The View From Day 95

At this point in the tour the view is quite nice. I have 95 days of journeying behind me--95 days and over 4,100 miles. In front of me is the possibility of the last 230 miles. Only 230 miles until I reach Yorktown. 230 miles and this bike tour will technically be over. But some journeys seem to go on forever, and I have a feeling that this may be one of them.

I know I'll be thinking about this tour for quite some time. 100 days of traveling and millions of memories do not just disappear. They never have and they never will. A journey can live for a long time, as long as it is cared for and loved.

I have seen and felt so much. I have heard the songs of birds and the accents from different regions. I have tasted the sweetness of the morning air. I have stood in people's homes and looked at the pictures on their walls. I have smelled old books and fresh basil. I have heard people's likes and dislikes, their cares and concerns, and sometimes, even their dreams. I have drank cold water from old wells. I have slept soundly as the night turned back into the day. I have felt the wind, and the rain, and the hot touch of the summer sun--the touch that warms us from over 91 million miles away. I have traded paper money for food and shelter, and I have always tried to remember my thank yous.

The last 95 days have been good. Sometimes tiring, sometimes long, but always good. My muscles work hard to move me across the land. My mind works hard to keep up with all the details, for there are many, many details. From the West to the East. From coast to coast. From the flatlands, to the mountains, and back to the flatlands again. This is a large and fragrant country. Our people are creative and resourceful. We are proud and free, kind and caring. We are young and old, wise but sometimes foolish, diverse but sometimes afraid to embrace our own diversity. There is great beauty and great promise here, but there is also greed and pollution. This is a large and fragrant country, hard to define but easy to enjoy.

Yes, over the course of this bicycle tour I have seen and felt so much. I have spent many hours writing in my journal, and many more hours working on this blog. I have always thought of this blog not as a summary of my entire tour--because that would just not be possible--but as a window into the last 3 months of my life. I have shared different aspects of the tour and different thoughts. And I have included photographs so you can see some of the things that I have seen. And now, I will open the window a little farther.



This is an old sign that still marks the route of the TransAmerica Trail. The 76 is there because this route was first established in 1976 (back then it was called Bikecentennial).

In the summer of '76, approximately 4,000 cyclists followed the trail across the country.

This is a newer sign. Most of the signs look like this.

Some people I've talked to along the way still remember the summer of '76. But there are many people living on or near the route that have no idea that the TransAmerica Trail exists. They just see the cyclists and figure that's what cyclists do.

But the old man that worked at this garage knew about the TransAm.










Dave, Brian, Roger, and me.

I've had the good fortune to end up at the same campground (or motel) as these fine gentlemen for 9 out of the last 14 nights.

Me and the Appalachian Mountains.

For the last couple weeks, Dave, Brian, Roger and Me have been traveling through these mountains. The roads in the Appalachians have provided some of the steepest grades of the entire tour. Going up these roads is hard, sweaty work. Luckily the uphills never last more than a few miles.

Mirrors like this make it easier to see around these steep and curvy roads.

I stopped here to let my engine cool down.





When no one else is around, I have to make myself laugh.







I've taken many turtles off the road and placed them safely in the in the grass, but this is the first snake I've saved. (Most snakes I pass have already been run over.) Using my frame pump, I gently prodded this snake until it got the idea and slithered away from the road.

View from the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I rode on the parkway for about 30 miles, and then my friend Laura picked me up. She picked me up and drove me back to her home in Staunton (pronounced Stan-tin) Virginia. For the last 2 days and 3 nights I've been visiting with Laura and her husband Sampsa. We've been relaxing, and listening to music, and talking about our summers. A big Thank You to Laura and Sampsa for housing me and feeding me for the last couple days! I've been traveling by myself for the last 32 days, and it's really nice to see a couple of familiar faces. When I finally get home and see my family and friends again I predict that I'll be smiling constantly.

If the names Laura and Sampsa seem familiar, it's because I mentioned them in a previous post (the post is titled "East Of The Mississippi"). Laura and Sampsa's wedding was the wedding that my sister Janice went to after she left the tour.

