Day 5 - Monstrous, O Monstrous! The Hills and Storms of Central Virginia!
It was muggy and warm when i bid goodbye to all at Alexander House on Saturday. I didn't know where i was going to end up. All i knew was there was this evil hill coming up in Afton before i would get to the famously gorgeously vistaed Blue Ridge Parkway. After the hill, i would assess and decided from there. The hill was difficult but years of riding up Coldwater have prepared me for a long climb, so it sucked but didn't kill me. Earlier on, i ran into a guy who was on a bicycle (not a traveler, a regular cyclist) who told me that the hill at Afton was only part-way up if i was to continue on to the Parkway. But say what?? Dan, Jinx's mate and major Ironman/runner/cyclist/racing guy and physical therapist, who has, along with Jinx, ridden Afton mountain many times, assured me, more or less, that the major climb that i saw on the map after Afton was not what it seemed to be: huge. HUGE. I believed him about 75% since he's the Virginia cyclist, and i wanted it to be true - but the map told a different story: Afton was a momentary climb compared to what lay ahead. [When i get home, i will scan the image of the map so you will know what i mean].
Yes, it turns out Dan was wrong, and the map was right. The Blue Ridge Parkway was miles and miles of climbing. How many miles, you ask? I can't tell you, because somewhere in there, my cycle computer decided to stop working. So for hours, in the baking, crotch-rotting heat, i had no idea how far i'd gone or how much longer it was. My plan was to make it to Lexington, making the day about 88 miles or so. What i didn't know is that at least 20 miles (probably more) of that would be a constant uphill battle. Jesus! I hope it sounds hard to you because it was. I know i deserve kudos for Day 5, even though it was poorly planned (only 25% my fault).
The Blue Ridge Parkway is truly spectacular. The Blude Ridge strip of Appalachia are, not surprisingly, blue-hued - cloudy, yet glaringly bright. Cool-looking but hot hot hot out there that day. I took the first pictures and video here with my new fab camera (thank you, Donny, for the present). I drank a ton of fluids for fear of running out of steam. I met a young guy named James, fellow TransAmerican (not trans-trans - you know what i mean) during the climbs. Weirdly, his computer wasn't registering either. Were we in some kind of void?
The best thing about climbing up a hill is knowing that at some point, sometime, you will be going downhill for reprieve. (The opposite is true for downhill riding: all easy things must come to an end). Downhill took me to a town called Vesuvius. I'm dating myself with these 80s song references - but first it was "Let me love you, Occoquan", then "Palmyra. Palmyra. My heart's on fire, for Palmyra" and here it was "Ve-Ve-Vesuvius" (Let me know if you don't get the reference). From Vesuvius, it was still 20 miles to Lexington, and with my computer busted, i had only some idea of how long it would take me from that point.
Several miles past Vesuvius, i found a convenience store and guzzled a bottle of gatorade and bought some salty nuts and pretzels to keep myself going. The amiable guy at the register asked if i was fixin' to have a picnic on the porch. I thought, yes, yes, i will have a picnic on the porch. What else did they offer? Sandwiches, said his counterpart, a stout, chinless lady. And barbeque. When i hear barbeque in LA, i think of a type of food, rather than an item: ribs, wings, etc. But barbeque in this part of VA, or at least in this shop, meant shredded mystery meat in a tomato sauce on a bun. Sold. Slaw on it? asked the lady. Of course. It was both gross and delicious, like many foods i have been consuming in the last week.
As i was cleaning up my picnic, the sky was darkening. It was still daylight (only 6:30pm or so) but clouding over. A young guy in a pickup shouted to me: hope you're not going far! Thunderstorm is coming! Maybe because of exhuastion, disorientation, loneliness, Danny-ness, whatever, i don't know, but that pushed my panic button. Hopping on Whitey, I rode as fast as i could (which was not very fast at all, considering the miles i'd done and the fact that between where i was and Lexington was hilly). I checked into the Red Roof Inn (i called ahead this time) after riding through Lexington, another pretty town. Unfortunately, the cheaper motels are always located after the town's landscape ceases to be charming, and this room was the most sinister one of the trip thus far. Very dark. As soon as i shut the door, Zeus started to bowl a 300-game upstairs and the sky came apart in zig-zagged light and dark. I have never seen anything like it. No wonder Southerners believe in god. And the fan in the bathroom molested me, whirring a rhythmic loop making me feel like i was losing it a little as i soaked my sore ass in icy water, trying not to touch the base of the tub with my most vulnerables.
I put on my raingear for the first time and raced across to the Lexington Restaurant next door. They were empty, clearly closed. I asked, please can i get something to eat? A worker took pity on me and asked an unseen boss if it was okay. The stern proprietess peered around the corner and okayed me. i could have a sandwich, and homemade vegetable soup. Can i have any vegetables? Yes, there's green beans. Anything green. I raced back to my room through the storm and started on the soup. Ooh, look! A shitake mushroom, i thought, feeling comforted by California-ized foodie-ness. But sadly, the mushroom turned out to be a grey piece of beef floating in there. Oh. I didn't pick around the macaroni and potatoes (stuff i don't normally like in soup); i ate them, like a good boy, getting in my nourishment. (I did pick off the fat from the beef and ate that too). The green beans, alas were not green but brownish, having lived in a large can before being my vegetable-of-the-day. They were like green beans from Theunis Dey Elementary School circa 1977. I ate them too. I'll probably end up eating McDonald's for the first time in over 20 years before this trip is out.
