Where Have All the Flowers Gone?

First and foremost, a huge thank you to Dave Hand, Mark Sansone, Walter Bradhering, and my family for the donations toward the Conservation Fund yesterday. Mark, you have a heart of gold, my friend. I'll be at Joey's sooner than later, you can count on that. Dave, I shall be seeing you very soon in California, my friend. You'll have to show me around. Walter, I don't think I know you and that makes the donation even cooler. Respect. Annie, mama, papa, and Aunt Kimmy; thanks for supporting me.

Aight, back to the grind.

Waking up behind the Booneville Presbyterian Church was slow as usual but I did get out at 10. Maggi and Kyle went to get breakfast in town around 930. I hit the road with my tunes grooving. The first 15 miles weren't bad but I suddenly hit a wall (or a hill) shortly later. Taking my time, I eventually made it to the first "restaurant" I saw in the town of McKee. Eating at DQ had me basically glued to my chair with all of the wonderful fats swirling around in my stomach for almost two hours. It was a nice two hours though. When I finally felt like I could move, I proceeded outside where I met a kindred soul by the name of Donnie Johnson.

Probably in his mid 50's, Donnie had a weathered face with ice blue capillaries spreading across his cheeks and the ever-popular beer gut sported by many older Kentuckians. He told me the route up to Berea wasn't too bad with several hills to watch for. When I asked what to expect in the next town of Sandgap, he lit up exclaiming, "Why, I grew up there, Let's see." As he proceeded to tell me what sort of "attractions" were up there, many of them were followed by, "Come to think of it, that's no longer there either." When I got to Sandgap, Kentucky's culture and economy kind of jumped out at me. I got to thinking.

The only real local businesses I've encountered that are still somewhat working are small ice cream parlors (which 80% of the time I am unable to pass by without splurging) and mechanic/automobile shops. Other jobs are mostly corporate owned fast food joints, dollar stores or the mine shafts. Even (especially) restaurants have a hard time making it because the cheaper fast food counterparts are easier on the wallets of many poverty stricken residents. 

 Passing through Sandgap after talking with Donnie was seeing the economic toll happening in real time. He had noted there was one gas station left of the previous three, and when I got to it, it had very recently closed its inside shopping area. Now, I attempted to find why the automobile industry was so prevalent in Kentucky. Here's my theory.

I think when the Ford T came out, places in the West were one of the last to get their hands on an automobile. When they did, I believe it was an absolute godsend. With such hilly terrain and difficulty with horses, the vehicle was able to lug all of the industrial coal, timber, and people up and down these big hills. I think this is also why man and his masculine, working identity; the truck, get along so intimately.

Anyhow, the bike ride up to Berea wasn't bad at all. I got ice cream in Sandgap (my godsend) and had a really nice interaction with a guy who couldn't believe I'd biked from New Jersey. He was all smiles and laughs wishing me a good trip. 

Another kinda funny part of the day was when I was biking up a hill attempting to remember Donnie from DQ. I was saying his name out loud for memory purposes and yelled, "Donnie! Donnie Wahlberg! Wahlberg! Mark Wahlberg!" As I looked to my left around the bend, a family of 5 was seated on their lawn staring at me nervously. They had definitely heard me. Attempting to assure them of my sanity, I gave a wave, which was followed by a blank stare. As I was still waving, I lost control of the bike and veered off the road into the grass. Cutting my losses, I accepted the unfortunate interaction that will probably leave a Southern Kentucky family with mixed feelings about cyclists.

So! I made it to Berea. I'm staying at a campground where cyclists get a discount and can camp for a mere $7. I stopped in at the Berea College to look around and hopefully will be able to learn more about its history tomorrow morning before I leave.

Cheers!

One of numerous down-and-out gas stations/restaurants in the area. History breathes in this one.

There might be more churches than houses down here. I am in the heart of the Bible Belt South. This church stole the same quote I'd seen on another church's billboard about 30 miles earlier. 

