4/30/01 Interstate Breaks Park

42.3 miles

Last night, before going to bed, the pastor told us to sleep inside because it was going to be a 'cold night out'. But he shocked us when he said to "sleep on the alter". "Why?" we asked. "It has the softest carpet" he smiled.

Mike asleep on the alter

Just another beautiful day in the neighborhood. Weather called for a high of 77 and it was already getting warm when we left. The ride was two major climbs at both ends of the day with some great fast rolling hills in between.

In Council, we ran into a big bunch of students cleaning up the highway. In Birchleaf, one of the grocery store owners asked a lot of questions about our trip and about our equipment. We stopped at a very cheap AYCE pizza buffet lunch near Haysi. While there, we met Gene, who was working with some grant money to create an alternate trail into the Breaks Gorge. He said when completed, it will be about nine miles long, but would avoid all the heavy traffic through Haysi.

After that it was one long climb up to Breaks Interstate Park. Mike and I were the only people in the campsite. After dinner and a few phone calls, we were hanging out when up rides Bubba, a retired policeman from St. Louis on a recumbent with a Bob trailer. He was a big guy, but what caught our attention was his road rash. "I had a bad wreck near Catawba," he said. A nice guy, even recommending a bike shop in St. Louis for some bike sandals.

We plan an early start for our long day into Kentucky, some 70 miles.

4/29/01 Elk Garden, VA

35.7 miles

Left a sleepy Sunday morning Damascus after a good breakfast with Mike's brother, George. (Our waitress was very cute!) Even before we left the city, the temperature seemed to be rising pretty fast.

The first part of the day was an easy rollercoaster of a ride. Our only question of the day came when we reached a three-way intersection at which all three roads were marked with the same highway number. Believe it or not, besides all the cows we saw, one farm had emus (large ostrich-like birds from Australia) and another had llamas.

The hardest part of the day came after lunch, a 3-mile climb that switch-backed up, up, and up. We stopped a half dozen times, but it kept going. Then, finally we reached the top and a screaming descent on the other side of the ridge. I was getting cramps in my hands because I was braking so hard.

It just doesn't get better than this!

The valley is pretty open, but had a lot of rock among the pasture land. Looked more like the American West instead of Virginia. Then all of a sudden, we reached the Elk Garden Methodist Church Bike Hostel in the early afternoon.

The pastor's wife and one of the church ladies offered us leftovers from the Sunday lunch that had just ended. "You have complete run of the place," she said. "Sleep inside where it will be warm and be sure to use some of the church pew pads for a bed."

After eating dinner, the pastor brought over leftover pizza from the Boy Scout meeting he had just come from. I know it was a short day, but I'm glad we stopped here. One thing I can't figure out, is how am I going to lose weight if everyone keeps feeding us!

4/28/01 Damascus, VA

0 miles

Just a lazy day to hang out. Even though I'm a past thruhiker, us cyclists are just not part of the hiker culture here. Just part of the human-powered long distance sub-culture. Not much else besides beautiful weather. A perfect zero mile day.

Mike & I get ready to leave 'The Place' the next morning

4/27/01 Damascus, VA

32.9 miles

Woke up to cold. No frost, but cold none the less. After we said goodbye to George, who will be driving to Damascus, it was "on the road again."

The first half of the ride was a steady climb. And climb. And more climbing. The only thing to break up the monotony was a very near miss by a semi in which both Mike and I bailed off the road. Even then it was close...too close.

Finally, a short time after reaching Troutdale, we started an all day descent. Not steep, just pleasantly down. I whooped and yelled as we wove our way down the Laurel Creek Valley. And for something different, we did the last 12 miles on the Virginia Creeper Trail, an old railroad that hugs the rapids of Laurel Creek. What a fun ride!

Mike ahead on the Virginia Creeper Trail

I ended up passing "The Place" by a block because I didn't recognize it with all the renovations. But before we got turned around, George was waving us over to the Side Track Cafe. After a great lunch at this newest cafe (they only opened a week ago), it was time to do laundry.

I talked a while with a guy from nearby White Mountain. "I came here 20 years ago and I love it still," he said. "I was a third generation waterman on the Chesapeake Bay. My grandfather told me to find a future somewhere else and I did." Besides my bike trip, he thought back to his own cross country trip years ago on a motorcycle. "I'm happy you'll get to see the country this way," he smiled.

A quick stop at the outfitters and checked my email before trying to call the girls back at work in Kansas City. Talked with Rosalee and Ellen, but everyone else was gone or busy. I miss my "family" at work.

Surprise, surprise, met one of my internet thruhiker hopefuls here at the hostel. Jim Frye (trail name Tadpole) contacted me several times last year about hiking the Trail. He said it is hard, but he's going to keep at it. "I was looking at the register and recognized your name," he said.

Had dinner at Quincy's (pizza, of course). Just talked to people around the hostel. "The Place" is run by the Damascus United Methodist Church and had a complete renovation, both inside and out. The perfect place for tired thruhikers and cross-country cyclists. Suggested donation: $3 per night. Can't beat that!

4/26/01 Sugar Grove, VA

55.4 miles

Woke up to a thick blanket of fog. I still decided to break camp quick, just in case. Because of the fog, I was glad I could take the New River trail back to the store instead of the road. Visibility was only 30 feet.

I'm sure, all across America, at the small town market, the same scene unfolds every morning. By the time I got there, the grill was busy making egg sandwiches for the farmers and the kids waiting for the bus. Terry, who runs the store, had just returned from a road trip to Wyoming. So he caught up on everything that happened while he was gone and told about his trip. One of the high school boys complained about being suspended for hugging a girl. "It wasn't as if I had my tongue down her throat," he said. Soon it was just Terry, his wife, and me.

They were preparing to move to Debois, WY whenever they could get things worked out. He hated to leave the store because it had been in his family for 40 years, and he had run it for the last 20. "Things have changed too much here," he lamented. The road trip had been to check up on some property he already owned and he wanted to start fresh. I told him I'd look out for him in the fall when I'm on the Great Divide Route.

Do you remember how I said that these country roads let you get more intimate with the landscape? Well, too much intimacy can be a bad thing. The hills were killing me. Plus, I think the only reason the road curved so much was so it could go over more hills. And the temperature was such that you needed a jacket on the downhills, but got too hot on the uphills.

Over hill and dale

In Wytheville, I checked my email and stopped for AYCE pizza. I know, I said I'm not ready for that, but it sounded so good and it was on the route.

The road after that was the usual. I decided that every town we ride through is either built on the tallest hill around or in the deepest valley.

Decided to shoot for the Raccoon Branch Campground a few miles past Sugar Grove. But to my surprise, the town was a full service one (I thought the maps said no services), and since I was only 2 miles from the campground, I decided to have an old-fashioned vanilla milk shake at the Mountain View Market. Good!

Finally reached the campground which I thought was deserted when I came upon Mike. He was pretty upset. He and his brother George had had a wreck today. A passerby took both George and his bike into Marion to get checked out. We talked awhile and it seemed as if Mike felt a little better.

Then, guess who drives up in a U-Haul -- George! Mike is ecstatic, the bike wheel is destroyed, and since he couldn't rent a car, he got a truck. The bike is boxed up. He'll drive to Louisville on Wednesday for his flight home. In the meantime, he will hang out with Mike and me in Damascus. Just another fun evening with Mike and George.

