Day Nine - What A Difference A Rest Day Makes: Blacksburg to Sugar Grove VA
Day 9 was a reawakening. I actually felt for the first time in days that I might accomplish this feat of riding cross-country. Though tempting with a new outlook, the way one might slightly regret a drunken spillage of under-the-surface tremblings, of course I don't recant any of the fears or the loneliness I expressed in previous entries. But on Day 9, as I gingerly eased into the chilly mountain air from the comfort of faux-posh Holiday Inn, after spending 36-ish hours "hydrating my tissues" (thanks, Nat) I was a lot less frightened. And a lot less raw. With the temperature being cool and the wind at my back, the ten or eleven miles back to the actual route at Christiansburg was an easy warmup. I stopped at the CVS to buy advil, which I'm slightly (and appropriately) addicted to, and noxema, which Jinx and all her Ironman mates swear by as a protective shield for the undercarriage. I gobbled some advil immediately but avoided the noxema for now, preferring it as a backside backup.
The other rejuvenating aspect of the morning was moving to the next section of the Trans America Trail map - section 11 (Christiansburg VA to Berea KY). I know it's a little confusing that it's section 11 ; the trail starts on the West Coast and goes east. My destination was to be Sugar Grove VA. I had called ahead and spoke to Peggy to reserve a bed at Sugar Grove Dining and Lodging, and my rest enabled me to skid into the parking lot of the diner 91 or so miles later, with some energy to spare.
The most significant happening of the actual ride earlier that day was finding out that a cyclist had been struck on the route. After about 55 miles, I had stopped just outside of Wytheville to grab something substantial to eat. Hmmm, a convenience/fish market/live bait/liquor store - why not? A few minutes later I was peeling and eating a half-pound of non-smelly (yes, i sniffed them out first) peel 'n eat shrimp with cocktail sauce along with pretzels and V-8 juice (good for replenishing salt after sweating) on the bench outside the store. I was approached by a man, one of about 20 or so that went into the store and came out with a case of Busch, who told me that earlier a cyclist had just been injured up the road a bit. I figured by "just" he meant within the last few days or even weeks. But as i rode up Route 11, i caught up with Leigh and Margaret, the couple from Alaska who were among the people i'd camped with at Catawba a few nights ago. They told me that the crash had been that afternoon and the person injured was Ali, another guy at our campsite. A truck had clipped Ali's pannier (luckily not his body) and dragged him for a distance before he crashed. Leigh and Margaret had been riding with them (didn't see it happen) and found Ali's handlebar bag which the police had not been able to recover - and were waiting for Mike (his travel buddy whom i spoke to at length that freezing morning in Catawba) to pick the rescued bag.
I almost didn't write about this, because of the concern that you might have. But Ali's ok. No broken bones, just major road rash/lacerations, we heard, on his butt. Ugh. Their trip is over, though. In some fatalistic way, i think, ok that's happened now to someone i met, it's a reality not a concept, so the likelihood of it happening again (and to me!) reduces. Right? Like plane crashes? I don't mean to sound cold about it; there wasn't anything i could do, except proceed safely. Leigh and I exchanged numbers, in case he and Margaret made it to Sugar Grove that night.
Two-point-five hours later, red-haired Felicia, Peggy's daughter, hooked me up with the "room" which turned out to be a 2 bedroom apartment. Oddly affordable. Since there was no phone service, I went back to the road several times to find Leigh and Margaret, since there was more than enough room to share but to no avail. [In full confession mode, i would have felt embarrassed to turn on the TV to watch the American Idol finale, so i was a sliver relieved. They just didn't seem like AI types.] This place was decked out in holy-roller decor to the on-highest degree. There were a zillion religious figurines, cards, books, puzzles, daily prayer wall-hangings of all sizes, fridge magnets - even toilet reading. There was a 2-foot tall macabre Jesus clock - TICK TOCK! TICK TOCK! TICK TOCK!!!!!! - that needed to be relocated to the other bedroom later on because the TICK TOCK TICK TOCK sound kept me up. I ate downstairs at the diner waited on by a girl who reminded me of Laura B. It's quite actory of me to say this BUT i'm constantly casting the people from my life on this trip - I consider actors I know like Laura B., movie stars, and non-actors alike, such as Efrain for the Polish Yorick who i met in C-ville.
The diner was full. Everyone was older than me and whiter than me. The multiple bible quotes on the menu and walls reinforced the Baptist leanings of the establishment as did the snippets of conversation i overheard, peppered with blessings and talk of the revival. I asked Felicia, since she seemed to be in charge, if i could make the quickest long-distance call as my cell had no reception. She looked almost frightened and told me no, only Peggy could make those decisions and Peggy wasn't there.