A rest stop in a town called Big Hill, KY. I dreaded this place all day because I thought I'd have to climb it. Turns out, it was one of the longest, most scenic downhills I've had yet. 

A poor picture of Berea College. As I left, it suddenly occured to me I hadn't taken any pictures of it so I rushed this.

    Meadowland Campgrounds in Berea.

Fun Fact: I had no idea Kentucky was on the Union side during the Civil War. Sorry Pops, I know you're cringing right now.

Onward!

This morning, I woke up around 830 after waking up several times during the night. Breakfast from David more than made up for it. There was strawberry shortcake, fresh oranges, apples, bananas, cold cereal, orange juice, coffee, bread, and a slice of orange cake. David was great company to talk to about the neighborhood, wildlife, his cats, and of course the coming trail. With NPR radio playing in the background, he gave me some helpful pointers on where to go. I felt great hitting the road this morning.

I biked into Hazard today, one of Kentucky's larger towns with a population of about 5,000. The appearance of the town suggested economic hardship and the buildings resembled a shantytown. I did some history homework.

Hazard is the central area in Kentucky for the coal trade. However, when the Appalachia's were still populated by the early pioneers, foreign investors bought up almost all of the mineral rights when the mountain men were still just getting used to having cash, and eager to acquire more. Since then, nothing has changed. Major corporations still own most of the mineral rights and the hard-working Joe's don't make jack from the dangerous labor. To make matters worse; health and environmental problems are abundant in the area from strip mining and the burning coal mines. There was actually a "boiling water hazard" because the local water was temporary polluted from the mining. It's rather depressing to see the conditions.

Also, I don't mean to complain but I haven't  received any (Edit: Logging in this morning, I had 4 that I was unaware and 2 new ones from yesterday :)) of donations for The Conservation Fund. Just throwing that out there... now I feel like an ass.

Anyway, after stopping at a KFC (bad idea), I left Hazard and ventured down a busy intersection until I ran into a sign saying "Booneville 36 miles". I was sad. I thought I was much closer to my destination than I was. Progress was slow but those 36 miles were quiet, scenic, and serene. I wasn't as talkative or social today but I still met smiling faces in the few stores I took refuge in. 

With nothing left in the tank at 730 at night, I rolled into the Booneville Presbyterian Church and met two other bikers. Maggie, 19 and Kyle, 23 from Vermont. Kyle wasn't really as talkative (understandably so, long day) but Maggie and I chatted all night about our adventures so far. She's a musician and came from the Burlington area. We shared snacks by our tents in the little picnic area behind the church. She even smokes cigarettes (badass) while biking. How? I have no idea. We were sad to learn that we're in a dry county so no cold beers for us, which isn't a bad thing.

Tomorrow, I might set a goal for Berea, which is were they're heading. Berea is one of Kentucky's cities so it would be nice to get out of "bat country". I think I shall. Whatever though. I'll see where the road takes me. 

Dwarf, KY. About 7 miles before Hazard. 400 population, all families have ties since it was founded in the late 18th century. Actually, the original 5 or 6 families all still basically live there.

   Shortly after the "Booneville, Super Far Away" sign.

This is actually a road specifically made for ambulances to enter coal mines. They're in every coal mine... Not your average job. 

6 or 7 miles out of Booneville. I got rained on shortly after.

Sid, Bill, Deborah, Reagan, David, and David

I slept like a rock at the Freeda Harris Baptist Center and waking up/leaving was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I made myself some pancakes and sat out front to eat and survey the day. No sooner had I stepped outside, a man by the name of Sid pulled up in his truck looking for the owners of the baptist center. I told him they were away in Myrtle Beach and had been the last two days.

Sid sat down and we got to talking about  the coal mining industry. After that, we talked of the time he served in the military while visiting Texas, California, and Idaho. We sympathized with each other about the soldiers coming back from Iraq with missing limbs and mental problems. We talked of family, the old days, and the future. We spoke of the different trees and birds in the area and how him and his wife enjoy the evenings watching the woods tell their stories. Sid was just what the doctor ordered for the morning.