4/25/01 Draper, VA

67.3 miles

The Cross Trails B&B is just heaven. The cathedral ceiling opens up the main room, complete with a huge library on everything outdoors. For the guests, there is another TV sitting area on the balcony next to the bedrooms. Even my room was huge. Katherine said they took the living room from one design and then added to it. That was 6 years ago and I am very lucky to get a room, as they were booked the night before and the night after I arrived.

Katherine & Bill Cohen

Last night at dinner, we talked a lot about the community, B&Bs, the AT, and how the internet was touching all of it. "We get almost 80% of our business from the internet," Bill says. He even has an internet column on Roanoke.com as the retired outdoor editor of the Roanoke Times.

This morning I had a breakfast for a king. Both Bill and Katherine cooked us a banana and dried cranberry fruit salad, followed by baked eggs, potato pancakes, biscuits, and candied pears. After David and Veronica left for the trail, Bill and I sat down to talk more about the bike trip. Bill is very easy-going to talk to. My battery was definitely recharged with my stay here.

The best thing about the old country roads is that they're not straight. Instead, they follow the contours of the land, giving you a more intimate connection with the countryside. Such was my ride through the Catawba valley. The land had more wrinkles and folds than your grandfather's face, but it was a joy to follow it. In fact, everything was going so smoothly, I swore I must have left a bunch of gear back at the B&B. Even the hills didn't seem to take any effort to get over. At the 10-mile mark, I just had to pull over and check my stuff. All there! Guess the stay with Bill and Katherine really did charge my battery.

Winding roads of Virginia

One surprise outside of Christiansburg was 5 miles of west-bound bike lane, complete with signs from Filter's Gate to Ellett. All morning I had ridden with wind pants and a jacket, but at Ellett I started stripping off layers.

All the guidebooks talked about "Danger Hill" on Main St. in Christiansburg, even giving alternate directions around it (I took the alternate). But if the long, steep climb just to reach the city limits is any measure, "Danger Hill" must be a cliff!

On the alternate route, which was a slow winding uphill through peaceful neighborhoods, I stopped off at the "Pizza Inn" for another AYCE. I keep telling myself that until later in the trip, I'm just not going to get my money's worth with these AYCE. So on to Radford.

Stopped off at the library to check my email. Then I had wanted to stop off at Radford University. The school started out as a women's teachers college and I thought it would be a good place to tell about this fund-raiser for women's studies. But it's a ways out of town and then "BANG"...flat tire! The problem was I was on a highway with no shoulder. Had to wait five minutes just till it was clear enough to get to the other side. I changed the tube and decided to push on because it was getting late.

The plan was to stay at Clayton Lake State Park, but after seeing the only camping was for RVs at $14 a night, I decided to push on. My problem was the setting sun. I was heading west and if the sun came down much further, it would blind the drivers behind me. And when you're on a road with no shoulders, others not seeing you is the easiest way to end this trip quickly.

But my body still had a little recharge, so I put it in high gear and "hauled ass." And made great time. I reached Bryan's General Store about 6:30 P.M. Unfortunately, the bike shop looked like it had been boarded up for a while. They told me that sometimes, cyclists camp at Dick Moose's Farm. So I got directions. The folks at the store were nice, patient, and real helpful.

I rode up to the farm but no one was home. It didn't feel right camping there without permission. So I decided to wait. I cooked dinner, looked over the maps for tomorrow, etc. The sun set and still no one. I really didn't have much choice now, so I set up the tent. But everything was ready in case I was made to leave. I even slept in my biking clothes. I was kind of nervous and jumpy, but finally fell asleep.

4/24/01 Catawba, VA

57.6 miles

I almost forgot to tell you that included in the $20 tent fee was a huge mosquito population. I ended up making a smoky fire just so I could eat in peace.

Because I had a long day ahead, and because of the heat of the last two days, I decided on an early start. But even leaving at 7:15, I didn't get back to the TransAm route until 8 A.M. A pleasant morning ride.

Stopped in Buchanan for a bit of breakfast, then continued on. It was warm, but there was a little breeze that was welcome.

One thing that struck me today concerned my bike mirror. Before my AT hike, I bought hiking poles, but, before the hike, I thought it was a waste of money. I now know that my hike would have almost been impossible without those poles. The same goes for my rear view mirror. I've ridden for years without one, but got one because it was recommended. It is now so essential, I don't know if I could even tour without one. When you're riding a two-lane with no shoulder and two trucks are approaching from different directions, the mirror tells me when to take my mountain bike "off road."

A must stop for any cyclist should be "Nannie's Market." I stopped just for a few minutes to stretch a bit, when I got talking to Donald (DL for short). Here was one of the happiest young men I've ever met; all smiles, telling jokes, and greeting everyone who came through the door. He said he was from Tennessee, so I asked him how he came to Daleville, VA. "A woman, of course," he said, "and we're getting married on Saturday!" DL showed me some old pictures of both Nannie and the store. I hadn't planned on it, but decided to get some lunch there. While I was finishing my sandwich, DL tells me I might get wet. Startled, I look up and see a black band of clouds ahead. The weather gods are laughing again.

DL tells me to be careful because the next several miles are full of heavy traffic because of a cement factory and a landfill. But after that, it should be a peaceful ride. What's worse than sharing the road with truckers? Sharing it with them when it's raining! And guess what! After I get past the factory and landfill, the rain stops. Go figure.

The Catawba valley is such an American classic, that I wish I could come back someday to paint on canvas all that is here. Even with the overcast skies, the place looked peaceful.

Two long days in a row were taking their toll on me. I welcomed a rest in Catawba, when I spotted three thruhikers. We compared hiking and biking and such like that. But they needed to get back to the trail, and I needed back on the road.

The Cross Trails B&B finally showed itself at the top of the hill. As I drug the bike up the driveway, Bill Cohen greeted me at the door. Bill and his wife have run this B&B where the Appalachian Trail and the TransAmerican Bicycle Trail cross for the last 6 years. I found Bill when compiling information on Catawba for the Blue Ribbon Route.

The comfort of Cross Trails

After getting me settled in the "Katahdin Room," we went for dinner in nearby Salem. After that, I enjoyed talking to the other guests, a couple from New York, David and Veronica, section hiking the AT.

I can't tell you enough about the genuine hospitality and warmth I've gotten from Bill and Katherine. How is it that I'm so lucky to meet people like this every day on this trip? I just hope I can give even a portion of this back to others who meet me.

I'm tired, clean, warm, and can't keep my eyes open. But this is such an elegant place, I'm nervous to even sleep on the bed...

4/23/01 Natural Bridge, VA

59.8 miles

Oops...almost forgot that I met a group of about 20 bicycle riders from New Hampshire who are in the Parakway area for a week. They were the White Mountain Velo Club and also with them was a Cannondale rep who told me to contact him if I needed anything out on the road. They were all excited about my trip and gave me lots of encouragement.

Boy, what a day!

This morning, after being woken by 5 roosters, assorted goat bells, and the occasional dog bark, Rusty decided to cook pancakes. He is famous for them, using over 900 lbs of pancake mix every year to feed the hikers. It's special because I didn't get any when I was here in 1998.

My 'crazy' friend Rusty

"Tell every cyclist you meet that if they're not into poetry and Beethoven, but instead like James Brown and gettin' naked, Rusty's is the place." I believe it's this FUN that keeps him young. He even gave me a bear hug as I left. This place will forever have good memories for me.

As I rode the Parkway that winds around his hollow, Rusty hit the siren and loudspeaker, "Have a good trip, Dragon's Breath!"

