Welome to my experience on an interstate bicycle trip.
In 2015, I rode a bicycle for probably the 3rd time in 10 years. This time, I was riding from Yorkville, Virginia to Colorado Springs, Colorado. On the days that I had cell service, I’d post short journal entries so that my friends and family could keep tabs on me.
The full, original blog is posted below (unedited and unchanged, even if there are typos or poorly structured sentences that I’d like to change today). The posts are chronological, so the next post is actually the final entry from my trip. Click here to go to the beginning.
For photos, click here.
Day 2 / July 1, 2015
We had planned to start the trip today, July 1st, all along. Anticipation and some upcoming fearful weather guided us to start yesterday, though. Now, 100 miles in, it's like we did a century on the first day; that's not a bad start at all. We are waking up at 5:30 am, so I'll just leave some scattered thoughts from the road:
- You may not be able to find food, water, or gas for a long time, but there will always be a church every few minutes.
- Virginia has more museums and memorials on random streets dedicated to the Civil War than days fought in the war.
- We slept through the wildest storm last night. I don't think I've ever been closer to lightening; my entire tent would become illuminated like someone kept flicking a switch on every few minutes
- It seems like everyone that has done the Trans American trail has stories about witnessing human kindness and being taken in. Two days in and we already have our first story. We stopped into a bike shop just a few minutes off the trail to pick up a few things. While talking to the owner, he invited us to camp out back of his store. That was nice, but him letting us take showers at the shop was even better.
- We are passing a town named Bumpass tomorrow. There are only two ways I can think to pronounce it and I'm not sure which would be worse.
Day 2 is in the books.
Day 3 / July 2, 2015
You would think that a full day of biking would allow you to think more and gather your thoughts for writing a post like this. As I think back on the day, though, I've realized that the days are already blending together. I am fairly positive everything I write after this happened today.
The day began at 5:30 on the dot. We cut down on the time that it took to break down our campsite by 15 minutes, but I still don't know how it took us 45 today. The misty morning we set out into lasted the whole ride, which made the heat much more bearable. We experienced the hills of Virginia today, which brought the best views so far but also the toughest riding. We should be crossing the mountains in two days, so I guess I shouldn't complain. I'm still waiting for that biker's high that I've heard about, but I'll settle for the sense of accomplishment for now.
Our campgrounds for tonight are behind a supermarket in a town that is so small that its DMV is literally situated inside of said supermarket.
It's 7 right now, so I guess it's my bedtime. Tomorrow we will be passing through Charlottesville, which will be the biggest city we've passed through so far. We've ridden about 160 miles so far, but still have a few thousand to go.
Day 4 / July 3, 2015
Today was an uphill battle, but it was extremely rewarding. We left the "census designated place" of Palmrya (I guess you can't be considered a town if you have only 104 residents) around 6:15 today. The hills blend together, but I do recall seeing Thomas Jefferson's home of Monticello.
When we arrived to Charlottesville, we had our best meal of the trip so far- breakfast at Fox's Cafe. We biked around in the city for a little and did a quick pass through of UVA's campus. I do wish we had more time to explore the city, but the 1-2 hours spent there were enough to entice me to go back.
We biked for a while longer heading to Afton, a small town a little above the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The plan was no stops until we got to Afton, but a peach orchard changed that. After a quick "dondae" (peach ice cream over an apple cinnamon doughnut with fresh peaches and whipped cream), we got back on the road.
When we finally got up a bit on the mountain and arrived in Afton, we stopped in to the post office to see if there were any places to grab food. The post office employee told us that the closest option would be an antique store at the bottom of the mountain (no shot we were biking down there again) that sold soda and candy. To our amazement, she offered us the use of her car to pick up dinner from a brewery that was a few miles away. This woman didn't even know our names, but she was kind enough to let us borrow her car to get food. I can't really picture something like that happening in New York.
After we picked up dinner, we arrived at our lodging for the night: the Cookie Lady's house. The Cookie Lady was a woman that took in bikers from the Trans American trail for decades. She was so well known that her house is listed on our trail's map as a destination for housing. Although she passed away several years ago, her family decided to keep the house open for cyclists on the trail.
Walking into the house was very overwhelming. The first things you see are old bike jerseys with notes on them, newspaper clippings, old tires, and a journal signed by everyone that has stayed there. The entire downstairs of the house is covered wall to wall with thousands of different things left behind by bikers that have passed through. My first thought was "if only these walls could talk," but then I realized that they could. There are Polaroids of guests, newspaper clippings about people that have stayed here, post cards from every end of the world, and even a guitar. The main decoration is a thank you note to the Cookie Lady; there are an incredible amount of poems, cartoon drawings, and other well deserved thank you notes addressed to the Cookie Lady. Although she was not here to let us in, we are thankful that her door remained open for us.
Tomorrow we bike to the top of the montain. I did notice a telephone number on the fridge for someone that will tow your bike and give you a ride to the other side of the mountain, but that wouldn't be as good of a story to tell.
Day 5 / July 4, 2015
Yesterday's successful ride warranted a late alarm clock today of 8:00am. After doing one last sweep through the Cookie Lady's house, we got back on our bikes and pedaled up the mountain.
