The Awkward Pose

August 6, 2016 – clouds and sun, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 70

Miles to Date: 13,985

States to Date: 38

 I rolled under the I-64 overpass south of Charlottesville and climbed Virginia Route 20 toward Scottsville and Dillwyn. Over forty miles gradients became shallower, plantations became mere farms, suburban houses became old time bungalows, or mobile homes, or abandoned properties altogether. I was in the country.

If we measured population increase and decay by area, larger tracts of our country are losing population than gaining them. Southern Virginia looks like so many places in the Mid-West and far West; the abandoned homesteads, shuttered gas stations and dwindling towns offset the new, mostly modular houses plopped down on five acres.

I continued on US 15, which is perhaps the least ‘improved’ US highway in the country: two lanes with little shoulder. But traffic was light and the courteous Virginia drivers treated me well.

Riding through Farmville on a late summer Saturday reminded me of so many other towns I’d seen on my journey: wide streets with no traffic, underutilized buildings and acres of parking. Heat simmered off so much exposed blacktop. A few souls walked the downtown sidewalk, though few stores were open. I hankered for an ice cream treat, but there wasn’t so much as a convenience store to provide Good Humor.

So I continued on to my hosts, who live deep in the woods about ten miles beyond town. All sorts of bugs I’d never seen landed on my sweaty legs as I pedaled along country roads perfectly scaled to bike travel. I arrived a bit early but Bryan, his wife Joy and their twin sons made me feel at home. They had been giving my question some thought before I arrived. Before I even showered and changed, we launched into tomorrow.

August 5, 2016 – Rain, 75 degrees

Miles Today: 14

Miles to Date: 13,915

States to Date: 38

People are often surprised that I rarely check the weather. If it’s clear when I get up in the morning, I ride. If there’s a major weather event on the horizon, I hear about it. If I stayed put just because the forecast suggested showers, I would still be in Ohio.

Today, however, was different. I woke to steady rain; only the second time on my trip. I checked weather.com and learned that it was not raining in Charlottesville and would not rain all day. Dubious data in the face of actual drops. The rain was real, but not really dangerous. So I pedaled off in my yellow slicker to visit Monticello.

The full paradox of the South is on display in this incredible place constructed over the forty years of Thomas Jefferson’s public life. The man who penned the words, “All men are created equal” owned 600 human beings. That takes a lot of rationalization, which the guides and displays at Monticello weigh with great aplomb. I took the house tour and the slave tour (I’m not a garden tour kind of guy). Each guide was insightful, knowledgeable, and thoughtful.

I imagine the tours were very different thirty years ago. But since the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, which owns Monticello, acknowledged the descendants of Sally Hemming’s six children as part of the Jefferson family in 1998, it cannot shy away from the complex integrations that enabled this segregated society. Jefferson referred to his slaves as ‘servants’ or ‘family’. Every reference to every owned person today is preceded by the word ‘enslaved’.

The amazing thing about Monticello is how the ideals of this great Enlightenment man, its magnificent architecture, the ingenious devices, careful planning, and breathtaking site all become secondary to the careful dance of how the masters and slaves coexisted. One tour guide closed with the Emerson quote: “If you put a chain around the neck of a slave, the other end fastens itself around your own.”

Two hundred years later, all that is best and worst about our nation can be distilled from Monticello: incredible resources, noble ideals, inconsistent opportunity, equality, and justice.

By two the rain had lifted and I rolled downhill to a sumptuous lunch at Michie Tavern, a southern food fest that included the best stewed tomatoes I’ve ever tasted. Sometimes I forget tomatoes are a fruit. I ladled them over fresh biscuits, sweet as any dessert. Bloated with history and sustenance, I returned to town and stayed in a nice alternative-vibe guesthouse.