I started biking.

At one particular point about 15 miles in, I noticed a small convenient store called "Gary's Discount". I bought a large container of peaches and a coke. As I prepared to eat outside, the cashier told me I could stay inside and chat. 

Deborah and I talked and talked and talked. We touched on subjects such as life, love, death, religion and philosophy. She told me about her children, grandchildren and siblings. I shared with her about my family. We conversed about the contract of marriage, how it's never too late to find love, the trouble with drugs and alcohol, the peace and torment of death, and the joys of people. It was one of the most delightful conversations I've ever had, and with a total stranger; which in retrospect probably made the whole thing enjoyable. In the timeframe of one hour, maybe more, I felt like Deborah had made one of the strongest impacts on me as a person. She was so open. She gave me a big hug and I started biking again. I wish I got her picture. I have no doubt I will be getting back in touch with her somehow.

I continued biking.

25 miles later, I spotted a beer store. A cold 12 ounce of Budweiser sounded too good to pass up. Ignoring the illegality of the proposition, I bluntly asked the store owner Bill if I could just drink it on the spot. He allowed me to sit in the doorway and sip as we began to get to know one another. Bill grew up in the area and had never left. It was all he knew and he was more than content with that. As he put it, "There ain't no tornadoes, hurricanes, or tsunamis. Everybody here knows everybody. That boy who just came in, I played baseball with his father." I had to hand it to the guy, for 70 years old he looked great. He lived behind the store and closed at 10 while meeting and greeting all the inhabitants. Bill was good to me.

I biked 2 more miles.

Stopping at a place called "Fat Daddy's" for dinner (I would pay for it in more ways than cash), I met a man by the name of David who was exceptionally interested in my trip. He had a wife and two younger kids with him that were absolutely glued to Nickelodeon on the television. Bill had lived in Michigan and recently moved down to Kentucky for missionary work. He said I was more than welcome to stay at his church, get a shower, and have a nice meal. I was more than intrigued but I really wanted to make some headway that day so I kindly refused. He was currently doing construction on his church so they could house bikers. He also talked about backpacking with his family to Europe in the coming months, staying at hostels, ect. for a meager $1900 to see 14 countries. David was a good man.

Eventually, I reached the outskirts of Hindman and could not, for the life of me, find this church. I was given the wrong directions twice before a man named Reagan asked if I wanted a ride the 2 miles to the church. Throwing myself on a limb, I accepted. Reagan had lost his brother a couple years recently and was purchasing lanterns to lay next to the roadway where he was killed. The man had 7 kids and expressed his concern for the decay of the community. No one trusted anybody anymore. Many of the residents were strung out on drugs. It hadn't always been this way. As we pulled up to the church, the last thing he said was, "I just don't want my kids in this kind of environment." I looked at him sternly and said, "Ya know? That might be something you can't change but you'll always be the father of those kids. You show them what it means to be a man or a parent. That's something you can control." The way he looked at me made me feel like I had gotten through to him. In a five minute car ride, I learned a life lesson.

Turns out the church no longer houses cyclists and I was directed up the hill to a hostel specifically for cyclists. Enter David.

At the top of this huge climb, David was waiting with a cold glass of iced tea with an orange in it. I also learned my friends Narin and Alberto were there, absolutely flying through the past locations. 

David treated me like royalty. I was given a shower, a meal, a beer, ice cream, AND he washed all my clothes. We talked about politics, Obama, dogs, cats, the environment, the coal industry, and more politics. As Narin said, "The guy is an angel." After keeping David up for too long and noticing it was 10 o clock, I was given the traditional cyclist's shot of brandy and made my way to my tent. It is from here I am writing of today's encounters.

The weather for the next two days looks absolutely awful and I have no idea what I'm going to do. As the motto goes, "One day at a time".

The end of a long downhill after an arduous climb in Lookout, KY.

          One of many coal mines. The blue thing carries the coal out.

Waiting out a downpour on an abandoned store porch.

            Cycling in the downpour.

