May 17, 2015
Day 12: Breaks to Hindman; I'm in Kentucky!
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(Note to readers regarding the elevation profiles; the profile is calculated from Point "A" on the map to Point "B" on the map. Since I am traveling east to west on the first half of this transcontinental journey, my route of travel is usually shown on the map as being from right to left. However, the elevation profile is shown from left to right, so it must be "reversed" in your head to understand it.)
(Note; Today was probably my hardest overall day. Yesterday was definitely the hardest climbing day, but today was especially tough for many reasons, including more hard climbs. As of the time of this note I have only ridden the eastern half of the Transam, so things could change when I ride the western half; but I doubt any day could be harder than today. EDIT NOTE; see my 2nd half stories Day 53 "Escape From Idaho" and Day 66 "The Wild Wyoming Wind" if you wish to read about 2 other days that rivaled this one)
Climbing Today; 4,243 ft -- Total So Far; 34,202 ft
In 41 Years of Adult Cycling I Have Never Walked a Hill - Until Today...
I woke in a terrible funk this morning; the psychology types would probably say that I was suffering depression. I was badly beaten down from 3 days of climbing hills, and I had no real plan for where I would sleep tonight. I was experiencing what every touring cyclist occasionally experiences, but it was my first time. I was having real concerns about whether I had made a terrible mistake undertaking this adventure. I decided to just roll on another 40 miles or so and start asking around for some place I could pitch a tent. That's not really a plan, it's more like a hope, and I wasn't happy with that flimsy "plan," but it was all I had. Prior to departing I glanced at the addendum sheet to the ACA map - I had done so last night, but last night I was pretty fogged out after 3 hard days of cycling. Hey now - what's this addendum note I missed last night?! As of last December the Quiltmaker Inn in Hindman has been open and offers cyclists a discount. Hindman was 67 miles away and there were 5 hard climbs along the route, but at least this was a feasible alternative. But something had to give if I was going to make it up these steep climbs on my tired legs. And I was dealing with the muscle tear/sprain that I had apparently reinjured yesterday, as I could only walk by limping along painfully. So it was time to have a heart-to-heart talk with my bike.
My bike and I had ridden up the Blue Ridge and never walked an inch. We had climbed Hayters Gap, even tougher than the Blue Ridge. We had climbed the hill into Council, and we had ridden every inch of Virginia without walking. But I couldn't make the distance today and pedal a 100-pound touring load up these climbs on my injured leg. I was walking with a limp, but I could walk and push the bike if I had to. So we had the talk, and I laid it out as straightforward as I could. I had to get out of this depressing place and move on or else give up the tour. And there was no place to go unless we made it to Hindman. We couldn't get there unless I walked the steepest climbs, and even then it was going to be very hard. To my great surprise, my bike was fine with it. He said, "It's your job to get us there. I don't care how you do it as long as you do it using only your muscle power. Push me up the hills or ride me, just get us there." I get teary-eyed just thinking about it, cause the bike was giving up some pride points too. Me and the bike - we don't walk hills, we just don't - but today I was going to have to walk if we had any chance of making it.
But now I had a plan, and I set out with at least a little renewed vigor and we soon arrived at the Kentucky border.
They are still fighting the Civil War in Kentucky.
The scenery is just as beautiful in eastern Kentucky as Virginia, but many of the local folks live in squalor.
The difference in the secondary roads is quite noticeable, as many of them are ridiculously narrow.
Flat ground is apparently a premium here. Folks are buried in layers on this hillside. I wonder if there is any social order regarding who gets buried on top?
Near the bottom of the Ashcamp hill, I passed by a church where folks were mingling outside, and I said a friendly "Hello" as I was passing. They were interested in my activities and I stopped to chat a bit. As we were talking, I noticed that half a dozen kids had gathered behind my bike - turning around I saw that they were making my bobblehead hula girl dance. It amused the kids, so that made it worth having brought her along - she had earned her keep. I still had to earn mine today, so I left the church parking lot and moseyed on down the road.
I walked my first hill as I got to the steep grades at Ashcamp. It's not easy for me to write this, cause I don't walk hills - I just don't. Near the top, Wesley passed me, then he too dismounted and pushed. We struggled on to the top, then Wesley headed down. As I was zooming thru the downhill curves at 30mph or so, I noticed Wesley stopped alongside the next curve, and something was amiss. He had lost it in the curve and crashed, and broken one of his pannier supports and skinned up a knee. I hauled my bike down rather quickly (grateful for those hydraulic disc brakes) and figured out a way to re-secure his pannier so he could continue.
On the way up the next steep hill at Lookout, both Wesley and I alternated walking and riding. I passed him as I was riding near the top, and he had a flat tire - I told him to push it on to the top and I would help him fix it. As we were working on it, another cyclist approached. And so I met Brandon at the top of Lookout hill. Brandon is from Atlanta and is traveling the Transam fast and light.
Once we got Wesley's tire fixed, he was pretty bummed out; he had lost control of his bike and crashed, broken 1 of his pannier attachments, skinned up his knee and it was stinging, and had to repair a flat. So yeah, that was a downer. And he didn't know where he was going to stay that night; like my initial plan, he had planned to just venture forth and find some place to camp. I told him about the Quiltmaker Inn, and it lifted his spirits. However, the inn was some 40 miles away, and we were both spent from getting Wesley ready to roll. So we agreed to head that way together. We stopped at a convenience store and Wesley washed up his knee best he could - I looked at it and didn't see anything that would require stitches. "It's just a flesh wound, Mam" as John Wayne would say.
And so we pushed on together. Wesley is a faster rider than me (hey, truth is that most of these youngsters are faster than me), so I worked hard to keep up. We walked the steep hills; Wesley's skinned knee equaled out with my muscle sprain and disadvantaged us both about the same. I was running on empty as we approached Pippa Passes - badly in need of an energy boost - it was 4:00pm and I hadn't ate anything other than some snacks since breakfast. I really needed the convenience store in Pippa Passes to be open, and fortunately it was. I refueled on some high energy; a real coke (not diet) and a snickers bar. That did the trick, and I led the way and pulled Wesley along into Hindman where we located the Quiltmaker Inn. We were both exhausted and happy to be inside.
I was very happy to find Daniel and James were also staying at the Inn. They were quite surprised to see me, as they thought I would never catch them after I took a rest day a week ago. Perhaps the dogged persistence of an old guy can equal out to the crazy energy of youth.
There were only cyclists at the Inn. In addition to Daniel, James, Wesley, and myself, there were 2 ladies retired from Penn State.
And here's a couple of shots of us all enjoying some comradarie at the Quiltmaker.
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As we talked, I realized that all of them had experienced a down day. It seems that it is a normal experience for long distance cycle tourists. It was good to have the company, but as I'm taking a rest day tomorrow it may be some time before I see any of them again, if ever. That's part of the real beauty and magic of a tour like this; each day is a new experience and each time you part with a new-found friend may be the last. Tomorrow is a new day, and I'm grateful for a rest day. My injured leg is nagging me for some down time, and I'm listening even though it means I'm "behind schedule" a bit as regards my goal of making it to Pueblo by June 12. There's time to make up some distance, but only if I let my leg heal.
Today was one of the hardest days of my life, yet I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. At 62, I thought I was past the point of being able to expand my personal boundaries. I was wrong. But I'd rather not do any more boundary-expanding stuff for a while, as I'd like to live to be 63...
Today's ride: 67 miles (108 km)
Total: 655 miles (1,054 km)
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