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 13, 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.