Sur La Plaque!

Miles: 69

Total: 479

The thing about spending the night outside’s that you’ve really got to work to sleep in. This time of year, it’s twilight by 5:30 a.m. Hard to escape in a tent, but easy to do inside like I was this morning, comfortable with the shades down at Kwabena’s apartment, I slept right till my alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. With little to pack up, I said goodbye and pedaled through campus to Gillie’s, a local vegetarian restaurant, run by industrious hippies, it’s been around for decades and turns out a mean breakfast. I ordered a plate with eggs, potatoes and a biscuit, and tacked on French toast for good measure. The waitstaff was impressed/disgusted that I put it all away.

I finished my first map in the TransAm collection today. It took me six days to go from Yorktown to Christiansburg. The next set’ll take me to Berea, Kentucky. I wandered through a few of my old campus haunts while my breakfast settled, then it was time to get back on track. Rather than retrace my steps (though it would be fun to bomb down Draper, fully loaded), I went out of town on the Huckleberry Trail, a 5.75-mile paved commuter trail that links Blacksburg to Christiansburg. I picked up some groceries, as well as a second hi-viz vest. They’re dorky as all hell, but cars treat you a little better with one on. Plus, you have an easy icebreaker when stopped at roadworks (“Hey, nice vest.”). I left mine in Charlottesville in Keith’s pickup. Probably right after he asked me, “Are you sure you’ve got everything?” to which our hero said, “Yup,” rather fallaciously. Anyway, $11 later and embodying the latest in Day-Glo, I’m on the road.

It takes a little work to get back on route, but about 12 miles from Tech, I’m headed west on County 666. In Radford, I cross the New River (actually, at 320 million years, only the Nile’s older) into Pulaski County. Originally, I’d planned to stop off in Troutdale (what would have been a 100-plus mile day) at a Baptist cyclist/hiker hostel, and land my second fish in three nights, but I didn’t have the hot hand, just the heat. Along with the heat, I noticed the wind working against me for the first time since leaving Pittsburgh May 27. A Snickers bar gave me strength, and the rain (the first rain since leaving Yorktown! A big weather day, no doubt) cooled me off, but I called it a night in Wytheville, where cyclists may camp in Elizabeth Brown Memorial Park. The park’s all mine, so I put my tent (no rainfly — just to keep the bugs out) up under the covered band stage.

A nice addition to campus. Tools for basic bicycle repairs and adjustments.

Devil’s highway.

At 330 million years, only the Nile’s older. I crossed over just outside Radford, Va.

My take on the Windows XP wallpaper.

A pencil fit for a King (Kong).

Home under the stage.

Miles: 48
Total: 410

I can’t get away from trains. Last night a Norfolk-Southern line regularly roared just outside the park, its horn an eerily just-out-of-phase organ bellow. With a big day behind me, a short day ahead and very pleasant surroundings, I dallied around, talking to a volunteer, who warned of Kentucky dogs. Geez, at this rate they’ll be Winterfell Direwolfs when I arrive later this week.

I left around 10 a.m., and that was too late — it was hot. Today was full of rolling hills and road previously traveled. Turning off 311 onto Blacksburg Road I linked up with a route I’d frequent on my road bike when I lived here about three years ago. Knowing what lies ahead is a double-edged sword: it’s nice revisit old stomping grounds and see the oft-contested county line signs, but knowing what’s ahead isn’t great, especially when it’s a climb up Draper Road on an 80-pound touring bike, not an 18-pound racer. Somehow I got spit out at the top and rolled into Blacksburg. I haven’t been in town since 2011, and it’s interesting to see the university and community continue evolving.

I spent an hour or so at Blacksburg’s library before meeting my host for the night, Kwabena (Q). He’s enrolled in med school at VCOM, but we worked together as Vawter Hall resident advisors for the 2010-11 school year. He tells me the dorm’s now co-ed. A shame: there’s something special forged in the cauldron of an all-male (or female) residence among late nights, sexual frustration, fledgling independence, and so on that leads to tremendous growth and lasting friendships.

I met his girlfriend, Michelle, who’s working on a Ph.D. in the area of traumatic brain injury, and a few of Q’s med school classmates for wings. After dinner, they went off to continue studying, and I met a college newspaper friend at the Cellar, a favored watering hole for the tail end of Hammertime (Monday – Thursday between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m. all pitchers are $7.50 — up from $6 when I graduated. Inflation’s taken its toll). We caught up over Two Hearted. It’s really nice to be back in my other ‘Burg, even if only for the evening. Bed tonight is Q’s futon. Hands-down, the most sumptuous sleep thus far.