The misty morning made for a surreal beginning. We were high enough that there should have been a view from the road, but the mist blocked out anything more than 10 feet away in each direction. The sides surrounding the road looked as though an artist painted the trees and bushes but left the rest of the canvas completely blank.
After a few hours, we found ourselves descending into the town of Vesuvius. There was one small food spot in town, but when we walked in they announced that they were closed. Noticing our helmets in hand, they asked if we were biking across the country. When we said yes, they offered us either a ham and cheese or barbecue. I was curious what ordering generic "barbecue" would entail, so I went with that. It turns out that it was incredible pulled pork and that that may not have been the best decision while still biking.
We continued on into Lexington, VA and decided to treat ourselves to a motel room on this Fourth of July. I'm not sure if this is actually the nicest motel 6 in existence or if I'm just blindly ecstatic about the shower, bed, pillow, TV, AC, sink... You get the point.
Tomorrow we continue to roll on and get another day closer to leaving Virginia. It's been real, VA, but I'm ready to get onto the next state.
Day 6 / July 5, 2015
A lot of people have been asking me what my favorite part of the trip has been. The honest answer is that it's whenever I'm not biking. That may sound absurd for someone who's biking across the country to say, but it's true. When I'm biking, it's just to get to the next point. The vast majority of what I've seen the past 350+ miles has been farm land. Horses, rolling hills, hay stacks, and cows are all cool to see, but they all look the same. The best moments so far are when we are able to talk to different people, eat whatever we want, and find a place to rest up.
My mother sometimes comments on my generation (I think we are called millenials, but that's a dumb term) saying that we need instant gratification and that we tend to have a slight sense of entitlement. I think most of her reasoning is that we have pretty much anything at our fingertips. I mean I'm currently writing this from a phone that can access just about any information I would ever need. Though I don't always agree with my mom saying that, I think that there is some truth to it.
Today was probably the second hardest day so far (nothing will top the first). We did 70 miles along the Blue Ridge Mountains going between towns that are so small that they wouldn't appear on most maps. I dealt with pickup trucks that didn't seem to see me (probably because they had too many confederate flags waving in their line of vision), a downpour of rain, and several navigational hiccups, but it was all worth it when I got to the hostel that we are staying at. The feeling of success that I've been experiencing isn't one of those triumphant hands in the air kind of deals; it's a very relaxed sense of accomplishment. It's as though I earned the shower and the cot. The struggle of today was instantly washed away when I cleaned up and sat down. You always tell me you want it in writing when I admit you're right, mom, so here it is: you were right.
Some random notes:
- Although the motel 6 last night was a very good 4th of July, I had been imaging spending the 4th in a small town with 1950s Chevy pickups, sparklers, grilling on the front lawns, ladies in sundresses- pretty sure I was just picturing something I saw in an outdated history book. Today we passed through the town of Buchanan and it was exactly what I was picturing; it even had a few old school Chevy pickups in front of a movie theatre that seemed to have not been renovated since the transition to color movies. It was surreal and felt like I biked through a time warp or movie set.
- I've noticed a bunch of mailboxes in the middle of no where. They aren't even attached to a farm or anything- they'll be next to a creek or next to a rock; maybe it's a Virginia thing?
- I went to Catholic school from pre-k-college, but I still find it a tad bit strange how some restaurants and establishments will only play Christian rock music down here.
- We are staying at this very special hostel in Catawba tonight. It's free to stay in and survives on donations. It is a popular spot for hikers on the Appalachian trail. It's very humbling coming across places like this that exist just to help people out.
Sorry for the long winded post, but I think the storm tomorrow is forcing us to have our first off day, so I have a bit more energy tonight.
Day 7 / July 6, 2015
And on the seventh day, we rested. The weather was on and off since the cliche rooster woke us up this morning, so we hung around and did a lot of nothing. Chris and I played chess about 3 times every hour and we ate everything we could. I just turned around and saw him eating the remains of a party sized bag of Doritos with a spoon. Today was a good day.
The most interesting part of the day was getting to know the hikers on the Appalachian trail. The hostel we are staying at is open to cyclists, but its primary guests are hikers. A reason for that is that the founder/owner of this place was a hiker on the trail himself. He's a tree sized guy with a gray beard and hair that would rival Zeus'.
The hikers come and go, but they all seem to know each other from the trail. They're all friendly enough and primarily keep to themselves. It's obvious that they're all looking for something in the mountains, but I guess that's not too far off from my trip. I know that after I get to San Francisco, I will be getting back to New York for good; the hikers seem like nomads for the most part.
I'm sure living traveling the mountains changes you a tremendous amount, but I didn't expect that it would also change your name. I don't know any of their birth names, but I've met Earthling, Hardcore, Scavenger, City Slicker, and my favorite- Sir Duke Smellington. I was half expecting someone to introduce themselves as Pony Boy or Sodapop. It comes with the trail I suppose.
Tommorow we move on to the town of Draper, Virginia as we start our second week.
