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

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

Mood:  celebratory

Thank you so much for the wonderful e-mail! to be done with school is quite exciting. It has been inspiring to follow your adventure. Troy and I can't wait to get together once you and grandma get home.

Hope your last 27 miles breathes accomplishment and celebration into you! it is definately time to celebrate...

 have a wonderful ending....and don't let your bike beat you up :)

much love

Marissa and Troy 

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

Mood:  don't ask

My experience in Hazard, KY, so far, was not a particularly pleasurable one.  The town was tucked in a low area surrounded by high hills that I would have to climb over in order to get back onto my route.  The rain seemed to have stopped, although the cloud cover was low, and the threat of rain always present.

This morning I discovered that I had forgotten something.  I had left the "Our Daily Bread" devotion book back at the B&B in Booneville.  Maybe I could pick up another one, or something similar, in Hindman.  Morning devotions were a ritual that I did not want to stop, and the booklet gave the devotions some structure.

There was no place serving breakfast, but I had a danish from yesterday.  I waited a little for things to get little lighter.  The cloud cover was low, but not hindering visibility, so I took off.   The climbing started.  A convenience store on the right was an opportunity to eat a little more.  Then more climbing.

Maybe it is just my imagination, but it did not seem that it took near as long as I expected to get back onto the main highway.  The highway did have a nice wide shoulder of 6-8'.  The road was fairly straight, but up and down.  I would go as fast as I could safely go on the downhill, then start downshifting as I climbed the opposing hill.  Before long I would be creeping along at 3.5-4 mph, but a sustainable cadence, not one that would exhaust me.   The route called for me to exit onto a little used road about 14 miles out of Hindman.  It surprised me that this side road had no hills, but followed a stream that passed through Hindman.  It started to rain.  By 11 AM, I was at a drug store counter in Hindman, awaiting a cheeseburger.

This short day would also give me time to catch up with my journal. 

I have found the most interesting place to spend the night.  There is a B&B in downtown Hindman that is tucked back on the hillside behind the commercial district, and it specializes in bicyclers.  The house is under renovation so there is a two room tent that they rent out.  It comes with mattress and sleeping bags.  The owner of the B&B is the Knott County Historical Society.

Tomorrow will be interesting.  I expect it to be more exhausting than yesterday was, and about 10 miles longer.  David, the caretaker of the B&B, says the actual mileage is 71 miles.  He also says it will be grueling.  So I will start early, eat regularly, hydrate well, and rest often.  The weather is supposed to be in my favor, with high projected temperatures of 80 degrees.  I can't remember when high temperatures have been that low.

I may take a day of rest there.  It will likely be several days before I can update this journal again.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

I left the B&B shortly after 8 AM.  The owner was very pleasant, and made my stay wonderful.  It had rained last night, and was threatening thunderstorms today, so I put raincovers on all the panniers.

The ride into Boonevile was pleasant because it was all downhill.  The downside of that, of course, is that once I pass through Boonevile, it is all uphill again.  And steep.  I hoped this wasn't what the whole day was going to be like, and it wasn't.  It was what most of the whole day was like, but not all of it.  There was probably 15 miles that weren't hard.

The climbs actually took me, a number a of times, into my lowest gear on the bicycle.  This is a gear that I had only been in three times up to this point--once  at the start of Loup Loup, once for 20' in Spokane, and once near the top of Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park.  None of these today were as steep as the little 1/4 mile hill yesterday, but they were steeper than any of the mountain passes that I had traversed so far. 

I had lunch at Buckhorn, and was told that after a few hills the road leveled out some.  This ended up being true, but those few hills were exhausting.  Taking a break 1.5 hours after lunch, I had only made an additional 9 miles.  During one climb, I looked out through the trees expecting to see another hill in the distance, and was astonished to see that I was above the treeline.  Is that possible?  No, it must be something else.  I decided, correctly it turned out, that I was looking at the backside of a denuded hilside that was hiding mining activity on the other side of it.  Soon I could hear the mining activity.  This area is full of coal mining and coal trucks.

Finally I saw a sign that showed where the turnoff was to the town of Hazard.  I hoped the motel was close.  It wasn't.  In fact the road went downhill seemingly forever before turning near the motel.   Good Lord, I would have one heck of a climb first thing tomorrow just to get back to the trail route.