August 4, 2016 – Overcast, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 55

Miles to Date: 13,901

States to Date: 38

My hosts, Kathy and Robert, served a breakfast of eggs and scrapple, muffins and fresh fruit with yogurt that rivaled the garden fresh vegetables and chicken we enjoyed the night before. I rolled away from their farm well nourished for a ride through more of Virginia’s bike friendly byways. Motorists here are very nice; slowing down in tight spots and pulling up beside me to chat through open windows. Eventually I merged with US 29 South, which was picturesque for a few hours. Ten miles or so outside of Charlottesville, the traffic increased and the shoulder decreased, until construction made it disappear altogether. I was disappointed to find that a huge road project to accommodate the increasing number of cars to the big box chains littering the highway included absolutely no provisions for cyclists: no bike paths, no bike lanes, not even a clear shoulder.

I love the quirky signs I pass in rural areas. It’s comforting to know that God is going to help us in disaster, Jesus has rooms available, and that chili and cheese are yours at 7-11 for the push of a button.

I had a premonition that my warmshowers host for the evening was an iffy thing: a Chinese student arranged for me to stay with her parents. I figured if it panned out, we might have a fascinating cross-cultural exchange. No such luck. Her parents spoke no English. Her younger brother guided me to a solitary place for the night. All fine and safe: just not very interesting.

August 3, 2016 – Partly Cloudy, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 32

Miles to Date: 13,846

States to Date: 38

I come from an area of our country rich in history. I stroll by Old South Church where the Adams boys, Sam and John, roused the rabble. I cross the intersection where the Boston Massacre occurred. I pedal past the Lexington Green and Concord footbridge; ‘the shot heard round the world’ echoes still. I pass Washington’s Brattle Street Headquarters during the siege of Boston almost every day. These places rest easy in my mind, unambiguously positive landmarks commemorating our independence from England.

Today, as I pedaled over Chester Gap from Front Royal to Flint Hill and along scenic Benvenue Road, I was keen to the altogether different weight of history in Northern Virginia. Huge clouds, occasional sprinkles, and intermittent sun created thermal updrafts and cool undercurrents. The land itself sighed under its ambivalent burden: a land of honor and glory; a land of ignoble defeat. The Civil War is history. But in Virginia, history is ever present.

The Confederate Army marched from Culpepper to Gettysburg along the route I traversed in both directions. First they headed north: 60,000 confident, strong men; four abreast and three miles long, trailed by artillery and support in a bold move to take an offensive stance against the North. A much smaller number returned along the same route, in the direction I spun, in defeat. As one local said, “After Gettysburg, everything fell apart. The rest of the war was defense and retreat. If we could have just stopped then, perhaps the destruction would not have been so great. But fighting continued and we were humbled.”

One hundred fifty years later the landscape is gorgeous. The stately plantation houses are grand. The few slave quarters still standing appear quaint. There is no evidence of pillage; that hardly a tree stood in all of Culpepper County. But the natives remember. Caught between romantic affection for a way or life out of step with evolving equality and justice, yet baffled why the remedy came so hard. They recall the Civil War. Not as if it were yesterday. As if it were today.

August 2, 2016 – Partly Cloudy, 85 degrees

Miles Today: 34

Miles to Date: 13,814

States to Date: 38

 The moment I wake up I wonder: is my bike tire good? Though I have a very short day, I take a quick appreciation of the Shenandoah River from my host Chuck’s deck and then I’m out. Tom looks fine; my tire is firm. I speed down Chuck’s steep hill. It’s all great, until it isn’t. Two and half miles out, my back tire is flat again; my fifth flat in less than 36 hours.

I ride Schwabe Marathon Plus tires, expensive, heavy-duty tires renowned for no flats. I did over 6,000 miles flat free on my last set. Today I learned the downside of such sturdy tires. When something does penetrate, it can nestle in the rubber and not puncture the tube until the wheels roll and things heat up. That’s the only reason I can explain why repeated repairs held pressure, even overnight, and I could ride for a few miles before the tubes lost pressure.