Day 8 / July 7, 2015
We slept in a bit today so as to not get in the way of the lively band of hikers as they marched back out onto the Appalachian Trail. When I got up and walked around, I noticed a map of the full trail that they were all seeking to complete. The hikers began at the start of the trail in May down in Georgia and need to make it north to Maine before October 15th when the season ends. Several of the hikers thought that we were nuts for doing our trip, but I couldn't imagine committing to a 5 month hike. No thanks. I wish luck to all my new hiker friends and hope that they find whatever it is that they're looking for.
We had our best 10-15 miles so far this morning. We started off with a great mix of flats and low rolling hills to get us warmed up. We let our excitement fool us into thinking that we might be getting away from the steep hills of Virginia, but the next 45-50 miles scoffed at that.
We met several cyclists from the area today. In addition to giving us some shortcuts for the day's route, they talked about how doing the Trans America Trail is "the dream." One of the men even told us he was proud of us, which oddly made me feel really good. Ordinarily I don't care (sometimes to a fault) what strangers would say to me, but his sincerity really made me proud of us, too.
We rolled into our destination of Draper around 4:30. I think there is something in the town's water supply, because people aren't usually this nice. Draper doesn't seem to be set up like a regular town. I believe all of the businesses are operated under the same group. They may be owned by the town, but I don't know. As Chris put it, "If they're not owned by the town, then they have more power than the town. They're too big to fail."
There is one market/restaurant, one clothing store, a bike shop, and an inn all housed in the same complex. When we pulled in to town, only the clothing store was open. Knowing about our trip, the employee brought us upstairs to the closed market and had the employees unlock the fridges so that we could get some dinner supplies. He then instructed us to camp out under the Methodist church in town.
As we were setting up camp behind the church, the pastor drove in behind us. I was expecting her to ask us who we were or what we were doing, but instead she unlocked the rectory and said that we were free to use the bathroom and kitchen while we stayed.
I'm currently waiting for the bible study class to get out so that I can hose down; I don't want to offend and shock any of these kind people that took us in. Chris says we don't want to put the fear of God into them. Back to the 5:30 wake up tomorrow so that we can try to get to our next spot before the rain gets too bad.
Day 10 / July 9, 2015
Sorry for the lack of a Day 9 post, but Troutdale, VA is not one of the places that appears on Verizon's red map of coverage that they tout. It's probably for the best; the only positive I can say about yesterday is that it is in the past.
I'm sitting on the back porch of a Methodist Church in Rosedale, VA that has taken in cyclists on the Trans America trail since the trail's inception in 1976. As I look around, I'm not too sure how much of this property has changed since then. It's very well taken care of, but it still has that old school American charm. My clothes are drying on a clothesline, there's a boarded up log cabin in the background, and every car that passes by is made in America.
We had a long day to get to this quaint back porch, though. We left Troutdale around 6:30 and continued yesterday's journey of climbing through Jefferson National Park. After a few miles, we got our reward: going down the mountain. Ordinarily I don't think the downhills are as rewarding as the uphills are challenging. The downhills are also frustrating because you know there's just going to be a bigger uphill on the other side, but I'm hoping that's just a Virginia thing. Today was different. With the aid of going down, we were able to do 25 miles by 8:30am. We rolled past a pack of dogs (why do they hate bikers so much? Do we have some kind of feud that I'm unaware of?) and into the town of Damascus.
I was going to continue this post about the best breakfast I've had and how it was $6 in Damascus, the Canadian motorcycle couple we met that rode with their daschund on the back of the wife's bike, and the bike shop owner we met that continuously kept saying what a long day we had ahead of us (thanks for the heads up, pal), but a South Korean named Yum just walked in to the hostel that we are staying in and he is far more interesting.
Because of the influence that America has on South Korean media, Yum decided he wanted to see America first hand. He flew out to LAX and has been biking across the country since May. He has a flight booked in August at JFK, so Chris and I have been giving him tips for the city while he gives us advice on the western end of our trip.
We've been talking for a while and there are too many great things to share, so I'm going to list them out:
- He was once cleaning his bike because it was covered in mud and removed his brakes to make sure they were clean enough to work. He finished up and began to bike downhill before he realized he had forgotten to attach them (don't worry- he's ok).
- A westbound cyclist had warned Yum about dogs in the streets of Kentucky and equipped him with what sounds like a police baton.
- He said the trip has only been getting harder as he goes East, so that bodes well for Chris and me as we go to San Francisco.
- When we asked if it has been hard doing this trip on his own, he said the hardest part was in Kansas because "it's just so boring."
- We're talking about American pop culture and he asked: "Is Kim Kardashian a symbol of beauty? What is she famous for?" Neither of us had a solid response.
- Although he was expecting everyone to be carrying one, Yum has seen 2 guns in his time here. The first gun he saw was on a cop in LAX and the second was when he was staying with a 70 year old man who wanted to show Yum a gun up close; in is words: "it was awesome."
- We asked what the best thing he's eaten so far has been and he quickly announced "pie." Apparently American media features pies often and American pie ingredients are not easily found in South Korea. His first pie experience was from Walmart and he was left disappointed. With this trip as a testament to Yum's perseverance, though, he went on to a cafe in the next town and ordered one slice of each pie that they had on the menu. He happily recalled that being the best meal he's had. White Castle also came up, but I don't think he saw what Harold and Kumar were fussing about.