I had promised myself that I'd keep the road descriptions short. Here goes -- 7 miles of almost completely up with the occasional downhill (max speed 38 mph), followed by 2 miles of straight down. An afternoon of flat with a steep uphill into Lexington, followed by regular ups and downs.

The kicker to all this is that the area is in the midst of a heat wave. I know, very cold last week, very hot this week. The weather gods are laughing.

I would have hated to climb that 2 miles of downhill. As it was, I kept stopping to let my brakes and rims cool off. I actually burned my fingers on the wheel rim it was so hot! I was afraid the temperature might melt one of my tires.

In town, I stopped at the Lexington Bicycle Shop and talked with owner Andy. He said Mike and George had just left this morning. When I checked my email next door at the library, a message from Mike said his knee was really bothering him. No wonder -- he did all the climbing in one day that I did in three. I may catch them yet.

I decided to walk about town a bit. Saw the Campbell House (1844), Stonewall Jackson House (1848), and the Alexander-Withrow House (1789). But the jewel of the day was the Lee Chapel (1867) on the campus of Washington and Lee University. The most striking feature to me was the wrap-around balcony. Robert E. Lee is buried downstairs in the museum. I also stopped off at the Stonewall Jackson Cemetery.

Wrap-around balcony of the Lee Chapel

Made a quick stop into Healthy Foods Market on Washington to buy some baked tofu. Besides the protein, I think my body needs large quantities of ice cream next. I must keep my eyes open for that elusive beast!

The ride out of town was a lot easier than the ride in; less traffic. I'm proud to say I'm mastering the very low gears and spinning. But this afternoon's heat was killing me. That sunscreen that the girls at work gave me sure came in handy. I even saw a few other cyclists out for a training ride.

I didn't reach Natural Bridge until after five o'clock. I decided to go see it now, to give me more time tomorrow. What an impressive geological wonder! But what shame to build a purely commercial enterprise around it. Things that god created should be free to look at and be enjoyed by everyone.

It was getting late and I had to drive off route to find a campground. The first on the map isn't there anymore, so I had to ride 6 miles off route to get to an expensive KOA.

By the time I finished camp chores, it was 9 P.M. And I'm exhausted. Another 60 mile day, but hopefully a free B&B at the end tomorrow.

4/22/01 Rusty's Hard Time Hollow

23.2 miles

The only other camper at the YMCA last night was a homeless kid who said he just found work at the Dupont plant opposite us across the river. He told me where to get cheap hot dogs and about a bar down the street with TVs and such. I offered to buy him some groceries, but I don't think he understood. Later I thought he might not even have any cookware. I just didn't know how to approach him with a helping hand. He was afraid they'd kick him out, so he camped deep in the park. I count myself blessed because of the wonderful family I've been born to. My mother raised me to look at opportunities. Hard work, honesty, and a willingness to learn have been lessons that helped me a lot.

After a peaceful night of sleep, it was time to tackle that screaming descent into Waynesboro that now was a 3-mile uphill. So much of today was like going back to your alma mater. I stopped off at the Rockfish Gap Information Center with their model of the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive, where I talked with volunteers Nell and Karl, who had just returned from three weeks in South America.

At first I had clear skies, but by the time I reached the Parkway, it was overcast again. That's when I tried not to think of yesterday's 20% chance of rain that ended up a downpour for a couple of hours.

The road was just wonderful -- very little traffic and, even though I climbed thousands of feet, the rise was gradual. For those keeping track, my average speed on the climbs was 5 mph, while my max speed on the downhills was 34 mph. Now that the rest of my body is adjusting to the ride, my sore butt is making itself known. That's why I stopped at every lookout along the road.

Found a good museum about Appalachian country life at the Humpback Visitors Center. When I stopped at the trailhead for Humpback Mountain, I talked to a group of kids who had been hiking for a few days and were waiting for their ride. Out of six, one had the dream of the AT some day, and I tried to encourage him.

After that, the morning was a bunch of long, slow climbs followed by a quick, fast descent. At one turnout, I met "Rubie," a guy who was trying to do the second half of his thruhike. "I had to quit because of my feet," he said, "and they're not much better now and I've only been on the trail three weeks." I wished him well and headed out again.

The Appalachian Trail

Finally I came to Dripping Rock, the first place where the AT and TransAmerican Bicycle Trail cross. It's amazing how much memory can be dredged up with the right stimulus. I remembered that day so clearly. I had left Rusty's on a very hot day. Once I got to this spot, I had to find a place to dig a cat-hole out of sight of some cabins nearby. And this was the only day I really got lost on the entire AT. Somewhere I took a wrong turn and ended up in deep thick forest. I was lucky I didn't get poison ivy or snake bitten, the brush was so thick.

Around one o'clock, I found Rusty's driveway and headed down to the house. Rusty had left a note saying he was at church and to make myself at home. So before I cleaned up, I unhitched the trailer and rode down a forest dirt road to the nearest AT shelter in search of thru-hikers.

Every year, I usually help two or three individuals plan for their thruhike. Laura and her two sons had started on February 1st and, last I heard, she and the 13-year old were in Virginia. I was going to leave her a message in the shelter register, only to discover she'd passed here almost two weeks ago. That's hiking very fast. I'm sorry that I missed them.

Back at Rusty's, the sun was getting hot and I decided it was time to relax. I just sat around listening to his stories. Later, another local hiker named Gear Master (my trail name was Dragon's Breath) came by for a visit. We made salad and had dinner, along with more conversation. The whole evening was like talking to an uncle or grandfather, even though Rusty had only met me for one night three years ago. Like June Curry, Rusty is an AT treasure whose value won't really be understood until he is gone.

'home sweet home' at Rusty's Hard Hollow

Looking forward to pancakes in the morning, but not the long ride to Natural Bridge.

4/21/01 Waynesboro, VA

10.2 miles

This morning it was hard to leave June and all her stories. But we had a 2-mile climb ahead and I needed to get to the post office before it closed (this being Saturday). I couldn't believe it, but Mike and George got on their bikes and started to ride up, up, and away. The road out in front of the Bike House is almost straight up (I exaggerate a bit)! I pushed mine for a while, keeping up with the guys, then jumped on when the angle seemed to lessen. The ride up Highway 250 was slow but steady. I think I did pretty well getting to the top. Mike and George had stopped to use the phone while I headed on to Waynesboro.

It was strange being on this road again. I had hitch-hiked into town after a hot day on the trail back in '98. So it was a bit of deja vu as I flew down the mountain. I should have realized I was going to lose that 4 miles of climbing. It's just the fate of a human powered traveler.

My first stop was Rockfish Gap Outfitters, just like I remembered from my hike. They found me a box I could use to mail some of my excess gear home and I bought a fuel bottle and windscreen for the stove. Turned out that one of the guys had done the TransAm about 10 years ago with his wife on a tandem.

Kind of neat recognizing all the landmarks like the fire station, Weasie's (breakfast tomorrow...yippee!), down to the post office, and then the library after that. I'm eating lunch across from the laundromat as it is pouring down rain outside. So much for a 20% chance of showers.

The more I thought about it, I kept wondering why I needed to stay in a motel. I'd slept the last two nights inside on couches. Too much more of this and I might go soft. So I went to do laundry and waited to see if the weather would clear.

I was feeling better than I had in days. With a full stomach, and fresh, clean clothes, I was ready for anything, even more rain. So I rode down to the YMCA to see if they still let hikers/cyclists camp. "We sure do!" said a smiling Vickie. Her son was all questions as I quizzed him on his U.S. geography. A member of the Waynesboro cycling club stopped to chat, too.

