The Virginia Creeper

Day 67

Breaks, VA to Damascus, VA

Distance: 79 miles

Average speed: virginia creeping, must be near the slowest on trip (no precise data since nameless Gamine went to sleep for a while in the middle of the ride)

Left Hamstring: hamming it up

I woke in good spirits. But while the spirit was willing, the body had a damn stubborn streak running through it right from the get-go.

Setting out from my motel in the light, rather than the dusky darkness that prevailed as I approached last night, I was dismayed to see that it was just at the bottom of a hill. Indeed, one of three spiky little hills. Stupidly steep, moderate in length, but, as starts to the day go, boy was it brutal.

It was only ten miles of steep up and down until the first town of the day, Haysi, where I stopped for a proper breakfast, but it seemed like a lot more. I’d wolfed down a couple of those plastic cereal bowls and some orange juice in my room before I left but, given my measly turkey meal the night before, I was ready for some proper tucker.

I couldn’t see a café in town so I settled with the Subway at the gas station, which was fine. The rural gas station is the darling of the touring cyclists, and I have to say that the route has been replete with them for the last couple of days. Always stocked with hot coffee, cold water, ice, rest rooms, unhealthy snacks… I love them. And the more there are, the less I have to carry between them.

I was slow to roll out from Haysi again, chatting with some guys in pick-ups before I left who were concerned about me on the road on my own. Although I have to say that I might have been more concerned had a couple of them pulled in by the side of the road in a secluded part of the route, but luckily I haven’t had any problems with that so far.

But I shouldn’t tempt fate. To answer my sister’s question from the blog comments from a couple of days ago, I have been toying with the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains for the last couple of days. And now I have reached them proper. Known not just for hiking but also hillbillies, I can’t help but think of the movie Deliverance, and keep half an ear out for the duelling banjos.

I did see a guy yesterday by the side of the road in one of the villages I rode through who smiled widely to expose some rotting teeth and half chewed tobacco.

“You gone get run ove…” he drawled pleasantly in my direction, and then laughed.

Potential dangers aside, and hoping not to encounter him or his family or his dogs for the rest of the trip, the weather today was gorgeous, and the scenery lush, but the road surface was neither - either broken and cracked, or intact but a rough chip and seal. When combined with the gradient and my level of tiredness, I was crawling along so slowly that I did speculate whether I might actually just fall over sideways at some point.

Indeed, I started to worry not only about keeping my balance, but also about the Virginia Creeper. 

It covers absolutely EVERYTHING it touches with alarming speed, from road signs to telegraph poles (and lines). Hell, I’m sure there are a few houses out there which are lurking underneath a pile of the stuff.

“Virgil, where are you honey, you’ve been gone for hours?”

“Well sugar, I dunno whatta tell you, I just been to the bar and I’m in the pick-up but I can’t find the dang house.”

I wondered whether, if I went any slower, people might find Steed and me just a few hours later, a bicycle and rider shaped piece of green moving at a glacial pace around a section of steep switch backs.      

Let me out...

Speeding up a little at the thought, I still found that I had only managed around 35 miles before I was so hungry I needed to stop for lunch, and that it was already after 2pm. Packing in a grilled ham and cheese with salad I set off again for the longest and steepest climb of the day out of a small town called Council.

And it was as I was pedalling away from the restaurant that I started to feel not only a general overwhelming sense of tiredness but also a distinct pain in my left hamstring. I’d felt a twinge during my morning stretches, but thought no more of it. Realising I still had another 40 or so miles to go, I decided that I would simply have to adjust my riding style to compensate and strangely I managed to do so. Relying more on my right leg and pushing the pedals from a different angle seemed to do the trick. Although occasionally I would forget until a sharp pain would give me a jolting reminder. 

The views were good though.

Stopping an hour or so from the end of the ride to phone the B&B and tell them I would be arriving late, I met my first friends of the day… a couple of cute kitties who came over to speak to me in the small town of Meadowview. 

Meowview in Meadowview

It was just what I needed to carry me the last few miles on, and into Damascus, my stop for the night.

After checking into the B&B, I had a very quick shower and headed straight out for pizza and beer. The place did microbrews so I happily tried out a couple of the “blondes” while I watched a young guy who was hiking the Appalachian Trail attempt and succeed at a “Man vs Food” style hot-wings challenge before disappearing rather rapidly to the rest rooms… I suspect he might be sprinting some parts of the trail tomorrow, into the trees anyway. 

Ambling back to the B&B and intending to buy myself a large bottle of ice-cold water to rehydrate, I was dismayed to find that, at the stonkingly late hour of 9.15pm literally everything in town was closed, including the gas station. 

I guess that’s the difference between hikers and touring cyclists… well, some of them.

Rest day tomorrow… phew.

Me x