While Chuck sagged me again, this time to a bike shop in Winchester, I wondered if perhaps this whole bike thing was played out. From inside a car, the world looks pretty good and the AC feels great. But once I got a new tire/tube assembly from Element Sports and tested a few miles around town, I returned to open road and rediscovered there is nothing like being on a bike.

I had a perfect scenario, a summery day winding through the Shenandoah Valley, one of the most bucolic places on earth. I rode past plantations and mills, horse country and small villages. There is much conservation land in Clark Country and Virginia has wonderful, well marked, paved, side roads: cousins to Texas’ Farm-to-Market Roads.

Despite so many snags over the past three days, I arrived in Front Royal by mid-afternoon, in part because I set my bicycle tour objectives light, but more because a good friend came to my aid.

August 1, 2016 – Cloudy, 80 degrees

Miles Today: 20

Miles to Date: 13,780

States to Date: 38

Maybe its because I dealt West Virginia a short hand, staying only one night in a state of many contrasts. Maybe its because I spun 20 miles on gravel yesterday, which I dislike as much as my bike Tom must. Maybe its because during our email exchange my host for tonight, Chuck Downs, offered to pick me up along the way and Tom, like a petulant adolescent, decided to slough off. Whatever the reason, I pedaled out of Harpers Ferry on a nice firm back tire but after I stopped at a fruit stand for some excellent local peaches, it came up flat.

Thus begins a comedy of errors worthy of the Marx brothers. I fix the flat, but am down to one tube. So I ride out of my way to Charles Town where Goggle suggests a bike store will be open in an hour. On the way, another slow leak develops. I pump it up every few miles until I arrive to discover the store has gone bust. I push Tom through the historic county seat where ‘John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave.’ Two swell, tattooed bubbas in a pick-up stop and haul us to Wal-Mart. Way more West Virginians in Wal-Mart than in historic downtown, that’s for sure. I snag three more tubes and eat a Subway foot long before changing another flat. Four miles out and I’m flat again. I push Tom to the Panda Garden, order some food, though I am not hungry, so I can sit inside and use their Internet to find a bike shop. I call my friend Chuck, who swoops down from this mountaintop to save me. The closest bike shop is twelve miles back in Maryland. The mechanic checks the tire with the same care I did and finds no abrasion. He has no suitable replacement anyway, so he fixes the flat and I pray that his more experienced hands will yield success.

In the meantime Chuck has taken my question to heart and arranged two house tours with local folks who’ve built sustainable, geothermal, passive solar houses with extensive gardens. We speed through the Virginia countryside to see these interesting places, then climb up to the top of Hickory Knob where Chuck lives in a cabin with a phenomenal view of the Shenandoah River. Despite spending the entire afternoon bailing me out, he throws a terrific dinner party. Seven of us drink beer while the sun sets over the mountains. We dine on grilled salmon and talk about tomorrow. It’s almost enough to make a guy stop worrying whether his tire is holding its pressure…

July 31, 2016 – Overcast, 85 degrees

Miles Today: 47

Miles to Date: 13,760

States to Date: 37

I was happy to head west and leave three weeks of pedaling the Boston-Washington corridor behind me. Maryland has a nice network of bike paths that parallel many major roads, and there was no Sunday traffic, so the riding was easy.

In Gaithersburg I came upon a ‘New Urbanism’ development with tight packed single-family homes giving over to townhouses, giving over to stacked townhouses as I got closer to the commercial center. The place has a Whole Foods / Panera vibe, corporately conscientious. Hard to believe all the little mom and pop storefronts can survive – how many framing galleries can one town support? Still, the picturesque place is far better than the big boxy single-family houses on half-acre lots that littered the rest of the landscape.

And then, with the abrupt end of sewer and water, development ceased and I was in the country. Farms and forests and narrow roads I shared with occasional drivers.

Just beyond twenty-five miles out I got on the C&O Canal Trail and headed north to Harper’s Ferry. It was cool and breezy, but the gravel path was littered with mud and puddles after last night’s rain. I’m not a fan of dirt paths, but it was scenic and historical. Difficult to imagine how different life was during the canal days of the 1840’s and 50’s, when civil engineering marvels were just beginning to bend nature to our will. Harnessed mules and tug laborers used to trod the towpath and camp out in the lock houses that are now photo opportunities for Sunday hikers and distance cyclists.