After a much needed shower at the Y, I headed back to the library to check my email. After trying to type more of my journal for the e-Newsletter, I realized I just won't be able to get it done in a timely manner. So I emailed Ken [that's me] and told him to expect my journal entries in the mail to transcribe. Only a few more errands to run, like finding some sort of pad to sit on and a few more groceries. Then I went in search of the theater. I can't even remember the movie we saw when I hiked through town three years ago. I stopped to ask someone and they said it had closed a couple of years ago. "Progress!" they said with a poor laugh.

Oh, well, I can entertain myself. I called mom to report my progress and to just let her know I'm OK. After that it was just sit in camp and let the sun go down.

"Excuse me," as my head popped up from my journal. "I didn't want to startle you," the older man said as he approached. That's when I saw the "Rusty" embroidered on his cap.

Rusty has a place about 20 miles outside of town and has been taking in thruhikers since 1982 as an alternative to Waynesboro. I stopped there on my hike only at the insistence of Ghandi, a fellow hiker who had stopped there on his cross-country bike ride a few years before. I was glad I stopped. And I had planned on a second short day to stop there again.

Like June Curry, he's not a young man, but you wouldn't know that by looking at him. We sat and chatted about his health, his potato fields, and moving his berry trees. He said the last couple of years, he hadn't broken even on taking care of the hikers and had considered closing that down. But too many people asked him to try one more year. "The hikers are different now," he said. "Because I don't charge, they think it's free. They come in, share my house, eat my food, and some I even cook for. And they won't even consider a donation to keep it going," he lamented. "They even steal the t-shirts I had made." Rusty is a man from a different time. He hunts on his land, fishes, barters his crops for the things he needs. The "Hard Time Hollow" has an outhouse, a spring house to refrigerate perishables, kerosene lamps, and even a woodburning kitchen stove. He supplements his income with occasional work, the donations from hikers, and his t-shirts. He even willed his place to the hikers when he is gone. That will be a very sad day.

But it was good to see him and he was excited that I was stopping back at his place tomorrow. "Maybe we can find a place to see a movie like you wanted to do here," he said as he walked back to the truck. This trip keeps getting better.

4/20/01 Afton, VA

42.1 miles

What a difference a couple of days can make. I'm at the "Cookie Lady's Bike House" in Afton, along with Mike and his brother, George. And I feel better tonight mentally. But I get ahead of myself.

One thing I did notice today was that I passed three -- count them, three -- different recycling centers for different areas of the county. If they can do this in the "sticks" we should be able to do it in "the city."

Mitchie Tavern

As the crew went off to their real jobs, I headed for Monticello. Unfortunately for me, the little two-lane was in the middle of rush hour. I did make it safely, but there was a waiting line of over an hour for tours, so I skipped it. Just stopped long enough to take a picture of Mitchie Tavern before heading into Charlottesville.

At the Monticello Visitors Center, I was amazed to find out Thomas Jefferson was only in his twenties when he designed and built his estate home. A significant part of the center's exhibits were on Jefferson's slaves and their accomplishments.

After that, it was a hilly ride through town. I think I pushed the bike up the hills more than I rode.

Wheeled by the University of Virginia stadium to see preparations for the Dave Matthews concert Saturday night. You would think they'd have a few cheap bagel shops near campus, but I sure couldn't find any.

I had planned on stopping at the Studies on Women and Gender department to tell them about my trip and fund-raiser, but I couldn't do it. I mean, how could I toot my own horn while in my heart I wanted to quit soon instead of next November? So I rode by without a second glance.

My stop for the night was supposed to be in Afton, but I thought I'd call ahead to June Curry, also known as the "Cookie Lady." June has been helping cyclists since the first trans-American ride in 1976. When she answered the phone, I was talking with an articulate 80-year old woman. When I mentioned my difficulties, she tried to pool her knowledge from some 11,000 cyclists she's met and give me some sound advice and a boost of encouragement. I really needed to hear what she had to say. As I once again got on the road, I felt a little better.

Riding through the country-side

One of my observations of riding these quiet country roads is that for every run-down home you see, there would be three or four new ones, some quite large and fancy. So while the numbers of family farms grows smaller, it seems as if the population out in the country is on the increase.

Saw a few woodchucks and turkey vultures. Had the assorted "I'm going to eat you" and "Let's play" dogs. And almost everyone I saw working out in the yard gave me a wave hello.

Again, more pushing the bike uphill as the roads began to be a winding roller-coaster through all the sleepy hollows. I saw a large group of racing cyclists, probably from Charlottesville. When I mentioned it at Wyant's Store in White Hall, everybody piped in how aggravating those cyclists were. "You cross-country bicyclists always are considerate and ride to the right in single file," Larry Wyant said, "but those local boys take a whole lane and flip us off if we honk at them to move over."

June Curry is the greatest!

The final hill of the day was a zigzag two miles up and up and up. So what's new? I got off the bike and pushed. Finally, as I crossed the railroad bridge, there was the brick building called the "Bike House." But if that wasn't enough to lift my spirits, two other loaded bikes were parked there!

Turns out we were the 3rd, 4th, and 5th riders to stop this year. June gave us a tour of this home where the walls of "every" room are covered with postcards and news clippings from the cyclists that have come through here. Amongst all that are signed shorts, hats, shoes, gloves, and other memorabilia. The house was stocked with donated canned goods and other supplies, as needed. June's hospitality is just amazing. She's even started a collection of spare change for a 1977 cyclist who now has MS. "We've collected over $500 for her."

Postcards lined all the walls of the 'Bike House'

June left us to settle in. Mike is a teacher in Australia and his brother George is a stay-at-home dad with his daughter. Both guys were very easy to talk to and we got along great. George needs to get back home in Sacramento in a few weeks, so they're on a tight schedule. But I still might catch Mike later. It was great to know I wasn't the only crazy idiot to start this early.

The plan is for a short ride into Waynesboro and get a hotel room, do laundry, catch up on my email and website, and maybe catch in a movie. Things are looking better every day.

4/19/01 Shadwell VA

39.3 miles

I got up to find frost on the grass and the condensation on the underside of the tent fly was ice, but the sun was shining. As I packed up, I kept returning to the warmth of the firehouse to rub the feeling back into my hands. After a quiet breakfast at the Country Road Cafe, it was out on the busy two-lane that the firemen said would take me to Charlottesville. Traffic wasn't too bad through Louisa, but it was a lot of trucks and semis. I stopped off in Trevilians to read about the largest calvary battle of the Civil War. The next 15 miles were great, almost no traffic and rolling hills. It warmed up a bit, making for a beautiful morning to ride. Then things got crazy.

My last 5 miles to Shadwell turned out to be on a winding, hilly road with way too much traffic. Because people couldn't pass me on the curves, they sometimes backed up 6 or 7 deep. As soon as I could, I turned off on a seldom-used country road. But that still left me five miles from Shadwell on a busier two-lane, only no curves. Several times I just pulled over off the road when the trucks came barreling behind me. I might have been pushing too hard, because I got there by 1 P.M. and my left knee and ankle were very sore.

After leaving him a message on his cell phone, Larry Moore, who runs the East Rivannia Volunteer Fire Company, pulls up just minutes later. After a quick hello, he says to follow him back to the station. Yes, I said back up the same highway I nearly risked my life to ride down.

