Day 26: Everybody Sing!

Ready? Here we go....

Almost heaven, West Virginia
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains growin' like a breeze.

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads.

We're in West Virginia, just barely, over the river from Ohio, 100 miles (and 4 penalty miles for failing to follow the route sheet) and 3,000ft of climb across Ohio although the roads sure felt like what you'd think of West Virginia country roads. Left, right, up, down, twist, curve, drop, climb. Never, ever, thought I would be so happy to see hills but after the prairie tour they were a welcome sight. The corn and the soybeans have been left behind, only small patches in the flats of stream valleys, otherwise trees and more trees. Wish I could name them all but if you think of tree-lined roads you've got the visual.

But the real news of the day is the weather. Day 2 of riding soaked. Yesterday it was the high humidity, 30 minutes into the ride (which I did all of solo until lunch) and the sweat from my legs had pooled in my shoes so that each pedal stroke was squish, squish, squish. That was the sweat that wasn't running off the end of my handlebars. So much sweat was flying off some people that other riders wouldn't ride behind them. Then of course at the end of the day we got in just before the biblical thunderstorm which was one of top 3 storms of my life. Clouds boiling and churning right on top of the motel like Mt Doom in Mordor when Frodo is on the final climb to destroy the One Ring (that rules them all, but you knew that, right)? The 30 foot telescoping metal sign next to the bikes creaking and groaning like it's going to land on us any second, the winds picking up, lightning amidst the rushing wall of darkness and crashing of thunder. Most people were outside trying to take pictures of it but none do it is justice, this is one little piece of the sky, you have to imagine it boiling like a pot of water. Epic for all of us. Then the rain, then 15 degrees cooler and sunshine.


Then today. Well, first there was a Big Talk by Lon to the assembled riders with their bags in a crowd at 7:29am where he let loose with his frustrations about people riding out in such a rush, the big packs of riders that make it hard for cars to pass, and the general silliness of trying to be the first person to stand around the next hotel at 2:00pm. Everyone listened quietly, figured it was someone else he was annoyed with, and the second he moved to the side descended on the trailer as they always do to drop their bag and hit the road. So much for having impact. The fast guys and the men who love them shot off the front, never to be seen again. Today's version (it varies) of the "no biker left behind, well, except Michelle but she's on a recumbent" gang glommed up at the back. And the rest of us, promiscuous, highly non-monogamous, chase any wheel so long as it's a fast, characters spread out in doubles or in singles in between. Here's the morning scene that so annoys Lon. This is definitely specific to our group, I think a couple guys set the mood and cause panic among the rest, for example creating anxiety in a certain roommate of mine who gets nervous and jittery about being late. It's ironic, I was the one wasted in the heat of South Dakota riding solo and Tom the one's nervous about riding solo. Although, as I've said before, it is an unsettling feeling to come out into an empty parking lot and feel late and alone in the ride (ie, me, yesterday morning). If I could I'd do more solo riding, there's more time to think and less need to pay attention to someone else's wheel.
Oh, I said we were wet today. As from picture, it wasn't raining at 7:30am, but it was at 8:00 and it was absolutely pouring shortly after that. POURING! Thunder and lightning, pouring buckets of rain in mass quantities, whatever, it was WET! Most people jumped off under some type of cover, in particular those that saw lightning strike a telephone pole just ahead. I rode straight through it because who ever heard of a cyclist getting hit by lightning? It let up, then got worse again, the tree-covered hills wavering ahead of us getting lost into fog, nothing to do but get through it. By the rest area it was over, it stayed cool through lunch (where I waited for Tom and then we rode in together) and then it heated up but we were in by 2:30. I promptly for some reason took a nap.
So here we are, less than 500 miles to go, a hop, skip, and jump over the hills, the Atlantic is calling. Roadkill was light, an opossum, a raccoon and a skunk. We've left the fields of Queen Anne's Lace for things that are delicate and purple, here's that visual if you want to look them up. Dinner was just down the dead end street we're on at Mountaineer Restaurant, steaks and pasta and 14 of us in one room eating everything in site. A good mood pervades, but the energy and stamina is I think running a little dry, 3,000 miles on a bike sooner or later is going to have its say.