I walked into the community center originally planning to use their bathroom. Two gracious and kind women were mopping the floors as I peaked my head in. As I got ready to leave the building, I noticed a washing machine and dryer. Sheepishly asking if I could use the machines, permission was granted and I had the first day of biking in clean clothes for a week or so (albeit short-lived).
As I got ready to leave the park, I stopped to fill my water bottle within one of the shelters. I struck up conversation with two construction workers: Anthony and Joe... I believe. Joe, if that's not your name, I apologize, your kindness and helpful advice was not forgotten. So, after starting to feel a bit lonely, I got rejuvenated by talking to these gentleman. I set out for my eventual target of Lookout, KY.
About 10 miles out of Council, I had the delightful surprise of Tom catching up to me. As always, we had tons of stories and information to share with one another. He was coming from Rosedale, a grueling 15 miles away from Council. We biked together to Haysi and agreed to get some food at a restaurant. We settled in at a pizza place where I had spaghetti and Tom had the all-you-can-eat salad bar. Tom won.
After having a really pleasant lunch, Tom found a place for the night at a church down the street as I got ready for another ascension up more mountains. We said farewell, and I started climbing.
Even though I thought I had waited long enough for the spaghetti to settle, I felt it with every pedal. I ended up walking a good amount of the climb, which actually can be quite the refreshing change of pace. So I checked out Breaks Park, which was sweet and called the Freeda Harris Baptist Center in Lookout, KY where I left a message. Coming downhill from Breaks, I entered Kentucky.
I should have noted this earlier but once you hit Council, VA, you are in absolute mountain-man, mining, and coal town territory. It's a total different sense of things. The communities change, the people, and housing are all different. You're in gritty, hard-working American grounds. This was evident upon entering Elkhorn City (and earlier but I didn't really notice until the states changed).
Passing through Elkhorn City, I was exhausted. Dogs barked as if set on a chain reaction while I biked out from the town. Seeing how easily Tom got housing at a random church, I attempted the same. I found the Elkhorn Community Church, and got the contact number for the pastor. I called him and asked if I could sleep behind the place and he had no problem with it, so, praising god, I wheeled my bike behind the complex.
As I did, my curiosity got the best of me and I went to see if the church was unlocked. It was, so I went in to use the bathroom. The place was huge so I did some snooping. Entering the kitchen, my conscious told me not to but I couldn't help but check the fridge for some soda (I am now an addict). With none in sight, I went through the back door to set up my tent.
No more than five minutes later, I hear the same back door swing open and an angry voice say, "What do you want!?".
Turning around, I said, "I'm a TransAmerican cyclist, Pastor Willis said I could sleep back here".
"I'm going to call him on the phone. You stay here". It wasn't until he pointed at me saying the word "you" that I noticed the tire iron in his hand.
A few moments later he came out and told me a neighbor had called him seeing me snooping around the building. He asked why I hadn't stayed in the community center down the road where they had food and drinks. I hadn't known about it. When he left, I began to wonder whether I really wanted to camp here. I decided, "To hell with this", and headed for Lookout (my original goal) about 10 miles away.
Leaving the church parking lot, I had my first scary encounter with 4 large dogs that leapt out from their yard as soon as I entered the street. Two surrounded me on either side and I literally prepared for their jaws to latch onto my calf. However, as I pedaled faster, yelling "Go Home!" the whole 20 yards; they ventured too far from their boundaries and retired.
Fast forward an hour later, another steep climb, and I'm finally reaching the Freeda Harris Baptist Center. The doors are locked and there's no one in sight. There is a woman next door watering her plants and I ask if there's another number other than the one I'd already used to contact someone. Her reply, "The family that operates that building have been gone the last day or two".
Great.
Feeling beat, I defeatedly laid down on the picnic table out front and plotted my next move. I would just camp on the property. Half an hour later, I see a man walking down the street with a pickaxe. In hopes he wouldn't murder me, I gave a friendly wave and received nothing but a cold glare.
Guess I'm camping behind the church and out of sight tonight. I was not enjoying my time in Kentucky.
Just when I thought all was lost, a car drove up with the two most charitable, genuinely kind, most warm-hearted souls I've ever met; Greg and Travis. These guys... I can't even describe my gratitude toward them. They opened up the building, showed me all the food and drink I could eat with smiles on their faces, and the showers! Oh the shower! They told me to get cleaned up and come outside to join them in cooking hot dogs.
The two gentleman were polar opposites in appearance. Greg with his beer belly and careful, concentrated word usage. Travis with his skinny, lean body, slightly nervous persona, yet quick wit.Greg repeatedly made sure I was comfortable, getting me sodas, ensuring I ate first, and always saying, "Hey, when you're here, you're family", backing it up with the type of smile that makes your eyes get smaller. These guys were angels. We talked for hours about the town, its boom during the peak of the mining industry and its recent collapse along with much of the employment.
I could write all night about these two. Without them... Tonight would not have been as it was. Greg and Travis, thank you so very, very much.
Overlook just a few yards before Breaks Park.
...Self-explanatory I guess...
Deemed "The Great Canyon of the South": Breaks Canyon.
Founded by Daniel Boone as a passage through the mountainous Appalachians in 1767. Orginally the sacred hunting ground of the Cherokee and Shawnee (?) indians.
Elkhorn City
Beautiful beautiful. Xoxo
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