tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81993281948779285742024-03-08T06:15:40.549-08:00The Young Coot's 1981 TransAmerica Trail Adventure"Let's bike the TransAmerica Trail!"<br>My biking buddy, Jack Arvidson, made that proposition one day early in the year of 1981.<br>This log is a record of that trip.Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-33929189944249902452013-04-19T12:24:00.000-07:002013-04-19T12:25:26.044-07:00Notes from the Future<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Several months after my (not-so-)epic journey
ended, a cycling friend (whom I had met on <a href="http://www.dalmac.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">DALMAC</a>) introduced me to
DeAnne, a co-worker of hers. De, it turned out, was also a cyclist.
After several years of riding DALMACs (and other assorted activities)
together, we decided to join my sister in far-off, exotic Seattle (where
it rains all the time, but that didn't deter us). And we decided to
repeat my TransAmerica adventure.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's funny how life gets in the way of life. Kids
came along, and we thought, "What the heck - we'll do it with them in a
trailer!" Then they got older, and we thought, "We'll do it with them
on the backs of tandems!" And they kept right on aging, while we kept
looking for the right time to chuck work and repeat the trip. Then,
much to our chagrin, they kept right on aging, and we kept on working,
and here we are.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well, almost. Chris, my oldest, graduated from the
University of Washington in 2009, and that would have been a great time
for a father-and-son expedition - especially since he did not have any
immediate job prospects. But I was too leery of quitting my job - my
boss said I couldn't simply get a leave of absence - and he said that
the chances of my being rehired were "pretty good". Remember, this was
around the time of the dot-com bust. I should have done it. But I
didn't. Now, I'm retired, and he has a good job in aerospace and he's
the one who has to worry about time off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well, screw that. I'm going. <a href="http://oldcoot2013tatrip.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">See you there.</a></span></div>
Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-62898507568907890201981-09-11T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-19T11:52:51.653-07:00Reflections<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Some bikers, upon completing a trip like this one, sit down and
write a book about how the trip has changed their life, or
inspired them, or revealed some great truths. It wasn't like that
for me. I set out to see the county and to have fun, and that's
what happened. My only revelations were of mundane truths that I
rather expected, anyway. For example:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> - This is a big country. It's also beautiful. There’s a lot to
see and do, and there's just not enough time to do it all. We
must pick and choose, and it is difficult to do wisely.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> - People are basically good and kind and honest. There are
exceptions, of course, but for every mean bastard or inconsiderate
turkey we met (usually aged 16-30, male, driving a car), there
were at least five people who were kind to us, gave us directions,
fed us, put us up for the night, opened their stores for us - the
list goes on and on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> - It's not easy to maintain complete harmony and compatibility
with a riding companion for 4300 miles. Paces differ, conflicts
arise in the division of time among activities, people get lost,
or dawdle, and someone ends up waiting several hours - this list
goes on and on, too.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack was an early riser, efficient in his actions; I tended to
sleep in, and performed my chores more slowly. Jack was more
interested in setting a steady pace, with short rest stops and an
afternoon nap. I rode faster, with frequent sightseeing stops.
Jack preferred the smooth, direct routes. I took the old roads
with their hills and curves. Jack's more talkative - after all,
he's in real estate. I'm quiet, sometimes downright
uncommunicative, especially when provoked by incidents such as
three flats and a broken spoke or two. Part of the problem may be
that I subconsciously equated Jack with my father, with whom I
have trouble getting along. If I did the trip again, I would
either do it alone or travel with a larger group.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's now September 11, two weeks since the trip ended. I sat down
tonight to trace our route on a map of the United States,
referring to the notes I had mailed home to Dad for the names of
towns we had passed through. Looking at the map, it doesn't seem
possible that I really biked all that way - after all, here I am
back home, and everything here is the same as it was three months
ago. The notes read as if a stranger had written them in the
distant past. It would be very easy to convince myself that this
summer never really happened. Do I have a subconscious desire to
suppress memories of the trip?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When we finally reached Yorktown, I didn't want to admit to myself
that it was the end; I wanted to keep on cycling. Now the
adventure belongs to the past. It's another sign of my mortality,
and that may be an explanation for the seeming strangeness of the
notes and my desire to prolong the trip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When we crossed into Illinois, I asked myself, "Why should I
continue to the east coast? What will it prove? Why not turn
left and head home to Michigan? After all, it will save the
trouble of finding a way home."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I didn't do it, of course. Jack was carrying the food and cooking
equipment, and I had the tent. We were depending on each other.
If that had not been the case, what would I have decided to do? I
don't know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The journey seemed to fall into five segments, with the dividing
points being the towns of Missoula, Denver, Ste. Genevieve, and
Berea. During the last leg (and more intensely when we reached
Virginia), the underlying thought for both Jack and me was to get
the ride over with. After almost two months on the road, and with
our self-imposed deadline of the end of August approaching, we
were both mentally tired of the daily routine which formed the
framework of our days. Only when we arrived in Yorktown did that
ennui evaporate. I felt as if a load had been lifted from my
shoulders, and that I was free to cast my eye in any direction -
not just east. The future was no longer certain: it was of my
own choosing, and therein lay excitement.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-72968376080487386071981-09-08T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-19T11:52:03.280-07:0079. Home: Lansing, Michigan<h4 class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 79: Tuesday, September 8, 1981<br />
Home: Marietta to Lansing</span></b></h4>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today's notes are being written 32 years after they
occurred. And, given my advanced senility, I of course can't remember
most of the details. Such as whether this really happened on September
8. So I could make up something really outlandish - a slam-bang ending
to my big journey - and nobody would be the wiser.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Naah.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I do remember that Mary and I did not really have
that much in common, and I'm not that much of a conversationalist, so
the trip home was pretty quiet. She lives in a suburb of Cleveland, so
if we made the 700 miles from Atlanta in one day, it would have been a
pretty long trip. Mary drove me to the bus station, I threw my bike on
board, and was home some five hours later. It was a low-key ending to a
rewarding summer adventure. At least Catastrophe (my cat) was glad to
see me.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-12130321840856368121981-09-07T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-03T13:26:44.400-07:0078. Back to Marietta<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 78: Monday, September 7, 1981<br /> Duluth to Marietta</span></b></h4>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-a6EvJMfCg/UYQcZnraxdI/AAAAAAAAAkg/nwtphc7uu74/s1600/TA5xb-Day78-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Start of Atlanta bicycle race" border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M-a6EvJMfCg/UYQcZnraxdI/AAAAAAAAAkg/nwtphc7uu74/s320/TA5xb-Day78-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="And they're off!" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And they're off!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I slept in this morning - didn't get up until 7:15. This time it
cost me - I missed the ride portion of the Bicycle Morning, and
didn't get a T-shirt. But I did get to watch the criterium. It
was on an L-shaped course almost a mile long, the two outer legs
being on streets adjacent to the Lenox Square parking lot. Dale
Stetina was riding for the Panasonic-Shimano pro team, but the
Osborne brothers, two Atlanta amateurs (Jay is only 19), were the
local favorites. It was a timed race lasting 80 minutes, with
cash primes. Jay Osborne pulled ahead after just a few laps, but
soon rejoined the field. Dale moved out in front about a third of
the way through, and lapped the field at 65 minutes. Just after
lapping the pack, he suffered a flat tire - but the free lap rule
was in effect, so he rejoined the field on the next lap with no
penalty. Three riders were battling for the lead: Dale, one of
his teammates, and a biker for another team. Dale and his partner
managed to hold the lone biker back, and the Panasonic team
captured first and second (Dale) place.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NT8RB_N-Rqk/UYQcWrAdEII/AAAAAAAAAkY/8oy6-GuCMSo/s1600/TA5xa-Day78-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Riders in Atlanta bicycle race" border="0" height="159" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NT8RB_N-Rqk/UYQcWrAdEII/AAAAAAAAAkY/8oy6-GuCMSo/s320/TA5xa-Day78-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="After 32 years, don't ask me who's who." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After 32 years, don't ask me who's who.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the race, I met a bicycle mechanic, his wife, and his son, and
we ate lunch together, then rode to Piedmont Park to catch some of
the 8-day Atlanta Jazz Festival. The mechanic suggested a scenic
route back to Marietta, where I was to rejoin Mary for the trip
home, and mentioned the steepest hill in the area: a 20% grade on
Cochise Drive. Of course, I had to try it. The hill was only
about 300 yards long, but I had to stop twice on the way up to
catch my breath. It was definitely the second steepest hill on
the trip - after the driveway up to the hostel at Grand Lake in
Colorado.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-28237869510150676691981-09-06T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T02:20:52.106-07:0077. Still Duluth<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 77: Sunday, September 6, 1981<br />
Duluth</span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today may be the day I cycled the farthest without getting
anywhere. I'm right back behind the railway museum again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A cyclist from Norcross buzzed by the museum just as I pulled up
stakes this morning. We rode together for a few miles (that
workout really gave me an appetite!), and he steered me in the
right direction for breakfast: the Original Pancake House on
Peachtree Road, just southwest of Oglethorpe University. This
morning, the line at the door was half an hour long, but the wait
was worth it. I ordered an apple pancake. It was superb, and
would have filled an ordinary person up. I would have ordered
again, but the waitress never returned.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I shared the breakfast table with another cyclist - a French
pastry chef who now lives in Atlanta. He had just completed a
bicycle tour which took him to Texas, then Connecticut, and down
the coast to Jacksonville. He has worked just about everywhere,
and loves to travel, never staying at the same job very long. He
quit his job at the Hilton for his summer trip, and promptly found
another when he returned.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After breakfast, I headed for Lenox Square to sign up for
tomorrow's Bicycle Morning. The bike ride starts at 8:00, so I'll
have to get up early in the morning. And the criterium at 10:00
would be interesting. Top racers from Georgia and national teams,
including the Stetina brothers, are competing for $3000 in cash
prizes.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FoHS5O65NyM/UYTQFad9w2I/AAAAAAAAArU/LupdNZV1Tgc/s1600/TA531-Day77-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Southeastern Railway Museum" border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FoHS5O65NyM/UYTQFad9w2I/AAAAAAAAArU/LupdNZV1Tgc/s320/TA531-Day77-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Work crew at the Southeastern Railway Museum" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Work crew at the Southeastern Railway Museum</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I had planned to ride around downtown Atlanta, but it was already
noon and the traffic was picking up, so I headed back to the
railway museum. It was open by this time, but not much was going
on. This museum is a poor relative of those in Denver and
Roanoke. There is plenty of rolling stock, but there are no
maintenance facilities or regular operating sessions, although
several pieces are in operating condition. Those engines are a
1952 diesel from the Southern Railway's Crescent Limited passenger
train, a 1953 0-6-0 switcher built for the army, and a Heisler
that has been used in logging and quarry operations. Also on
hand, but not running, are Atlanta & West Point 2-8-0 #290,
which at one time sat in an Atlanta park and now needs $200,000 in
repairs; a 1919 diesel-electric freight motor, and a Piedmont
Northern electric freight motor that has almost the same body as
the diesel. A fireless 0-4-0 that once worked in an industrial
switching yard is sitting on a flatcar, and an Atlanta man is
rebuilding an Atlanta trolley car on one of the tracks. A
turntable is awaiting installation, but that project will cost an
estimated $100,000. Railroading is an expensive hobby.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The men here say that the Tennessee Valley Railway Museum in
Chattanooga is excellent. It has a full-time director (who can
solicit funds) and three miles of former main-line track that is
in excellent (45 mph) condition. They also mention that Southern
has merged with Norfolk & Western, and plans to restore the
huge J-6 locomotive #611 that is now at the Roanoke museum for
excursion passenger service. [Note from the future: In 1981, Norfolk Southern restored #611, and used her in excursion service until 1994. <a href="http://www.fireup611.org/main/index.php" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">The museum is once again trying to return #611 to service.</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well, railroad interests managed to occupy the entire afternoon.