You, uh, got a tree comin’ out your silo …

A Catawba icon, the Homeplace serves fantastic family-style cuisine. Sadly, not open for lunch today.

I was pleased to enjoy this Enjoy-By Stone IPA at the Rivermill.

VT logo quote met.

Miles: 101
Total: 362

Today started out with a Bodo’s cinnamon raisin bagel and banana so heavily slathered in peanut butter Supreme Court Justice Potter Steward would’ve declared it obscene. I left my jar of reconstitutable Columbian in the kitchen — not worth hauling up and down mountains today. Right out of the Cookie Lady’s door was a steep climb even farther up Afton Mountain, which really woke me up. Past that was a mile or so on US 250, steep, full of traffic and a narrow shoulder. I was glad to hop on the Blue Ridge Parkway, where a 45-mph speed limit and ban on commercial vehicles really lightened the volume.

It took me more than three hours to traverse 27-miles, inching up grades at 6 mph before bombing down them at 30-plus mph. Rinse and repeat. The views, stunning. Joy. Partway through I found Alex, Phil and Elliot, whom I’d met in Mineral. We talked for a few minutes, but separated at different paces. The parkway’s studded with overlooks, a few of which were closed for repair — not a problem on a bicycle where I could pull over and gaze out anywhere, given a wide enough shoulder. I saw Humpback Mountain, Devils Knob, and 20-Minute Cliff, so named because in June and July, the sun drops behind the mountain 20 minutes after sunlight his the cliff — a solar timer!

Exiting the parkway, I faced a steep, brake-burning descent to Vesuvius (marginally more hoppin’ than its Italian twin), where I lost more than 1,000′ in less than four miles. I stopped several times to let my rims cool. Down in the valley, I paralleled the South River toward Lexington, the home of VMI and Washington and Lee University (Robert E. Lee’s buried at W&L). I had lunch at Frank’s Pizza, and figured a plan for the rest of the day. I had scheduled a stop here for the day, but the sun was still high and I had gas in the tank, so I took the second half of my pizza to go and pushed on toward Troutville. Along the way, I went off route in Natural Bridge, to see Foamhenge, a scale replica of Wiltshire’s Stonehenge, but made from beaded Styrofoam. Definitely worth the detour. The next part of the day paralleled I-81 S for a time, which, while noisy, was interesting because I’d traveled to and from Virginia Tech dozens of times, but never explored the secondary roads until now. Past Buchanan, CR 640 ran along creeks, streams and railroad bed — this meant flat, which was good, because I was getting ready to call it a day. Nearly to Troutville, I faced a road closure, but convinced the construction folks to let me through a side yard, over a low barbed-wire fence and back on track. Detours are never welcome, because my maps lack detail of the surrounding area, and you never know how much distance they’ll add. Home tonight’s Troutville’s City Park. Cecil, the park manager, showed me and the seven or eight Appalachian Trail hikers (The AT crosses through town) the pavilions, how to work the lights and water, then sent me across the street to the fire station, where I had my first running-water shower in 215 miles. It felt great.

With a 45-mph speed limit and ban on commercial vehicles, the parkway was an absolute delight. Traffic was light.

Note raptor.

It clouded over, but I stayed dry.

Yep.

Thanks, VDOT.

The major differences between Wiltshire and Natural Bridge installations.

The last leg of my trip was along railroad line and water. Flat = good.

Pavillion B was home for the night.

Miles: 30
Total: 261

1:50 p.m. Mark it. The first time I called my little chainring up for duty (46-36-24; insert your own Sir Mix-A-Lot joke here) halfway up Afton mountain and realized among the switchbacks that I’m no longer in the foothills.

Keith’s 1983 Chevrolet Custom Deluxe (three on the tree, natch) was this morning’s wake-up call. He came down with a breakfast waffle and we talked a bit more before driving me back to UVa. and the TransAm. I wouldn’t have minded the bike ride, but enjoyed Keith’s commentary on the area, especially where he pointed out the other end of the road I hunted vainly yesterday. In Charlottesville, I spent a little more time on the university’s grounds, and visited Edgar Allan Poe’s room — during the semester he was enrolled.

Then, off for second breakfast before my second mile at Bodo’s Bagels, a local institution. I clearly wasn’t in a hurry this morning, and left town around 10 a.m., Sunday traffic and fewer USBR 76 signs meant I had to keep a close eye on my maps to stay on track. I also needed to find something for dinner tonight — Hope Wood, the owner of the Cookie Lady house, told me there’s not much in Afton. White Hall hosts a small store where I stopped for a drink and talked to the fellow behind the counter a bit. He recommended heading into Crozet, a little off route, for groceries. Provisioned, I hopped back on 788 toward the mountains. It’s too early for peaches at Chile’s Orchard, but pick-your-own berries are in full swing.