- We asked what kind of music he listens to and "Tyler the Creator" was one of the first artists he mentioned. I was not expecting that.
- The Simpsons are the main reason he wanted to visit America and primarily how he learned (fluent) English.
We were planning on going to bed early to get a good start tomorrow, but talking to Yum has been better time spent.
Day 11 / July 10, 2015
Staying up late last night talking with Yum warranted a later sleep in today, so we said our goodbyes and hit the road around 9. Today was our last day in Virginia, so it was fitting that we had to go over another mountain to get out. So long Virginia; I probably won't see you again until the next time I'm a passenger in a car that gets a speeding ticket while passing through your state.
The day was routine- high highs and low lows. Nothing particularly interesting happened until 50 miles in when we crossed the Virginia/Kentucky border. We took the touristy shots in front of the "Welcome to Kentucky" sign and continued pedaling. The roads got thinner, people had their names written on vanity plates instead of a front license plate (share the road, Frank in the pickup), accents got harder to understand (I had just started getting used to the Virginian dialect of English, too), there were people just sitting around on curbs and even a billboard like they were either welcoming us or asking us to leave, and then there were the dogs.
When talking to people on this trail, the only piece of advice that they have regarding Kentucky is to be careful of the dogs in the streets. They were right. Biking over the border was like in the Pixar movie Up when Mr. Fredrickson and Russel walked into Charles Muntz' lair and there were thousands of dogs looking down at them from the cave. Back on our second day on the trip, the bike shop owner in Ashland advised us to get dog mace (the bottle proudly declares that it's the "Official Dog Mace of the U.S. Postal Service for over 30 years") specifically for Kentucky. I didn't think I'd need it, but we each got a bottle just in case. As I was biking through Lookout, KY today, a few dogs in a yard started barking at me. I thought that they were gated in and paid little attention to them. I noticed a sign across the street that read "No Spraying." I assumed they meant pesticides, but then began wondering if they also meant dog mace. I began day dreaming about if some person just went around spraying the dogs and was the reason for the sign and before I knew it those dogs had gotten out of the yard and were in stride with me nabbing at my bike. I picked up the pace and looked up and saw Chris pedaling towards me with the mace in hand shouting "I'm coming, Kevin!" I was able to get away without him using it, but man what an absurd scene that was. Word of advice to those doing the Trans America trail: don't take the wild dog warnings lightly.
When we arrived at the church that we are staying at, we were greeted by about 50 people from Georgia that had traveled here for an annual community outreach. They all introduced themselves, shook our hands, and shuffled us to the dinner table. Although they had eaten hours before, they knew we were coming and kept the food out for us. They filled us with spaghetti, pb and j's, peach cobbler, and a stereotypical amount of sweet tea. It's tough to put into words how overwhelming it has been to meet such genuinely good and kind people. They give everything and all they ask is for us to sign their Biker Log for those that have passed through (Yum made an appearance here a few days ago according to the log). If all I get out of this trip are no longer having chicken legs and having full faith in the goodness of humanity, I'm more than ok with that; I do think I'll be showing up in San Fran with more than just that, though.
Day 12 / July 11, 2015
Due to superstitions, I was reluctant to think it until I put my key into the motel door, but I can now say that today was easily our best day biking wise. We did about 70-75 miles with 5 big climbs and held a great pace all day. Part of the reason for the speed may have been the change in surroundings. We are under 100 miles from the Virginia border, but it feels like far more.
The road that we started out on this morning resembled the narrowness and windiness of a Candy Land board. Instead of Peppermint Forest, there was Skoal and Coke Curbside Garden. Although it was technically a 2 way street, only one pickup truck could fit at a time. We navigated our way through the obstacles and won our first dog chases of the morning; we were feeling it today.
I wish I had some great anecdotes about things we saw and people we met, but the sights were bleak and the people were rare. I had trouble discerning which houses were abandoned and which were inhabited. The houses became more unconventional and makeshift the longer the day went. There were signs for cage fights and backyard wrestling; I'm not sure what I was expecting in Kentucky, but I don't think this was it. I have been enjoying the increase in signs, though. The politically charged ones are good, but the religious ones are great. I've noticed the further I get from the coast, the more fire and brimstone style messages pop up. My personal favorite today was: "Pray now or pay later." Simple and to the point.
Well, here's to hoping tomorrow brings both great biking and better views.
Day 13 / July 12, 2015
While checking out of the motel this morning, the employee asked if I was heading north. When I replied "west," he nodded towards the weather forecast on the tv and wished me good luck. We already knew that some wet weather was rolling in, so we were leaving early to try to get to our next location before it got too bad.
We were about six miles in and had just gotten to the top of our first climb when some ominous clouds began to engulf the area. The closest shelter was the gas station at the bottom of the hill that we had just come from, but we decided it was the smartest move. We bought a few things and asked one of the attendants if we could hangout inside until the storm passed. "Inside, outside, wherever" was his mumbled response. After about two hours of gin rummy, we were able to get out and moving again.
