.  I assurred her that I would be at her nursing home on Tuesday.  We were both excited about the prospect.  I hope no new obstacles get thrown my way to prevent that from happening.

Will McMahan