I wheeled into Duluth to buy more film and grab a bite (no more
home cooking on this trip!), then came back to the museum to set
up camp. As you can see, I didn't accomplish much, but it was an
interesting day.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-50088949542693990611981-09-05T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T02:06:30.419-07:0076. Duluth, Georgia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 76: Saturday, September 5, 1981<br />
Stone Mountain to Duluth</span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Poor planning and the lack of a definite itinerary are really
leaving their mark. I had thought that four days in Atlanta would
give me plenty of time for a variety of activities, but two days
are now gone and I've accomplished very little.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r9azmFPwrmI/UYTNw5cgHOI/AAAAAAAAAq8/0H2b4Md_w34/s1600/TA523-Day76-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Tourist trap choo-choo" border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r9azmFPwrmI/UYTNw5cgHOI/AAAAAAAAAq8/0H2b4Md_w34/s320/TA523-Day76-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Tourist trap choo-choo" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Tourist trap choo-choo</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The state has managed to turn Stone Mountain into a fair-sized
tourist complex, complete with fake Civil War trains, a
paddle-wheel riverboat, exhibits and monuments glorifying the
Confederacy, and Muzak. The Stone Mountain sculpture itself,
though much reduced from the one envisioned and begun by Gutzon
Borglum, is still impressive in scale. Borglum worked on his
design for three years before quitting over disagreements with the
project's sponsors. Another sculptor removed the figure of
General Lee that Borglum had chiseled, and worked for three years
on the present design before running out of money in 1928.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zIOb1j2Uccc/UYTN0PTlHhI/AAAAAAAAArE/xxxZLgDLziY/s1600/TA524-Day76-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Stone Mountain" border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zIOb1j2Uccc/UYTN0PTlHhI/AAAAAAAAArE/xxxZLgDLziY/s320/TA524-Day76-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="It looks kinda like a big loaf of bread." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It looks kinda like a big loaf of bread.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The
mountain sat for almost 50 years before the tools were once again
picked up - for the final time. The sculpture was completed in
1970, and shows Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee, and Stonewall
Jackson, the two generals on horseback, looking out over what
remains of their dream of a separate nation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I climbed the footpath to the top of Stone Mountain - most
tourists take the aerial tramway. There was more schlock at the
top. On a clear day, the view must be magnificent, but today's
haze made it impossible even to spot Atlanta, which is 12-15 miles
to the west.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the bottom, I met a couple of former Michiganders (he had
attended MSU) who had moved to Atlanta four years ago. They loved
the city, in spite of its extremely high humidity - "You get used
to it," they said. "Just think of it as a steam bath."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I frittered away most of the day at Stone Mountain. Around 4:00,
I set out for Tucker, where I stopped at a bike shop, and Duluth,
where the Southeastern Railway Museum is located. It was closed
when I arrived, but I'll camp here tonight, cycle downtown
tomorrow morning, and catch the railroad museum in the afternoon,
when it'll be open. The bike shop was also closed when I got
there, but one of the guys (he was from Flint) opened it up for
me, oiled my chain, and gave me a beer, and we talked for a
while. He's moving to Key West, where everyone rides bicycles,
but nobody goes very far. He says there's a huge bicycle shop
there - 300 bikes on the floor, and the business is great. Here
in Atlanta, he's helped put together a
criterium-plus-easy-bike-ride, which will be held on Labor Day. I
might try to catch that, if I can figure out how to get there from
here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hint for bikers: Don't stay in a big, crowded campground on Labor
Day weekend.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-23069067742749509971981-09-04T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-17T22:07:28.359-07:0075. Stone Mountain, Georgia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 75: Friday, September 4, 1981<br />
Marietta to Stone Mountain</span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> really slept in this morning. Didn't get up until 9:00 or so,
and it was 11:00 before I was back in the saddle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I felt like an interloper last night, sitting around with Mary and
her friend and her brother, so I decided to just go my own way for
the next four days, see a little of the country around Atlanta,
and rejoin Mary Tuesday morning for the ride to Cleveland. Stone
Mountain seemed like a good place to start.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Stone Mountain was only about 30 miles from Marietta, but it took
me nine hours to get there. Yesterday's light diet, plus the
exertion after a day's inactivity, combined to give me a feeling
of light-headedness and general weakness. I think my meal stops
were about five miles apart all day. And the cold front which has
been stationary over the Appalachians for the past four or five
days finally produced some thundershowers in the Atlanta area.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Traveling through greater metropolitan Atlanta was no fun,
either. And several rush-hour traffic jams made the going even
slower. I was lucky to get the tent set up before dark.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Stone Mountain is just what its name implies - a big hunk of stone
sticking up out of the rolling, wooded Georgia hills. A state
park surrounds the mountain, which, since the Confederate memorial
carving was completed, has become a tourist attraction, complete
with aerial tramway, steam railway, and Confederate history
museum. As I circled the mountain on the way to the campground,
the sun forced its way through to bathe the mountain, wreathed in
leftover rain clouds, in a soft pink glow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hint to bikers: If you're stopping at a large campground such as
this one, which has over 400 sites, don't pay a site fee. Just
say you're looking for Joe and Annie, who drive a blue Chevy
pickup with silver trim and have a camping trailer... Then you
can just cruise through the campground, find some friendly people,
and share their site. Just like Yellowstone. But don't wait
until dark to do it.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-89582741540083781901981-09-03T23:30:00.000-07:002013-04-16T03:58:30.970-07:0074. Marietta,Georgia<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Day 74: Thursday, September 3, 1981</b></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>
Marietta, Georgia</b></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></h4>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
It's time to move on. Mary left for Atlanta this morning, so she
stopped by Williamsburg to pick me up. I said good-bye to Mike
and hit the road - the easy way, in the right front seat.</span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
We took I-85 all the way to Atlanta - made the 500 or so miles in
8 hours, a little faster than I'm used to. Mary took me to her
brother's apartment to spend the night, then drove over to her
friend's place. Her brother spent the night with his girlfriend,
so I'm alone here. And hungry. I haven't eaten since noon.
Guess I'll stay up and watch the late movie and listen to my
stomach.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-80155330935032414681981-09-02T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T01:17:40.385-07:0071-73. Williamsburg and Jamestown, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 71: Monday, August 31, 1981<br />
Williamsburg<br />
Day 72: Tuesday, September 1, 1981<br />
Jamestown<br />
Day 73: Wednesday, September 2, 1981<br />
Williamsburg</span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The past few days have been quite relaxing. I doubt if I've
traveled 50 miles since last Saturday. There is so much to see
and do here, it would be easy to spend a week, or a month, or a
year, on this peninsula.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DRFGNi0SD-E/UYRnPqMCmrI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/vr4e-twiMyE/s1600/TA508-Day73-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="A Williamsburg residence" border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DRFGNi0SD-E/UYRnPqMCmrI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/vr4e-twiMyE/s320/TA508-Day73-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A Williamsburg residence" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A Williamsburg residence.<br />I doubt the streets were paved back then.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Two days ago, I met Mike, an architecture student who is working
at C.W. for the summer, doing architectural documentation on
several buildings. He's been house-sitting, moving from house to
house as families take their vacations. This week, he was staying
at the John Greenhow house, in Duke of Gloucester Street near the
magazine and the church. Being a sometime bicyclist, he struck up
a conversation with me, and I ended up staying with him for three
days. It was surely much more convenient than biking back and
forth to a campground.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Yesterday, I cycled out to Jamestown. Compared with Williamsburg,
it's rather a letdown. The only remains of the original colony
are part of a church tower, and foundations to mark the locations
of the houses. The foundations were excavated years ago, then
reburied to preserve them. New brickwork now indicates the
positions of these foundations.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RNYO7UhJBK4/UYRnVTGaE0I/AAAAAAAAAqg/0yssopYPpg8/s1600/TA511-Day72-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Glassblowing at Jamestown" border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RNYO7UhJBK4/UYRnVTGaE0I/AAAAAAAAAqg/0yssopYPpg8/s320/TA511-Day72-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A demonstration of colonial-era glassblowing at Jamestown" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A demonstration of<br /> colonial-era glassblowing<br /> at Jamestown</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In the 1700s, after the capital had moved to Williamsburg,
Jamestown Island became part of a plantation. The ruins of the
main house, destroyed three times by fire, still stand like a
sentinel over the forgotten streets of the town.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Carter's Grove is another 18th-century plantation, about six miles
south of Williamsburg on the bank of the James River. It was but
one link in the chain of the mighty Carter empire, which at its
peak held 300,000 acres in Tidewater Virginia. Almost all the
outbuildings have disappeared, but the main house has been
preserved and is now maintained and exhibited by the C.W.F. The
last owner, so the story goes, wanted to buy Westover Plantation,
but couldn't so she bought Carter's Grove and remodeled it to look
like Westover. I was a little disappointed in the house, but
enjoyed talking to the gardener.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Much of my time these past three days has been spent searching for
ghosts. One book (<i>Ghosts of Virginia</i>, by Marguerite DuPont
Lee) has two pages on a Williamsburg ghost, but the account is
romanticized and full of historical errors. The official C.W.
position is that there might well be a ghost or two, but it's not
worth looking into because C.W. deals with historical fact,
and ghosts cannot be substantiated. (Maybe transubstantiated?)
But in casual inquiries around the area, I turned up evidence of
perhaps half a dozen ghosts. Didn't see any, though.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2YRL-bCUHHA/UYRnYsfoziI/AAAAAAAAAqo/lgArhurmlZ4/s1600/TA518-Day73-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Fifes and drums" border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2YRL-bCUHHA/UYRnYsfoziI/AAAAAAAAAqo/lgArhurmlZ4/s320/TA518-Day73-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Fifes and drums and fifes and drums and..." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fifes and drums and fifes and drums and...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today, the Lord Mayor of London visited C.W. in connection with
the Yorktown bicentennial celebration. The C.W. fife and drum
regiment put on a show, and there was a musket salute. It made a
nice show for the tourists, but Mike said that he tires of
listening to the fifes and drums all summer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For supper last night, Mike and I went to a small restaurant in
Williamsburg. Surprisingly, it featured decent food at a low
price. For $3.75, we had a huge portion of lasagna with tossed
salad and garlic bread. I topped it off with three beers. The
lasagna wasn't as good as mine, but it filled us up.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-1775164851003055961981-08-30T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T01:57:12.631-07:0070. Williamsburg, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 70: Sunday, August 30, 1981<br />
Williamsburg</span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I slept in this morning. I wonder why. I had planned to rise
early and beat all the tourists to Williamsburg, but it was close
to 10:00 when I got there. As it turned out, that was fine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Information Center seemed like a good place to start. It
was. It was there that I met a girl of the opposite sex. (She
was on a bicycle, of course.) I ended up spending the day with
her. She ended up inviting me to Virginia Beach, Atlanta, and
Cleveland. (She has a summer job as a student physical therapist
in Virginia Beach, has a brother in Atlanta, and goes to school in
Cleveland.) That took care of my ride home. Today, we toured
Williamsburg together.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KlXT5U9EpB8/UYRnI97dSII/AAAAAAAAAqE/TXm2uIs2E8Q/s1600/TA504-Day71-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Capitol" border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KlXT5U9EpB8/UYRnI97dSII/AAAAAAAAAqE/TXm2uIs2E8Q/s320/TA504-Day71-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The Capitol" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The Capitol.<br />Williamsburg was the capital of Virginia<br />from 1699 until 1779. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In 1699, the Virginia capital was changed from Jamestown to Middle
Plantation, which was renamed Williamsburgh. It remained the
capital until 1779, when the government moved its offices
to Richmond. After that, Williamsburg declined into a sleepy
little town, its buildings decaying.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-65imvMfzrXY/UYRnMSTrWQI/AAAAAAAAAqM/vWTTOHcIwQo/s1600/TA505-Day71-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="the Governor's Palace" border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-65imvMfzrXY/UYRnMSTrWQI/AAAAAAAAAqM/vWTTOHcIwQo/s320/TA505-Day71-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The Governor's Palace" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Governor's Palace, built in 1722</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then, in 1926, John D. Rockefeller Jr., having become aware of the
historical value of the 88 remaining original buildings, set up
a $60 million trust fund for the purpose of preserving
Williamsburg's historical and cultural heritage. Today, <a href="http://www.history.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Colonial Williamsburg</a> is a foundation which owns, maintains,
reconstructs, and preserves the original part of the town.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-np2hY80PWNg/UYRnFoLd8xI/AAAAAAAAAp8/q3-n__qJkZs/s1600/TA501-Day71-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Magazine" border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-np2hY80PWNg/UYRnFoLd8xI/AAAAAAAAAp8/q3-n__qJkZs/s320/TA501-Day71-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The Magazine" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Magazine</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1CRf38t5HiQ/UYRnSN8opKI/AAAAAAAAAqc/fDvFQ2nOIZ4/s1600/TA510-Day73-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bruton Parish Church" border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1CRf38t5HiQ/UYRnSN8opKI/AAAAAAAAAqc/fDvFQ2nOIZ4/s320/TA510-Day73-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Bruton Parish Church and formal gardens" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The spire of Bruton Parish Church</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">rises over some formal gardens.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c0nbZFyYaQE/UYRjwpzSrzI/AAAAAAAAApU/Gmb3aQdV5Qk/s1600/TA498-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="A stringed instrument shop" border="0" height="223" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c0nbZFyYaQE/UYRjwpzSrzI/AAAAAAAAApU/Gmb3aQdV5Qk/s320/TA498-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="You can actually buy the stringed instruments made here." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You can actually buy the stringed instruments made here.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Some
of the buildings are open for exhibition; others, such as three of
the taverns, are commercial establishments.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In others, colonial
crafts are demonstrated. In one shop, several craftsmen make
stringed instruments, using 18th-century tools. Violins, guitars,
lutes, and so on are made to order. A typical violin requires
about 250 hours labor, and sells for $2000 or more. Other crafts
included printing, bookbinding, wigmaking, pewtermaking, and on
and on. The rest of the houses in the historical district,
although owned by the foundation, are private residences, usually
for C.W. employees.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cRC2eNe4pRI/UYRjy3xwGGI/AAAAAAAAApc/96n4lrlGcv4/s1600/TA502-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Colorfully attired" border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cRC2eNe4pRI/UYRjy3xwGGI/AAAAAAAAApc/96n4lrlGcv4/s320/TA502-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The inmates are colorfully attired," width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The inmates are colorfully attired,...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Afternoon showers drove away most of the tourists, but I put on my
rain gear and stayed around. In front of Chowning's Tavern, I
talked with the porter and two chambermaids. One was a student at
William and Mary College; another had just graduated. Their
costumes are provided and maintained by the organization, and are
individually tailored.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VelWmHpkBx4/UYRj1vQs47I/AAAAAAAAApk/ZiZ8HmhDuXM/s1600/TA507-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Cheerful" border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VelWmHpkBx4/UYRj1vQs47I/AAAAAAAAApk/ZiZ8HmhDuXM/s320/TA507-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="and are quite cheerful," width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">...and are quite cheerful,...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nOqBQ8eOLkg/UYRj4-Ut0QI/AAAAAAAAAps/hCWff-J4-0U/s1600/TA515-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Firmly entrenched" border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nOqBQ8eOLkg/UYRj4-Ut0QI/AAAAAAAAAps/hCWff-J4-0U/s320/TA515-Day70-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="...showing no propensity to escape." width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">...showing no propensity to escape.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the way out of town, I grabbed a sub and a beer at a deli.