The scenery wasn't too different than yesterday's; the extreme poverty is not something I was expecting nor is it something I will get used to. I have noticed that the most sad looking homes are also the ones with the American flag waving the highest.
I was riding down a street today where a man and woman were picking through what looked like a burned down (or possibly collapsed) house. While I was looking at that on my left, a small boy of maybe 7 tried catching up to me on his bike on my right hollering, "Hey mister! Where ya from?" I slowed down to talk to him, but his mother called him back to his yard after a few seconds. As I continued on, I heard him shout: "Bye, bike brother! Bike brothers for life!" You better believe I'm telling people I'm in a Kentucy biker gang for now on.
I've noticed that there have been less pickup trucks than we've seen since we left Yorktown; they are still the most common type of vehicle we share the road with, but there are just less. We have seen a different type of vehicle emerging on the streets of Kentucky, though: ATVs. We were pretty surprised to see people just rolling through town in ATVs; I saw one get into a fender bender yesterday and I couldn't help but laugh. It was just an absurd scene to witness.
We're currently posted up in a pavilion behind a Protestant church in Booneville, Kentucky (not sure it can get more Kentucky than that). The fog has set in all around and there are scattered fireworks going off around the fields. The combination of those things mixed with being in the south kind of makes it feel like I'm in a civil war reenactment, except the whole part where I'm sitting on a picnic table writing this on my phone.
We met 3 men today that are doing the reverse of our trip. One guy said, "You're gonna love it. You're gonna hate it, too, but you're gonna love it." They all were grinning very widely; you could tell that they knew they were in the home stretch. I am very excited to feel that myself. Sidenote: Just about every person we've met on this trail is retired. I mean I'm unemployed, so I guess that's kind of the same thing, right?
Day 14 / July 14, 2015
Chris and I both woke up groggy today and agreed that we deserved a solid breakfast, so we gathered up our lives and biked a few blocks over to a surprisingly clean looking diner to start our day. I walked in expecting to smell the morning scent of bacon, but instead was hit with a cloud stemming from some Marlboro Reds. We looked ahead and saw about 12-15 older men sitting as though they were at a conference meeting. Some were having their morning smokes and others were having coffee, but they were all focused on us. I'm fairly positive they could just sniff out non-locals, though I'm sure the helmets and funny shorts didn't help.
The waiter was quite friendly; after bringing our coffees, he told us what a good day of weather we had ahead of us. While bringing our food, he asked if we were heading east or west. When we told him our route, he cheerfully congratulated us on getting past the big hills and climbs. We wanted to keep ordering things just so that he'd continue with the positive vibes, but we paid our check and headed out. We were looking forward to a great day.
Back in grammar school, I was a member of the Forensics team. No, we weren't miniature lab technicians working on CSI cases; we competed in public speaking competitions (that's probably the opening line I used when I met my girlfriend). I don't remember the majority of my speeches, but I do remember always cleaning up with trophies with "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." If you haven't read the book, the title should give you all the information you'd need.
Despite the waiter's efforts, I was having trouble right away. The air was thick and my legs were slow. The first few lines of my Forensics speech started rattling around in my mind as I tried to keep my spirits up. I was a little behind Chris, so he texted me the 35 mile route that we were taking to Berea, KY. After a bit, I found my groove. I was able to pick up the pace and was having one of my fastest days yet.
I had just done somewhere around the 35 miles and hadn't seen any signs for Berea, so I pulled in to a Burger King for a quick snack and to take a look at where I was. I opened up the GPS app that Chris and I use and saw that he was much more than 35 miles away. I asked a family which way Berea was and, confirming my fear, they pointed in the direction that I had just come from. Yes, I may have crushed the 35 miles, but the only problem was that they were in the wrong direction.
There were alerts for a big storm coming in, but the clouds were more than enough of a warning. I knew that I would need 4 wheels to get to Berea tonight and dry, so I began looking up cab companies. It was obviously a long shot, but I can now say for sure that cab companies aren't too common in rural Kentucky. I went across the street to take cash out to barter with and began trying to scope out a potential driver. When that failed, I went back into the Burger King to make an offer to the family that I had spoken to. The mother was relieved that I had come back to ask them because she was afraid she'd end up seeing my face on a milk carton. She warned me that her engine had been giving her problems and was worried it wouldn't make it to Berea, but went outside to make room in the truck. About 20 minutes later, she came back and said that her engine wouldn't be able to make the trip, but that she had made arrangements for me. The woman that worked in the convenience store next door told her husband to bring me and my bike back up north for the amount that I had offered the mother. I knew that I was in good hands, but I still sent the license plate number to my mom when the husband, Jason, showed up.
Jason and I shared some small talk on the ride, but the rain and thunder provided the majority of the trip's soundtrack. He couldn't understand how I live in a place with over 8 million people and I couldn't understand how he lives in a place with under 1 thousand people, but seeing how others live was a driving factor behind my decision to do this trip. After a little over an hour, we pulled in to the inn that Chris had picked out. It didn't matter to me how I got there; I made it to the destination.
