Final Day -- Riding into Washington

Sunday morning came early, and we were up and packed before the other campers in the Fairfax County campground. Dave grabbed our gear and headed for DC, and we headed back to the W & OD Trail, where we would meet Craig Clayton, Peddie class of 1978, who would lead us into town. Craig's energy and spirit was exciting, and he and the kids enjoyed meeting each other and chatting along the trail. "Only at a school like Peddie," gushed Will O'Connor, "would some alumnus come out and meet us like this." We rode a quick twenty miles from Reston to the final run to the Key Bridge and then Washington. We took a Starbuck's break, where Craig treated us all to coffes and snacks and a longer conversation. The more they all talked, the more charged up Craig became about Peddie now, and the more excited the kids became about what Peddie represents.

We jumped back on the bikes and headed for the conclusion, we crossed the Potomac and aimed right at Georgetown, the university looming above us, the monuments to our right. We zipped through town, jumping from sidewalks onto the road, skirting slow buses, the city apparently in slow motion, movie theme music in the air all around. We turned back down to the river, zoomed past the rowers and the walkers, aiming at the Lincoln. Caitlyn's shouts of excitement were now steady state, she being jazzed and our collective mouthpiece. We turned the last bend and hit the plaza in front of the Lincoln, and all stopped. "Ya-Yeah!!" We parked our bikes, snapped off our fron wheels and headed up the steps to Lincoln, and then to Martin Luther King Jr.'s 1963 speaking spot, and turned for the photo that would end our run.

As we looked out over the reflecting pool and tried to imagine the crowd there that August day, I thought of Ranger / Reverend William's introductory sermon back at Ebenzer Church. "You know why you're here? His-tory! Do you know why you're here in the front pews of the Ebenzer Baptist Church? His-tory! ... Now, can you see little Martin here, right here in this pew, in this very pew right here? Can you see him lis-tening to his father preach in this church? Can you see him? Little Martin was a young boy, just like you are young boys and girls, but he was a young boy who Lis-tened, and because he lis-tened, he helped make changes that are part of all our his-tory."

We took the picture, four kids standing where King had stood to spoke, the kids' wheel's aloft, their pride and accomplishment earned and real, the "content of their character" perhaps a little more substantial because of what they accomplished on this journey.

We packed the bikes, and zoomed home.

-- PJClements

Almost Done! Penultimate Report

Thursday (Yancey Mills -> Charlottesville, 22 miles)
Friday (Charlottesville -> Culpeper 35)
Saturday (Purcellville -> Reston, 32)

A quick summary, since it is Sunday morning and we're ready to hit Washington.

THURSDAY ... Misty Mountain Campground to Charlottesville was an easy twenty-somethng ride, though US 250 became busier by town. We stoppped on University Blvd, hit a coffee shop, discovered some used books stores and deli (Take it Away!, PK) and then heaed to the Rotondo. We did the tour, and loved it, a tour led by UVa third-year Melissa Buck, of Breckendridge, Colorado and Lawrenceville School! She was great. The kids took an afternoon off, reading and napping on the lawn, PJC on an exodus to the Blue Wheel Bike shop for end of tour repairs (nice new rear wheel, Mike Stewart: Will wore out the original). We pedalled out of town on US 29 to a motel, our campground north of town no longer accepting tenters. We feasted at the Golden Corral, an all-you-can eat place that didn't make money on us that
night.

FRIDAY ... We ferried ourselves up to Barbourville, north of Charlottesville a but and away from the US 29 madness that we feared might overwhelm us. This part of Virginia, though lovely, does not combine safe cycling routes with our destinations, so we excised this part, and a later section, that would expedite the trip. From Barbourville we headed north on Route 20 toward Orange, a terrific ride in the morning, full of farmers and Presidents, including Madison's Montpelier. We stopped for coffee and second breakfast in Orange, then headed up US 15. In land full of larger properties and estate, we saw a small sign that read "Woodbury Forest School - 3" and I knew an interesting detour lay ahead, though not how interesting. We turned into the Woodbury road, and the prep school opened up before us, woods, then fields, then playing fields, then this version of "Old Main". We thought we might sneak a look in the main building, like
heading up to the bell in Annenberg. We ended up meeting Joseph Coleman, Director of Admission, who chatted with us, took us on a tour of the whole school, and led us to lunch in the dining hall. The school is lovely, Mr. Coleman was delightful, the entire experience was a treat, and the kids knew it. From Woodbury Forest we headed north, napped a bit on the swayback porch of a derelict crossroads store / post office, aand then headed off the main road to some backroads that took us up to the Cedar Mountain Campground outside Culpeper, a cash only operation whose best days are long past.