Once checked in, there were no discernible restaurants nearby.   I was directed me to the VFW, which, apparently served meals, and then there was a KFC not too much further.  Both were within easy walking distance.

The only way I can describe the VFW is that being there was like sitting in an ashtray surrounded by a bunch of alcoholics.  I left.

The KFC was a bit further than anticipated, but it felt good to walk and stretch the legs a bit.  After eating, I sat awhile sending and replying to emails.  I thought I saw a flash outside.  Was that lightning?  Maybe I had better be getting back.  Stepping outside, it was starting to rain, so I went back inside, to see how long the rain would last.  Then it started to pour and pour.  It was a furious thunderstorm that must have dropped 1-2" of water.  The side streets, all going uphill, were solid water flowing out onto the main highway.  It began to look like I might be at KFC for quite a while.  Then suddenly it stopped raining.  Everything outside was soaked.  The side streets still had water flowing down them onto the main drag.  There were massive accumulations of water on the main street, so that when walking back I had to make sure that I was not near one as traffic passed by.  But I got back unscathed and dry.

It might be wise to check the Weather Channel to see what tomorrow weather would be like.  Unfortunately, the lightning had knocked out cable TV for the area.  Tomorrow would be what tomorrow would be.

Sleep has been coming easily, unlike at the start of this journey.  I seldom am not asleep by 9 PM EST.

Tomorrow I will be going on a short ride to a town called Hindman, followed by a long, hard ride on Friday to Elkhorn City.  Dividing up the rides in this manner makes the ride to Elkhorn City managable.  Otherwise it would have been an 80+ mile day to Elkhorn City.  The noteworthy fact about Elkhorn City is that it is on the Virginia/Kentucky border.  The rides in Virginia will also be hard, but, at least I will be out of Kentucky and into another state.  It is likely that I will take a day of rest before tackling Virginia.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Today started with trepidation.  I have a long ride into an area devoid of services, with difficult terrain.  There will be no replenishment of food or water until I reach Booneville, 55 or 56 miles away.  While the temperatures were only supposed to reach 92 degrees (original forecast said 100), the heat index (factoring in the humidity) was going to be in the triple digits.

To set the stage, let me quote verbatim some of the trail notes written by the people that developed this route:  "The Appalachians may not be as tall as the Rockies, but they are much harder to cycle than the mountains of the West. It is because the gentle inclines of the Rockies are not nearly as tiring as the steep, roller-coaster grades of the Appalachians.   For most of the up-and-down ride through Appalachia, the roads are narrow two-laners with no shoulders.  There is lots of broken pavement, gravel and occasional low-water bridges.......The area around Pippa Passes and Elkhorn City is very hilly, with lots of curves.  At the Breaks, there is a sharp drop into the canyon on the right.  The road surface is very poor in sections.....the road is very curvy with dense vegetation, making it very hard to see approaching cars from either direction.....Several stretches have moderate to heavy coal truck traffic and coal sometimes fall off these rigs, so be prepared.  Also watch out for potholes, particularly on the downhills, and ride cautiously.  In Appalachia summer fogs may cling to the highlands until quite late in the morning.  In an area with heavy traffic or coal trucks, the wise cyclist will either not ride until the fog clears or leave the road whenever a vehicle approaches."   Not a terribly positive outlook on what I have ahead of me.

Yesterday, the bike mechanic drove to Berea to fix my disk brakes.  This was his day off, and his shop was 15 miles away, so I was deeply appreciative of his willingness to help.  He drove 30 miles to meet me, replaced the disk brake pads, re-oiled my chain, and cleaned my brake and shifting cables.  He presented me with a bill for $36.  I gave him $60.  Even that may not have been sufficient.  We talked about my concerns of this route that the maps were directing me to go.  I was thinking about taking two major highways that actually had towns along them.   He studied the route mapped out, and said that he thought it was a great route.  He strongly discouraged me from taking the major highways.  He said that they were still two lanes with little or no shoulders, just as steep, and had tons of fast moving truck traffic.  I decided to stick with the more remote route.  He warned me about the increasing steepness of the hills, and gave me some wisdom.  In the worst case scenario, if it is too steep to pedal, just get off and walk the bike.  There is no shame in it.  The furtherest you might have to walk is a mile.