      I liked the look of this place, it was quiet and lonely.

Kentucky!

I wearily opened my eyes inside my tent around 8:30 and struggled my way out of the front flap. There were two friendly teenagers doing chores all over the park. Slow to get all my stuff together, and finding all my clothes wet, I took my time rolling up the tent, sleeping bag, and exercise mat. The valley, which had the sun bathing its sides the night before, was now completely shrouded in mist. Around 9:30, the community center across the street opened up. 

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

Difficult Climbs and Rewarding Descents

I got out of bed around 930 after originally waking up at 6 to see the sunrise. However, upon only seeing clouds, I dove back into the sack and passed out for several more hours. When I got ready to leave, I said my goodbye to Malcolm who offered me a shot (which I had actually prepared for) and accepted it to not seem rude. And because what the hell? 

Hitting the road, I made my way down to Meadowview where I stopped to refill my water in the center of town from a spicket. Two older men were sitting in rocking chairs conversing. They told me to let the faucet run a bit for extra cold water. We chatted for a bit and as I was leaving, they asked me where I was headed for the day. Upon telling them Council, they said, "Are you following SR 80 West?" 

"Why yes I am", I replied.

They exploded into maniacal bouts of cackling. "Boy, do you know what to expect that way?" 

"Nope, and I don't want to know" I said.

"Well, it'll make for a nice downhill at the end. That's all I'm gonna say."

Before I began heading up Hayden's Gap, I stopped by a creek to have a snack and get in the right frame of mind. I meditated by the river and felt really focused afterward; my breathing had slowed and made the biking a bit easier. The climb of Hayden's Gap was steep. I still panted like a dog the entire way up and may have set my own personal record for the amount of sweat perspired in an allotted time. However, as the man said, the downhill was amazing. It wasn't Vesuvius but speeds were up there. The road was a little more damaged then Vesuvius so I was more careful.

Shortly after Hayden's Gap, I rode into the Old Elk Methodist Church where bikers were able to stay for the night. I looked for Tom and Joe but there was no sign of them. Since it was still early, I decided I would gather myself, refuel and head for Coucil which was a good 20 miles away. Again, there was a steep ascent up a mountain. And again, the descent was awesome! It's funny that all of the cursing, panting, and loss of enthusiasm going up these mountains is immediatelly redeemed upon heading downhill. 

I cruised into the William P. Harris Park in Council, VA and set up my tent. For dinner, I had a granola bar with peanut butter. I also had soda, which is going to rot out my mouth if I don't take it easy on the stuff. Another really great day. 

Cycling all my stress away. 

          Snack time and meditation.

    Again, I don't how the panoramas look. This is right after the descent of Hayden's Gap.

   Rest stop in Rosedale. The South's biggest cash crop.

                      Honaker, Va

  William P. Harris Park is huuggee... And eerily empty.

     I think I chose a good spot to camp.

When You Pay for the Circus, Do You Stay for the Whole Thing?

I think my circadian rhythm is finally correct. I woke up at 8 this morning to a rather unsettling dream and spoke to my best bud Mike. It was a pleasant wake-up. However, mother nature didn't feel the same way. Forecasts for the day indicated thunderstorms and rain all day. A glance out the window told me what I already knew. 

I walked down to the lobby and asked the manager Chang Cheng Chen (that's really his name; Taiwanese) if I could delay checkout past eleven. He said, "Sure, sure! But I need to charge you past eleven." So I elected to take a rest day... And I am incredibly restless. It's funny, I'm so adapted to cycling that this motel seems rather unnatural. It's difficult to "enjoy" myself.

Around mid afternoon I set my chair outside to read when a person across the parking lot waved me over. I reluctantly went over and met the kindest man named Malcolm. I reached out and shook his arthritic-ridden hand. The guy's had a really tough life but he seemed to be making the best of it. We ended up conversing for over an hour and a half, talking of life, philosophy, and... Everything. However, it wasn't long before our conversation was interrupted by his "friends" Jesse and Greg. These guys immediately triggered my intuition. From the twitching, senseless conversation, and drug-addled symptoms, it didn't take me long to realize I shouldn't get too comfortable. I wouldn't usually write about something like this but it's not all roses and sunny days out there. It's important to be aware  of the good and bad. I found that smiling and nodding made them okay with me but I'm staying in my room for the rest of the day.