SATURDAY... On Saturday morning we packed all ourselves into Dave's truck and headed north to Purcellville, skipping some miles that would include too much highway choked traffic. The ride, however, slid through some astonishing land, including The Plains, home of the Quinns!, and Middleburg, north of which were a relentless stream of stunning horse farms, one after another, stone fences perfect, some even being built new! Lonely outbuildings covered with new raised seam roofs and plenty of money. "Mr. Mellon and Mr. Hunt, you know, some rich folks," said Grace later in the laundromat. We arrived in Purcellville, the trailhead for the Washington and Old Dominion Trail, a railroad to multi-user trail which would take us all the way into DC. We did some laundry, and then hit the W&OD trail. We cruised along the old rail bed amongst serious Saturday bike riders, hunkered down over aero bars, beside parents and little ones on training wheels, among the lean and the "I'd best get some exercise", and we eased east
to Reston, where we left the Trail and headed to the Fairfax County Campground, ready to rest and prepare for our last day. Phone calls home suggested "We'll be in Washington in the morning, and home in the afternoon."

To put the trip into context, I laid out my worn, marked state maps, and fit Georgia, Tennessee, and Virginia together into one map, a journey that covered the entire picnic table. We then traced our way across the weeks, naming each day's journey, the roads, the town, the events, the campgrounds, the weather. A half hour later, full of stories made fresh again by the talek of the narrative, we headed out to dinner, a team dinner in a diner, a special ending to the entire effort. We laughed and told each story yet again, adding details, clarifying the truth, feeling strong and proud and almost done. The kids' fresh energy had Davie and me laughing the entire evening. Hitting the tents was easy, for in the morning we'd finish our ride, stand on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and then head home.

-- PJClements

Tuesday (Just south of Lexington, to just north. 16 miles tops)

Tuesday-- We slept in until 6.30 a.m. (yippee!!!), packed camp, plopped the yellow BOB trailer bags into Dave Babcock's pickup, and, after breakfast, headed north to Lexiongton. A postcard of a town opened up to us after ten miles, and began to enjoyt Lexington. A stop at the Stonewall Jackson Cemetery led to a leisurely walk among the sleeping dead, and s slow downhill into town. There we took an hour and half to do laundry, Dave and I chatting while the kids took off to explore town. After laundry, Dave headed down the road, and the kids and I headed to Washington and Lee, where we joined an Admissions Office tour. Each of us was struck by the beauty and the resources of the college. We then cycled through VMI and saw a very different institution, the stark, parapet order of khaki in sharp contrast to the leafy neo-classical Virginia gentility of W&L. Plenty of talk ensued about colleges, dreams, and matching one's goals and style to a place and a mission. After lunch on a Main Street picnic table, we scattered for a break, and to see what our travels will bring next. For me, the warm humid air stirred by ceiling fans at the Lexington Coffee shop, and a hair-raising jolt of coffee, has been just fine. More later, down the road, as we head north up 11 and cross over the Blue Ridge toward Charlottesville. With any luck we'll find "Cookie Lady's" house in Afton (June Curry, who has been giving water,
cookies, shelter, and love to Trans-America cyclists since 1976, all in a modest outbuilding at her home along the Adventure Cycling Transamerica route). We'll spend some of the next day exploring Thos. Jefferson's university, road willing.
-- PJClements

Monday (Dixie Caverns -> Lexington KOA (53 miles)

Today was our last day until a break in Lexington, and the arrivial of Dave Babcock, who will join us at the KOA , between Natural Bridge and Lexongton, to be our support guy, helping the effort by snagging our trailers and load, enabling the kids to ride easier duriong the last section, and providing emergency and logistical support otherwise impossible. Terrific!!

We hustled out of Dixie Caverns campgrounds and headed toward Roanoke. A few miles down the road, after the trucks left 11 for the alternate route around town, we arrived at Roanoke College in Salem, Virginia. We rode through the campus and marvelled at its beauty and its astonishingly fine upkeep. Though the grass was allowed to grow out another half-inch in the summer heat, every piece of the grounds was perfect, as though Alumni Day were in the offing. A lovely spot.