I always mention that there are highs and lows on this trip, but I think today does a good job of illustrating that. In the end, as long as I make it safely to the destination each night, it doesn't matter what comes my way during the day. We're taking a much needed rest day tomorrow, so we're going to head over to the gas station now for a midnight snack.
Day 15 / July 14, 2015
Although we biked 0 miles, the whole course of the trip changed today.
We took the term "rest day" seriously. I moved a little and ate a lot. Nothing noteworthy occurred until the late afternoon. Chris was laying on his bed poring over several maps that were spread out in front of him. He looked up at me and broke the silence: he wouldn't be able to complete the trip beyond Colorado. We would need to finish the mileage in an unrealistic time frame in order for him to be back on the East Coast for his deadline. We made a promise that we would do the Western Express route from Colorado to San Francisco together and I don't have much of an interest in experiencing the desert in August alone.
I'm naturally more prone to go with my gut and figure things out as I go instead of planning every detail ahead of time. It may not be the best approach for everyone, but it's always seemed to work out for me. Over the past two weeks, I've had to adapt and react to things even more than ever. I was not expecting the bike trip to end only 2100 miles in at Pueblo, Colorado, but I'll regroup and readjust. Pueblo will just be a pit stop on this journey as opposed to the finish line; a friend of mine is planning to fly out and meet me in Colorado. We are considering renting an RV to camp out of and do a different type of tour across the U.S. I'm not going to be ready for the journey to end in only 3-4 weeks, so please post comments with any suggestions you have for places we should drive to or things we should do. I'll have to rework the course and would love as many ideas as possible.
Day 16 / July 15, 2015
The alarm went off at 6:30 this morning, but that wasn't happening. A half hour snooze turned into an hour and a half snooze and by 8, we were finally ready to get going.
The camping and lodging options in Kentucky are fairly far apart, so our mileage each day depends completely on how close the shelters are. We set out this morning planning on going to Lincoln Homestead State Park, but Kentucky's lack of road signs thwarted that. We ended up doing an extra 10-15 miles because we missed some turns on unsigned roads, so we had to readjust our destination for the night and landed in a community park in Harrodsburg. We have a pavilion for shelter in case of rain, a bathroom with showers, and outlets: life is good.
The decision to chop off the biking portion of Colorado to California has lightened the mood. Before yesterday, we had to maintain a 60-70 mile a day pace in order to get to San Francisco. That pace was manageable from a biking standpoint, but it felt like we were only focused on the finish line. What's the point of biking across America if we don't give ourselves an opportunity to really look around? The change in plans has brought a change in attitude; Chris and I are both relaxed and enjoying the trip more already.
I don't have an answer for why, but we haven't met as many people in Kentucky as we did in Virginia. I enjoy listening to a story from a stranger over looking at farmland all day, so I'm hoping that will change. I did meet a woman who asked where I was from, though. When I said New York, she paused and went with, "That 9/11 was just awful." I didn't know what else to say except that I agreed.
I wouldn't say I'm experiencing culture shock, but I have realized I wouldn't cut it in the South. Every town we go through has some sort of Civil War memorial and a few churches with apocalyptic billboards out front (today's best message: "Expose yourself to the son so that you don't burn"). We went to a Dairy Queen tonight that had the 10 Commandments posted next to the menu; I guess they were afraid that ice cream turned people into heathens. Chris and I agreed that that would likely be a news story if it happened up North.
Tomorrow's destination is Bardstown. My first thought was that there must be a Shakespearean theatre in the town, but that's probably not a good bet.
Day 17 / July 16, 2015
I was just talking with my friend who is going to meet me in Pueblo. We were trying to figure out some details about the next leg of this trip, but he was also asking questions about the past few weeks. It took a good amount of effort to recall some of the specifics of just the past few days. I had a tough time comprehending that we've only been traveling for 17 days. Yorktown feels like it was over a month ago, but then again, so does yesterday. As Chris put it, "the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like days."
We had a routine day of biking today. The roads in Kentucky have been mostly smooth and fun to ride on. Although farmland continued to be the only backdrop to our rides, the views were more picturesque today. It could have just been the way the hills were situated, but I've never seen clouds look so close. When I'd look at the top of a hill that we were about to climb, it looked as though we'd be passing through the clouds.
When we were close to the city limits of Bardstown, I knew it was going to be a big town because of one thing: there were stoplights. I'll see a cow everyday, but I go several days without seeing stoplights. Bardstown is definitely the nicest area we've been through since Charlottesville, VA. Instead of competing with the cars, we locked up our bikes and walked around looking for a place to eat. We saw 5 solid options, but they were all closed for some reason. The only restaurant that was open was a Mexican place. I may be revealing some ignorance by admitting this, but the further I get from New York, the less I trust ethnic restaurants. I tend to stick to chains and diners just to be safe. Also something about Mexican food and biking just doesn't sound like a winning combination to me, but we had no choice. The food was good and, as of right now, was the right call.
I think tonight is the first time since Night 3 that we're in our tents completely outside, though I'd need to look at the maps to confirm that. We've gotten lucky with hostels and campsites with shelters, so we've consistently had a roof over our heads. I have to say, it's nice having my tent set up in the grass. In an effort to save weight/space, I didn't bring a sleeping pad. Sleeping on top of grass is a welcomed change from sleeping on concrete. Almost every night, I've thought about Izzy Mandelbaum having Jerry sleep on a wooden board to toughen him up on Seinfeld.
