Trans Am: Week 3

Day 21: 25 miles

It’s the last day of Week 3! I can’t believe how fast it’s going by. We didn’t start riding today until 11 AM because neither of us slept very well last night. We expected rain, but did not expect the wind that came in. It rocked and flattened our tents for hours. I kept imagining the things we left on the table strewn around the field where this nice couple had let us camp. One particular cow complained about the wind all night long, moaning and mooing from a distant field. All of the new sounds played tricks on me, making me think somebody was walking around our campsite Stillness finally came around 3 AM, then I slept until an unprecedented 9 AM. It was still windy and cold (what’s up with how cold it still is?!?!), so we hunkered in our tents knowing we only had 25 miles to go and could not check into our hotel until 3.

It’s funny how you think a 25 mile day would be easy, but it seemed just as hard as the others, despite being more flat and shorter. We had our first headwind, and I think I also set out with the wrong mindset. Lesson of the day: You shouldn’t start any ride thinking it will be easy. You will be wrong.

I can’t let this post go past, however, without mentioning the amazing outhouse at the Bluegrass Texas longhorn ranch. It had so many inventions you would have thought Thomas Jefferson built it. There was a pulley with a weight on the end that pulled the door closed, and when the door closed tight, a little light came on. It had all kinds of little free toiletries, like wipes, men’s and women’s spray deodorant, new chapsticks, and toilet paper in containers to keep it from getting damp in the weather. I honestly could’ve hung out in there and read a book. There was even a little rug!

But I tore myself away from the composting, toilet, packed my bags, and we were ready to go.

We encountered rolling hills, 

fields of corn,

and picket fences.

It was a stark contrast to the gritty do-it-yourself nature of eastern Kentucky. We had truly left one world for another. 

Meanwhile, taking that idea a step further, we are staying in a fancy inn tonight, because Steve is coming to visit and we have a rest day tomorrow. So I’ve gone from the world of blue grass to blue blood. 

“Camp” tonight. Not sure all my grimy bags belong. I tried to recline on the bed when I arrived and discovered my legs were covered in bike grease, so I quick jumped off feeling unfit for this place.

Dinner was out at a “pizza pub,” one of the few restaurants open in this little town on a Monday. I had spaghetti and a beer called “shot gun wedding” (a brown ale)—my third beer in as many weeks. It was yummy. 😀🍻

Day 20: 33 miles

Today was just fun. We decided to split a 60 mile ride because we needed a break. First: we reached Berea, the official end of the Appalachian mountains!!!! Yay!!! 

Riding down Big Hill road:

First stop: Berea—gateway to the Appalachians. Also, home of Get Outside KY where we got Deidre’s brakes looked at and our chains cleaned up. Prettiest bike shop I’ve ever been in. They share the space with artists.

Then I ate this:

And suffered for 10 miles. 

But not too much, because the hills were smaller, the views were better, and the dogs were nicer. 

The town of paint lick was super cute. 

This tree ate a sign!

The road kept getting more and more narrow until it felt like a bike trail from home. 

This pup joined us for about 20 minutes. He was so happy and refreshing after the last few days. 

Soon enough we arrived at the Bluegrass Texas Longhorns Ranch, where the nicest couple has set up a campsite on their property. We have shelter, water provided in a cooler, the fanciest outhouse I’ve ever seen (with all kinds of toiletries provided), a bike pump, table, and amazing view. So I’m camping in a field in Kentucky next to a herd of Texas Longhorns! (There is a fence between us in case you think I really have lost my mind). 

These guys came by at dinner time. 

Dinner in camp? Tapatío Ramen and celery. Fancy!

Now I’m off to bed to the sound of cattle lowing. According to the rancher, the bulls on either side of the road will get into a mooing contest about territory at some point here, but then will settle down. So I’m looking forward to that!

Day 19:  59 miles

Forgot to take a pic, but this is where we camped in Buckhorn—where the fire fighter magically fixed Deidre’s bike.

This was our last full day of riding through the Appalachian mountains in eastern Kentucky, so it was a mix of farmland and houses with crazy dogs. 

We did find a restaurant and had our first meal in days that wasn’t bought in a gas station. The highlight: “honeybun cake” made by the owners wife. 

I might have seen a kindred spirit. 

It was another long day, with many dog encounters. The dogs were different than I expected. I thought each little town might have a pack of dogs that roamed loose that we would have to deal with. But it wasn’t like that.  we would come down from the mountain into a little hamlet, and the road would be lined with little houses in various states of disrepair. Most would have fences out front. Almost every house would have a dog. Fenced, tied, penned, loose. Now I know what Faulkner was talking about when he referred to a cur in the yard. The sound of rattling chains, huge paws thumping and scrabbling at the inside walls of wooden sheds, paws padding ever faster on the pavement behind you, barking, howling, growling, and all the time the incessant crowing of roosters. And ultimately the sound of our air horns. It honestly was a little like something out of a horror movie. Even as we climbed back into the hills we could still hear the barking down below.