Getting around Roanoke was some morning work, riding a northwest circumference to head back out onto the old road. At Hollins, in the lee of Tinker Mountain and Carvins Cove beyond, we stopped for a group photograph at the "Tinker Creek" sign on the highway. Yo, yo yo, Annie
Dillard! After the last truck stop at Route 220, where we had a sandwich sharing the seating with a group of "carnies" awaiting the arrival of the last vehicle in their caravan. They hadn't slept for a couple of days, and from the looks of their vehicles, probably don't get much sleep even when their life is kinder. From then on the road opened up nicely, and we rode well. The heat was growing in the Roanoke bowl, and we saw bank time & temperature signs in Troutville
that read 96 and then 101 degrees! Yikes. With frequent shade and water stops, and with a gentler road and a friendlt breeze, our was the nicest mid-90s ride imaginable (and bank thermnometers always run hot, right?). We stopped in Buchanan (the James River watershed now, the river flowing east across the mountains, not west through the mountains as with the New River). Soon, however, the day wore on, and bore down. Then on a sweat-busting roller some five miles below Natural Bridge, a pickup-truck stopped right in front of us. I was
immediately concerned, and befuddled by the "Peddie School" sticker on some knucklehead pick-up driver until it dawned on me that this was Dave Babcock, not some off driver stopping us on a hill top. After appropriate greetings, and some ice-dripping drinks from a cooler in the truckbed, the kids chucked their BOB trailers into Dave's truck and we flew down the road. Natural Bridge appeared in a moment, and after a water/shade stop there at the Visitor Center, we rolled on to the KOA at Fancy Hill. With Dave's help we shopped up the road, then ate dinner and fell into our tents. 53 miles, a day off in the morning, and some hometown family in the kids' world. Plus, there's a chilled watermelon in the cooler for toomorrow night!

-- PJClements

Sunday (Wytheville -> Dixie Caverns, 63 Miles)

Sunday morning started off smoothly, people feeling OK and focused on finishing the middle part of the trip: two days of longish riding and then a day (sorta) off in Lexington. We boogied out of the Interstate doubling and headed up 11. As we approached the Draper Valley, 11 headed up and over Draper mountain, a climb that surprised and angered me once before, so we sought out some local knowledge. At all almost defunct truck stop a local lady helped us out. "Down this frontage road until the first bridge, then cross over 81, then reverse course and come out on....and then you'll find old 100, which is what you want, but I'm not sure the sign is still there. But you'll know it when you're there. Then what you want to do is..." So off we went, and the route worked. We ended up rejoining a section of the Adventure Cycling Route at Draper, and some lovely rolling riding ensued, the avoided mountain on our left, reminding us of the power of gravity. We turned off old 100 onto "The Wilderness Road" (welcome route to PJC), where we met our next cycling, Kent from the UK, on his second day across the country, still clad in snappy riding kit, including a TdF 'maiilot jaune' and new panniers that hadn't yet lost their crisp gloss. He looked fast and handsome and fresh. We trundled uphill then to the Wilderness Road Museum and poked around the log houses still standing in old Newbern. We then headed off on the Wilderness road toward Radford, where we ate a very late and welcome lunch. Radford University looked down on us as we left our favorite establishment (Subway!), advertisements of all the activities in the New River Valley suggesting that this too might be a hidden jewel. From Radford to Christiansburg was just plain wor, plenty of miles in the dead
afternoon heat. Outside C-burg we stopped for ice cream and a few more miles of work. Late in the day I talked with the group and expressed my concern about the time, distance, heat, aand safety, and that the Dixie Caverns might be beyond out reach, and I'd thus pull over at the next motel and we adjust. Good, wise leadership. There immediately followed a screaming downhill, one mile long and safe, and then after that rush there followed three miles of gentle steady downhill. A moderately seedy motel appeared, and I stopped to check it out. The group then examined the map, the elevation contours on the way toward Dixie Caverns near Salem, their spirits, and the sun, and in one voice announced that Dixie Caverns was within reach. Off we went, the gentle slope still to our favor, annd we arrived at the campground before any of us expected it. Who knew? Then, life got even better!

As we signed into the campground, I asked how far it was to the nearest market. Connie Browning, the white-haired grandma lady whose house was at the edge of the forest, looked up from the cash register and said, "About two miles up 11, but it's terrible. You don't want to shop for food there. No, No. What you really want is the Food Lion five miles up in Salem. But since you've already biked so far, you can't ride there and back. So here, take, my car. No really. Take my car. (Conspiratorially,) My husband of course thinks I'm crazy, but I do things like this all the time. What's a life for? Come, let me get it for you. It's a mess inside, but..." Agog, we split up, two to set camp, three to shop and fill up Connie's gas tank, all of us talking about what a great day it had been, a long ride but such a sweet ending ride, beautiful and downhill, all of it leading to such a jewel at the end of the day. Sometimes, you reap what you sow. Who knew?

--PJClements

Saturday on the road (Marion -> Wytheville)

A short day today (30+), for Charlotte awoke with a cough, tight chest, and a bit of listlessness. Since we didn't want to squash the Queen Bee, we traveled slowly, with a long coffee, newspaper, and front porch chat break at a crossroads store in Rural Retreat, VA, and a long lunch in old town Marion, Wythe County's seat, and a great town (A fresh vote getter in the "Let's retire here" sweepstakes), especially since we had a great time eating "Skeeter Dogs" in a Main Street eatery, where they've been selling this same hot dog model since 1921. The is real thing that franchised old timey places copy: the wood floors are older than Woodrow Wilson's wife (born next door), and the swivel stools and counter seem to date from his Presidency. We chatted up some local patrons, and then took an hour to walk through town.