Before crashing, i tried to scrub the stench out of my cycling shorts. They smelled like someone else. I don't know who, but definitely someone more disgusting than me. Will i stay so stinky once the trip is done, a la making a face so often it freezes that way?
The storm raged on, and I thought THANK GOD: 1) i didn't camp that night as i had planned to, for the first time and 2) i made it into my sinister little hovel of a room before it started.
Yes, it turns out Dan was wrong, and the map was right. The Blue Ridge Parkway was miles and miles of climbing. How many miles, you ask? I can't tell you, because somewhere in there, my cycle computer decided to stop working. So for hours, in the baking, crotch-rotting heat, i had no idea how far i'd gone or how much longer it was. My plan was to make it to Lexington, making the day about 88 miles or so. What i didn't know is that at least 20 miles (probably more) of that would be a constant uphill battle. Jesus! I hope it sounds hard to you because it was. I know i deserve kudos for Day 5, even though it was poorly planned (only 25% my fault).
The Blue Ridge Parkway is truly spectacular. The Blude Ridge strip of Appalachia are, not surprisingly, blue-hued - cloudy, yet glaringly bright. Cool-looking but hot hot hot out there that day. I took the first pictures and video here with my new fab camera (thank you, Donny, for the present). I drank a ton of fluids for fear of running out of steam. I met a young guy named James, fellow TransAmerican (not trans-trans - you know what i mean) during the climbs. Weirdly, his computer wasn't registering either. Were we in some kind of void?
The best thing about climbing up a hill is knowing that at some point, sometime, you will be going downhill for reprieve. (The opposite is true for downhill riding: all easy things must come to an end). Downhill took me to a town called Vesuvius. I'm dating myself with these 80s song references - but first it was "Let me love you, Occoquan", then "Palmyra. Palmyra. My heart's on fire, for Palmyra" and here it was "Ve-Ve-Vesuvius" (Let me know if you don't get the reference). From Vesuvius, it was still 20 miles to Lexington, and with my computer busted, i had only some idea of how long it would take me from that point.
Several miles past Vesuvius, i found a convenience store and guzzled a bottle of gatorade and bought some salty nuts and pretzels to keep myself going. The amiable guy at the register asked if i was fixin' to have a picnic on the porch. I thought, yes, yes, i will have a picnic on the porch. What else did they offer? Sandwiches, said his counterpart, a stout, chinless lady. And barbeque. When i hear barbeque in LA, i think of a type of food, rather than an item: ribs, wings, etc. But barbeque in this part of VA, or at least in this shop, meant shredded mystery meat in a tomato sauce on a bun. Sold. Slaw on it? asked the lady. Of course. It was both gross and delicious, like many foods i have been consuming in the last week.
As i was cleaning up my picnic, the sky was darkening. It was still daylight (only 6:30pm or so) but clouding over. A young guy in a pickup shouted to me: hope you're not going far! Thunderstorm is coming! Maybe because of exhuastion, disorientation, loneliness, Danny-ness, whatever, i don't know, but that pushed my panic button. Hopping on Whitey, I rode as fast as i could (which was not very fast at all, considering the miles i'd done and the fact that between where i was and Lexington was hilly). I checked into the Red Roof Inn (i called ahead this time) after riding through Lexington, another pretty town. Unfortunately, the cheaper motels are always located after the town's landscape ceases to be charming, and this room was the most sinister one of the trip thus far. Very dark. As soon as i shut the door, Zeus started to bowl a 300-game upstairs and the sky came apart in zig-zagged light and dark. I have never seen anything like it. No wonder Southerners believe in god. And the fan in the bathroom molested me, whirring a rhythmic loop making me feel like i was losing it a little as i soaked my sore ass in icy water, trying not to touch the base of the tub with my most vulnerables.
I put on my raingear for the first time and raced across to the Lexington Restaurant next door. They were empty, clearly closed. I asked, please can i get something to eat? A worker took pity on me and asked an unseen boss if it was okay. The stern proprietess peered around the corner and okayed me. i could have a sandwich, and homemade vegetable soup. Can i have any vegetables? Yes, there's green beans. Anything green. I raced back to my room through the storm and started on the soup. Ooh, look! A shitake mushroom, i thought, feeling comforted by California-ized foodie-ness. But sadly, the mushroom turned out to be a grey piece of beef floating in there. Oh. I didn't pick around the macaroni and potatoes (stuff i don't normally like in soup); i ate them, like a good boy, getting in my nourishment. (I did pick off the fat from the beef and ate that too). The green beans, alas were not green but brownish, having lived in a large can before being my vegetable-of-the-day. They were like green beans from Theunis Dey Elementary School circa 1977. I ate them too. I'll probably end up eating McDonald's for the first time in over 20 years before this trip is out.
Before crashing, i tried to scrub the stench out of my cycling shorts. They smelled like someone else. I don't know who, but definitely someone more disgusting than me. Will i stay so stinky once the trip is done, a la making a face so often it freezes that way?
The storm raged on, and I thought THANK GOD: 1) i didn't camp that night as i had planned to, for the first time and 2) i made it into my sinister little hovel of a room before it started.
You'll turn me into a praying person yet - "Dear God, let him be safe." Being European to the core, my imagination fails me - I never even considered bears, or bad food. You rock!
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