At the station, he gave me a quick tour and said, "Make yourself at home." I thought since it was so early in the day, I might try and see Monticello now instead of taking time tomorrow. But as I left the station, leaving behind the trailer, my knee and ankle still were pretty sore and I just didn't feel up to more riding. So I rode back again on the "highway of death" to spend the entire afternoon sleeping.

Sometimes too much free time to think is a bad thing. I kept thinking about my aches and pains, the difficulty of riding these roads, and the loneliness. The more I thought, the more I wanted to quit. As the evening crew began arriving and I explained to each what I was doing, my final destination kept getting shorter. "Yeah, biking to Oregon, but I might stop in Kansas City." "I'll think hard about stopping in Kansas City." I think that was even worse than my thinking about it.

The guys and gals of the station made me part of the gang. We rode the vehicles to get something to eat at Riverside Grill.

These volunteers are amazing. To be full members, they work one shift a week, usually nights, and help with the weekly bingo game that helps pay for their equipment. This is all in addition to their full-time jobs and families. They invited me to be the guest at their monthly meeting; and I got to see how they all work together to keep the station running.

The crew working this night was OJ, Johnnie, Kevin, Robert, and Tony. Most were in their 20's and definitely had a lot of fun working together.

It's hard to find the words to thank this group of people who have let me in and treated me like one of their crew. If only this could happen more often in our daily lives.

I opted for the couch in the rec-room because I didn't want to disturb their sleep with my snoring, even though they kept offering one of the bunks in the dorm. They said I could ride with them if they got a call in the middle of the night.

4/18/01 Mineral VA

52.6 miles

Let me start at the end of the day this time. While talking with the guys at the Mineral Volunteer Fire Station, Lloyd Runnett told me, "You don't stand a snowball's chance in hell at finding a room in Charlottesville tomorrow night!" Seems as if local boy, Dave Matthews, is having a concert this weekend and the town is expecting about 100,000 concert-goers in this town of only 40,000. But then Lloyd said, "Let me make a few calls." And just like that, he got me a place at another fire station just outside of Charlottesville. I had to make a few route changes, but he thought it might actually shorten my mileage. That's a good thing, because I have a lot of elevation gain and it looks like the wind and cold temperatures will not be my friends. These guys are the greatest.

Guard Cat

This morning, I had honestly expected snow. It was that cold. But the Weather Channel said most of the snow was along the West Virginia and Virginia border. I'm sure at the higher elevations, a few thruhikers woke up to a white blanket.

Took an alternate route suggested by the folks at the campground. It had me enter Ashland on a 4-lane road instead of the 2-lane, neither with shoulders. At least the cars had another lane to go around me. Once I got through all the truck traffic and into Ashland, it was a pleasant ride. Believe it or not, the main north-south road straddles the railroad tracks. While I was heading north, an Amtrak passenger train passed me by. I stopped by the Ashland Visitors Center in the converted train station. Talked with the gentleman inside who suggested getting a breakfast snack at "Homemade by Suzanne's" next door. All the staff was busy opening up and cooking, but I was able to get a piece of chocolate chunk pecan pie. Surely a diabetic's nightmare!

Racin' the train

I wish I could have taken the walking tour of the town, but I had a long day ahead and was not sure how much time to would take.

Once I got out of Ashland, the traffic dropped to almost nothing. It was a beautiful sunny day with scattered clouds, but a little chilly and very windy. In fact, I think I had a headwind the whole day coming out of the north.

log home next to the church

In the morning, I rode through mostly elegant neighborhoods with lots of houses. Later I passed a rebuilt split-log home and then the "Fork Church" built in 1736. Between those two, as I had my head down against the wind, I had my first dog encounter. I didn't even see him or his buddy until they were right up on me. But I was fighting the wind too much other than to give them a quick "Go away!" Guess it worked. That or else the dogs didn't like chasing me against a headwind.

I stopped briefly at "Scotchtown," the house of Patrick Henry. He lived in this house when he left to attend the First Continental Congress in Philadelphia in 1774. The house is one of the oldest Virginia plantation houses, built in 1719.

After that, I was traveling through working farms with fields full of green. Today also marked the first time I had to get off the bike and push it up a hill; not once, but four times. Some of the roads reminded me of the Ozarks -- you'd be going fine, then turn a corner to see a hill that went straight up. At least it seemed that way to me.

I stopped at quite a few country stores today, mostly so I could take a break from the wind and stretch my legs. At one stop, "Ed's Convenience Store," Ed told me that the next trip he took across country, he was going to use the same bicycle maps I was using. He liked the detail and the fact that it was all country roads.

After that it was a full afternoon of pumping my bone-tired legs. My big dilemma was whether to camp eight-miles off route on the other side of Lake Anna or take a chance on the fire station in Mineral.

I stopped off at Elk Creek Country Store to get some water and ask about camping. Then I took a chance and asked Melissa behind the counter about camping at the fire station. "I live near there. Let me make a few calls and we'll see." It took several phone calls, but she got me permission and a contact person. I could have kissed her. This has been a day filled with people with the biggest hearts. By going on to Mineral, I shave almost 14 miles off my planned mileage tomorrow. And because the wind is forecasted for a couple more days, those disappearing miles are a godsend!

The sight of the fire station was sweet relief after a grueling day. I was just about to call my contact at the gas station next door when I saw Sam pull up. He unlocked the doors and gave me a tour of the station. The big thing on everyone's mind was the unseasonably cold temps expected tonight. "This is crazy," Stuart said. "We've already had a day in the 90's a few weeks ago."

Soon I left my guardian angels in search of a good restaurant. I figured since they saved me the camping fee, I needed to spend some of my money here in Mineral. Sam suggested the Mineral Restaurant just down the street.

A few heads turned as I walked in, but hopefully I blended in with my ball cap and four-day beard. I ended up with the All-You-Can-Eat (AYCE) Pizza and salad bar. Guess I haven't been on the road long enough, because I only ate two big slices of pizza. The menu (titled "Joe's Place") was pretty extensive. I sat there sipping my tea, listening to the news, and watched two grizzled old men at the counter kid with my young waitress.

So while the temperature drops outside, I'm warm and comfortable in the station's TV room. I have been so lucky today. I reached out for help and found it, both with Melissa and the guys at the fire station. Even though I still battle the loneliness, the new friends I'm fortunate to find along the way are making a difference.

Hopefully the route change tomorrow will go well, and maybe the weather gods will look kindly on me, too. Then, Friday, I should have time to visit Monticello, try and stop by the "Studies in Women and Gender" department at the University of Virginia, and then on to Afton and the "Cookie Lady."

My contact, Lewis, arrived along with Delbert and Stuart again. Lewis told me that Lloyd is a captain in another fire department and then volunteers here. Lewis said it's getting harder to get volunteers who work locally (most residents have to find work outside the area) and that have employers who will let them off work to answer an emergency call. They had over 400 calls last year and already 144 calls since January. It's getting busier and they just might have to hire a few people to keep up. "We only had to scratch one call last year and I think that's a pretty good record," Lewis Kellen said.

4/17/01 Ashland VA

39.2 miles

As the sun went down, so did the temperature, chasing me inside the tent. I did some journal writing, reading, and listening to the radio. I'm glad I brought the radio because it provides some human contact, even though it's a poor substitute. Once I stepped out of the tent and I had forgotten how clearly you can see the stars away from the cities. Around midnight the rain started and continued till after 6 A.M. Have I told you how much I love the rain -- NOT!

But as I packed up, the rain stopped and the sun even came out for a while. So, with some extra clothes on because of the cold, I set off.