Eight miles further took us to the KOA that sits midway down the I-77 & I-81 doubleheader here in southwest Virginia. State Parks are jammed this weekend, and as I type only two tentsites remain in all the KOA. Must run, since the 8.00pm concert by the Sunset Valley Boys is about to begin over at the Family Fun Center. Charlotte feels much better,
btw, and tomorrow dawns fresh.

--PJClements

Friday on the road (Holston -> Marion VA)

We chose to continue on River Road Friday morning, and climb back to US 11 later, rather than backtrack and climb right away up US 19. Our ride on the river road was sweet, though punctuated by tire problems, and our climb up Hayter's Gap was old fashioned work. A beautiful road that took us up from the Holston River over into a lovely valley full of cattle and homes, but a climb that took the tuck out of us. Past Meadowview we rejoined US 11 and headed toward Chilhowie for lunch and laundry. There we met Steve Fulks, an Oklahoman cross country cyclist riding from Oregon to Yorktown, VA along the Adventure Cycling Transamerica Route. Seated on a fully faired recumbent and pulling a two wheeled Burley trailer, his white beard sharpened by his browned road patina and sparkling attitude, he was eager to hear, and praise, our kids' work. Later in the day we met again, at the Subway up in Marion, where we shared more stories and he asked more questions. Please go read his journal at " www.grandpalosthismind.com " He became our road hero fast. Hungry Mother State Park was chock full tonight (a Friday night on a Fourth of July week), so we are forced into an EconoLodge, and the special "two footlongs for 9.99 deal" at Subway, which, by the way, should be an official sponsor. We love it! Today was 41 miles and it felt sluggish. Tomorrow we're hoping to put the flat gods behind us and rip off some miles in the morning. We'll slide by Wytheville and the intersection of I-64 and I-81 late morning, fly into Pulaski and the "Wilderness Road Museum" early afternoon, slip past Radford to Claytor Lake State Park. The weekend crush on campgrounds may hurt us again, so we'll be creative (and not call ahead!). The kids are great, the land is lovely (and they know it), and the peoople we meet nicer (they know that too).
--PJClements

Thursday on the road

Thursday was another long day (55 miles), and one full of cool surprises. We blasted through Johnson City early in the morning and headed to the second of the "Tri-Cities," Bristol. There in the lee of the Bristol Motor Speedway the god of flats returned, and I spent the first of two days tending to Charlotte's rear wheel. In the middle of Bristol, TN we were tranformed riders in Bristol, Virginia, and we reveled in having made it to a new state. We scored a new state photo, then headed up the road we'll ride for many days, Route 11, here part of the old "Wilderness Trail." We hit the absolutle lovely town of Abingdon after lunch, and we explored the Barter Theatre, the handsome downtown, including a la-de-da shoppe where one can buy a sequinned
T-shirt reading "Don't Frown / Get Down!", which became our mantra for a bit. We headed out of town and up Route 19, the road that heads northwest into the mountains, for our stay at Riverside Campground. A long slow climb was rewarded by a very fast, long downhill to the
Holston River, a downhill that had each of smiling so hard we were giggling at the bottom.

In this crossroads called "Holston" we turned up River Road and headed up the North Fork of the Holston River (c.f. "Tears in the Holston River" by the elder Johnny Cash imo the death of Mother Maybelle Carter) for an absolutle exquisite ride in deep Virginina mountain land. The river on our right edge, Clinch Mountain beginning its knife rise several feet to our left, the road rising and falling only briefly with the run of the river and creeks from above, tunneled in shade and alone on the road, two abreast. We camped at the Riverside Campground, met some folks from the area who return each year, even a little eight year old who snookered some change from Charlotte in the game room in the barn behind the camp office. We slept on the river's edge, the night sounds punctuated by some insistent bullfrogs, and a couple of kids frog-gigging at night, unsuccessfully it seems, and, after one boy stove his toes against the fire ring outside our kids' little tent city, painfully. In the mountain river air, we slept like cordwood.

-PJClements

Wednesday on the Road

After a luxurious day of slow living, laundry, naps, and no riding, the crew gassed up early on July 4 and hit the road. We left Newport KOA and headed toward the Davey Crockett SP, but we were rocking so fast that we'd hit Greenville (home of Andrew Johnson, a nice town, but not much of a President) long before lunch, making Davey Crockett not much of a ride. So we headed on toward Johnson City, but the campground there (and by "there" I mean a many mile detour, and miles are precious by bike) didn't answer the phone. Our road now, 11E, was our friend, so we got a good deal at the 11E Inn on the south end of Johnson City, and we called it a day. Our longest yet, 60 miles, and we were proud.