I lugged my bike up the stairs to cross the old railroad bridge in Harper’s Ferry, toured the historic downtown and climbed the steep hill that separates the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers. I sat out a thunderstorm at the AT Conservancy, which welcomes long distance cyclists with the same enthusiasm they greet hikers.

I found my son Andy’s photo, May 12, 2010, when he stopped here as an Appalachian Trail Thru-hiker.

When I arrived at my hosts, I noticed my back tire was very low, so I changed out the tube. I also washed down the entire bike, filthy from the gravel path, and cleaned the chain. I was all set to move out in the morning…

July 30, 2016 – Occasional rain, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 19

Miles to Date: 13,713

States to Date: 36

I spent the afternoon at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. I thought I was prepared, but when the doors open from the dark cramped elevators they pack you into to rise to the fourth floor and I confronted the first image, my stomach wretched. The information folks suggest it takes ninety minutes to go through the permanent exhibit, but I spent much longer snaking through the consciously confusing spaces. By the tine I completed the labyrinth, I was disoriented and exhausted.

It is a good that this museum exists, that is addresses the shortcomings of the United States and the rest of the world in ignoring what was occurring in Germany, and that is still packed almost twenty years after it opened. It is important we remember.

Back in the daylight, after a storm that didn’t cool off anything, I couldn’t consider any other sightseeing. I let my mind spin as I pedaled to my hosts in Bethesda.

July 29, 2016 – Sun, 90 degrees

Miles Today: 12

Miles to Date: 13,694

States to Date: 36

It rained hard all night. My dreams came in torrents. I woke fully rested to the first cool breeze in over a week.

July in DC is for tourists, and so I played the tourist on my one day in a place that is not a state. My host rode me into DC. We breakfasted at a combo bike/coffee shop in Brookland, an up and coming neighborhood. Then I pedaled over to Howard University and spent several interesting hours with people from the School of Architecture; a very enthusiastic bunch the day after the Democratic Convention.

Though I have been to DC many times, there are always new places to see. Since I have been spending so much time in libraries on this trip I visited the Library of Congress. The tour of this incredible building (1897 Beaux Arts masterpiece with breathtaking interiors) is worthwhile. The contents of this amazing institution (163,000,000 articles, and 12,000 new ones every day) are beyond imagining. Anyone over 16 with a valid ID can access the materials. Somewhere buried in those stacks is Architecture by Moonlight, but I didn’t ask for a copy. I’ve already read it.

I stayed in the Dupont Circle neighborhood, which is a happening place on a Friday night.

July 28, 2016 – Sun, 95 degrees

Miles Today: 35

Miles to Date: 13,682

States to Date: 36 

Can a person get too much sleep? Despite yesterday being a light day, I slept ten hours, and then felt draggy all day. I stopped at the NASA Goddard Visitor Center; the only adult not accompanied by an eight-year-old boy. The kids loved all the models of various rocket and space capsules. I was enchanted by the incredible images of our galaxy that line the walls.

My favorite exhibit was the Solarium, a black space where they run actual footage of NASA’s Solar Dynamics Observatory. Each wavelength is assigned a unique color. It takes a team of videographers about ten hours to create one minute of these high-resolution images.

Back on earth, I had a pair of meetings with folks from Greenbelt, MD, a New Deal era new town that has proven to be a fascinating social experiment. Then I pedaled toward Mount Rainier. The saturating heat continues day after day. As long as I’m moving, all is good. But if I stop, even for a traffic light, the heat penetrates me and the sweat pours through the question mark on my back. The swelter created ominous clouds, so I took a late afternoon McDonald’s break to sit out some thunderstorms. Then continued on along beautiful bike paths that sparkled in the dusk to reach my evening host.