Most of the morning was a peaceful ride through the country. I did notice a lot of new development, but I don't think new road construction has kept up.

My first stop for the day was at the "Garthright House," which was forced to serve as a field hospital for the Union army. I took a walking tour to see the rifle and artillery pits in which the soldiers used to protect themselves. Can you just imagine what thoughts went through those young men's heads as the musket balls flew at them!

Out in the parking lot, I met Lisa, her son Ian, and puppy, Louie. They had decided to get out of the house for a while. She said she had come out with her husband from Indiana/Illinois about four years ago. "It's simply amazing all the history in this area," she said.

Civil War Uniform

A little ways down the road was the Cold Harbor Visitors Center. One of the managers had dressed up in Civil War clothing for a group of kids who were on a field trip. The Center had a good audio-visual display of the Battle of Cold Harbor.

Unfortunately for the teacher, I caused quite a ruckus when the kids surrounded my bike. "Where you going?" "Where did you come from?" "What are you carrying?" over and over again. When I gave a business card to one girl, everyone wanted one. Finally, the manager had to yell for quiet, so they could enter the Center. As I rode off, a few boys ran alongside. Next time, I'll approach the teacher first.

Cold Harbor had a mile long loop through the battle trenches. Confederate troops were dug in deep to stop Grant from reaching Richmond. He lost almost 6,000 men in one day, most in the first hour, with ill-planned charges.

As I headed toward Mechanicsville, the clouds came in force, but the headwind wasn't as bad as yesterday. Lisa had recommended a few places to eat, but I couldn't find them. But I did stumble across a library. After checking my email and trying to get more done on my e-newsletter, the librarian gave me directions to a good grocery store. It was off route a ways, but it was not that bad of a ride. After a sandwich and some much needed food shopping, the roads were very busy for only a two-lane. The other shortcut the librarian gave me was OK, but I missed the turn and got completely lost in an industrial section. Finally, I stopped a guy in his truck and he helped get me headed in the right direction. He sounded a little jealous that I could take off for several months.

At the AmeriCamps RV park, I was able to get a cheap biker rate. Everyone has been friendly. I'm sitting here in the lobby writing in this journal.

Today found my mental outlook a little better. The weather reminded me of days hiking in Virginia in '98. The stretching I did yesterday must have helped, because I'm not sore. And even my butt didn't protest as much. Looking at about 50 miles tomorrow.

4/16/01 Glendale VA

42.9 miles

After all the rain, it was a pretty clear morning. Believe it or not, the first thing on my agenda, besides finding a restroom, was a 20-minute run. I had this crazy idea about running every other day to exercise my non-cycling muscles. I figure, since I brought the running shoes, I might as well use them.

I was packed and ready to go by 9 A.M. When I stopped off at the campground office, the manager asked, "Was that your little tent I saw back there? You didn't get blown away last night, did you?" I smiled and assured him that I hardly felt the wind back there among the trees.

Once out on the road, I discovered what she meant. I had a stiff headwind. It was just cold enough to put on the windbreaker. Most of the time, the road was bordered by very tall pines. But when I reached patches of farmland, I thought I was going to be blown off the bike.

Riding the white line

The road had about a 6-inch shoulder, meaning I was riding on the painted edge line most of the time. Traffic wasn't heavy, but half of it was big dump trucks. It was only scary when vehicles approached each other at the same time they passed me. For the most part, it seemed flat until I turned off to Glendale.

Before that, I stopped off to get some Fig Newtons at the Sandy Point Superette. The owner talked about a guy walking across the USA a few years ago who spent the night there and still sends a Christmas card every year. When I handed him one of my cards, he asked about the memorial fund. After finishing a few cookies, I asked about a restroom. "No, but just use any tree out back!" he said with a smile.

By now the sky was cloudy and overcast, with the headwinds picking up a bit. They were working on the drawbridge across the wide Chickahominy River. What a terrible job two unfortunate souls had directing traffic out on that cold windswept bridge.

Other stops today included the Sherwood Forest Plantation, home of President John Tyler. I'm sure it would have looked better on a sunny day. I paid for a tour of the grounds. One item I found amusing was the "Garden House". It was a secluded outhouse with two adult-height seats and a lower one for children. They couldn't tell me if the seats were for a particular person or if several people used it at the same time.

Tyler's home is one of the longest
wood-frame structures in the USA

With dark clouds on the horizon, I decided not to waste any time and headed for my stopover for the night, the Willis Methodist Church. But I had one long hill before I got there. At the top were the cannons of Malvern Hill, a Civil War battle site.

battleground has quiet crops instead of shooting soldiers

I found the church, but the pastor wasn't home. I ended up going a mile farther to the gas station, but they didn't seem to even know there was a church nearby. I went back and tried a neighbor's house. "Yes", she said, "they still let bikers camp there." I decided the only thing to do was wait. Did I tell you I'm not good at waiting?

Eventually, Pastor Harrel and his wife got back from shopping. He said I was the first cyclist to stop here this year. There was a mix-up with the guidebook because while they'll let you camp and use the restrooms, there is no hostel. He was a very friendly man, with a lot of knowledge about the history nearby. The church, he said, had been used by both sides during the War; and General Lee had had his last planning meeting there before the Battle of Malvern Hill. Ministry had been his second career and he'd even retired from that, but agreed to come to this small country church four years ago. He lives there with his wife and a daughter. I felt at home there. He told me a cold spell was coming through, so I'd better get out my skivies tonight.

So, I'm all bundled up, and writing of my second day of the trip.

4/15/01 Jamestown VA

33.6 miles

Morning got here way too early. As I packed, Robbie came to say goodbye. His wife stayed home in bed. Traffic was pretty light and we were able to get to Yorktown by 9:00am, just in time to meet my friend Brian at the Victory Monument.

Brian had found me because of my website. He was a local injection mold designer who had biked across the country back in 1978. Actually, he was riding from Florida to California but only made it through to Arizona where he met a girl. Guess it worked out because he married her. That means there's hope for me yet.

Brian was a wealth of information on everything we saw from our ride out of Yorktown, especially since this was one of his cycling routes. My uncle headed off to Williamsburg to meet us while I took my bike down to the water's edge for the ceremonial dipping of my rear wheel in the York River (salty enough to count as the Atlantic Ocean). My ride had officially begun.

Dipping my tires in the York River
now heading west to the Pacific.

As we rode the Colonial Parkway, Brian told me about his bike travels and I told him about hiking the Appalachian Trail. The road was wide enough that people could easily pass us and traffic wasn't that bad.

It was a nice warm morning as we quickly found ourselves at Colonial Williamsburg. Lucky for me that it was the slow season or I would have found the streets of this recreated 18th century town unridable. As we meandered along the streets, you could see people everywhere dressed in colonial garb. We stopped by the Governor's Palace but didn't go into any other buildings. And we found Chuck and Irene again.

My uncle was glad because he wanted to capture me riding on the bike with Irene's digital camera. While we were stopped another cyclists came over to talk. After describing some of his misadventures on Odessy 2000, a round the world in 365 days with 250 people, I asked him if he was trying to discourage me. "No, no, you'll do fine!" he said. With that, I said goodbye to Chuck and Irene, my wonderful hosts in Virginia Beach.

But cycling sure creates an appetite. Brian directed me to a part of town near the campus of the College of William & Mary, so we wouldn't have to pay tourist prices. Again my money was no good as Brian treated me to a vegetarian bagel.