-- PJClements

Monday Not on the Road

Slept in way past six. PJC pedaled into town to do a trailer full of laundry and snag a cup of coffee. Everyone else slept until the sun said different. Slow breakfast, followed by naps, then the pool, then some postcards, maybe another nap, or a shower. Then dinner and the sugar fiesta. The campfire will work tonight. The kids' bikes haven't moved, nor have we much, but that's what today is for, rest, healing, growing strength through quiet.

Wednesday will take us out of Newport along 321, a greendotted highway here with some squiggly lines, aiming for Davy Crockett's Birthplace State Park off old Route 11, southwest of Johnson City. Thursday should take us to Warriors' Path SP just past Kingsport, and Friday to Hungry Mother State Park in Marion, Virginia! But one day at a time, and always in the inescapable "right now, this moment here."

-- PJClements

Monday on the Road

MONDAY : We awoke as usual at six, quietly focused on breaking camp and not bothering the hundreds of other KOA-ers packed into the modest camground, focused too on our goal, our longest day yet, but one that would lead to a total day off. We packed and skedaddled.

Three miles up 321 leading out of Townsend, the anticipated climb began. Our morning ride toward our first town, Pigeon Forge, included two squiggly lines on the map, and we were headed up the first. As we left the creekbed, the road grabbed the hill on our left, and we then cranked up from the creek quickly, soon in the canopy of the trees we'd just seen, then up and up each twisting rise from Townsend's coziness down below. Time after time, after each slow crawl up a bend, the mountain always on our left, the road would snap up sharp, sometimes left, with nothing in sight but upness. sometimes right, letting let us see and fear the switchback's dizzying upward progress. Looking up into the trees across a chasm and seeing a car twist nosedown from an impossible height shook each of us, each time. The cars and trucks that waited for a clear passing moment were patient, everyone knowing that each machine was working hard. Five miles up we broke out of the climb, knowing that we'd done something remarkable.

The climb out of Townsend delivered us into the Wears Valley, and we ripped along the rollers fast, glad of the freedom and the apparent declivity, mindful though of the next squiggle on the map. The Wears Valley narrowed soon, the hills on both sides focusing tighter, and we then began to swoop and fall with 321. Soon, however, it became clear that this squiggle was our friend, that the second climb we feared was a four mile cascade into Pigeon Forge. Cool. We may have missed Dolly Parton down in Pigeon Forge, but we liked our end of the deal.

The next few miles on 411 North was a five lane lesson in neon tourist attractions. A right hand turn onto 441 would have taken us to Dollywood and Gatlinburg, but the left we sought took us past miles of its buildup. Hundreds of new motels, franchises, Musicsl Attraction Tonight! dinner theatred, helicopter cum NASCAR entertainment complexes with Casey Kahne Appearing Tomorrow! flanked us, the momentary glitz startlingly close to ancient, dripping hills. At Sevierville we escaped the entertainment parkway, turning east along old friend 411 and heading northeast toward Newport, ten miles rolling, ten miles tight and a bit gnarly. When we crossed I-40 as it emptied out from the Smokies and Asheville to our right, we entered
the land of "Interstate Interchange," which soon gave way to 'Highway Leading into the Old Part of Town" and the entrance into the Newport / Gateway to the Smokies KOA.

After setting up camp, Charlotte, Caitlyn and I made a shopping run while Paige and Will napped, the shoppers being those most keen for our day off "fiesta and sugar fest," something that included 'SMores and Cosmic Brownies, each merely a vehicle for mainlining refined sugar. We ate an excellent dinner -- lots of salad, vegetables, pasta, bread -- and then headed straight for the campfire ring hoping for the sugarfest. A recalcitrant campfire disappointed us, though as whipped as we were, a "Well, that just means more for tomorrow night, PJC!" sounded pretty reasonable, and we all fell into our tents, the first week of riding and accomplishment behind us.

We're a week down now, having earned a sabbatical. A couple hundred miles, big chunks of two states, a legitimate piece of The South, the suggestion of mountains and a good start at highland culcture, freshly worn in butts -- our team has grown fit in body, spirit, and vision this week, able to camp, ride, cook, share, suffer, see joy in simple things, spread joy and wonder with friends and strangers alike. In our group, Will is the joyful glue; Caitlyn is the singling omphalos of energy; Paige, the flying ruminator; Charlotte, the Queen Bee, fluttering. They are a terrific ensemble, and they're getting it done. What that "it" is will differ one from the next, but we getting it all done together.