I'd also like to thank Thaddeus and Sarah Lee for letting Dave, Brian, Roger, and me stay at their home in Radford, Virginia. It's always incredible to go from the road to someone's home, and this was no exception. Thaddeus rode the TransAm back in '98 (with his two oldest sons) and it was really fun to swap stories from the road. Thanks again Thaddeus and Sarah!

Tomorrow Laura will drive me back to the Blue Ridge Parkway, and I'll continue traveling on my route. As always, thanks for stopping by and reading--I appreciate your interest.

Paradise

I'm sitting here typing in Hindman, a small town in eastern Kentucky that I'm guessing none of you have heard of. Following the TransAmerica Trail I've traveled through thousands of small towns. Some days I'll go through 10 or 20 little towns. Some are just a few houses and a post office. Many don't have schools or libraries. Hindman, with 767 people, has both. Small town names can be very interesting. Here's a small sample of some towns I've passed through recently: Vincent, Booneville, Chavies, Hazard, Dwarf, and Carrie. After I finish here I'll ride on to a town called Pippa Passes.

Hindman has a library, but because it's Saturday they are not open. But I found a store/art center that has a computer for the public to use. As I sit here and type I'm surrounded by photographs, pottery, tables, candles, wood carvings, quilts, and scarves. To my right, at the far end of the room a good quality radio is playing at a good volume. I'm enjoying the classic rock and oldies. And now that I've set up the scene, I can begin writing about the tour.

So today is Day 84 of my tour, and like I said I'm in eastern Kentucky. I'm only a day or two away from Virginia, which is my last state. I've been setting my watch to the Eastern Time Zone for a few days now, which feels good.

But yeah, 84 days on the road. The memories are beginning to pile up. As I ride I let my mind wander. Cycling and seeing new things stirs up my mind and new thoughts rise to the surface. I think about the 3 Englishmen--Dave, Roger, and Brian--who are cycling ahead of me. I'll probably see them at camp tonight. I see a new tree and stop to examine it. Eastern Hemlock I guess. My Audubon book confirms this. Tsuga canadensis. I don't have to sample trees today, but that doesn't mean I can't learn about the trees I see. I start riding again and soon I'm thinking about the hole in the back of my shorts. I only have one pair of cycling shorts and there is a small hole, about the size of a quarter, exposing some white flesh. For about the 100th time, I think about sewing up the hole. But I know I probably won't. Maybe I will. Another coal truck passes me and I start singing John Prine's "Paradise." The road is smooth and fast. There aren't as many steep hills as there were yesterday, and the riding is faster. Today is also cooler than yesterday. Probably in the high 80's, low 90's, which is quite nice with the breeze I get while riding. Yes, on a bicycle the windows are always rolled down. I think about two words, heat and humidity, and wonder how to work them into my next post. A sentence forms in my head: The days have been hot, but somewhere between the heat and humidity I make time for fun, and shade, and numbingly cold ice water. I'm not completely satisfied with the sentence, and I go back to singing the Prine song:

"When I was a child, my family would travel, down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born. And there's a backwards old town, that's often remembered, so many times that my memories are worn. And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County, down by the Green River where Paradise lay..."

Abraham Lincoln's Birthplace and The Lincoln Jamboree

At this place, on 12 February 1809, Abraham Lincoln was born.













I arrived here after a long day of riding. (The birthplace monument is near Hodgenville, Kentucky.) I walked up the steps and went inside. Inside there was an old log cabin. It was strange to see a building inside of another building. I stood there and stared for a few seconds. Over in the left hand corner, sitting behind a desk, a pretty park ranger was reading a book. I walked over to her. "Is this the actual cabin where Abe was born?" I asked. "No," she said, "but this one is probably very similar." "What year was Abe born," I asked. "1809," she said, like it was a reflex. "Have you ever been to the Lincoln Jamboree?" I asked. "No," she said. "Well I'm going tonight," I said. "I was up at Joel Ray's place, and I was looking at all the stuff they have in there--it's like a country music museum--and these really nice people offered to buy me a ticket. So I'm going. I think it's gonna be cool. This guy, Joel Ray, has been doing these shows every Saturday night for like 53 years!" "Yeah," said the ranger, "I've heard about that place, I've just never made it up there for a show." "Well," I said, "there's a show tonight..."



