Early in the AM on the 20th I awoke rarin' to go, and after a bittersweet goodbye with the family, I went over to Tom's house to load up his Pinarello and suitcase(s).
And we were off!!
And then we turned around because I missed the exit on the beltway for 66 West.
And then we were off!!
And off we were. First stop: Fincastle, VA for what was supposed to be a lovely little 33 mile ride to Buchanan, VA and back. As we pulled off the interstate onto VA-630 to enter the town, I knew it was going to be sweet. The scenery? Gorgeous. The road? Smooth and wide, maybe not with a shoulder but zero traffic and at least a good 3 feet of space before the treeline on either side.
We pulled into the only gas station to change, and was greeted by an extremely polite and amicable clerk, who was completely non plussed by our cycling getup. All she said was, "So where are y'all headed today?"
"Buchanan." (pronounced as in Pat Buchanan)
"Buck-anan, honey, that's Buck-anan." Huge smile.
Awesome.
The ride itself started with lovely vistas of Fincastle, VA:
To say that it was picturesque would be an understatement. The bonus? I felt like we had stumbled upon a hidden treasure. When you randomly pick a route and pull off in the middle of Virginia Ruralness, the chances of choosing someplace quaint are slim to none. But what started as good luck turned into the jackpot as we started the ride.
We rode along extremely smooth and well kept pavement, seeing LONG HORNS (wth??), 3 different sets of deer, and the following gorgeous scenery:
After what seemed liked an endless, long, rambling downhill stretch we arrived at the town of Buck-anan. And guess what? It was just as lovely as Fincastle.
But the true magic was the ride back. A little road that ran along a railroad track, just wide enough to hug, nice and open, and pavement as smooth as a baby's butt could be if it were made out of pavement. After a while, I mentioned to Tom that I was waiting for the other shoe to fall, that eventually we would have to start going uphill to make up for the start.
He pointed to a small creek along the road. With the water flowing TOWARDS us.
Yes, ladies and gentleman, though long thought to be a legend, I have found a route that is "downhill" both ways. Thoughwe were in fact traveling upwards, the gradient was so slight as to feel completely non existent. And it remained thus for 95% of the ride back to the Fincastle Courthouse.
It was like a road made by elves. Good elves who loved cyclists. Here is a bit of what we were treated to along that magical road:
But, alas, all good things must come to an end. Eventually we arrived back at the courthouse, changed, and continued onwards. After a delicious Subway dinner, we pulled into the Hotel in the town known as Knoxville, TN, and planned the next day. Tom needed some new tires in a bad way, so we decided to stop at a shop in Nashville that opened at noon, pick up a pair, head over a few miles, and hit a route that was in the book Rides of Mid Tennessee. What could be a better plan than that?
Tom (as we're driving along I-40, having perfectly left our timing to arrive at the shop precicely when it opened): Umm, Sophie? It's an hour earlier.
Me: It's what?
Tom: It's an hour earlier. We crossed the timezone line.
Me: So....
Tom: So that means we're going to arrive about 1.5 hours before the shop opens.
Me: ...Oh...
Cue wheels turning in our heads.
After a bit of devicing (yay for Smartphones!) we found a shop in Little Rock that was also open on Sundays, and decided to press on straight there, get the tires, go to the hotel, change, and then go for a lovely ride in the picturesque Arkansas countryside!
Yay!
So we drove.
and drove and drove. And drove.
And when we finally arrived at the bike shop, bought the tires, and went to the hotel, the only picturesque thing I had seen was this lovely larger than life Indian Head:
Things didn't get much better. I tried and tried to find a route with ridewithgps.com, but only found things that started miles away (we were DONE driving) or were on scary roads. Our choices were an out and back road ride with what looked like a few hills, or a ride along the bikepath by the river, which was again, a bit of a drive away.
Tom and I both agreed that we didn't really like bike paths; they are difficult to ride on road bikes when there are lots of pedestrians/children/dogs/comfort hybrids around, and neither of us knew the path at all. So we set out to do the out and back by the air force base.
Notice that there are no pictures of that ride.
Because it was gross. My legs were horribly dead, the humidity was 94%, and the "hills" were 12+% zits in pothole filled roads of Northern Little Rock. I, me, lover of all things bike, raised the white flag 2.5 miles before the mandated turn around point, after coming to the top of a particularly "lovely" rise and seeing a CAUTION TRUCKS! 12% GRADE sign on the descent.
Not going to go back up that one.
So we zoomed back down, back to the parking lot, and I swung my leg off of what was perhaps my hardest 1 hour bike ride ever.
After more Subway, some True Blood, and some Peanut M&Ms, I finally sat down to write what you have just read.
Tomorrow is a non bike day, but a huge driving day: Little Rock to Amarillo, TX.
Stay tuned!!
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