-- PJClements

Sunday on the Road

SUNDAY: After the lovefest at the Grand Vista Hotel in Vonore, and a killer breakfast (not many of the kids went for the sausage gravy and biscuits, but I didn't need coaching), we hit the road, right at our now customary 7.30 mark. At the bottom of the driveway we had another flat. Requiring a double patch, a fresh rimstrip, it was a lesson in humility, but a great omen for the day, since we rode smoothly thereafter. While stopped, we were graced by the chatter of a fellow hotel guest, a fellow from California, earlier from Romania, who was scouting real estate in the area. His steady patter of stories, and his unbidden advice for re-seating tires, helped us pass the time and appreciate the riding that followed. Up the "Warrior and Traders Road," the "Federal Road," or plain old Route 411, we smoothed the rest of the morning past invisible Greenback toward Maryville, twenty miles between towns. A Walmart the size of Mercer County beckoned for tire supplies and a Subway lunch another spot where people came up to the kids, today in Sunday clothes, and said, "Saw you back there just past Vonore. Where you riding to?" The kids' responses invariably light up our new friends, and they tell the kids 'what a great thing it is they're doing, and how lucky they are, and how good it is that youth in America..., and be sure to ride safe...' From my perspective, however, the kids inspiring others IS cool, and the excitement they help create in others reflects back into them too.

From Maryville we turned east toward the mountains, and began a long, steady climb out of town on a very busy road, for Sunday afternoon traffic was heading into the Smokies, the most heavily visited of all our National Parks. As town began to fade, we needed to re-water, so we stopped at an automatic carwash the last building in sight. Turns out automatic means no bathrooms or faucets, so we had to wait for a bay to come clear and then we popped some quarters in, turned the dial to "Clear Rinse," grabbed the water gun wand and blasted out bottle
and camelbacks full. Some of the other patrons gave us an odd look. Others were more polite and just pretended we were invisible.

The next few miles were awesome. Easy riding with our own shoulder lane, sweeping turns into a rising wall of mountain, then tighter turns while the parkway lost a lane, but honored the shoulder, we could tell we were now inside the hills. Townsend appeared, and our KOA shouted out for us, just one turn ahead of the National Park boundary. We set up camp, and immediately hit the river. We were a bit bonked by the long day in the sun, so the calf-deep creek and tall
canopy was a relief. Camp neighbors let the kids borrow their river tubes, so some friendly floating and rock bumping ensued. That night, the crew forsook their tents and all slept under the stars, or the leaves, a jumble of tiredness, a litter of large pups collapsed in a pile in front of the tents, limbs and hair and wet clothes all askew.

One more riding day until rest, another day on the edges of the Smokies.

-- PJClements

Saturday on the road

Saturday was weird and terrific. Who'da thunk?

We rolled up 411 with the mountains on our right shoulder. A whole lane of shoulder just for us! From Delano to Etowah we rolled in the morning, forearms dripping with morning fog. Past Etowah, the god of flats attacked. Cailtyn had a rear flat, which I fixed, but which blew after I pumped it up. I fixed this flat, and then replaced a whole front tire whenI saw a bulging sidewall. Three. Four miles onward Paige's rear picked up a nail and flat it went. This tire repair took over an hour and a half because the rear tire bead was oddly too tight. Finally resorted to destroying the tire and cutting out the bead to fix the situation. Replace the tire and tube. Tube immediately blew (brand new wheel, new rimstrip, new tire, new tube!!! Argh!). Repaired this tube. Five. No mileage, the sun was up, patience was out, heat was tough. Subway for lunch!!! and a new attiude. Rolled further up 411 to Vonore and headed downhill to Tellico Lake and our campsite. "Closed for the season."! Never opened in 2007. Holy Moley. So, back up hill to solution next. Flat tire #6 -- on a Bob trailer. Easy as pie now, with loads o' practice. Gathered by a general store to plan the next plan, since it was close on 7.00 pm and we needed a place to stay. Were prayed over by some Harley looking folks, nice as can be. Awesome. Two other campsites full, two rooms left at only motel in area, four miles distant. Took it. Were absolutely enveloped by niceness at Grand Vista Hotel, Vonore TN. Check in lady gathered food from the kitchen and just gave us our dinner. Kids were psyched!! for brunch next morning. Triathlon athletes sharing motel for a Sunday meet fawned over Will, Caitlyn, Paige, and Charlotte, taking pictures and telling them how inspring they were. Kids handled all that just fine. Sunday morning will chow down on breakfast and hit the road, aiming for Townsend TN, at the base of the Smokey Mountain National Park. Road at the end of the day is curvy on the map. They know what that means.

Last night (I'm typing Sunday morning) as we gathered to reflect on the day, it was unanimous that this was our best day, and that the crushing flat tires and the more crushing "What!? Oh, no." of the "Closed for the season" sign in fact helped make it the best day. "How else would we have met that couple at the store?, or seen this place?" It's working.