That's why this handwriting is not so good. But since I'm going
to type it up anyway, you won't have to decipher this mess. So I
ain't neat. Tomorrow, on to Jamestown.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-46339565701642254061981-08-29T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-03T17:07:56.200-07:0069. Yorktown, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 69: Saturday, August 29, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Unknown+road&daddr=37.2637464,-76.8670367+to:37.260752,-76.859401+to:37.2536823,-76.832775+to:37.2544372,-76.825527+to:37.2553001,-76.813381+to:37.2525298,-76.8067052+to:37.2519886,-76.8038009+to:37.2503889,-76.7987622+to:37.2337181,-76.7844418+to:37.2227592,-76.7827924+to:37.244036,-76.6995817+to:37.2673408,-76.701841+to:37.267557,-76.7037004+to:37.2723444,-76.703486+to:37.2392542,-76.5162369+to:Water+St&hl=en&ll=37.251101,-76.677704&spn=0.273554,0.52803&sll=37.236086,-76.506686&sspn=0.004275,0.00825&geocode=Fa-rOAIdg_xq-w%3BFYKZOAIdJBpr-ykBCqTpdPWwiTEwgS52ytBy9w%3BFdCNOAId9zdr-ylHCRCKafWwiTFMwn3VS1eHIw%3BFTJyOAId-Z9r-yl_PdT8TvWwiTHh58Aa0ERJsw%3BFSV1OAIdSbxr-ymdGqFks4qwiTHnhaJwjKBu4A%3BFYR4OAIdu-tr-ymbM0fhuYqwiTHotNiYOXLdDg%3BFbFtOAIdzwVs-ym77Fg7vIqwiTE35VY127DEyw%3BFZRrOAIdKBFs-yklQMP5vYqwiTGSlrjq4VPopQ%3BFVRlOAId1iRs-yldOrzfloqwiTEgmC3NXRF3_A%3BFTYkOAIdx1xs-yndaRg_KmCwiTFuiFVaaGp03g%3BFWf5NwIdOGNs-ynhzqlkMmCwiTFeuhvNk88G5Q%3BFYRMOAIdQ6ht-ykPEgeryImwiTFbGITfS0vW1w%3BFYynOAIdb59t-yn3PUN_p4mwiTGGISowWcTB7A%3BFWWoOAIdLJht-ykDAFVDp4mwiTHuQZRlQLftOQ%3BFRi7OAIdAplt-ynfd004CYmwiTHzgR2GVmjJYA%3BFdY5OAIddHRw-ynxkRvE5ICwiTFOASiKxxwvKA%3BFRswOAIdA5pw-w&oq=york&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=mrv&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15&z=12&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Charles City to Yorktown: 30 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We made it!</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6lBBlWUb4Ic/UYRNxIVUvfI/AAAAAAAAAnU/rVlXaM9x8Po/s1600/TA492-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="somewhere out of Charles City" border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6lBBlWUb4Ic/UYRNxIVUvfI/AAAAAAAAAnU/rVlXaM9x8Po/s320/TA492-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Somewhere before the Colonial Parkway. Nice!" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Somewhere before the Colonial Parkway. Nice!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We awoke at 6:30 this morning and were on the road shortly after
7:00. Jack left ten minutes ahead of me, and stayed on Route 5 to
Williamsburg. I branched off toward Jamestown, but arrived there
before 8:00. Since nothing opened until 8:30, it was a fruitless
diversion.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uMqRy-_g7lM/UYRN0JsgrzI/AAAAAAAAAnc/vMBVjKfGQVg/s1600/TA493-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Colonial Parkway" border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uMqRy-_g7lM/UYRN0JsgrzI/AAAAAAAAAnc/vMBVjKfGQVg/s320/TA493-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Colonial Parkway - lightly traveled and scenic, but the concrete was rough" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Colonial Parkway - scenic, but the concrete was rough</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Almost. The Colonial Parkway starts at Jamestown and runs through
Williamsburg to Yorktown. Although the concrete was rough, the
ride along the water and across the peninsula between the James
and York Rivers was scenic. I passed at least a dozen bikers
headed west - apparently a local group out for a ride. And a
ninth-grader on a new Puch joined me for the ride into Yorktown.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I didn't bother stopping at Williamsburg - that would have
consumed half a day, and I wanted to get to Yorktown to meet Jack
and Lena.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Two hundred years ago, Lord Cornwallis surrendered to George
Washington at Yorktown, bringing the Revolutionary War to a
victorious close. Preparations are under way for next month's big
bicentennial celebration of the event, and the Visitor Center
already has some demonstrations of colonial crafts. A pewtersmith
from a shop in Richmond was demonstrating the casting of pewter,
and some members of the Culpeper Minutemen had set up a small
encampment in preparation for coming military engagements. One of
them was demonstrating the construction of a Virginia rifle.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--MVTsZ2e7vs/UYRN2o5YQbI/AAAAAAAAAnk/Pau5TeOojjg/s1600/TA495-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="End of the trip" border="0" height="260" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--MVTsZ2e7vs/UYRN2o5YQbI/AAAAAAAAAnk/Pau5TeOojjg/s320/TA495-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Not quite the Atlantic Ocean, but the end of the road for us" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Not quite the Atlantic Ocean, but the end of the road for us</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack rode into town shortly after noon, and Lena found us a couple
of hours later. Jack had his bike disassembled and packed away
before we could pose for our victory photo, and neither of us
bothered to dip our wheels. Besides, the Atlantic Ocean proper is
still over 50 miles away!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After a celebratory meal at Nick's restaurant, we parted - Jack
and Lena home to Florida for the winter, and I to my own devises.
My plans were to take in Williamsburg and Jamestown on Sunday,
then head to Newport News or Hampton on Monday for a bus, plane,
or train trip home. But plans have a way of changing.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lyl2pC-4vxo/UYRN5xloquI/AAAAAAAAAns/6R2koMqPKoM/s1600/TA497-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Cannonball embedded in the wall of a house" border="0" height="215" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lyl2pC-4vxo/UYRN5xloquI/AAAAAAAAAns/6R2koMqPKoM/s320/TA497-Day69-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Cannonball embedded in the wall of a house" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Cannonball embedded in the wall<br />of Ted's grandmother's house</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Coming into town, I had thought it would be nice to find a
caricaturist to do a picture of Jack and me. But people like that
are more easily found in amusement parks, and Yorktown isn't one
yet. As luck would have it, as I was preparing to leave town, I
bumped into a caricaturist who worked at King's Dominion, an
amusement park near Richmond. He was also playing the tourist,
and was staying at Yorktown with the grandmother of a friend of
his. He invited me home with him, and we spent a pleasant evening
with the old lady, talking about the changes that had occurred
since the Sesquicentennial in 1931. (If my writing is becoming
somewhat sloppy, it's probably due to the Michelob that was served
with my submarine tomorrow night.) She was somewhat apprehensive
about putting me up for the night, so Ted drove me to the Newport
News Camping Park, where I crashed just as soon as we managed to
put up my tent in the glow of Ted's headlamps.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-58496323622795588431981-08-28T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-03T16:50:55.827-07:0068. Charles City, Virginia<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<b>Day 68: Friday, August 28, 1981</b></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Unknown+road&daddr=37.6009188,-77.3327829+to:37.4469481,-77.2263968+to:37.4057914,-77.2653896+to:37.3393019,-77.205964+to:37.3312616,-77.1912172+to:37.3303952,-77.1868079+to:37.3332911,-77.1808313+to:37.3380439,-77.1741089+to:37.3377914,-77.1685758+to:37.3363593,-77.1623819+to:37.3345932,-77.1544639+to:37.3322362,-77.1487588+to:37.3312569,-77.1375779+to:37.3340909,-77.117318+to:37.3325271,-77.109908+to:37.3319388,-77.102283+to:37.3330429,-77.0964119+to:37.339486,-77.083428+to:37.2629672,-76.8801541+to:Unknown+road&hl=en&ll=37.486846,-77.22496&spn=0.54539,1.056061&sll=37.269391,-76.875629&sspn=0.004273,0.00825&geocode=FTtoPwIdxUFi-w%3BFZa-PQId0v5j-ymJ-5wbWBixiTElby1XLE4lJw%3BFSRlOwIdZJ5l-ykrroYqzAKxiTEQryyQT--V5A%3BFV_EOgIdEwZl-ykfTXZOogOxiTHozrlDqm-0tQ%3BFaXAOQIdNO5l-ykn3_xVwwGxiTGSkp2e8XEKAg%3BFT2hOQIdzydm-ymRTU_tKP6wiTGlRgjyS_BAHg%3BFdudOQIdCTlm-ykBNyEFL_6wiTFpfAQzs-0f0A%3BFSupOQIdYVBm-ymrUWzyOv6wiTFul4R5Nm4NsA%3BFbu7OQIdpGpm-ylFnNThPv6wiTFUPHbY4BVMHw%3BFb-6OQIdQYBm-yltjdz6QP6wiTG_LuHThj8E9Q%3BFSe1OQIdc5hm-ylHy0BGQ_6wiTHIZx0NhoqYpw%3BFUGuOQIdYbdm-ylxPVByXP6wiTHEFx9I3INddQ%3BFQylOQIdqs1m-ymptffv9v6wiTGIitDD3aEr8Q%3BFTihOQIdV_lm-ynJwCjY7f6wiTFDpA4J8gSWCQ%3BFUqsOQIdekhn-yk16BF1x_6wiTGxnHZrb-gFrQ%3BFS-mOQIdbGVn-ylTI6tByP6wiTEH21iw1RHMEA%3BFeKjOQIdNYNn-ymXvHszNfmwiTFfrXf45YjWOA%3BFTKoOQIdJZpn-ynFjjCqSPmwiTE1F-EePn6Xow%3BFV7BOQId3Mxn-ykBvB6BQ_mwiTFAi5EsgTlO9w%3BFXeWOAId5uZq-ymL8005mfWwiTH3saOmogtYZg%3BFa-rOAIdg_xq-w&oq=charles+&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=20&sz=18&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Ashland to Charles City: 70 miles</a></b></span></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Although we have been out of the mountains for two days now, it
didn't really become obvious until today. The Piedmont Plateau,
through which we have been traveling, doesn't seem like much of a
plateau at all. The hills are quite rolling. Yesterday's ride
was through roller coaster hills - not too many long grades.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today, we left the hills behind. The land slopes gently down to
the sea, with only a minor rise here and there. We're loafing
along, and still shouldn't have any trouble getting in 70 miles to
the next campground.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kt6xKbfxoQU/UYRMTkPKDGI/AAAAAAAAAnA/Q8eFSS7Mpz4/s1600/TA487-Day68-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Battlefield Park" border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kt6xKbfxoQU/UYRMTkPKDGI/AAAAAAAAAnA/Q8eFSS7Mpz4/s320/TA487-Day68-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Battlefield Park" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Battlefield Park</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In June of 1862, General Grant launched the Seven Days' Campaign
in an attempt to capture Richmond from the south and east, and end
the Civil War. But the attempt failed, with McClellan's army
enduring 15,000 casualties, and the Confederates, 20,000.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Bikecentennial Trail passes through the Richmond National
Battlefield Park, which encompasses the sites of many battles,
including Beaver Dam Creek, Cold Harbor, and Malvern Hill. Still
to be seen are the remains of the Union and Confederate trenches.