ACA maps are bidirectional: I’m following the westbound instructions, but couldn’t help but notice the eastbound notes counseled caution on the stretch I was about to enter, warning of a two-mile, steep and twisty downhill. Not to disappoint, the incline (for me, a WB’r) includes a nearly 15-percent grade for a 1/2 mile among other vertical bits. I stopped at an abandoned post office to catch my breath.

Thankfully, tonight’s halt was just a few hundred feet farther. The legendary Cookie Lady house, half shelter, half museum, has offered succor to cyclists since 1976’s Bikecentennial. June Curry (a/k/a the Cookie Lady) passed away in 2012, but the aforementioned owner, Hope Wood, is keeping it open. The house is packed with 40 years’ of cycling memorabilia. Read more about June here.

Today was just 30 miles, but I’m glad to rest my legs for tomorrow’s climbing and take care of a few minor bike adjustments. No tent tonight — I’m couch bound. Sharing the house with me are three college students from Chicago. Tomorrow, we climb.

Edgar Allan Poe spent one semester in Charlottesville. His room is preserved behind glass nearby, but my photos didn’t turn out.

A Charlottesville institution, Bodo’s offers great bagels and bagel sandwiches. I had two egg sandwiches and took two bagels to go. Great fuel.

Outside White Hall.

Crozet, Va. Regional cola.

Yup, we’re going up and over those bastards.

June Curry a/k/a the Cookie Lady was a trail angel for many years, offering food, water, shelter and conversation to those exhausted climbing Afton mountain.

It’s dimly lit inside, but here’s a small example of how the house is decorated. It’s wild. Also notice Louis, from Chicago, who’s biking across with two of his other friends (not pictured).

More!

Hundreds of postcards cover the walls of the Bike House. In addition to postcards, there are various mobiles, collages, photos and all kinds of knickknacks.

Notes in the Bike House about lodging options near Christiansburg. The hospitality offered to cyclists is amazing.

In case you don’t want to go up and over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Can’t say it wasn’t temping …

The bottom level of the house is open for cyclists to stay, complete with couches and a kitchen. It also contains a huge collection of cycling memorabilia dating back to 1976.

Miles: 84
Total: 231

Got an early start today — on the road by 7:30 a.m. — getting faster at this whole camping routine. The morning ride out of Mineral was gorgeous, some straight-up Ann-of-Green-Gables shit. That, coupled with a slight breeze, had me feeling pretty good. Many more dogs today, including a sheepdog who tried to herd me, a pair of Pitt mixes who tried to eat me, and a dachshund out (literally) smelling flowers who couldn’t be bothered to notice me. Theory: The more decaying cars scattered through the yard, the greater the odds a ball of fur and teeth comes flying at me.

Closer to Charlottesville I went past Ash Lawn, the home of fifth president James Monroe, and a neighbor of Thomas Jefferson. It’s operated by the College of William and Mary, Monroe’s alma mater. But I didn’t stop — I was keen on seeing Jefferson’s digs just a couple miles up the hill. Before Monticello I found lunch and respite from the midday sun at a somewhat pretentious, but ultimately delicious, deli.

I climbed the hill to Monticello where a Saturday-sized crowd greeted me. Tickets were $25 and it was 1.5 hours till the next tour, so I passed on seeing his house, but took advantage of a couple nicely presented — and air conditioned — exhibits in the visitor center which centered on the mansion’s construction and evolution. Down near the parking area is Monticello’s slave graveyard which holds the remains of more than 40 enslaved laborers (nearly 400 in bondage between 1770 and 1827) as well as a reminder of the separation between free and slave.

Just a few miles down the road’s Charlottesville, home of Jefferson’s University of Virginia and one of the larger cities I’ll pass through in the Commonwealth. School’s out, but plenty of folks were hanging around town. I spent time at the public library writing, managing pictures, and finding directions to the evening’s campsite before adjourning to Three-Notch’d Brewing Company for my first pint along the TransAm.

My home for the night is Warmshowers host Keith, who lives just a few miles out of the city. The directions I grabbed took me into the suburbs and then into a new subdivision, very much under construction, where the road came to an abrupt, full stop.