-- PJC

Friday on the Road

A very quick summary: FRIDAY we left Chatsworth and headed north along the Old Federal Road, often 411, often the old road. The morning was soft and cool and fog strewn as the mountains lightened up on our right. We eventually left the old road and picked up the busier, but faster 411 headed north. We soon crossed into Tennessee, clear nopt only because of the sign that said so, but because of the fioreworks stand that appeared two hundred yards further, which confirmed the truth. We rolled northward on Federal Road, gathering our legs, warming the day as the cool lifted, the heat began, and then got serious. We shifted campground goals from one up the Ocoee River to one on the valley level further north, right at the mouth of the Hiwasee river. We made camp and then road 2.5 miles upstream into the Cherokee Forest. The kids walked down to the river and sat on a large boulder on the edge of some rapids, steep cliffs on the right and left. We had nothing but the sound of ancient waters rushing. Back in camp, we jumped into the river. Bracing would be a polite word. Terrific is how we all felt afterwwards. Thunder rolled up next, and the mountain storm has a fresh feel. All four kids climbed into one tent to play memory games while the storm spit at us. The storm passed gently, but the one womb tent refused to usher forth its quadruplets. Finally, they emerged, and food and sleep ensued. A great day. -- PJC

Thursday on the Road

Thursday,6/28: Calhoun -> Chatsworth, GA. 28 miles.

Today began w/ a lovely morning ride up Newtown Road to New Echota, where we stopped for an tour of the last capital of the eastern Cherokee, and the site of the infamous final treaty between Cherokee Nation and the US. The visit was great, though we all almost succumbed to the dark and cool of the slide show.

Onward 17 miles up the old Federal Road to the Vann house, and more Cherokee story, and insight into 19c farm and plantation life.

Our bodies were feeling the effects of early cycling training, and the heavy heat (96 in town), so at late lunch in Chatsworth, prior to our 8 mile and 2000' climb to Fort Mountain SP, we decided that that climb, on this afternoon, might do us in. Later, no sweat. This early, risky to overall success. We thus snared a couple of motel rooms, and did some microwave "camp cooking," and worked steadily at hydration. We also got to watch a little TV and fall off the "digital /consumerism / we're outside" wagon. All the kids' spirits and attitudes have been terrific, and this little break jacked them up even higher. We might just fly into Tennessee this morning, riding north with a wall of mountains to our right, heading for the Hiwasee River and a Tennessee SP right at the gap in the Cherokee National Forest where the river rips out of the mountains. Not too long of a day, and we cross into a new state: just what we tenderfeet tourers
need!

--PJClements

ps: Thanks Ms. Gordon for the weblog reply! The crew thought that was
awesome. Connectivity a question mark for the next few days.

Thursday Report

Red Mountain SP to a KOA outside Calhoun, GA. 40 miles today, and they seemed easy, but weren't. Sixteen miles into the almost unfixable bike disaster fell: Caitlyn's chain popped into the spokes,shearing off the heads of six spokes.Yikes. PJC trued up and retentioned the wheel as well as could be, then we unloaded the bike as much as possible, and off we ran. Adairsville had no shop, so we hoped for help in Calhoun. We rolled on gingerly but quickly, outhustling a thunderstorm into town. In Calhoun we found a part-time shop run by Marcus, a former racer and great mechanic, who rebuilt the wheel, fixed up the bike, and had to be forced to take payment. Restored, we made it to our goal, the KOA outside Calhoun, and cooked up our dinner. An on-site petting zoo, including llamas, goats, peacocks, and roosters, tickled us all. 40 miles: easy roads but riding challenges.

--PJClements

Report from the road

SUNDAY everyone gathered at Peddie, and it took us a while to move gear into the BOB trailer bags, learn how to assemble and stow tents, make a good cooking fire, and how, finally, to ride our long, laden bikes. Our practice ride was a ten mile circuit to Caitlyn Nixon's house, which enabled us to try out our climbing/shifting descending/braking with trailer skills. We packed everything in our vehicles and then headed for Cranbury for dinner, showers and a bit of
sleep.
9.75 m/9.75 total.

Yesterday, MONDAY, was a rapid but long run from Jersey to Atlanta, 840-some odd miles from 3.00am until 6.00pm arrival at Red Top Mountain SP 25 mile NW of town off I-75. Dave Babcock was a champion, offering himself and his titanically cool truck for the ride. We left the mountain for a Pizza Hut and then climbed back up into our tents for some earned sleep.
0/10

TUESDAY
If Dave Babcock was THE MAN Monday, George Clements was the savior leader today. We drove back into the suburbia today to meet George and enjoy his and Mary's hospitality. George then snagged cousin Dave Clements's minivan for our custom tour of Atlanta. We headed to the King Center on Auburn Avenue and Martin and Coretta Scott King's watery tombs. Then we ducked into the Ebenezer Baptist Church where a great gift was given us. Ebenezer Church is now a historic building that the National Park Service operates as part of the King Center. As we entered the sanctuary, a Ranger gathered a group before him in the front pews, so we snuck in behind to listen. What unfolded was no mere Park Ranger talk. The Ranger, a 70+ man with ebony skin and a great baritone, began a quick commentary on the role of history, but soon began the rhythmic repetition and rising alliterative parallelism of a serious sermon. A few more minutes and he was in full voice and we were entranced. Turns out our Ranger was Reverend Williams from Macon way. He'd known and worked w/ King and had been jailed 18 times in non-violent civil rights activities. We could not have dialed up a better morning.