Numerous national cemeteries containing Union war dead dot the
area. Many of the Confederate dead were buried in Richmond.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Many houses that were built in the nineteenth century have been
restored in the Federal style, and new homes are also Federal
copies or imitations. We passed by many historic landmarks
today: the home of John Tyler, the birthplace of Robert E. Lee's
mother, and on and on. Many of these homes have been restored and
are open to the public. One of these is Berkeley Plantation,
whose present buildings date from the 1700s. It is on the bank of
the James River, and is famous for a number of things, most of
which I have forgotten (one: <i>Taps</i>, the bugle call, was
composed there). Jack and I rode almost a mile over a rough dirt
lane to the house, only to find that tours cost $4.50. We're both
skinflints, and thought this exorbitant - they should have paid
us, after biking over that road! So we bumped back to the highway
and continued eastward.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5MQDyswl-4/UYRMWt23-WI/AAAAAAAAAnI/SQ-XzxJFdmw/s1600/TA491-Day68-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Tenting on the Chickahominy River" border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5MQDyswl-4/UYRMWt23-WI/AAAAAAAAAnI/SQ-XzxJFdmw/s320/TA491-Day68-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The end of the penultimate day (or, more likely, the next morning)" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The end of the penultimate day (or, more likely, the next morning)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Charles City, population 20, contained less than we had expected.
So we postponed our planned supper until we arrived at the
campground on the east bank of the Chickahominy River, twelve
miles further. The river is really a tidal estuary, and so
presented us with our first glimpse of salt water from the
Atlantic Ocean. After supper, which happened to be anything that
was left in the food bag (vegetable soup with rice, a cucumber,
and some cookies), Jack and I posed our bikes for a few shots of
the last sunset of the trip.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-25860613050622149191981-08-27T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-03T13:56:51.554-07:0067. Ashland, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 67: Thursday, August 27, 1981<br /> <a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=State+Route+601%2FVenable+Rd&daddr=37.876423,-78.0889759+to:37.8912501,-78.0199351+to:37.9717599,-77.9235171+to:37.9905621,-77.8976202+to:38.0107472,-77.90787+to:38.0322272,-77.8376088+to:37.9659311,-77.7720998+to:37.8911565,-77.6230362+to:37.83392,-77.602208+to:37.8342839,-77.5107161+to:37.7648819,-77.479602+to:37.748187,-77.4848161+to:37.7156275,-77.419066+to:Unknown+road&hl=en&ll=37.855881,-77.779083&spn=0.542685,1.056061&sll=37.706555,-77.439623&sspn=0.016993,0.033002&geocode=Fc36QQIdY9ZX-w%3BFcfyQQId8XRY-ymDbxCINeWziTGS9m9pfQr-XQ%3BFbIsQgIdoYJZ-ykZreoJX_uziTErXJp4n6bo1A%3BFS9nQwIdQ_ta-ynp6yTEi1WxiTFV2IB5RV_7hg%3BFaKwQwIdbGBb-ym3Ys3GDlWxiTEt9EIlkRUgxw%3BFXv_QwIdYjhb-yln5_zeQFWxiTGddPBodh16wQ%3BFWNTRAId2Epc-ymZSh0VWKu2iTFLC2fTUHIcKw%3BFWtQQwIdvUpd-ynt6MmjXlKxiTGAaGa6-M8_hw%3BFVQsQgIdBJFf-ymVpRZHE0mxiTHEa1GE-EPr_w%3BFcBMQQIdYOJf-ymVdAEHfEixiTFiggZjMzZpfg%3BFStOQQIdxEdh-ymvQdYbdDexiTG3T17qCCewng%3BFRE_QAIdTsFh-ylnVYGJejmxiTEIZBZ9fRGPCA%3BFdv9PwId8Kxh-ynlVCWBQzmxiTGx1yG_dMl0Aw%3BFat-PwIdxq1i-ylFfQrnhTyxiTG63uTFTsyjVw%3BFTtoPwIdxUFi-w&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=14&sz=16&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Kents Store to Ashland: 50 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CTtspbbBLkk/UYQiAeJIx9I/AAAAAAAAAlU/T7rCP9c41MQ/s1600/TA479-Day67-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Shady little stream" border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CTtspbbBLkk/UYQiAeJIx9I/AAAAAAAAAlU/T7rCP9c41MQ/s320/TA479-Day67-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A shady little stream" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A shady little stream</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We awoke as daybreak brought the songs of birds to interrupt the
quiet night of the countryside. An early morning mist, soon to be
vanquished by the sun, lay over the fields. And our friendly dog
made himself quite at home in our tent. We finally lured him from
the pasture and closed the gate behind him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We eased our pace a bit today. Jack again took the low road (US
250), and took eight hours to go the 50 or so miles to Ashland. I
stuck to the bike route, except for one small shortcut.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As I was leaving Mineral, John (the biker I had met at Monticello)
pulled up alongside me. He was headed farther north, but we rode
together for the next seven miles. It turned out that John and
Choo Choo had biked together from Idaho down to the Tetons.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The rest of the trip to Ashland was pleasant, if uneventful. I
passed Scotchtown, the home of Patrick Henry from 1771 to 1778,
but didn't tour the house. By 2:00, I was dragging - probably due
to the pace I had set yesterday from Monticello to Kents Store.
The fast ride with John hadn't helped, either, although the path I
took with him saved 6½ miles off the regular bike route.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Ashland is a strange little town. The double-track C&O
railroad line runs down the middle of the main street, and the
small railroad station is of unusual architecture. I watched as
an Amtrak passenger train zipped through.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2sfFKDUZ6ao/UYQiFGHMJKI/AAAAAAAAAlk/DDI1T6TJDqM/s1600/TA481-Day67-CPP-2-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Ashland's main street" border="0" height="164" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2sfFKDUZ6ao/UYQiFGHMJKI/AAAAAAAAAlk/DDI1T6TJDqM/s320/TA481-Day67-CPP-2-SnEd.jpg" title="The railroad tracks bisect Ashland's main street." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The railroad tracks bisect Ashland's main street.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eDxzeeG6BHs/UYQiDPS8xwI/AAAAAAAAAlc/OoDFQQVmlpA/s1600/TA480-Day67-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Ashland's railroad station" border="0" height="223" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eDxzeeG6BHs/UYQiDPS8xwI/AAAAAAAAAlc/OoDFQQVmlpA/s320/TA480-Day67-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Unusual architecture for a railroad station" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Unusual architecture for a railroad station</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack had not had a shower in four days - I, in six. So we opted
for a real campground tonight. It's right next to I-95, south of
Ashland, and the chirping of the crickets and cicadas cannot hide
the hum of the truck tires on the pavement. Perhaps the noises
will re-accustom me to city sounds. Ah, home!</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-49378668252214000551981-08-26T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-22T04:06:58.408-07:0066. Kents Store, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 66: Wednesday, August 26, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Unknown+road&daddr=38.037692,-78.8367105+to:38.0297484,-78.7940571+to:38.03571,-78.7915067+to:38.0483921,-78.780947+to:38.0516813,-78.7722342+to:38.117463,-78.65804+to:38.099308,-78.5896669+to:38.0895989,-78.5841636+to:38.0794898,-78.5812062+to:38.061259,-78.568681+to:38.050954,-78.552648+to:38.0465874,-78.5219+to:38.0449517,-78.5158813+to:38.0281619,-78.4808491+to:38.0238883,-78.4781188+to:38.0173928,-78.4757975+to:38.0035299,-78.4751409+to:38.010391,-78.4503712+to:37.9689282,-78.4593091+to:State+Route+601%2FVenable+Rd&hl=en&ll=37.984257,-78.531647&spn=0.541739,1.056061&sll=38.012158,-78.456416&sspn=0.033846,0.066004&geocode=FWjVRAId-EVM-w%3BFbxoRAIdGgxN-ykdXTW8qnyziTH5ihxnVMeGeQ%3BFbRJRAIdt7JN-ylTR8KBf3uziTGw_GeXcxRUwA%3BFf5gRAIdrrxN-ykJYBDCf3yziTGm4gY28l7BDA%3BFYiSRAId7eVN-yn9OV64aXyziTE5Skd7SxrF8w%3BFWGfRAId9gdO-yml5X43QHyziTFuTm_dcpzT7A%3BFVegRQIdCMZP-ymhfuSVCYC0iTGc-9Umkfsxcg%3BFWxZRQIdHtFQ-ykhCZ2OYH-0iTEUTuPbcmLJ1g%3BFX4zRQIdneZQ-ynzloXvo4CziTGUrJFmOPUILg%3BFQEMRQIdKvJQ-yldwETdu4CziTF7c6BjJandww%3BFcvERAIdFyNR-ynD1OHz0oCziTEniJoH-reYPw%3BFYqcRAIduGFR-yn74gOIJ4eziTGHTLVs8ZkV6A%3BFXuLRAId1NlR-yn9_EHG_4aziTGtwokn4_pchg%3BFReFRAIdV_FR-ynxwWuJVIaziTEVkwen9nedrQ%3BFYFDRAIdL3pS-yk_0GP_I4aziTErLilDvumPiA%3BFdAyRAId2oRS-yllPiTLIYaziTGthF_nl_Bf1g%3BFXAZRAId641S-ynPbW_9HYaziTGGsx1dBrhIJA%3BFUnjQwIdfJBS-ymBO0CAqoiziTGPvPZi1fRrMw%3BFRf-QwIdPfFS-ymPXUDct4iziTFtI6Db73LIjQ%3BFSBcQwIdU85S-ynzIBcQbo-ziTF6uxK5qFwXuw%3BFc36QQIdY9ZX-w&oq=kents&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dpe&mrsp=18&sz=15&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Waynesboro to Kents Store: 70 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today was a long one, considering the hilly terrain. And to make
it longer, we visited Monticello and spent several hours in
Charlottesville. Not to mention the Cookie Lady.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Five miles' biking from Waynesboro put us back onto the bike
route. Jack then stuck to US 250 into Charlottesville, only a
two-hour ride. I followed the route, and, as happened yesterday,
arrived at Charlottesville several hours behind Jack. The bike
route was beautiful, with superb views of the valley and dozens of
beautiful old homes. And the Cookie Lady.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8c6oXI4fX6Q/UXUXLKvJ5CI/AAAAAAAAAh0/-04M1s_sS_U/s1600/TA470-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="5 mph" border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8c6oXI4fX6Q/UXUXLKvJ5CI/AAAAAAAAAh0/-04M1s_sS_U/s320/TA470-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="" width="221" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The hill down into Afton was steep. Rounding a corner, I spied
beside the road an old bicycle, equipped with saggy panniers, a
Bikecentennial triangle, and a sign: BIKERS - STOP FOR WATER
HERE. Further instructions told bikers to go inside the house
next to the bike and ring the bell for the Cookie Lady. As I
stopped, an old man and a dog came from the garage, and the man
introduced himself as Harold, the Cookie Lady's father, and the
dog as Curley Joe. He rang the bell and gave me a tour of the
downstairs of the house, which they had made into a kind of hostel
for bikers. Soon the Cookie Lady appeared, and the cookies and
lemonade followed.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bJqy3TDbkLI/UXUXLGUmySI/AAAAAAAAAh8/o0zG6QfMZUU/s1600/TA468-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Cookie Lady, dad Harold, and Curley Joe" border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bJqy3TDbkLI/UXUXLGUmySI/AAAAAAAAAh8/o0zG6QfMZUU/s320/TA468-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The Cookie Lady, dad Harold, and Curley Joe" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Cookie Lady, dad Harold, and Curley Joe</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">June Curry - for that was her name - said it was a shame we had
skipped the Blue Ridge Parkway, and told of an easier way to get
onto it, down by Lexington. She was quite upset with Waynesboro's
failure to provide a hostel - it seems they send all the AT hikers
over to her, and she has trouble handling everybody. She said the
trailer at the Salvation Army store belongs to an AT hiker from up
north who moved in to see if she could do anything about getting a
hostel started. So far, apparently a local reporter and the
Bikecentennial people have failed miserably.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Before I left, June snapped a Polaroid photo of me. She has
albums of photos of just about everyone who has stopped, and
postcards and other items of thanks adorn her walls. The visit
with the Cookie Lady, dad Harold, and Curley Joe was truly one of
the high points of the whole trip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack and I were to meet in Charlottesville for lunch. It was
larger than we had expected (about 40,000 population, plus the
University of Virginia), and we never found each other. Also, as
it turned out, Jack was leaving town as I was arriving. Good
timing.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6ThH1Bi1XN8/UXUXLHSB71I/AAAAAAAAAh4/AEv0bGKvo-I/s1600/TA471-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="University of Virginia" border="0" height="234" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6ThH1Bi1XN8/UXUXLHSB71I/AAAAAAAAAh4/AEv0bGKvo-I/s320/TA471-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Thomas Jefferson designed buildings at both U-Va and Monticello." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thomas Jefferson designed buildings at both U-Va and Monticello.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I spent two hours looking for Jack, then decided he had gone on.