As usual, I wanted an early start.  Breakfast was provided at Cracker Barrel at 6 AM.   By 6:30 AM, I was on the road heading out of Berea.  There was a bit of traffic heading into town, but little going my direction.  I hit a convenience store 6 miles out of Berea and stopped to drink a small Gatorade.  Then back on the road.

When pioneers first settled into these valleys, they needed as much farmland in crops as possible, so the roads were always put on the side of the valley.  So, commonly, there would be an open view of the fields on one side of my bike, and a hillside on the other.  But the terrain was not nearly as bad as I expected.  Actually, the first 30-35 miles were fairly easy, and the scenery was beautiful. 

Once again I got lost.  I can't blame the map.  I missed a turn and wandered off for several miles before getting set back on course.  Another time I even turned right when the directions specifically said to turn left.  That was corrected quickly, but not before working my way past three protective dogs before knocking on a farmhouse door. 

There were more loose dogs taking an interest in driving me away from their territory.  Today the number was either 7 or 8 (not including the little coward that barked from underneathe a truck, coming out only after I had passed).  One German Shepard made a beeline for me all the way through the meadow and ran along side of me barking furiously.  It still had a tennis ball in its mouth from playing fetch with its owner.  I figured that it wouldn't bite as long as it had the ball in its mouth.  I used my soothing talk technique on it.  It dropped the ball and barked harder.  My technique seemed to not be working well, but it finally tired of the chase.   Keep in mind that on my recumbent, my feet are 3' off the ground, not next to the ground like on upright bicycles, so dogs are a little perplexed as to where to bite.  Maybe they are just joyfully admiring my bike.

The latter portion of the ride was more what I had expected  from the start.  Several long steep climbs reminded me of the climbs I did in the North Cascades, such as Washington Pass, etc.  The most difficult one, ironically was probably no longer than 1/4 mile, but it was very very steep--the kind of steepness that if it were any steeper I would be pedalling upside down.  That little hill was amazingly hard, but I managed to get over it without walking. 

My lodging for the night was another Bed and Breakfast.  My last experience hadn't gone so well.  This owner, however, did not have such an overblown sense of self-importance.  I almost missed her sign several miles before Booneville, but managed to stop and walk the bike up the drive. 

I made it!  The ride wasn't near as bad as I feared. 

Since the B&B, by definition, provides breakfast only, I would have to ride downhill into town, and back up hill again to the B&B.  The owner, however, had a policy of driving bicyclers into town to eat.   She would putter around, then pick them back up and take them back tothe B&B.  She also laundered my dirty, smelly clothes.  It was a wonderful experience.

There were two homes on the property.  There was the one she lived in, which was a converted Schoolhouse/Church, and another small house, that the one-time teacher/pastor lived in.  She and her husband restored the schoolhouse/church into a very nice, and somewhat funky, Victorian home, with 13' ceilings.  The hardwood floors were the originals from 100 years ago.  There were lots of bird feeders, and a half dozen hummingbird feeders.  At any given moment there were at least 10 hummingbirds flying around and normally quite a few more.  They are so territorial, they are fun to watch.

Since breakfast won't be ready until 7:30 AM, I'll be leaving a bit later than usual tomorrow.  My goal is to reach a town called Hazard.  It is 43-45 miles away through hilly country.  Still an 8 AM start will be fine.

The weather report had a 30-40% probablity of thunderstorms tomorrow.  I've avoided rain for awhile now.  I'm probably due.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Last night I fell asleep prior to 9 PM, and slept well all night.  I kept waking, feeling fully rested, at ridiculously early hours.  I woke at 4 AM, then 4:30 AM and finally got up at 4:45 AM.  When I turned on the lights, I saw that the actual time was 5:45 Am.  I hadn't adjusted my wristwatch to EST.  So I hurried to get ready, and was out the door, fully loaded by 6:15 AM.  The only place that I knew would be open for breakfast this early on a Sunday, was Dairy Queen.  Who, besides myself, would be crazy enough to be up that early on a Sunday morning?  A lot of people, apparently.  It was very busy. 