Amid stories of Atlanta's history and his own work with Coretta Scott King in the early 70s, George toured us through town. He aimed us to lunch at the Varsity (awesome and deadly), and then the Cyclorama about the battle of Atlanta. He then drove us all back to the campground, leaving us alone w/ our bikes and wits. We cooked dinner and hit the tents for a good sleep. The morning will take us to Calhoun and New Echota and the reality of our ride. More later from down the road.

However, most important is this: these kids are awesome!, working hard, embracing their opportunities. They'll do fine all the way.

--PJClements

The "Juniors' Ride"

Here's the text on the Peddie Website page promoting this bicycle ride. -- PJClements
.............................................................

THE “JUNIOR” RIDE – A Journey of National and Personal Discovery.

Do you want a journey this summer of unpredictable richness? // Want a challenge unlike others out there? // Want to do something special, something epic, something to which others might say “Whoa?….Really? You did that?” // (This trip is open to all returning Peddie students, not just juniors)

After gathering at Peddie and then driving south, you will begin your adventure at the Ebenezer Baptist Church and the King Center in Atlanta, and then, in a fitting coda almost a thousand miles later, you will conclude your trip through Georgia, Tennessee and Virginia on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on the National Mall. Now who, besides you, will have done that??

There is one slot open for an eager adventurer, male or female, for this three week bicycle tour that follows a handful of powerful American narratives, a ride conceived by Juniors at Peddie and designed by junior Charlotte Babcock ’08 (working with Mr. Clements). Open to all returning Peddie students, the trip requires an eager attitude and a considerable level of fitness. To move nimbly and quickly, and to ensure easy contact with the people we meet along the way, the group will remain small: three to five students, and one adult (PJClements). We ride the best backroads we know; we camp in the evening (commercial and state park campgrounds are scattered along the way), and do our own cooking, a style of travel called “self-contained bicycle touring.”

DATES: June 24-July 18 +/- [24 days = Three weeks of bicycle touring, three days of pre/post travel = 900 + cycling miles, self-contained.]

TRIP COST, GEAR: Transportation, food, shelter, and group expenses will be divided equally. Preliminary research suggests maximum expense to be under $1,000 per person. Peddie will provide camping gear, cooking equipment, and bicycle travel trailers (BOB trailers): riders provide their own clothing, cycling gear, and bicycle.

INTERESTED? Contact teacher Pat Clements [pclements@peddie.org] or Project Leader Charlotte Babcock ‘08 [cbabcock@peddie.org].

TRIP ROUTE: Specifically, here’s a more robust version of the route. We will ride from Atlanta (GA) -> New Echota-> Chattanooga (TN) -> Knoxville -> Bristol -> Wytheville (VA) -> Roanoke -> Lexington -> Charlottesville -> Washington DC (see map above). We begin at the Ebenezer Baptist Church and the King Center on Auburn Street in Atlanta, where Martin Luther King, Jr. was born and later preached; we end on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, where he delivered his most famous speech. Within this story of civil right are more American stories, all linked. We ride through the rural south, toward Chattanooga along General Sherman’s 1864 Atlanta campaign (in reverse); in Georgia and Tennessee we ride through the Cherokee story of their Trail of Tears (1838). Further up in Virginia we encounter the Scots-Irish 18c settlement of the uplands; we ride across the Wilderness Trail; we touch sites of the Civil War, the climbs and descents of the New River Valley and the Shenandoah Valley, we visit Thomas Jefferson’s home and university in Charlottesville, we explore the rich land of northern Virginia, and we focus our conclusion on the Nation’s Capitol. By traveling old US11 for a long section, a road that was both “The Wilderness Road” and “The Virginia Valley Road,” we bicycle travelers are assured of campgrounds, historic sites, and a steady sequence of towns, cities, colleges and universities as well as the connectedness to civilization that a more distant or less densely populated route might not include. The 900+ mile route includes plenty of subtle natural beauty, especially while riding between the ridges of the Tennessee and Virginia valleys. and plenty of gorgeous land and people every step of the way.

ORDER OF MAGNITUDE: Any three week tour = 20 riding days @50 miles/day = 1,000. So, delete a riding day for an additional rest day off the bike; subtract two more riding days for weather, oddities, or opportunities; increase the average of actual riding days and/or subtract 150 miles from 1,000. So a three week tour with a small, able group can cover 850-1,00 miles with plenty of flexibility and necessary wiggle room. This ride, designed by Charlotte Babcock ‘08 fits these design principles perfectly.