After a quick lunch at Hardee's, I headed for Monticello, where
the gatekeeper and two bicyclists informed me that I had missed
Jack by half an hour!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Monticello is one house to tour, if only for its historic
significance. It is much smaller than I had expected, and the
tour was brief, but it was quite interesting. Once is enough,
though.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OGRc0NLrrks/UXUXLoBh9iI/AAAAAAAAAiI/hr2ffbgNaEo/s1600/TA474-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Monticello" border="0" height="222" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OGRc0NLrrks/UXUXLoBh9iI/AAAAAAAAAiI/hr2ffbgNaEo/s320/TA474-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Monticello - the house is really quite small" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Monticello - the house is really quite small</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">While there, I met a biker from Illinois who was also following
the TransAmerica Trail - more or less. John works as a
hydrologist for the State of Illinois, and is currently collecting
data for a study of the effects of surface mining on water runoff
into streams. The results will be used to help set standards for
land reclamation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I didn't leave Monticello until six pm, and Jack and I were to
spend the night at Kents Store, 31 miles away. Ash Lawn, the home
of James Monroe for several years (also designed by Jefferson),
was on the way, but I stopped only long enough to look at the
outside. It was nowhere near as impressive as Monticello, being
intended to serve as a working farm.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Try as I might, I could average only 12 mph to Kents Store. I
arrived at 8:45, after dark. Jack had beaten me by over two
hours. Kents Store had a store and a post office, and we made a
supper of cold ham and cheese sandwiches. Luckily, the store
stayed open until ten. A local German shepherd was the most
persistent moocher I ever saw - we had to defend our sandwiches
bodily.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6EcRqgLX_tc/UXUXL7ujDxI/AAAAAAAAAiM/ypF0tKYwzO0/s1600/TA478-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Kents Store" border="0" height="221" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6EcRqgLX_tc/UXUXL7ujDxI/AAAAAAAAAiM/ypF0tKYwzO0/s320/TA478-Day66-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Kents Store - no, that isn't the store" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Kents Store - no, that isn't the store</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A pasture beside the store was our campground for the night. We
pitched the tent in the dark and crawled in after guzzling a beer
each. Amazingly, the ground was smoother than it had been at the
Salvation Army store. That and the beer gave us a peaceful night
of sound sleep.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-77548290525773183561981-08-25T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-03T14:01:19.916-07:0065. Waynesboro, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 65: Tuesday, August 25, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=State+Route+F-055&daddr=37.6810641,-79.4975332+to:37.7813168,-79.4453762+to:37.8033632,-79.416583+to:37.8243256,-79.4146014+to:37.8726671,-79.3852493+to:37.9051152,-79.3323885+to:37.93731,-79.308844+to:State+Route+816%2FKennedy+Wades+Mill+Loop+to:37.9259176,-79.20384+to:37.9367222,-79.1917584+to:37.9958742,-79.1601517+to:38.0349519,-79.1152429+to:38.0621196,-78.9387272+to:Unknown+road&hl=en&ll=37.86076,-79.243011&spn=0.542649,1.056061&sll=38.052822,-78.925695&sspn=0.033827,0.066004&geocode=FaApPgIdU9lB-w%3BFaj3PgIdw_ZC-ykJgZTYIM5MiDGCwt48sMMN-g%3BFUR_QAIdgMJD-ynfh32pv8tMiDFb-Zb7U44oDA%3BFWPVQAId-TJE-yl1vrfO-8pMiDH-nl4HD6_snQ%3BFUUnQQIdtzpE-ylRNEgLjspMiDHAF5fLxah05w%3BFRvkQQIdX61E-ymvCt-eLrVMiDHSiUgwXi5TwQ%3BFdtiQgId3HtF-ymH729pnUuziTFseh-xK_ZNBw%3BFZ7gQgId1NdF-ymRu9eVP0yziTHlrfg27CYB8w%3BFT0OQwIduzFG-w%3BFR20QgIdAHJH-ylhrYeSYE-ziTFYbT9eZFBB9Q%3BFVLeQgIdMqFH-ykv0kPyhEWziTEG_shd50KoeA%3BFWLFQwIdqRxI-ykT0OyL2VqziTHbPzU0emfIBw%3BFQdeRAIdFsxI-ykH_IcZj1uziTHSETiryo6SNA%3BFSfIRAIdmX1L-ynfKy2aXGGziTFKQxgnUofDKg%3BFWjVRAId-EVM-w&oq=Wade&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dpe&mrsp=13&sz=15&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7,9,10,11,12,13&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Natural Bridge to Waynesboro: 61 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Now that we're approaching eastern Virginia with all its
historical and tourist attractions, things are starting to happen
to us again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After saying goodbye to Lefty the cigar-chomping mechanic, we
coasted into the town of Natural Bridge. Unfortunately, the whole
thing is a big commercial tourist-trap enterprise. The highway
apparently passes right over the natural rock bridge, but big
board fences blocked our view. The admission charge was $3, or
$7.85 for the bridge-wax museum-caverns package. [2013 prices are
$21 and $28.] We decided it wasn't worth it, even though Thomas
Jefferson had been the first American owner of the property and
George Washington is said to have carved his initials into the
rock about 1750.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X_s8Pv3ny-w/UYQk1DtTLhI/AAAAAAAAAmA/0GkFtMJvSbM/s1600/TA460-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Lexington's historic downtown area" border="0" height="208" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X_s8Pv3ny-w/UYQk1DtTLhI/AAAAAAAAAmA/0GkFtMJvSbM/s320/TA460-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Lexington's historic downtown area" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Lexington's historic downtown area</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We stopped in Lexington to do our laundry, and looked around the
town a little. It is an historic town, and the local historic
preservation society has done a lot to enhance and preserve the
facades of many structures.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BazKb_J8xOU/UYQkyBS6jxI/AAAAAAAAAl4/E8ERVFJHvtg/s1600/TA459-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Stonewall Jackson house" border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BazKb_J8xOU/UYQkyBS6jxI/AAAAAAAAAl4/E8ERVFJHvtg/s320/TA459-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The Stonewall Jackson house" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Stonewall Jackson house</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">General Stonewall Jackson lived here
while teaching at VMI. His house has been restored and is open to
the public, but we didn't tour that, either. As we left town, we
rode through the VMI campus. We didn't see the campus of
Washington and Lee University, but it is supposed to be nice.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack stayed on US 11 to Steele's Tavern, but I followed the map.
It turned out to be a lot curvier and hillier, but with a good
view of the valley. Unfortunately, a broken spoke and a flat tire
delayed me an hour and a half. On top of that, the zipper on my
handlebar bag broke. Well, I can fix that when I get home.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vANEKJK47kI/UXUa1JqdbrI/AAAAAAAAAis/-_TpVABM-AU/s1600/TA463-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vANEKJK47kI/UXUa1JqdbrI/AAAAAAAAAis/-_TpVABM-AU/s320/TA463-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" width="264" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mEprdYU5R6M/UXUa1ryqp1I/AAAAAAAAAi4/8rwAVCH1tv0/s1600/TA461-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mEprdYU5R6M/UXUa1ryqp1I/AAAAAAAAAi4/8rwAVCH1tv0/s320/TA461-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" width="214" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then a stop at an old mill took another 45 minutes. It was a
little off the route, but I just happened to spy it down a side
road. Wade's Mill was first built around 1750, then destroyed by
fire in the 1870s. The first Wade bought it in the 1880s, and his
great grandson is now restoring it to operating condition. He
intends to produce a stone-ground bread flour, using a mixture of
hard and soft wheats, and market it in the
Virginia-Maryland-Delaware area at a price competitive with the
big flour mills. It's an ambitious plan, and will take a lot of
work to carry off. </span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fuHOH2mRqgI/UXUa1bmiHEI/AAAAAAAAAi0/ZbnN_9uUjB4/s1600/TA462-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fuHOH2mRqgI/UXUa1bmiHEI/AAAAAAAAAi0/ZbnN_9uUjB4/s320/TA462-Day65-CPP-SnEd.jpg" width="218" /></a> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In recent years, the mill race had been abandoned, and the mill
had been powered by an old Farmall tractor that was still on the
ground floor. But the water wheel had just been freed up, and one
of the workers invited me to turn it. I climbed inside it and
made like a guinea pig. I was soon moving at a trot. It's
amazing how easy it was to turn. Of course, there was no load on
the wheel yet.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Poor Jack - he was stuck waiting two hours for me at Steele's
Tavern. We were going to have lunch there, but the grocery turned
out to be a pool hall. So we moved on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">From Steele's Tavern, the bike route climbs up Mt. Vesuvius to the
Blue Ridge Parkway. It's a four-mile 8% grade, and we decided to
skip it. So we took the low road (US 11) to Waynesboro.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There are no campgrounds near Waynesboro, and no facilities in
town for hikers or bikers. We pitched our tent in the yard of the
Salvation Army thrift store. There was a camping trailer there,
but nobody was around. For supper, we biked back up the hill
(just a short one) to the Pizza Inn, where we had a pitcher of
beer and stuffed ourselves on the $2.99 buffet. The Pizza Hut
next door is taking away all their business. Too bad - it was a
nice place.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-43515703154227991691981-08-24T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T02:18:51.589-07:0064. Natural Bridge,Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 64: Monday, August 24, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Unknown+road&daddr=37.2846207,-80.0418653+to:37.2766788,-80.0221062+to:37.2780733,-79.9608309+to:37.2739279,-79.9495496+to:37.272697,-79.9458172+to:37.2773329,-79.9372192+to:37.2882182,-79.9437952+to:37.4149932,-79.8630061+to:37.4335358,-79.8444545+to:37.4409161,-79.8223281+to:State+Route+F-055&hl=en&ll=37.464504,-79.837646&spn=0.545554,1.056061&sll=37.628916,-79.558911&sspn=0.017079,0.033002&geocode=FWZuOAIdLJ84-w%3BFQzrOAIdd6g6-ykNRkPQxwtNiDEpjmXU7xZG7g%3BFQbMOAIdpvU6-yllZkTMkwtNiDEosJeF2d009w%3BFXnROAIdAuU7-ynvu3dTyg1NiDG49dJf5-5KNQ%3BFUfBOAIdExE8-ylhu-SOuA1NiDHGv_045IRknA%3BFXm8OAIdpx88-ylLScsXvw1NiDExeIzabjaM5A%3BFZTOOAIdPUE8-ykpJNO_6w1NiDEzH8ufwWIPtQ%3BFRr5OAIdjSc8-ykpqEOw3Q1NiDGjpXFDHzrwGQ%3BFVHoOgIdImM9-ylx9yRWTRpNiDHYuz7PPDEkWw%3BFb8wOwIdmqs9-ynDSLpDwhtNiDEYZ_12qeYeTw%3BFZRNOwIdCAI--ymJelTKWxlNiDFUUskv49Vf3Q%3BFaApPgIdU9lB-w&oq=natural&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=11&sz=16&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Salem to Natural Bridge: 53 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We're trying to use up all our food by the end of the trip. This
morning we ran out of pancake flour after only four or five
pancakes apiece. But we had the good fortune to find a doughnut
shop right next to the telephone booth I stopped at to call the
office.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KfGm6Mr9Mgo/UYTQ3JisVYI/AAAAAAAAArc/pbZJXPiAfiE/s1600/TA451-Day64-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Norfolk & Western J6 #611" border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KfGm6Mr9Mgo/UYTQ3JisVYI/AAAAAAAAArc/pbZJXPiAfiE/s320/TA451-Day64-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Norfolk & Western J6 #611 at the Roanoke Transportation Museum" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Norfolk & Western J6 #611<br />at the Virginia Museum of Transportation</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was only ten miles or so to Roanoke, where another of Jack's
cousins lives. We visited for several hours, and wound up having
lunch there. On the way out of town, we spent an hour at
<a href="http://vmt.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Roanoke's transportation museum</a>. Its emphasis is on railroading,
but, unlike the museum in Golden, Colorado, the only live steam it
has is in 1½" and 2" scale, and then only several times a year.