After that it was on to Jamestown, our nation's first colonial settlement on the James River. As we rode the parkway again, our sunny skies were becoming overcast with a chance of evening showers.

colonial glassblowers

At the Jamestown site, we watched a few glassblowers make a pitcher in colonial garb. It was fascinating and fast, maybe three minutes or less to make one. We went to the visitor center and caught the beginning of an educational film. After the fort had been manned for several years, a shipload of 100 eligible 'maids' arrived. Can you even imagine what those girls were thinking when they arrived at the frontier at the edge of the known world. The only building standing is the church. What a simple building, but so moving. With it's vaulted timber ceiling, it had a beauty all it's own.

Brian rode with me over to the Jamestown Beach Campground where we said goodbye. I thanked him and hoped he got home before it started raining.

After hiking all those months on the Appalachian Trail and camping for free, the $20 tent site was a shock. There were a few large families tenting but I avoided them. I put up the tent, cooked dinner and had a candy bar for dessert. It kept sprinkling so I couldn't even read, let alone write in my journal. So I made a small fire and reflected on this adventure, this bike trip across America.

How different a beginning compared to my AT hike. My first night back then was with the companionship of a dozen other thruhiker hopefuls, all of us both nervous and excited. But tonight I feel alone. No one to share the adventure with, to compare notes or to re-live stories, as I make my way to the finish. It's hard not to compare the two, but if I'm going to do this, I must.

As I let the fire slowly die out, a father and his two children headed my way with an armload of wood. Kevin and his wife work for the fire department in Pennsylvania. They both had a few days off and the kids didn't need to be back to school till Tuesday, so they loaded up the truck and trailer and headed to Virginia. All the while we talked, Ashlie and her younger brother, Thomas, tried to show me the finer points of fire building. Kevin did a wonderful thing when he unselfishly reached out to a complete stranger. I guess I wasn't alone after all. I will have all the new friends I'll meet along the way. I didn't feel great, but I did feel better.

I went to bed as the rain continued to drum against the tent.

4/14/01 Virginia Beach VA

Just like in Texas, my family has taken such good care of me. My Uncle Chuck picked me up at the airport and was surprised that all the grumbling about the plane being late was kind of my fault. Chuck has a beautiful home on Lake Smith in Virginia Beach. It was sort of a family gathering that first night with Chuck's wife, Irene, and her kids. Tammy brought her husband, Jeff, along with their son, Noah. And Robbie brought his Danish born wife, Gitta. I hadn't see Robbie since my trip through London on my way to Kenya in 1987. He was 13 years old back then.

Robbie, Uncle Chuck & Irene

Thursday was spent putting the bike back together. But Murphy's Law holds true, even for cyclists. I have a special rear axle that allows me to pull my BOB Trailer. Because it is a little wider, it kept poking through the bike box. So, I took it out. Unfortunately for me, I must have forgotten to put the part back in the box. That afternoon, Irene helped me find a bike shop that sold BOB Trailers and spare parts in Portsmouth, SCAT Bicycles. Once I got the bike up and running, it sure did seem heavy.

And the big surprise was that I got a call from Holly, an old friend from back in my Engineering school days. For the last four years, her and George have lived aboard the Hannah Brown, a 37' sailboat. In the past, they traveled from the Carrabien to Newfoundland. But this year, they're going to try for Greenland and Iceland for the summer and winter in Europe. And right now, they're docked in Elizabeth City, NC, about a 40-minute drive away.

So, on Friday morning during a rain storm, Irene and I drove to see Holly and George. By the time we reached Elizabeth City, the rain had turned to drizzle. A good thing too, because we got lost. But as we passed the boat, I recognized it from the pictures I've seen these last couple of years. After we got parked, it was "Ahoy on board," I said as George came out to help us onto the boat. Holly had cooked up a feast of beans, salad, corn and George opened a bottle of wine. And for dessert, there was homemade strawberry pie. After dinner, Holly took great joy in showing us their very fine boat.

with Holly on the deck of the Hanna Brown

The "Hanna Brown" was made by a boat builder as his retirement home, but after a few months of sailing, they decided that cruising life wasn't for them and decided tosell. Lucky for Holly, George found it on the same daythat it went on the market. After a week's worth of sailing lessons, Captain George and Holly started sailing the Eastern seaboard. That was four years ago.

The wonderful thing about the boat was it's efficiency of design. No space was wasted. And quite a few things just required a pull here and a twist there to turn it into something else. And Holly had added her own touches - pockets, pockets and more pockets. By the time the tour was over, the sun was shinning and it was actually getting hot.

In the past, I only get to see Holly once a year or so when she visits her mom in KC. But now that I've seen her on the boat she calls home, it's myturn to say goodbye after our visit. I wish I could have spent more time with her and the boat. But I have my own adventure and I need to get going.

That night, Robbie and Gitta took me down to the main drag on the beach for dinner. Even though it's only April, it was crowded to me. But Rob said this didn't even compare to the busy season. We ate at the Raven for 'casual dining'. Pretty good food. It was fun to get a little more time with Robbie. He's looking to get his PhD in computer science while his wife is thinking about an MBA soshe can work in the international section. I wish them much success.

Today, I probably should have done a lot more for the trip, but I just wasn't motivated. But I did get the bike fully loaded and rode a few miles. What a beast! One snafu I hadn't planned on was with all my gear plus some food, I couldn't get it all in the trailer bag. And that gear doesn't even include the tent strapped up front. Looks like I'm going to have to pare down the weight, especially my clothes.

Other than that, I got in some time on the lake using Irene's kayak. If I lived near some water, I would have bought a kayak years ago - so peaceful as you glide across the water.

That night, Chuck and Irene took me out to dinner (I swear I've gained five pounds in the last week) and afterward went to visit some of their friends who were brainstorming ideas for their up coming trip to Ireland. Chuck and Irene had lived in London for three years and had traveled to Ireland. After all the trip discussion, the conversation moved onto other stories, generating much laughter until late.

As we drove back to my uncle's, I remembered that I still needed fuel for my stove. "No problem." Chuck says, "we have a 24 hour Walmart here." What I couldn't believe was that at 11:30pm on a Saturday night, the parking lot and store were packed. I had to wait over 15 minutes in line for one item. Materialism at it's finest.

Well, I've had a week full of good friends and family and way too much food. I think I've gained a few more pounds. The plan is to start the trip tomorrow, April 15th, Easter Sunday, around 10AM in Yorktown, VA.

4/11/01 Virginia Beach VA

Well, the adventure sure began today! My layover on the way from DALLAS to NORFOLK was delayed for over 20 minutes so maintenance could repair a bathroom door on the plane. But more on that later.

Last night I was fortunate enough to attend a class with some of the most enthusiastic grad students I have ever met. It was a women's studies class on environment and community issues. After each student told me a little bit about themselves, they had a hard time containing their excitement about the projects they were working on such as a skate park for neighborhood kids and a heritage center near a long stretch of greenway. Patricia, this year's scholarship recipient, was in this class along with all the other applicants for this years award. I could very well understand the committee's difficulty in choosing between these students, they were all deserving. It makes this ride more meaningful because now I'm not only riding for Nancy, but also for these wonderful women.

After the long stop-and-go trip to the airport, Doug dropped me off. I flew the first leg to Virginia in a cool, medium size jet (about 15 rows of 3 seats). A very smooth ride for this smaller plane. But afte going to the rest-room, I found the door securely jammed. No matter what I did, I couldn't budge the door. As I laughed at my situation, I wondered if I would have to remain on the toilet till we landed. I pushed the stewardess call button and waited for an embarrassing rescue. But even she couldn't get it open. Finally, between the two of us, we literally broke the door off it's hinges. After they landed, they advised all passengers to use the rest-room before boarding but maintenance must have felt they could fix the broken door. Hence the flight delay of over 20 minutes. I wonder how that fits in the FAA statistics!