The road, however, was not. 

There was little traffic and the countryside was almost bewitching in its beauty.  The directions on my map, however, were befuddling.  "Cross the Middle Fork River Bridge and turn left on John Taylor Rd (a single lane road).  Turn right on unmarked Hwy 563"  You get the idea.  After a bit of this, thinking I was lost, then finding out that I wasn't, I made a fatal error.  I turned right when I was directed to turn left.  Soon I was wandering around some pretty remote areas trying to figure out if I was lost or not.  I stopped at several houses for directions.  At the second one, someone was home.  Yes, I was lost.  I go back the direction I came from and turn right, then right again, then right again, then left, and that will take me into Berea.  Easy for her to say. 

An hour later, I stopped by a gentleman who looked like he needed a break from mowing the lawn.  He had me backtrack an mile, but he put me out on a wonderful wide road.  It was only two lanes, but it had 8' shoulders.  The last ten miles were up and down, and then I was in town.

But not before having a few more run-ins with dogs.  The first two, just like yesterday, I was going downhill.  The last one, however, I was going uphill, fairly slowly, and there were four dogs lying next to the road that decided to give chase, two of them Doberman Pinchers.  Fortunately, they were not that interested, and I talked gently to them.  I guess that mathmatically speaking, since I came across 2 dogs yesterday, and six today, then I will have 18 on Tuesday, 54 on Wednesday, etc.  Not.

Despite all my concerns of not getting there until late, I rode in a little after noon.  Getting to Wendy's for lunch was like taking one's life in one's hands.  I walked the bike amidst very congested traffic.  Within two hours, I was joined by both relatives with their families.  It was an experience to treasure.

Monday is a Rest Day.  Primarily, a owner of a bike store is going to come to the motel, on his day off, to replace my disk brakes.  I will need them on the steep hills of eastern Kentucky.  Then I want to look around town, and prepare myself for one of the more difficult days of cycling.

I will be riding on Tuesday to Booneville, KY.  It is 55-60 miles, but there are no services, no conveneince stores, no restaurants.  The road is narrow, curvy, steep and hard to ride.  It will be a long day.  I will probably be out of internet range for several days.

Will McMahan

Mood:  lazy

For some reason, the shorter rides seem harder, at times, than the longer ones.  The ride today, a short 26 miles to Harrodsburg, should avail enough time to catch up on odds and ends.  But if I leave early then I'll be there in the morning, so I planned to leave mid to late morning, get there a little after noon, have lunch, settle in, and see the town.

It was around 10:30-10:45 AM when I started rolling.  One problem with starting then is that it is starting to heat up with the humidity.  I guess if I were riding  longer mileage it would still be the same, but I think the body adjusts through the morning better than when it is thrust out into the heat.  It still seemed to take forever.

This was a typical ride:  beautiful country, lots of up and down hills, some of them steep.  The main difference is that, for the first time, I was chased by some serious dogs.  Prior to today, all of the dogs have been confined--either fenced in, in kennels, or tied/chained up.  As I was rounding a corner, I spotted a dog on a porch.  It lifted its head in attention, flatend its ears, and took off like a shot out of a cannon towards me.  Because I was going downhill, I easily shot past it before it got to the road, and left it in the dust.  A similar thing happened later.  Maybe this will be a sign of things to come.  I expect that to be the case.

Harrodsburg is a very attractive town, with lots of beautifully maintained historical homes and buildings.  It is just stunning to see a string of victorian homes in impeccable condition.  Since I like museums, I headed for theirs, after checking into a motel.  It was long on books and research, but short on substance for the casual viewer like myself.

With my overall mileage passing the 3,400 mark, I am starting to tire of the lack of people to chat with.  For some reason, it seemed easier in the western part of the United States.  Maybe if I camped more, that would change, but I had sent back my tent in order to lighten my load.  At any rate I have always missed Karen a lot, but we talk a couple of times a day.  However, now I am starting to miss the companionship of friends also.  Oh well, the trip won't be too much longer, and I will be seeing more family and friends on the way.

Tomorrow will be a special treat!  My niece, Emily Kregor, with her husband Jon, and my nephew, Matthew McMahan, with his wife Jennifer and two children, Caroline and Ana, will be traveling from Cincinati and Louisville, respectively, to visit with me.  I haven't seen Matthew or Jennifer since their  wedding, and it has been a couple of years since I saw Emily and Jon.