It's newer and more attractive, but should really restore some of
its full-scale locomotives to working order. To do that, it would
need more space, and it is currently trying to acquire adjacent
land. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack and I followed US 11 to Troutville to rejoin the
Bikecentennial route. I followed the TA trail up to Natural
Bridge, but Jack stayed on US 11, which was smoother and less
hilly, although more heavily traveled.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kZA7zY0DNvg/UXUaTFW9CtI/AAAAAAAAAik/nilZL7b40oU/s1600/TA467-Day64-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Name this vine!" border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kZA7zY0DNvg/UXUaTFW9CtI/AAAAAAAAAik/nilZL7b40oU/s320/TA467-Day64-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Name this vine!" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Name this vine!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We had picked a campground from the route book to spend the night,
but there was no campground there. So we set up our tent next to
a gas station. The mechanic lives there in a motor home, and he
supplied us with fresh tomatoes and cucumbers from his garden, and
some white corn likker. Two wets of the tongue were plenty for
me, but Jack downed a tad more.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The old guy (must have been about 55) was a character. He's from
Louisiana, and used to run a body shop in Baltimore. But he had
enough of that, gave his 22 employees a month's notice, and closed
up shop. Now he does his own mechanicking, gardens, fishes, roams
around, and is a lot happier.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After an interesting conversation with Lefty, we stuffed ourselves
with macaroni and cheese and vegetables, washed down with beer,
orange juice, tomato juice, white lightning, and pop, and then hit
the hay.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-20056335926522285851981-08-23T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T22:34:44.330-07:0063. Salem, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 63: Sunday, August 23, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Hummingbird+Ln&daddr=36.9381609,-80.9804239+to:Unknown+road&hl=en&ll=37.110503,-80.570984&spn=0.548126,1.056061&sll=37.251066,-80.172601&sspn=0.008549,0.016501&geocode=FUqLMwIdwfUr-w%3BFbChMwIdOVYs-ymjdyi1Tv1RiDEnVHvhcpdVfg%3BFWZuOAIdLJ84-w&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=2&sz=17&via=1&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Wytheville to Salem: 60 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1fqKxkHu3Us/UYXuEnKNOdI/AAAAAAAAAtI/wqRZdLCtWAQ/s1600/TA444-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Roadside stream" border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1fqKxkHu3Us/UYXuEnKNOdI/AAAAAAAAAtI/wqRZdLCtWAQ/s320/TA444-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A roadside stream" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A roadside stream</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I didn't feel like getting up this morning, either. But then, I
rarely do. I have a built-in inertia that makes me want to keep
doing whatever I'm doing. I guess I have a one-track mind.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Near I-81 about eight miles east of Wytheville, we passed by a
stone monument marking the location of the <a href="http://www.wtrail.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Wilderness Trail</a>. By
1800, over 60,000 pioneers had traveled over the trail to settle
in southwestern Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee since Daniel
Boone blazed it only a few years earlier.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gyaZDNUV5Js/UYXuHk8Nd2I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/UWn94KneY10/s1600/TA445-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Name these flowers!" border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gyaZDNUV5Js/UYXuHk8Nd2I/AAAAAAAAAtQ/UWn94KneY10/s320/TA445-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Name these flowers!" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Name these flowers!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_3X-ZHa8Hqk/UXUef9BSTFI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Kn5H0qr0xhw/s1600/TA450-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The former N&W station in Salem" border="0" height="186" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_3X-ZHa8Hqk/UXUef9BSTFI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Kn5H0qr0xhw/s320/TA450-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The former N&W station in Salem" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The former N&W station in Salem</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I think both Jack and I are ready for this trip to end. We're
still dragging a little - Jack a little more than I. He'll be
happy to do 60 miles today. Right now, we're on the lawn of a
Christiansburg school. Jack's sacked out on his mat, and I'm
slurping a milkshake. And we just had lunch ten miles ago in
Radford! It's another 12 miles or so to Blacksburg, and that will
give us our 60 miles.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack has another cousin in Roanoke, which is about 30 miles east
of here. He hasn't seen her for 20 years, and can't remember her
married name. He's been trying to call Lena to get the info, but
no luck.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fpWiu3S1bN0/UXUef4hE7aI/AAAAAAAAAjc/5ZC7Qk4cRYg/s1600/TA449-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="log house" border="0" height="216" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fpWiu3S1bN0/UXUef4hE7aI/AAAAAAAAAjc/5ZC7Qk4cRYg/s320/TA449-Day63-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Log house by the side of the road" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Log house by the side of the road</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We passed through the little town of Newbern this afternoon. It's
over 200 years old, and has some old log houses and other old
buildings, a lot of churches, and no stores. One of the log
houses was in the process of being renovated.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We stopped for the night at <a href="http://www.dixiecaverns.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Dixie Caverns</a>, about 15 miles west of
Roanoke. A sign said that these are the only caverns in this part
of Virginia (whatever that means), but we just camped here. It
was a short day today - only 60 miles or so, but Jack was happy.
We biked back up the road to a restaurant, where a customer told
us we had picked the wrong restaurant - the <i>other</i> one
served <i>real</i> food.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the campground, we met a Danish family from near Hamilton,
Ontario. The grandfather must have been in his 80s, and he was
originally from Sweden. Jack told him he'd see him in a couple of
years for a Scandinavian tour, and they exchanged addresses.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-42187732523189232601981-08-22T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-22T04:40:01.012-07:0062. Wytheville, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 62: Saturday, August 22, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=S+Legion+St%2FState+Route+T-1221&daddr=36.6445377,-81.7409634+to:36.6785429,-81.5779369+to:36.9125395,-81.262966+to:36.9481591,-81.0873601+to:36.954373,-81.0792+to:Hummingbird+Ln&hl=en&ll=36.812033,-81.398392&spn=0.550279,1.056061&sll=36.932845,-81.005394&sspn=0.008585,0.016501&geocode=FfH9LgIdnwUg-w%3BFbkmLwIdXbsg-ylxOurODUdQiDEAFqyZtQKGcw%3BFY6rLwIdMDgj-ymBW-cyvjVQiDH42S7K1A1nig%3BFZs9MwIdigYo-ykVuTlxONlRiDFqdF0vHIphOA%3BFb_IMwIdgLQq-ynFT8o77uFRiDE1Lai5bvvQOg%3BFQXhMwIdYNQq-ylbSct1-eFRiDFszwVeNgmk8A%3BFUqLMwIdwfUr-w&oq=wythevi&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=6&sz=17&via=1,2,3,4,5&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Damascus to Wytheville: 63 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After our 80-mile day yesterday, we were worn out. Jack awoke at
8:00, but Choo Choo and I didn't want to. Jack and I tried the
Gateway Restaurant for breakfast. It was nothing to rave about.
We finally made it out of town about 10:00.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l1zOBBZj6ik/UXUhM8RsfKI/AAAAAAAAAjk/mRLy4k_II7U/s1600/TA439-Day62-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Choo Choo takes a break" border="0" height="210" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l1zOBBZj6ik/UXUhM8RsfKI/AAAAAAAAAjk/mRLy4k_II7U/s320/TA439-Day62-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Choo Choo takes a break" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Choo Choo takes a break</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We've already crossed the Appalachians! It didn't take nearly as
long as crossing the Rockies. Most of the terrain today was
rolling, with gentle grades - even though the hills were still a
lot bigger than you'll ever see in Michigan. We had a seven-mile
climb this morning, but it was the easiest climb of that length on
the trip.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jexiqafmi88/UXUdpHRkcnI/AAAAAAAAAjE/pqWBsFfnjoU/s1600/TA443-Day62-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Name these flowers!" border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jexiqafmi88/UXUdpHRkcnI/AAAAAAAAAjE/pqWBsFfnjoU/s320/TA443-Day62-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Name these flowers!" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Name these flowers!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The route parallels the eastern side of the Appalachian range up
to Roanoke, then heads back southeast. Jack and I are at a KOA
tonight. We paid $3.90 each for a campsite - the highest ever on
the trip. Choo Choo had said this morning that she would stop at
Rural Retreat tonight - she probably didn't leave Damascus until
noon.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KobdTh5jdBw/UXUdpdebb1I/AAAAAAAAAjI/vslacOt6ZpI/s1600/TA447-Day62-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Rural Retreat's railroad station" border="0" height="173" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KobdTh5jdBw/UXUdpdebb1I/AAAAAAAAAjI/vslacOt6ZpI/s320/TA447-Day62-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Rural Retreat's railroad station, long unused" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Rural Retreat's railroad station, long unused</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack fixed a real conglomeration for supper tonight. We stopped
at a produce market and picked up three green peppers, six pears,
eight nectarines, and three ears of corn for $1.87. So Jack
combined the peppers, corn, an onion, some tomato sauce, a pound
of sausage (the store was out of hamburger), and some Minute
Rice. The sausage was terrible.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-42856770818424039401981-08-21T18:00:00.001-07:002013-05-03T17:19:00.223-07:0061. Damascus, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 61: Friday, August 21, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=State+Route+702&daddr=37.0946899,-82.1319321+to:36.958061,-81.934297+to:36.8630676,-81.9271872+to:36.7890946,-81.8789644+to:36.768845,-81.8646255+to:36.6976689,-81.8060391+to:36.6550838,-81.7942121+to:S+Legion+St%2FState+Route+T-1221&hl=en&ll=36.979518,-82.041779&spn=1.098136,2.112122&sll=36.634101,-81.783214&sspn=0.008618,0.016501&geocode=FezxOAIdY0oY-w%3BFSEFNgIdJMQa-ylXVOKenv5PiDFhklvmibPDAQ%3BFW3vMwIdJ8gd-yl1qo5uvh5QiDF--HnopTis4A%3BFVt8MgId7eMd-ylHzdQWwxlQiDH3uOpjhjLtXw%3BFWZbMQIdTKAe-yltDiyYOxZQiDFLN7GtgTDlyg%3BFU0MMQIdT9ge-ymT-hNi-D1QiDF_H28H8OO4jw%3BFUT2LwIdKb0f-ynviIFgFD9QiDHcFWYwmgvLLg%3BFetPLwIdXOsf-ymXoWReuUBQiDGs21-p6FsRCw%3BFfH9LgIdnwUg-w&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=8&sz=17&via=1,2,3,4,5,6,7&z=10&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Breaks Interstate Park to Damascus: 80 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I awoke at 6:30, beating Jack up once more, for a change. This
was to be a long day - not much lodging would be available until
Damascus, 80 miles away - and I wanted to get an early start. The
sky was overcast (red sunrise), and soon after our pancake and
sausage breakfast, it began drizzling. Even though I was up
first, Jack was on the road first, at 8:00. I telephoned Dad to
wish him a happy 81st birthday, and by the time I filled up my
water bottles and made it out of the park, it was 9:00. Once
again, Choo Choo was left in her tent.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the park entrance was a good overlook at the rock formations
which gave the park its name. The Clinch River has worn a canyon
several hundred feet deep through the layers of shale under the
sandstone caps.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We are really into the Appalachians now. The mountains are
higher, up to 3500', and the grades are getting longer. We
climbed two four-mile hills and a two-miler today, with several
grades of a mile or so. The downhill on the second four-miler was
tremendous, with good roads and great scenery. One overlook gave
us a beautiful view of Hayter's Gap, through which we would pass
ten miles later.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JMj4PZtkRnU/UYRRq3-Uj9I/AAAAAAAAAoA/xGWC4nDKbHQ/s1600/TA438-Day61-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Just a cow" border="0" height="205" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JMj4PZtkRnU/UYRRq3-Uj9I/AAAAAAAAAoA/xGWC4nDKbHQ/s320/TA438-Day61-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="That's not Hayter's Gap - just a cow." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That's not Hayter's Gap - just a cow.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9IWoeZxjl7o/UYRTcu4BqII/AAAAAAAAAoQ/d-uJQzOWTXY/s1600/TA442-Day61-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Hayter's Gap?" border="0" height="216" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9IWoeZxjl7o/UYRTcu4BqII/AAAAAAAAAoQ/d-uJQzOWTXY/s320/TA442-Day61-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="This must be Hayter's Gap." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This must be Hayter's Gap.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In all, the scenery was superb today. The forests are probably
98% deciduous, in contrast to the west, but they are still
beautiful, although they lack that refreshing pine scent. Grades
are shorter and steeper than in the Rockies. We haven't walked
any hills yet (not counting yesterday's washboard), but we're sure
thankful for those granny gears.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Damascus has a hostel - sort of. It's a house that's owned by
the Methodist Church, and just sits there and waits for
hostelers. The only people permitted are Bikecentennial bikers
and Appalachian Trail hikers (the AT goes right through town).