I'm not exactly sure what the plan is for tomorrow, but I think the day is going to start with McDonalds breakfast. I enjoy being able to eat pretty much anything, but I have to admit I'm really starting to miss vegetables and healthy options; I didn't think it would be so hard to get greens. I ordered a salad the other day and it came with more bacon and cheese on it than lettuce. Oh well.
Day 18 / July 17, 2015
With Bardstown being the nicest area we've seen since Charlottesville, we decided to take the day to explore. We have a relatively light schedule that will bring us to Colorado, so we were comfortable taking the time to look around.
We slept in late enough to catch extra hours, but not late enough to miss McDonald's breakfast. I was looking for a table next to outlets so that we could connect with the outside world when I heard, "Ah, so you went to Fordham Prep?" I was a little confused and looked up at an older man who had only a pen and pad to keep him company. After pausing and realizing I was wearing shorts from my alma mater, I asked if he were familiar with the school; he replied that, "With 3 Jesuit degrees, (he) better be." The man turned out to be a Catholic priest, so he spoke with Chris and me for a bit. Bardstown is the first area with a strong Catholic presence that we've seen, so he gave us a brief history about the town explaining the reasons why it's a hotbed for Catholicism. We've experienced a tremendous amount of support and help from many different religions over the past few weeks, but it's still nice to bump into someone from your own group once in a while.
After finishing up our breakfast and conversation with the priest, we were off for our real reason for taking the day off: a bourbon tour at Barton Distillery. Although I'm not particularly fond of bourbon, it felt like a waste to be in Kentucky and not take at least one distillery tour and a few tastings. The heat and humidity was definitely the most intense that we've experienced so far, so we were happy to be walking around a distillery instead of biking through open farmland. Walking onto the grounds, we immediately noticed a relatively intense sweet and sour smell floating in the air. The tour was very informative, but the most interesting detail we learned was that 96% of all bourbon in the U.S. is produced in Kentucky; I had originally thought that it had to be produced in Kentucky to be called a bourbon, but apparently not. Heading out of the distillery and back to the center of town, we noticed that the distinct fragrance from the distillery extended all over town.
Though Bardstown is bigger than most places we've passed through, we still saw the whole town before lunch time. After killing some more time, we came across a bar that's had patrons that include Daniel Boone, Abe Lincoln, Jesse James, and now Chris and Kevin. There was live music, sports center, beer, and a decent burger: the perfect way to waste time before heading back to the campgrounds.
It's too hot tonight for a rain cover, so I'm currently looking through my transparent tent at the stars above. It's supposed to be a clear night, but the sky keeps flashing these brilliant bright lights every 5-10 seconds. The light seems close enough that we should hear lightning to accompany it, but it doesn't appear to be thunder. I have no idea what the lights are, but I'm enjoying coming up with some ridiculous theories in my head. The sound of the bugs chirping is louder than if I had over the ear headphones blasting nature sounds directly into my ears. I miss the lights and noises of the city, but I can definitely put up with these surroundings for a summer.
Day 19 / July 18, 2015
In an effort to beat the heat, we rose before the sun did today. After a few sausauge mcgriddles, we were able to roll. The riding in Kentucky has improved the further west we go. The views are cleaner, the cars are quieter, the people are friendlier, and the dogs are less concerned with chasing us.
We were able to get some good miles in before the weather advisory on my phone started sending alerts about the heat index. By 12pm, the sun was starting to pick up. We had been hungry for a while, but options were non existent. Our maps indicated that the town of Buffalo had a grill restaurant, so we were confused when all we saw was a gas station upon riding into the one street town. We opened the door of the gas station and saw that the grill was next to the tobacco products. The cook asked us what we wanted in between hacks and coughs, but we declined and went with packaged snacks instead.
I was going up a long, steady hill around 1pm. Looking towards the top, all I could see was a little white nautical looking house with what seemed like rocks and sand surrounding it. My mind began playing tricks with me and I thought I was pedaling towards a beach. I knew I was in the middle of Kentucky, but still couldn't shake the thought. When we got to the top of the hill, a woman in a house across from the beach house mirage offered us to sit on her porch in the shade to cool down. I guess we must have looked as crazy as my thoughts were getting. Sitting down on Michelle's porch was the most relaxing half hour of the day. We didn't discuss the trip, the maps, or anything. We just sat there and did nothing. Michelle told us that she had visited New York once on a field trip with her daughter's high school. She said that she liked it enough, but would never need to go back. Those are my exact sentiments about Kentucky, but I didn't share that aloud.
We continued on and took several breaks from the heat before getting to our destination for the night. At one point, the windshield temperature was 104 degrees. The day was mostly forgettable, but that's not necessarily a bad thing at all. It's currently 9pm and the sun is still going strong. We will be gaining an hour tomorrow as we cross time zones, so hopefully that'll give us easier sunsets to work with.
Day 20 / July 19, 2015
I'm tired.
I'm tired of swatting flies away as they try to crawl on me.