Eking a bit of service from my phone, I found a message from Keith advising against Google’s bicycle directions, as they depend on a logging road that hasn’t been around for close to a century. So, back down the big hill, up and over another, where I made the Maupin homestead just as the last smudge of sun slipped behind the mountains. I met Nora and Rue (their dog) first, as Keith’d gone looking for me. Big thanks to them for putting up with my late arrival — I should have confirmed the road went through. Keith led me to his camp area, down the hill in a clearing where his does his gardening and some landscaping work.

A great place for the night: solar-charging station, nearby creek and a fire ring. Keith joked I was doing him a favor as sentry, keeping the critters out of the vegetables. While I set up camp and made dinner, he told me about his tours, including the first, at 19, between Charlottesville and Boston, as well as some time spent out west. He mentioned taking a tour with Nora between Pittsburgh and D.C. and I hope they do.

What should have been about 65 miles turned into 84, but all in good humor. Tomorrow, an honestly shorter day to Afton, at the top of the first serious climb and the Cookie Lady’s TransAm lodgings/trail museum.

Two of your favorite staples, together at last.

Postcard-o-the-day.

At a fork in the (very small) road.

Salvation, thy name is Pepsi.

Down the hill from Jefferson’s mansion, the center offers a few free exhibits and sells tickets for the house tour. At $25/head and with a 1.5 hour wait, I passed on the tour.

More than 40 of the nearly 400 slaves who served the Jefferson estate are buried here. Jefferson is buried up on the hill. Segregated even in death.

Named after a colonial-era Virginia road (marked by three notches), the brewery opened this year. I had my inaugural TransAm pint here and was not disappointed.

I made friends with this dog at the brewery. We got along famously, mostly because he wasn’t interested in chasing me.

Miles: 85
Total: 147

I woke up in Richmond Times-Dispatch country and retired in the land of Fredricksburg’s Free Lance-Star. Changes in newspaper circulation and distribution are weird way to gauge progress, but there you go.

I had a quick start today without a tent to disassemble or ordinary camp chores to perform and made Ashland for lunch and a break during the hottest part of the day. It’s a pleasure to sleep in, but getting miles in early, while it’s cool, will become important as summer rolls around with its attendant heat and humidity. Might have to adopt the siesta, too.

Today’s maps included a ton of turn directions — more than 30 over 85 miles, and I was relieved Virginia’s marked almost every L/R with US Bicycle Route 76 signs. The 76 refers to 1976’s Bikecentennial, the first mass cross-country ride, and the framework around which today’s TransAm’s based.

Leaving Glendale behind, I continued through many markers describing other movements in 1862’s Seven Days series. Near Mechanicsville, Civil War markers were joined by signs advertising new homes — lots of construction and real estate development. Also, regular unleaded’s $3.26/gallon here. Eat your heart out, Pittsburgh.

After a brick oven pizza and break in the outskirts of Ashland, I entered city center and rode past Randolph-Macon’s campus, barren over the summer months, but still pretty.

I dropped a letter at the Bumpass P.O. Named for the Bumpass family (from the French Bon Pas, for “good step”), and crossed the community line with a sophomoric smirk.

Between Bumpass and Mineral I encountered my first dog, though he gave half-hearted chase (really, the best kind), especially past his property line. Good warmup for Kentucky’s famous canines. The same road afforded views of Lake Anna, a man-made lake built to provide cooling for two nuclear-powered utility reactors and waterfront real estate for some very nice vacation homes.

Camp tonight is Mineral Volunteer Fire grounds: plenty of soft, level grass and a hot shower courtesy of the department. The kindness bestowed on strangers is, well, a strange and fabulous thing. I hope to pay it forward. Sharing the space with me tonight are there high school friends touring together after graduating from different colleges. Phil’s riding a Fuji road bike and pulling a trailer while Elliot and Alex are carrying panniers on a Surly Disc Trucker and Specialized AWOL, respectively. They left Yorktown the day before I did and will finish in San Diego, dipping south to Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas — even visiting the Grand Canyon before finding the Pacific Ocean. Best of luck to them. Tomorrow, a shorter day to Charlottesville and Jefferson’s home at Monticello.

TruMoo, the official beverage of 2014’s TransAm. But seriously, PET Dairy, let’s talk.

I noticed a ton of new homes being built around Mechanicsville/Ashland.

Easy way to keep an eye on your wheeled home.

But powered by Chevy. I’m pretty sure the rear hatch reads, “Scooby Doobie.”

Foreground: wildflowers; Background: wheat (hey, we can turn that into booze!)

Lots of great riding through rolling hills and horse pasture.

Number three in my ongoing Juvenile humor series.

Alex found a putative possum jaw in Mineral. This is one of the decedent’s teeth.

Home for the evening. The department allows tent camping on its grounds and provides access to a hot shower.