Once again, we had the place to ourselves. Just reading comments
in the log book from "ikers" over the past season made for an
absorbing evening. A grocery store clerk said she wouldn't
recommend eating any place in town except for the Dairy King, but
log entries attested to the good food and low prices at the
Gateway Restaurant. But we read that after we gorged ourselves on
chicken, french fries, and milk shakes at Dairy King. Too bad
there weren't any AT hikers here tonight.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-3397196068940082341981-08-20T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-18T02:08:52.051-07:0060. Breaks Interstate Park, Virginia<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 60: Thursday, August 20, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Spruce+Pine+Rd&daddr=37.399,-82.823835+to:37.354395,-82.702061+to:37.3472451,-82.5840031+to:State+Route+702&hl=en&ll=37.318298,-82.604141&spn=0.546619,1.056061&sll=37.284604,-82.290688&sspn=0.01709,0.033002&geocode=FZirOQIdwFsP-w%3BFdipOgIdZTUQ-ylp6GMliyFFiDF95XqTopTh8A%3BFZv7OQIdExES-yl7MgAG8jxFiDE87t5Kr8wzWw%3BFa3fOQIdPd4T-ymbgBi2FD9FiDHzyGidYrrPNA%3BFezxOAIdY0oY-w&oq=breaks++&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=4&sz=16&via=1,2,3&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Pippa Passes, Kentucky to Breaks Interstate Park, Virginia: 62 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This was our last day in Kentucky - and I'm glad. Eastern
Kentucky is the epitome of Appalachian poverty. Nowadays, of
course, poverty is different from 40 or 50 years ago. Almost
every family has at least one car and a television set. But there
is a very high percentage of people on the dole. They have no
incentive to work. It's a vicious circle. Unemployment is high,
so they don't look for jobs, and they can't see the sense of an
education, so they aren't qualified to do anything, so they wait
for government handouts. Hygiene is poor. There apparently are
no public garbage dumps. It looks as if everyone chucks the trash
out the door into the creek, or into the roadside ditches. Most
of the eastern Kentucky roadsides looked and smelled like garbage
dumps. Neither state nor local government picks up all this
trash, either.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When we crossed the line into Virginia, the difference was like
night and day. Virginia's roads are as clean as Michigan's. The
poverty and squalor disappeared. People took more pride in the
homes and yards. Some of this difference can be attributed to
Virginia's greater affluence, but not all of it. I'm not sure why
the disparity is so great.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pN_fgGxDjC4/UW-3RRZPTvI/AAAAAAAAAc4/c8FIQ8kwAMU/s1600/TA432-Day60-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Huge coal trucks" border="0" height="218" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pN_fgGxDjC4/UW-3RRZPTvI/AAAAAAAAAc4/c8FIQ8kwAMU/s320/TA432-Day60-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="When we hear one of these coming, we get out of the way!" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When we hear one of these coming, we get out of the way!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We had our last taste of coal truck traffic today, and the only
stretch of road in the whole trip which we could not ride. After
a stretch of deserted four-lane highway in the middle of nowhere,
the road reverted to two narrow lanes. As we approached a mining
area, the truck traffic increased and the road worsened until the
pavement disappeared completely. What was left was sharp rocks
and dust, and a steep uphill grade. Trying to ride was insane, so
the three of us pushed our bikes for several miles until we found
some sort of pavement again, meanwhile dodging the coal trucks
that raised huge clouds of choking dust.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1QjD4vPDVDc/UW-3RWO6z_I/AAAAAAAAAc0/SXtFk_uGxsQ/s1600/TA433-Day60-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Coal railroad" border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1QjD4vPDVDc/UW-3RWO6z_I/AAAAAAAAAc0/SXtFk_uGxsQ/s320/TA433-Day60-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Several coal mines feed this rail terminus." width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Several coal mines feed this rail terminus.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Breaks Park is split between Kentucky and Virginia. It's a
nice park, large, loaded with facilities, and with plenty of
hiking trails. We met some construction workers who come south
for the summer and stay in the park - tents are cheaper than
motels, they said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the road today, we were given the chance to tour a coal mine.
It would have been fascinating. A motorcyclist happened to own a
small mine which employed six men and did about 250 ton/day, and
he invited us over. But we would have had to cross two mountains
to get to it, and be there at seven in the morning! We declined
with regrets.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We also met a tobacco farmer who discussed with us some of the
techniques and problems of raising and harvesting tobacco.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-5487152246899964101981-08-19T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-18T02:03:21.930-07:0059. Pippa Passes, Kentucky<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 59: Wednesday, August 19, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=KY-11+S&daddr=37.413863,-83.545075+to:37.336879,-83.400474+to:37.3196079,-82.957734+to:Spruce+Pine+Rd&hl=en&ll=37.3385,-83.29216&spn=0.546472,1.056061&sll=37.333134,-82.875849&sspn=0.008539,0.016501&geocode=Ff_SOwIdiTUD-w%3BFefjOgIdDTQF-ymjHwFSAqFEiDFEoz1BQI68KA%3BFS-3OQId5mgH-ymVT3bhIrtEiDEi8K7MSG7M3w%3BFbdzOQIdWioO-ymbCmhNGNlEiDFLo6q2JfHdkQ%3BFZirOQIdwFsP-w&oq=pippa+passes&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=4&sz=17&via=1,2,3&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Booneville to Pippa Passes: 74 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was raining this morning when we awoke. We didn't want to face
the cold, cruel world, but we finally forced ourselves out of
bed. Jack didn't want to cook in the rain, so we went downtown to
a restaurant. Choo Choo slept in and missed the rain. It stopped
an hour later.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Six miles out of Booneville, I broke a spoke. I stopped at a
country grocery for repairs, and spent an hour talking with the
proprietor. That gave Choo Choo time to catch up. Jack had
forged on ahead, and we didn't see him until evening.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sHqiF90BeOk/UW-19y9xENI/AAAAAAAAAck/66j8C_BZtNU/s1600/TA424-Day59-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Kentucky road" border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sHqiF90BeOk/UW-19y9xENI/AAAAAAAAAck/66j8C_BZtNU/s320/TA424-Day59-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A typical road in coal-mining territory" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A typical road in coal-mining territory</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We're really getting into the coal mining country now. On the
roads we're traveling, we can expect to see a coal truck every
five minutes or so, each one hauling between 25 and 40 tons. They
haul only from the mines to the railroad loading tipples, but
there's still plenty of truck traffic. We've seen strip mines, in
which veins of coal are removed through the side of a hill; deep
mining, in which shafts are sunk to the veins; and open mining,
where entire hillsides are scraped away to expose the veins.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGwRNWd5BhQ/UW-1-RLkYSI/AAAAAAAAAcs/mKCe1vOOWGo/s1600/TA426-Day59-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="coal mines" border="0" height="219" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SGwRNWd5BhQ/UW-1-RLkYSI/AAAAAAAAAcs/mKCe1vOOWGo/s320/TA426-Day59-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="We passed many coal mines" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We passed many coal mines</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We had several miles of gravel today. At one time the road may
have been paved, but it was a heavily-traveled coal truck route.
Once past the tipple, the pavement resumed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The valleys between the mountain ridges here in the Appalachians
are wide enough for a stream, a road, and a few houses.
Consequently, the towns have one street, and are strung out along
the valley, or hollow. Pippa Passes was like this. It has only a
few hundred people, but it's a college town. Alice Lloyd College,
a four-year institution, is located here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The old high school used to house an AYH hostel, but it burned
down last September. Temporary quarters were up a side street, in
the lower half of a house. Choo Choo and I met Jack there. He
had taken a flatter and more scenic route, upon the advice of a
native. Even so, he biked 82 miles today, about 6 more than we
did. We were the only occupants of the hostel tonight. The
innkeeper gave us some tomatoes, green beans, peppers, and
potatoes, and that did a decent job of supplementing our cold meat
sandwiches.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-59121169315704281101981-08-18T18:00:00.000-07:002013-05-04T22:27:52.905-07:0058. Booneville, Kentucky<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 58: Tuesday, August 18, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Chestnut+St&daddr=37.4086089,-83.930915+to:37.3573046,-83.9022077+to:37.4612351,-83.7767272+to:37.465407,-83.736247+to:KY-11+S&hl=en&ll=37.486301,-83.984985&spn=0.545394,1.056061&sll=37.477881,-83.676832&sspn=0.008523,0.016501&geocode=FVk-PQIdGpz5-g%3BFWDPOgId3VD_-imTpDZ4qEBDiDFQHHQELBWWOw%3BFfgGOgIdAcH_-inz2-mBCUdDiDGNVvLkgrNZHA%3BFfOcOwIdKasB-ymXj3HhukJDiDEZdLdK9e254w%3BFT-tOwIdSUkC-ym1SWJnZl1DiDHbjIe1CMGDPQ%3BFf_SOwIdiTUD-w&oq=boone&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=5&sz=17&via=1,2,3,4&z=11&lci=bike" target="_blank">Berea to Booneville: 60 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">H</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">ere we are, back on the road again. We slept in this morning
(Choo Choo later than Jack and I, of course), and Lena fixed us
pancakes and sausage for breakfast. We parted about 10:00, Lena
taking I-75 south to their home in Florida. Choo Choo had lost
her wallet in Hodgenville, so she stopped at a bank to get her
traveler's checks replaced, and I changed a $100 bill and struck
up a friendly conversation with a cute teller.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jack's not too keen on following the <a href="http://www.adventurecycling.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Bikecentennial</a> route. He'd
rather travel roads that are on a state map - they're not as
hilly. So we took an alternate route to Booneville, which was
about 60 miles away.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFXb7h0IXhA/UW-p0hU2O5I/AAAAAAAAAcU/Eo8aN5BClx4/s1600/TA422-Day58-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Kudzu aplenty" border="0" height="215" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFXb7h0IXhA/UW-p0hU2O5I/AAAAAAAAAcU/Eo8aN5BClx4/s320/TA422-Day58-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Kudzu aplenty" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Kudzu aplenty </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UziE2tGWyl0/UYXtFvsjCMI/AAAAAAAAAs8/59bzb6HdYAs/s1600/TA421-Day58-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Hills and curves" border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UziE2tGWyl0/UYXtFvsjCMI/AAAAAAAAAs8/59bzb6HdYAs/s320/TA421-Day58-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="And hills and curves" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And hills and curves</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UX_DasZPYqw/UW-p0sAgm5I/AAAAAAAAAcY/Rx7K0-uBauY/s1600/TA419-Day58-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Beautiful Kentucky roadside" border="0" height="216" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UX_DasZPYqw/UW-p0sAgm5I/AAAAAAAAAcY/Rx7K0-uBauY/s320/TA419-Day58-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Beautiful Kentucky roadside" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Beautiful Kentucky roadside</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Eastern Kentucky is much more hilly - we're getting back into the
mountains. Any available space is used to grow either corn or
tobacco, with a few cows tossed in here and there. And lots of
litter tossed around all over the place. Kentucky has the worst
trash problem and most ill-maintained roadsides of any state I've
seen. I think I'll write a letter to Gov. John Y. Brown.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Booneville had no place to camp, but the police said that behind
the Presbyterian Church was okay. There wasn't much space to set
up tents, but we managed. After supper, we walked down the street
to a dairy bar for dessert and toilet facilities. Who ever said
life's easy?</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-9474744899187490191981-08-17T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-18T01:58:35.586-07:0057. Pleasant Hill, Kentucky<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 57: Monday, August 17, 1981<br />
Berea and Pleasant Hill: 0 miles!</span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">If yesterday was a rest day with only 30 miles of riding, then
today was a super rest day. We didn't even touch our bicycles.