Inside those doors is a big room with lots of seats and a stage. That's the place where the Lincoln Jamboree happens.







I never did see the ranger at the show, but I did see Jerry and Bobbie, the kind people from Lexington who bought me a ticket. I sat next to them as Joel Ray and the band entertained the large crowd. Joel Ray was the emcee and in between songs he told stories and jokes. There were songs I knew and songs I didn't know. The drummer in the band, Charles Durham, had been playing in the band for over 50 years! They played "Will The Circle Be Unbroken," and "Rocky Top." A guest singer sang "Coal Miner's Daughter." There was an instrumental version of John Hartford's classic "Gentle On My Mind." The crowd cheered after the singer asked, "Does anyone here like Elvis?" The singer went on to sing "My Way." It was a good show and a really incredible place. A life size poster of Hank Williams watched over all those who went by. One of Elvis's stage suits stood in a glass case. Photographs of Elvis and Johnny Cash were everywhere. There were articles, and photos, and posters of country and bluegrass stars. Bill Monroe. Ernest Tubb. Dolly Parton. Roy Acuff. There were old records and autographed guitars. It was quite a place. I felt very lucky to be there on a Saturday Night, to witness a real, live Lincoln Jamboree.

Mammoth Cave National Park

Two days after Sebree I was at Mammoth Cave National Park, home of the world's longest cave system. I arrived in the evening and found the campground. I paid $17.00 for a site (no hiker/biker rates at this campground) and set up my tent. The ground was hard and I borrowed a hammer from my camp neighbors, Eric and Kay, who were from Pennsylvania. While returning the hammer, Eric asked me if I wanted some Chili. I said yes. And that began my two night friendship with Eric and Kay. That night we talked about cave tours. Eric and Kay had already been on a couple tours and I was planning on going on a tour in the morning. You see, the only way for the public to see the cave is to go on a tour.

The historic entrance to Mammoth Cave. This entrance is only a couple hundred yards behind the visitor center.

Standing here you can feel the cool air blowing out of the cave. The air in the cave is a steady 54 degrees, which feels really good on a hot summer day.


These wooden pipes are a couple hundred years old. They go back to the 1800's, when saltpeter (potassium nitrate) was being extracted from the cave in order to make gunpowder for the War Of 1812. These pipes were made out of hollowed out Tuliptrees (Liriodendron tulipifera), which have long, straight trunks.


The bottomless pit. That's what the old tour guides called it. Touring the cave by torchlight, this pit might have looked like it had no bottom. One clever--and famous--tour guide, Stephen Bishop, knew how to throw a rock so it would land in the pit without making a sound.


Huge, wide passageways. Some like this go on for miles.











After going on two tours, and spending 7 hours underground, I headed back to camp. Eric and Kay were still there. They let me pitch my tent on their site. And we spent the evening talking and enjoying out last night in the park. In the morning, Eric and Kay were headed back to Pennsylvania, and I was headed east.

Thanks Eric and Kay, the food and company was most appreciated!

Sebree, Kentucky

I few days back I took a rest day in Sebree, Kentucky. For two nights and one day I stayed at the First Baptist Church. There I experienced the hospitality of Pastor Bob and his wife Violet. A westbound cyclist named Stephanie also took a rest day in Sebree. Stephanie and I swapped stories from the road while we rested. There was juggling and homemade banana ice cream. I wrote in my journal and made a few phone calls. And I spent several hours on Violet and Bob's computer.

On my second night in Sebree another cyclist named Steven showed up. Steven arrived right as Violet, Stephanie, and I were working on dinner. Violet kindly instructed me to show Steven where he would be staying. So I took Steven around to the back of the church and showed him the spacious youth room, which is where the cyclists stay. I then walked back up to Bob and Violet's home--which is right next to the church--so I could continue helping Stephanie make another batch of banana ice cream.

It was another fine dinner. And in the morning we all packed up and headed our own separate directions. Thanks again Bob and Violet, your hospitality was incredible!