I called my dad today and while I was on the phone, I saw my buddies Joe and Tom come flying through the rain. I leapt out of my chair and waved my arms to and fro. They pulled over to the motel and we caught up on our recent adventures. We chatted for awhile until, again, we were interrupted by Jesse's mindless ranting. Joe and Tom left but not before we shared a lot of smiles, laughs and good tales. The plan is for us to reunite tomorrow close in a city called Rosedale where the lodging is free again :). 

So I actually didn't anticipate even writing a blog today but it seems I've "adapted" to doing this as well. It's a nice way of getting all my thoughts out while doing this whole trip "solo". I appreciate everybody reading, it's encouraging. 

Until tomorrow.

Shortcuts and Straightaways

Yesterday evening I enjoyed "Wreck It Ralph" (ironically) at the community park where I would be sleeping after the film. There was a myriad of people of all ages in the park, where there was soda and popcorn being sold for a relatively cheap price. It looked like an ingenious way to get the whole neighborhood out as well as generate money in a communal manner. Thw the movie wasn't bad at all either. As my sister Annie put it, Pixar really knows how to tug at your heartstrings.

So after the film I helped clean up some of the mess with some older adults. It was funny because I don't think they knew what to think of me. I looked like quite a character in the middle of rural Virginia; backwards hat, sleeveless shirt, hobo face, and bicycle house.

I chose a spot right next to a winding stream through the park. However, it was  next to a guy sitting on a bench. This guy Johnny was waiting for his girlfriend; the two were playing a treasure hunt and he had left a rose with a letter. He told me that if I saw a girl wandering through, I should guide her to the spot.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"Ralph, like the movie," I replied. 

Johnny smiled and ran off into the dark. As I finished setting up my tent by flashlight, I saw a girl in a white dress come sprinting down the small hill toward the picnic table. She snatched the letter with the rose and froze on one of the bridges overlooking the stream. Gazing down at the paper, her glance went back up the hill and she took off sprinting again. A smile crept upon my face. 

I went inside my tent, finally finished my first book "Man and His Symbols" by Carl Jung and passed out. A few mere hours later, I was awoken by dogs barking right outside my tent. It was coming from the other side of the fence that I had the misfortune of camping next to. The owner eventually got them to shut up and I was in dreamland again.

So! That brings me to today. I biked about 40 something miles on Lee highway. The shortcut was recommended by that guy Bruce (yeah..) because of the horror he told of awaiting me on the trail. I couldn't shake his words so I opted for the boring, steady elevation of the highway that shaved off a lot of milage. It was boring.

However, before I broke off the trail I ran into Ellie and Willam again. They were struck by the precipitation falling from my body. I was struck by there stamina, fitness, and awesomeness. I told them about the shortcut but my reluctance because of traffic. They advised me it should be fine so I finally decided to go for it. I hope I see them again.

I also ran into a bunch of Appalachian trailers outside the town of Atkin, VA. The one who's trail name (they get assigned these) was "Nameless" told me he had done the trail a few years ago. When I asked him how it was, he said, "It was fucking awesome. When I got home, I actually immediately thought of doing it again." The other hiker's names were "Waffles", "Jumper", "Flower", and "Big Cock". As I pulled away, "Big Cock" said, "Hey man, what's your trail name". I thought a moment and said, "Hot Wheels". Then I peeled out. Well, I kind of lost my balance and struggled out of the parking lot. It was rather funny. 

Now, I'm in a motel for the first time since Yorktown. It's nice but... It doesn't feel quite right. It sounds crazy but I miss sleeping under the stars in my tent. Corny.

Until tomorrow.

                   "Wreck It Ralph"

    The only time I really felt photogenic.