Instead, we drove to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleasant_Hill,_Kentucky" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Pleasant Hill</a>, north of Harrodsburg, and
spent the day there.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iCZRLC3dTbQ/UW-mHCpLhFI/AAAAAAAAAbk/iOnBP7gBZy4/s1600/TA409-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Separate bedrooms" border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iCZRLC3dTbQ/UW-mHCpLhFI/AAAAAAAAAbk/iOnBP7gBZy4/s320/TA409-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Men and women slept separately, dormitory-style" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Men and women slept separately, dormitory-style</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKf1sub7UdE/UW-mIZNKyZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/Od8FVaUGWaA/s1600/TA414-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Separate entrances" border="0" height="218" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKf1sub7UdE/UW-mIZNKyZI/AAAAAAAAAcA/Od8FVaUGWaA/s320/TA414-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Each building had separate entrances for men and women" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Each building had separate entrances for men and women</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1N6U5xBZCZ0/UW-mHaxybbI/AAAAAAAAAbs/sBaUt8YvvKk/s1600/TA410-Day-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Uncluttered floors" border="0" height="216" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1N6U5xBZCZ0/UW-mHaxybbI/AAAAAAAAAbs/sBaUt8YvvKk/s320/TA410-Day-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Floors were kept uncluttered." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Floors were kept uncluttered.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleasant_Hill,_Kentucky" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Pleasant Hill</a> was one of a score of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakers" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Shaker</a> settlements in
America. It was most active from 1820 to 1850, and the last
Shakers to live there died in 1910. The lands and buildings are
now in the hands of a <a href="http://www.shakervillageky.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">private organization</a> which began a
restoration project in 1960. Many of the buildings are open to
the public, and Shaker arts and crafts are demonstrated. Admission charge was $3.75, but
it was worth it.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5oftmQzk238/UW-mHpqG9_I/AAAAAAAAAbw/2SKFFW0iJZE/s1600/TA412-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="A cooper at work" border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5oftmQzk238/UW-mHpqG9_I/AAAAAAAAAbw/2SKFFW0iJZE/s320/TA412-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A cooper at work" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A cooper at work</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f62Eoj6zGw0/UW-mHT6SwtI/AAAAAAAAAb0/GW0UN2fcoDs/s1600/TA411-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Shaker-style brooms" border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f62Eoj6zGw0/UW-mHT6SwtI/AAAAAAAAAb0/GW0UN2fcoDs/s320/TA411-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="You can buy a Shaker-style broom" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You can buy a Shaker-style broom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EwK8R4hrhAI/UW-mIqNsEhI/AAAAAAAAAcI/wLmLuyVBjGo/s1600/TA416-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="A Shaker domestic goddess" border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EwK8R4hrhAI/UW-mIqNsEhI/AAAAAAAAAcI/wLmLuyVBjGo/s320/TA416-Day57-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="A Shaker domestic goddess" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A Shaker domestic goddess</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Choo Choo showed up in camp in the evening. She had spent a day
in Bardstown, and had cycled about 90 miles today. We met her on
the road coming back from Pleasant Hill.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After supper (courtesy of Lena), we were going to watch the
perennial Berea play about Appalachian history, but found that it
had been canceled this year. So we contented ourselves with
window-shopping in Berea's arts-and-crafts district.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-57183136486316877971981-08-16T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-18T00:51:10.543-07:0056. Berea, Kentucky<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 56: Sunday, August 16, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Unknown+road&daddr=37.611065,-84.7283003+to:37.6334515,-84.6849071+to:37.6200569,-84.4012665+to:37.575138,-84.3197355+to:Paint+Lick+Rd&hl=en&ll=37.6058,-84.542542&spn=0.272261,0.52803&sll=37.566147,-84.322869&sspn=0.008513,0.016501&geocode=FQJSPgIdia_y-g%3BFTnmPQIdFCbz-ilXQcR7KZFCiDE4iDO0Z61Zhg%3BFas9PgIdlc_z-ilbcEljYpFCiDGSMgGxxw9eZw%3BFVgJPgIdjiP4-ilhEQgTseVCiDFyzFt5L0p5jg%3BFeJZPQIdCWL5-ik_lquMcOFCiDFXqtavvoyPpQ%3BFcc0PQIdKFX5-g&oq=bere&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=5&sz=17&via=1,2,3,4&z=12&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Danville to Berea: 30 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today was a kind of a rest day for us. Berea is less than 30
miles from Danville, and we were to meet Lena at a campground west
of Berea. So we slept in until 8:30, had a leisurely breakfast,
and looked around the playhouse. It's an outdoor dinner theater
that has been in operation since about 1950. Eben Henson, its
driving force and playwright-in-residence, has had Hollywood
experience as an actor and director. Lee Majors got his start
here, and other actors who have gone on to stardom have appeared
here. It's an interesting place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I intended to cycle up to Harrodsburg before heading over to
Berea, but I never made it. Danville is a pleasant town, and I
enjoyed cruising around it. Its Constitution Square park contains
the original post office, built 1792, and replicas of other log
buildings that occupied the square in the town's early years.
Surrounding the square are other buildings, both brick and frame
that figured prominently in Kentucky's history, including the
house of Ephraim McDowell, an American pioneer in surgical
technique.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bqu6AKX8bag/UW-kiUdPVeI/AAAAAAAAAbI/cG8lVeg5YcI/s1600/TA403-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The old stone fence" border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bqu6AKX8bag/UW-kiUdPVeI/AAAAAAAAAbI/cG8lVeg5YcI/s320/TA403-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="The old stone fence" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The old stone fence</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the way out of town, I made a wrong turn, and went out Route
150 instead of 52. On a shortcut back to the intended route, I
stopped to photograph an old stone fence, and was greeted by four
dogs. A fifteen-year-old boy came out of the house behind the
fence, and we talked for a while. Then his father drove into the
yard, and invited me to stay for dinner. So I got to meet the
rest of the family. He is an orthopedic surgeon, and bought the
house, 200 acres, and 100 head of cattle eleven years ago for
$110,000 when they moved to Danville from Louisiana. They've done
a lot of restoration work on the house, which is almost 200 years
old. He's building a stone fence in back to match the one in
front - cheaper than paying a stonemason $60 a foot!</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-49MwSY_vEXc/UW-kiEL88ZI/AAAAAAAAAbE/muItWROzfHc/s1600/TA406-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Trumpet vine" border="0" height="218" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-49MwSY_vEXc/UW-kiEL88ZI/AAAAAAAAAbE/muItWROzfHc/s320/TA406-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Trumpet vine on a fence row" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Trumpet vine on a fence row</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It wasn't until four in the afternoon that I left the Jacksons'
house. The 30 miles to Berea via Routes 52 and 21 were pleasant,
with good roads, light traffic, and open, rolling countryside.
The ride was hilly but fun. The junction of 52 and 21 is at the
town of Paint Lick, so named because the Indians painted signs on
trees near a salt lick. There are many beautiful homes along the
road - some old, but many built in the past ten years.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YsUxd6RmkEk/UW-kicC1_ZI/AAAAAAAAAbM/IpxOI56rcmU/s1600/TA407-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Cows cooling off" border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YsUxd6RmkEk/UW-kicC1_ZI/AAAAAAAAAbM/IpxOI56rcmU/s320/TA407-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Cows cooling off" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Cows cooling off</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There should be another page of notes here, but it's missing. Now
it's September 26, and I'll have to improvise.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4uu1or4yqO8/UW-ki96EXCI/AAAAAAAAAbY/zueBM0vj3x0/s1600/TA408-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Another interesting stream" border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4uu1or4yqO8/UW-ki96EXCI/AAAAAAAAAbY/zueBM0vj3x0/s320/TA408-Day56-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Another interesting stream" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Another interesting stream</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I caught up with Jack at the campground at 6:45. Lena wasn't
there yet, but we didn't have long to wait. Jack was really glad
to see her. After we got the Airstream trailer parked and had
some nice hot showers, it was getting on toward 8:00. We didn't
really feel like cooking, so we buzzed down to a local steak
house, which turned out to be an excellent choice. I had a meal
of perch - it must have been the best meal I've had on the trip so
far. No, I take that back: my lunch with the Jackson family in
Danville today was also great.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What with the food, the scenery, and the people, today was one of
the most enjoyable days on the whole trip.</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199328194877928574.post-8638627536768041891981-08-15T18:00:00.000-07:002013-04-18T00:44:23.862-07:0055. Danville, Kentucky<h4>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Day 55: Saturday, August 15, 1981<br />
<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=S+Lincoln+Blvd&daddr=37.5737211,-85.6118181+to:37.6522363,-85.555714+to:37.6497719,-85.527226+to:37.65471,-85.505332+to:37.6796621,-85.4582492+to:37.765298,-85.4617453+to:Unknown+road&hl=en&ll=37.656101,-85.24704&spn=0.544152,1.056061&sll=37.641133,-84.753685&sspn=0.017008,0.033002&geocode=FblTPQIdMLXj-g%3BFVlUPQId1qrl-imLevucRPVoiDG8MjB0p_6hQQ%3BFQyHPgId_oXm-imJStu0J1loiDHZbIYPvhiaUQ%3BFWt9PgIdRvXm-in97SB_UFloiDHHakiVgON_hQ%3BFbaQPgIdzErn-imxY1PA7ltoiDEtzxGNnR_jDQ%3BFS7yPgIdtwLo-inZOA0B4FpoiDF5dT_qb7gRZA%3BFbJAQAIdD_Xn-imJL-jdtFFoiDFRw3AN8QCKvA%3BFQJSPgIdia_y-g&oq=danville&t=h&dirflg=b&mra=dme&mrsp=7&sz=16&via=1,2,3,4,5,6&z=11&lci=bike" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Hodgenville to Danville: 75 miles</a></span></b></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We cycled up to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bardstown,_Kentucky" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Bardstown</a>, site of <a href="http://parks.ky.gov/parks/recreationparks/old-ky-home/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">My Old Kentucky Home</a>, which
Stephen Foster wrote about. Both Jack and I had been there
before, so we didn't spend too much time looking around. After
lunch at McDonald's, we headed east. Choo Choo, who slept in, was
behind us, and we found later that she stayed in Bardstown for the
night. Kentucky towns are big on outdoor historical dramas. One
man who was a tourist told us not to miss <a href="http://www.stephenfoster.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><i>The Stephen Foster Story</i></a> at Bardstown: he had seen it five times. But we
didn't want to spend the rest of the day there, so we skipped it.
Choo Choo saw it, and said that it wasn't so hot. I don't think
she has conventional touristy tastes.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h5Q4vAfJgI0/UW-f2LiQQUI/AAAAAAAAAas/2i4pFECXGh8/s1600/TA394-Day55-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Horse country" border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h5Q4vAfJgI0/UW-f2LiQQUI/AAAAAAAAAas/2i4pFECXGh8/s320/TA394-Day55-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Looks like horse country to me. We're not far from Lexington." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Looks like horse country to me. We're not far from Lexington.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N6TMZIXZNRI/UW-f2tsToKI/AAAAAAAAAa0/biUOecjUHf8/s1600/TA395-Day55-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Tobacco drying" border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N6TMZIXZNRI/UW-f2tsToKI/AAAAAAAAAa0/biUOecjUHf8/s320/TA395-Day55-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Tobacco drying in a barn" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Tobacco drying in a barn</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QpUTit3S3sw/UW-f2o4JiAI/AAAAAAAAAa4/NNXhUlEYEYw/s1600/TA396-Day55-CPP-SnEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Tobacco plants in bloom" border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QpUTit3S3sw/UW-f2o4JiAI/AAAAAAAAAa4/NNXhUlEYEYw/s320/TA396-Day55-CPP-SnEd.jpg" title="Tobacco plants in bloom" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Tobacco plants in bloom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The <a href="http://www.adventurecycling.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Bikecentennial</a> route goes up to Harrodsburg, but we headed for
Danville, because it had a campground and was closer. As it was,
the sun had set by the time we pulled into town.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The campground was at a summer stock dinner theater called <a href="http://www.pioneerplayhouse.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Pioneer Playhouse</a>. The evening's performance had just begun. The camping
fee was $3, but it turned out to be a bargain. We talked to the
women in the box office, and as we were setting up camp, one of
them came over with two of the dinners that they served their
patrons. So we ate well tonight! Delicious barbecued chicken,
plus our own hamburgers, plus tossed salad and garlic bread. Not
bad for two starving bikers after a 75-mile day!</span>Old Coothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03074017162823062380noreply@blogger.com0