You know that old "feeling of accomplishment" people talk about?
Blue Ridge Parkway- not as nice as it sounds.
The list goes on...
Today was full of crazy thoughts, sights, and places. Oh yah, and a mountain.
I started off this morning at my friend's house in Charlottesville. Woke up around 5:30, on the road at 6:00. Would have liked to go earlier, but he did let me use his AeroBed... That was the hardest part of getting up this morning- parting with the luxurious comfort of the AeroBed. Alas, I knew I had a long day of climbs, so I had to do it.
Starting off hurt like usual, but it also went away like usual. Within the first few miles, the pain started to fade and I could focus on what would turn out to be the craziest day yet. Just from looking at the elevation profile on the map, the climbs were easily 5x steeper and longer than anything I had yet encountered. The first big hurdle was Afton, and then on to the actual mountain.
I had planned on taking all day to go these meager 56 miles, taking a serious break every couple of hours, staying hydrated and maintaining focus. I knew that the entire day would be one long climb (and it was), so I figured if I put in 2 hours on the saddle and one hour off, I could pace it out without dying. And in that goal, although it was a pretty close match between me and the Blue Ridge Parkway, I came out victorious, albeit a Pyrrhic victory at best.
50 straight miles of uphill sounds like a lot, but you don't really grasp the scope of it until you complete mile 1 and assess how you feel and then remember that there are 49 more that just get steeper. Every turn reveals another hill, and every peak turns out to be just a fifteen foot flat section leading up to the next hill. Lots of disappointments in that department. Basically, it was really just an endless climb all day. I could spend another hour trying to convey all of the analogies, thoughts, and examples of how grueling it all was, but hopefully you get the point.
The Cookie Lady
As bikers scale the first major climb of the trip, Afton Mountain, many things come to mind... Why would I do this? Wow, this hill is steep. It's got to level off eventually, right? But just as all hope seems lost, you turn a corner and there, shining like a beacon of salvation, stand a sign reading, "June Curry, Cookie Lady"
Ever since the trail began in 1976, this insane woman has been baking cookies, providing water, and even putting weary bikers up for the night in her "bike house." At age 89, she has slowed down a bit and enlisted the aid of a neighbor. She no longer bakes the cookies on regular, but does continue to offer her home and water to anyone passing through.
The bike house is completely coated with postcards, articles, bike gear, pictures, and anything else bike related. I mean coated. Every conceivable surface in the house is adorned with more than an appropriate abundance of paraphernalia collected for over 30 years. It's quite a sight.
Back to the Blue Ridge Parkway...
I started to see many things. Some real, some imaginary. One of which, and I'm almost positive it was real, was weathered, bearded woodsman emerging from the trees just as I approached. His clothes, having become the colors of the woods themselves, hung loosely upon his clearly malnourised and sickly body. His beard extended to his chest, and his hair appeared as one unified cloud atop his grizzled and sun-burnt face. This man had obviously been living in the hills for some time.
As I approached, he walked out into the road and into my path. I was sure I was about to experience my first run-in with a crazed back-woodsman. Still nearer I got, and I felt some intensity grow. At least with the dogs, I could just punch them in the face and scare them away, but who knows what this guy could be looking for.
We finally passed and he held out his arm and just said, "alright!" He was just a hippie lost along the Appalachian Trail. I had heard stories of these guys who start out hiking the AT, then two months later they just fall off the grid and become hunter-gatherer wild men. I even heard of one guy who hiked the whole 2000 miles barefoot. His feet looked like shoes. Totally black, skin thicker than leather, toes completely mangled.
A few miles later, I saw a real mirage. For hours I had been totally consumed by the anticipation of SR 56. This wonderful sign would indicate the end of my climb and the 4 mile descent into Vesuvius. I looked ahead and finally saw it. I could read the number. The shape was right, the colors, the number, the sign post- it was finally over!
Nope. As I got a little closer, it was actually nothing. I saw nothing. I still had about 7 more miles of straight climb.
There's no way I could describe how good it felt to finally see the end for real, so I'll just skip that part. The next thing to look forward to was a smooth 4 miles of steep, shade-covered, speedy descent. I had heard stories of people losing brake pads trying to control the speed. After climbing 3500 feet all day long, the last hill is 2000 feet straight down. It is STEEP. Imagine going to the craziest roller coaster ever, but having to carry the cart to the top. It was fast. I hit 35 mph. I could have gone much faster but I was riding the brakes all the way down. At those speeds, and with all that weight on the bike, one false move could literally mean death. That's not an exaggeration. Winding hills with cliffs at the outside of each turn. One bad patch of gravel, a twitch, a turn of the head, a slight turn of the handlebars could all cause the front wheel to slip and send you flying at 35mph off a cliff with another thousand feet to bounce down through the trees and rocks. I wanted to enjoy it, but even if I took it a little safe, it was at least I nice break for my legs.
I couldn't have planned a better end to that ride. So gratifying.
In Vesuvius, loaded up on food and drinks at Gertie's Store. They have bikers camp behind the building in a little field, and I was the only one for the night. My friend John has been going a little further than me each day and went on to the next town for the night. I had to wait till morning to pick up my package at the post office. Thanks to Jon Katz for helping out there.
After hosing off behind the owners house and having a really great chat, I set up camp and settled in for the night.
Location:Vesuvius, Va
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