We will be meeting in the town of Berea, KY, home of Berea College.  It should be a nice place to get together. I am looking forward to it.  Of course this is predicated on the roads not being so difficult that I can get there in a reasonable hour.  I'll leave early just to make sure.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

It rained, often hard, on the morning that W.T. and I visited Mammoth Caves yesterday.  The good news is that I didn't have to ride in it.  And I knew that a weather front was going to push it out of the way so that I would not have to contend with it today.

My goal for the day was to reach Springfield, KY.  My map from the American Cycling Association had it measured at 59 miles, and they are normally spot on.  As I was studying the map, however, I noticed that there was a highway that was shown but was not the recommended route.  It was clearly shorter but must have more traffic than the planned route.  The idea of knocking 4-5 miles off the day's total mileage won the day. 

As usual I awoke around 5 AM.  the odd thing is that this is only my second morning in EST zone, yet the body seemed to adjusted to it.  After performing all of the needed functions, I was packed and ready to go at 6 AM.  There was a problem, however---it was still dark out.  I debated whether to wait until it got lighter, then finally decided to get on the four lane road and ride hard for 1/2 mile at which place a wide shoulder appeared, and I could get out of everyone's way.  I have reflective tape on the panniers and on the triangular caution sign on the rear.  In addition, I turned on my flashing lights.  Waiting for a long break in traffic going my direction, I took off.  As the first car approached, it moved over in to the passing lane, as did the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth cars.  At that point, I got to the point with the shoulder and knew I would be safe until I got to McDonald's, the designated breakfast place for today.  When I finished eating, at 6:30 AM, it was light outside, thus safe for bicycling.

The new route took me right through Hodgenville and into the country.  Traffic was light at first.  The scenery was very pretty with rolling hills.  None of the hills were back breakers, so the morning was progressing smoothly.  I arrived in the town of New Haven for breakfast #2, and couldn't find an open restaurant, but did make use of the convenience store in the middle of town. 

My next town, Bardstown, about 13 miles away, was going to provide lunch, I decided, then it was only 25 miles to Springfield.  On the way, I encountered several touring bicyclers, unusual in that I was off of the prescribed route, and the third one pulled over to chat.  We exchanged information.  My primary contribution was the different ways to cross Washington to get to Seattle.  He gave me a much shorter way to get to Springfield.  He said that the road was busy out of Bardstown, but the shoulder widened after a while and it was much shorter.  In fact it ended up being 8 miles shorter.

I have ridden many busy roads, but this one was one of the most uncomfortable rides because there was no shoulder, and when I was barely moving up the hills, traffic started to back up significantly.  Several times, I pulled off the road into a driveway and stopped in order for the traffic behind to clear.  I try to always watch approaching traffic behind me and today I was watching a semi truck coming up behind (and not slowing down) and there were two semis coming down the hill.  It was obviously going to be a tight squeeze so I pulled off the pavement into the grass, in order to give everyone comfortable room to go forward.  That is a seldom used maneuver, but I will not hesitate to use it if things start to look a little dicey on the road.

Ironically, for the most part, I am not the one that is worried about the car and truck drivers.  They, as a whole, have been extraordinarily courteous.  However, sometimes when they pass me they give me plenty of clearance but cut it awfully close to the oncoming car or truck.  they should be worried about each other.

That having been said, I have not taken so much evasive action as I have today.  Perhaps the other route would have been safer, but I still like having ridden 12-13 less miles to get to the same place.

Tomorrow will be a very short riding day, only 26 miles.  i'll be stopping in Harrodsburg.  It is a good sized town of around 8,000 people.

Again, no mishaps today.  As I crossed a bridge, the bridge was 1 1/2-2" higher than the shoulder, resulting in a jarring blow to the bike, bouncing it up in the air (and me along with it) but there was no damage to the bike, and I was able to retain control.  The blow was so hard that the water bottle, for the first time this trip, popped right out of its holder.  Somehow as it was bouncing around, I pinched it between my elbow and my ribs.  It stayed there until I stopped.

Will McMahan