I'm tired of basting in my own sweat.
I'm tired of competing with pickup trucks.
I'm tired of people not understanding what I'm saying because I'm from the north.
I'm tired of being surrounded by endless crops of fresh produce, but stores only having processed foods.
I'm tired of being away from my mom, sister, and girlfriend.
I'm tired of smelling the road kill before I see it.
I'm tired of having a farmers tan.
I'm tired of a town consisting of a gas station, church, and a closed auto body shop.
I'm tired of my seat.
I'm tired of farmland.
I'm just always tired.
I asked Chris today if the trip is what he was picturing. He said, "some things yes and some things no." That's probably what I'd say. Maybe it's because I tend to romanticize things, but I was imagining this trip a bit differently. I knew the towns would be small, but I had no idea they'd be this small.
The windshield temperature of 104 probably aided in my voicing some of these complaints to my girlfriend, Mary, today. She asked if I regretted the trip. I didn't need to think of my response since all I can do pretty much every day is think. No, the only time I regretted this trip was the first day leaving Yorktown. Mary then asked if I was having fun; that was more of a loaded question. It's been several hours since she asked me and I still don't have an answer.
My motives behind this trip weren't to have a care free summer of fun. I decided to join this ride because I knew it would be a challenge; I knew it would be difficult and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this. I wasn't a cyclist before this summer and don't think I will ever consider myself one, but I knew that I could accomplish something like this. I had gotten too comfortable at my job. Every day felt the same and I feared that that would be the rest of my life. I'm turning 24 a week from today and feel like the past 2 years after college went by without me even noticing. Also, with photography and writing being two of my passions, this trip gives me more areas to explore than the metro north train I would shuffle onto every day for work.
When I was still in New York, one of the reasons that I often gave in response to the usual question of "why?" was that I wanted to see the towns I've never heard of and will never need to see again. Well, in 20 days, I've done exactly that. I've recently become very interested in seeing things from other people's perspectives. That may sound like an odd thing to say, but I've always been extremely opinionated. I still am, but I'm much more open to seeing the different sides to an argument now. Sure, this trip is just giving substance to my preference of living in New York, but now I don't have to wonder about what small town America is like.
In the past 20 days, we've been allowed to camp behind a grocery store, behind a bike shop, in and behind churches, hostels, picnic areas, parks, and have been offered plenty of lawns. We've climbed mountains and battled storms. We've had several stores willing to make us food despite being closed and had one woman lend us her car without knowing our names. Maybe this trip wasn't exactly what I was picturing, but that's ok. This way is more interesting.
Day 21 / July 20, 2015
A few posts ago, I wrote that the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like days. I'm not so sure I agree with that anymore. It's more accurate to say that the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like months. It isn't that this trip is dragging or anything; it's just so hard to keep track of the time and what's happened when you wake up in a different town each morning.
Last night, Chris and I tried to do a recap of where we've stayed each night. By the time we got up to day 14, we already had 2 nights that we couldn't figure out. We've passed through so many towns and have eaten at so many gas stations that you just start to lose track. A few hours will pass and I still have to pause and think about where I woke up or what the last thing I ate was.
We definitely started our day with breakfast at Little Dave's in McDaniels. A few patrons asked where we were riding to and wished us luck. One man finished his meal, folded his newspaper under his arm, and walked over to our table; he leaned on the edge and asked if he could look at the check on our table. When he picked it up, he smiled and welcomed us to the community and walked away. He didn't realize that Chris and I had separate checks and mine wasn't picked up, but that's ok. It was an incredibly nice gesture. Acts like that always surprise me. We're just biking a lot of miles. We voluntarily decided to do this, but everyone we meet wants to help us as much in any way possible.
With the threat of rain looming over us the entire ride, we didn't make many stops on our way to Utica. The one exception was when we crossed paths with a biker on the east bound route. At this point, I don't think I need to clarify what direction the bikers we meet are going. With the exception of one family that we met on the first day, every person we've seen has been going east bound; although west-east is the traditional route, I still expected to come across at least one other person going our way. He needed a spare tube and we needed some air in our tires, so we exchanged some gear with our pleasantries. Contrary to every eastern bound cyclist we met in Virginia, he thought the hills of Virginia would be one of the easier parts of the trip. He decided to hitchhike over the ozarks (our next tough mountain range), so I hope he doesn't underestimate the rest of his trip.
We are spending the night in a volunteer fire department. They have couches, air conditioning, laundry machines, a shower, and a tv with a vcr; this is the life. The options for vhs tapes were limited, but we went with Woody Allen's "Deconstructing Harry." Neither of us had watched any of his films, so we figured we'd see what everyone was talking about. It wasn't at all what I was expecting, but I enjoyed it. It was crude, odd, and honestly pretty funny.
Due to the recent storms and flooding, the firefighters are currently having a "Swift Water Rescue" lesson. Hopefully I'll never need to know any of this information, but it's definitely interesting. The biggest takeaway I have is to just avoid floods; don't even go near them.
The lesson is about to wrap up. I just found MIB on vhs and am about to make chef boyardi ravioli for second dinner. Not too bad of a way to end the day.