4/10/01 Denton TX

WOW!!! It's been several very packed days here in Texas. On Sunday, I finally met Dr Brenda Phillips face-to-face, along with her husband. During a good Mexican dinner, she went over out schedule for my time here on campus.

Brenda has been my angel here at Texas Woman's University. It was probably two years ago that I contacted her about doing a fund-raiser for my cousin Nancy's memorial fund. She has been tireless in her work here on my behalf and has been a strong shoulder to lean on when things didn't go as planned for me. I just couldn't have done any of this without her.

Oh, did I tell you she is a whirlwind of enthusiasm and planning. She took the trouble to fill my 'dance card' these few days to get the word out about the ride. Yesterday and today I spoke with six or seven classes, including a women's studies class of 50 students, with reporters present from the TWU Lasso and the Denton Record-Chronicle, a representative from the campus bicycle police, along with Nancy's husband, Doug Coyle, and her mom, Virginia Johnson. And this morning had a class presentation and interview filmed by TWU Television.

After these last two years of planning, the fund-raising part of the trip is starting to generate a lot of interest with the University administration and alumni.

I can't tell you how wonderful the students made me feel. Along with all the questions, many students (and faculty) stopped to personally thank me for all my efforts. That meant a lot.

Women's Studies Grad Students

Another person I was able to finally meet (we had exchanged several emails) was Patricia Stokes, this years Nancy Johnson-Coyle Endowment Scholarship recipient. I'm sure she's a wonderful student, but I was impressed by the rapport she had whe her undergraduate students. If we had more teachers like her, we'd have a nation of students not only learning, but 'wanting' to learn more. Her smile and attitude are infectious. But that's what I'd expect from one of Dr Phillip's graduate students.

Also on the agenda were the Dean, Institutional Advancement, Student Activities, Alumni Relations and practically everyone Dr Phillips knew on campus. Actually, now that the university is becoming more involved, besides Brenda and I, it's all kind of overwhelming. Almost as if I'll have a hero's welcome when I reach DENTON this fall. That's kind of scary, that all these people have so much faith in me.

Everyone has been so gracious and kind. I found out, that at least for my visit here, my cash is no good. I've probably gained some more weight with all the wining-and-dining. I just can't imagine how to thank everyone like Brenda, Patricia, Aunt Virginia, Doug, Dale and Lisa, Doug's parents and all those students. I seem to be getting back more than I'm giving. And I really have Nancy to thank for it all. I know she's smiling down on us.

4/7/01 Denton TX

On the Road at Last

Underneath, a journey of this length and magnitude touches deep issues. There is no escape from yourself when you're on the road. Nothing can prepare you for what you might discover, for what you might like and dislike about yourself. Mental, as well as physical aptitude is tested. Your confidence builds. Your character grows.

"Against The Wind" by Marty Basch

The 'adventure' has begun. Or at least the pre-trip part! After a morning of just hangin' out on mom's deck reading, waiting to go, my mom drove me to one of the Plaza hotels where I could catch the airport shuttle. Our goodbyes are starting to become deja vu, what with me galivanting all-over-someplace every couple of years. I gave her a quick hug and a promise to call every week. My brother Chris will give her copies of my online eNewsletter so she can find out all the interesting stuff I leave out of our long-distance calls. A quick quick goodbye and I remind her again that I should be biking through KC in about 6 weeks, so she'll see me then. I know she worries but doesn't that just come with being a mom?

These days, with the never-ending barage of the media, it's not hard to worry about a whole host of problems facing mankind. On my mind lately is 'global warming' and how it seems that economic growth is more important than the long-term survival of our planet. Even this plane ride is extravagent. How easy we take for granted this air transportation, like a quick hop from Kansas City to Dallas that would take all day to drive. And think how many people in the world will never fly on an airplane or even drive 600 miles from home. We are lucky but also very spoiled.

After leaving a warm, sunny KC, I was surprised to land in a cooler, cloudy Dallas. My bag arrived, a concern because of recent reports of an increase in lost luggage. I ended up taking a cab out of the airport to meet my Great Aunt Virginia, Nancy's mother, in Lewisville. My cab driver was from Egypt and he was surprised when I told him I would love to listen to his music (he'd take the cassette out as soon as we got in the car). "American's are so nice," he said. He told me he'd just gotten back from Europe and commented on how people are very different between here and there.

After meeting Aunt Virginia and her daughter-in-law Dale, at Tom and Bunny Coyle's (Nancy's in-laws) home, we drove on to Denton, TX.

One thing I did find out this morning was that my bike and gear had arrived at my Uncle Chuck's in Virginia Beach. The only odd thing is that he told me 'four' large boxes had arrived instead of the 'two' I sent. I'm curious what, or rather where the other two boxes should go.

Show Me America!

10,000-mile solo mountain bike ride
to benefit Nancy Johnson-Coyle Endowment Fund

On April 15th, 2001, I dipped my mountain bike's back wheel in the York River in Virginia to celebrate the start of my 10,000 mile ride across America. While hiking the Appalachian Trail in 1998, I decided instead of wishing for more chances to experience life on the scale of an "expedition" I'd just do it! One idea was a cross country bike trip. What better way to see America up close and personal, meeting people from 'Small Town USA'. After all, I am from Missouri, the 'Show Me' state.

Besides traveling across this nation, I wanted to do something more. This ride was a benefit the Nancy Johnson-Coyle Endowment Fund that was established as a memorial to my cousin at Texas Woman's University in Denton, Texas. While studying at TWU, she died after a long illness while I was hiking the Appalachian Trail in 1998. The fund provides scholarships for the graduate students in Women's Studies. We raised over $5000 for the fund. I can think of no better a tribute to my cousin's loving memory than helping students realize there potential through this scholarship. Please consider a contribution. For information about how you can help, contact TWU.

My trip combines parts of five cross-country bike routes. The TransAmerica Bicycle Trail was mapped for the "Bike-Centennial" back in 1976. It travels through 10 states, from Virginia to Oregon. I circled Washington and got to Montana using parts of the Pacific Coast Route & Northern Tier. Up to this point, the route has been on America's paved highways, but on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route I was riding dirt roads and trails as I attempted the Continental Divide from one edge of the country to the other. Unfortunately near Butte, MT, I returned to pavement to finish my southward route because of injuries. Once down in New Mexico, I rode the Southern Tier to Navasota, where I then traveled north to a warm welcome at TWU in Denton, Texas. I arrived October 15, 2001, exactly six months after starting.

Dedicated to my uncle, CHARLES PABST, who passed away on December 24th, 2001. My uncle Chuck had a profound affect on my growing up. He's probably to blame for my desire to 'wander'. [grin] Of all the family, he was the only one who traveled, and travel he did all over the world while serving with the US Navy for over 30 years. In fact, most of my early travel was to visit him in places like Washington DC, and San Fransisco. During my trip to Kenya, I visited him in London. And Chuck drove me and my bike to the beginning of the Show Me America! bike trip. I have been very fortunate to be with Chuck for his last weeks, giving comfort and care where I could. My thoughts and prayers go out to his wife, his children and his grandchildren. He was loved by all who knew him, both privately and professionally. We will miss him.