I felt deflated. And a little bit of horror movie-watching-induced paranoia lifted some of the hairs on my neck. In movies, small-town religious fanatics kill atheists for sport, especially Jewish ones. What if they murder me in my sleep? No one will no where i am. Ok, that was just the 90-plus miles talking so i ordered chicken and green beans (yes, those same green beans are everywhere) and greens - "with vinegar?" asks Laura B as the waitress. "Yes" I reply. Yes to everything. I'm not a stranger here. I'm just like y'all are! Of course I eat my greens with vinegar! The food was really good actually. I don't know what i was expecting with the chicken i ordered, but i realized then that "chicken" in this part of the country means "fried chicken" just like "green beans" result in overcooked/canned olive-colored watery green beans and "tea" is "iced tea". I ate homemade blackberry cobbler for desert and snuck upstairs for Idol. Poor Adam. He was robbed.
The other rejuvenating aspect of the morning was moving to the next section of the Trans America Trail map - section 11 (Christiansburg VA to Berea KY). I know it's a little confusing that it's section 11 ; the trail starts on the West Coast and goes east. My destination was to be Sugar Grove VA. I had called ahead and spoke to Peggy to reserve a bed at Sugar Grove Dining and Lodging, and my rest enabled me to skid into the parking lot of the diner 91 or so miles later, with some energy to spare.
The most significant happening of the actual ride earlier that day was finding out that a cyclist had been struck on the route. After about 55 miles, I had stopped just outside of Wytheville to grab something substantial to eat. Hmmm, a convenience/fish market/live bait/liquor store - why not? A few minutes later I was peeling and eating a half-pound of non-smelly (yes, i sniffed them out first) peel 'n eat shrimp with cocktail sauce along with pretzels and V-8 juice (good for replenishing salt after sweating) on the bench outside the store. I was approached by a man, one of about 20 or so that went into the store and came out with a case of Busch, who told me that earlier a cyclist had just been injured up the road a bit. I figured by "just" he meant within the last few days or even weeks. But as i rode up Route 11, i caught up with Leigh and Margaret, the couple from Alaska who were among the people i'd camped with at Catawba a few nights ago. They told me that the crash had been that afternoon and the person injured was Ali, another guy at our campsite. A truck had clipped Ali's pannier (luckily not his body) and dragged him for a distance before he crashed. Leigh and Margaret had been riding with them (didn't see it happen) and found Ali's handlebar bag which the police had not been able to recover - and were waiting for Mike (his travel buddy whom i spoke to at length that freezing morning in Catawba) to pick the rescued bag.
I almost didn't write about this, because of the concern that you might have. But Ali's ok. No broken bones, just major road rash/lacerations, we heard, on his butt. Ugh. Their trip is over, though. In some fatalistic way, i think, ok that's happened now to someone i met, it's a reality not a concept, so the likelihood of it happening again (and to me!) reduces. Right? Like plane crashes? I don't mean to sound cold about it; there wasn't anything i could do, except proceed safely. Leigh and I exchanged numbers, in case he and Margaret made it to Sugar Grove that night.
Two-point-five hours later, red-haired Felicia, Peggy's daughter, hooked me up with the "room" which turned out to be a 2 bedroom apartment. Oddly affordable. Since there was no phone service, I went back to the road several times to find Leigh and Margaret, since there was more than enough room to share but to no avail. [In full confession mode, i would have felt embarrassed to turn on the TV to watch the American Idol finale, so i was a sliver relieved. They just didn't seem like AI types.] This place was decked out in holy-roller decor to the on-highest degree. There were a zillion religious figurines, cards, books, puzzles, daily prayer wall-hangings of all sizes, fridge magnets - even toilet reading. There was a 2-foot tall macabre Jesus clock - TICK TOCK! TICK TOCK! TICK TOCK!!!!!! - that needed to be relocated to the other bedroom later on because the TICK TOCK TICK TOCK sound kept me up. I ate downstairs at the diner waited on by a girl who reminded me of Laura B. It's quite actory of me to say this BUT i'm constantly casting the people from my life on this trip - I consider actors I know like Laura B., movie stars, and non-actors alike, such as Efrain for the Polish Yorick who i met in C-ville.
The diner was full. Everyone was older than me and whiter than me. The multiple bible quotes on the menu and walls reinforced the Baptist leanings of the establishment as did the snippets of conversation i overheard, peppered with blessings and talk of the revival. I asked Felicia, since she seemed to be in charge, if i could make the quickest long-distance call as my cell had no reception. She looked almost frightened and told me no, only Peggy could make those decisions and Peggy wasn't there.
I felt deflated. And a little bit of horror movie-watching-induced paranoia lifted some of the hairs on my neck. In movies, small-town religious fanatics kill atheists for sport, especially Jewish ones. What if they murder me in my sleep? No one will no where i am. Ok, that was just the 90-plus miles talking so i ordered chicken and green beans (yes, those same green beans are everywhere) and greens - "with vinegar?" asks Laura B as the waitress. "Yes" I reply. Yes to everything. I'm not a stranger here. I'm just like y'all are! Of course I eat my greens with vinegar! The food was really good actually. I don't know what i was expecting with the chicken i ordered, but i realized then that "chicken" in this part of the country means "fried chicken" just like "green beans" result in overcooked/canned olive-colored watery green beans and "tea" is "iced tea". I ate homemade blackberry cobbler for desert and snuck upstairs for Idol. Poor Adam. He was robbed.
Daniel, I love reading about your life however atypical it is these days. Love you! Bonnie
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