But still, I can’t emphasize enough the kindness of the people we met. A sometimes baffling contrast. It was a world so different from ours. 

But then the farmland seemed to be winning out over the poverty, and for a while we relaxed…until we came to our last five miles. I’d made the mistake of not calling the community center where we wanted to stay until late. When I did, I found the number I had was wrong. When I tried to look it up, I discovered I didn’t have any Internet. Then the sun started dropping, the farmland changed back to little homes with big barking dogs, and the traffic kicked up. A teeny dog chased me into the road distracting me from what Deidre described as a wolf standing chained in the driveway with a huge collar on—just watching us go by. 

Not a fun situation, but then our luck turned. We arrived at the community center, got service so got a good phone number, found the key in its super secret hiding place, let ourselves in instead of having to camp. We even had bathrooms and running water, which we didn’t expect. 

The center was an old cabin from Appalachia that appeared to serve the motorcycle community.

My campsite for the night. I look kind of messy! I was so relieved we didn’t have to camp outside because all around us was the sound of barking dogs. I admit I needed a break.

Dinner in camp? Celery and peanut butter!

Day 17 & 18

We have been busy! Yesterday started with a wrong turn that lead to this beautiful view and a false start in Kentucky. 

When we realized our mistake, we backtracked into Virginia, adding 3 miles to our already long day; then we reentered Kentucky. 

Meanwhile, we had started the day prepared to meet the mean white dog and any other dogs we would encounter along the way. We had air horns and also hornet spray, the latter of which we did not want to use, but we’d  been told would be the only defense aside from bear spray, which we didn’t have.

We knew where the dog was because a previous cyclist had shown us on the map. Other cyclists said he would charge from out of the bushes. He’d bit one cyclist on the shin and ripped another’s panniers. 

Deidre saw him around the corner at the bottom of the hill waiting for us. So we dismounted, made sure our airhorns were ready, and walked on the insides of our bikes. Our plan was to keep walking, avoid eye contact, use the airhorn if he approached, and use the hornet spray (in the air in front of him, not on him) if the air horn didn’t work. 

He was a great Pyrenees. Over 100 pounds. This is a much friendlier looking version.

Anyway, our plan worked well. He paced, growled, and marked his territory as we approached. Then he was lunging, barking, and baring his teeth, trying to scare us—which he did pretty well. When he came too close on Deidre’s side, she laid on the air horn like it was World War II. Everybody in that hamlet must’ve woken up. He didn’t know what had happened and backed off, but then he came back and she used the horn again. Meanwhile, we had kept walking all this time and were passing his territory. He followed along next to us while barking and growling, but we knew we had won. Eventually he just watched us walk away. It was a good way to start the day because it gave us a lot of confidence to face the other dogs we would encounter.We were pumped with adrenaline after it was over, leaving both of us feeling like we could cry.

So far our two days in Kentucky have been a study in contrasts. There’s the slow heat of climbing a mountain in the sunshine, then the cold speed of descending in the shade. The constant hills and the flat of the floodplains. There are the friendliest people you’ll ever meet but then an excessive number of private property and no trespassing signs. 

There’s the stillness and stark beauty of the mountains and the cacophony of communities filled with barking dogs, rattling chains, and crowing roosters. I’d see one cute cottage with a cat perched on the porch railing then a trailer with a frothy dog tethered in the front yard. Sometimes it feels so peaceful and contemplative, other times it feels like a madhouse.

I do not have pictures of the dogs or houses in these areas. I was too focused on holding onto my bike, scanning around ahead and preparing to defend myself to risk taking out my camera or stopping in the road. But I can tell you what it was like. You know that scene from silence of the lambs when Elise has to walk down the cell block to meet Hannibal Lecter, and all of the occupants of the cells heckle her and throw insults at her as she walks by? That’s how it felt riding through some of these communities. It’s like waffle house where you can get your hash browns scattered, smothered, covered and chunked. In Kentucky they like their dogs—and they have them fenced, penned, tied, and loose. We had other dogs chase or follow us, but none was as threatening as the first. Although I had two chase me down a hill that were so big and loud I thought they were in front of me— then I heard their big paws gaining on me from behind, so I blew my airhorn behind me without loooking and they stopped. Wew! 

Meanwhile, nice people continue to come up and talk to us when we stop for water or bathroom breaks. This nice woman owns a coffee shop in Elkhorn and so enjoys cyclists and other outdoors people coming through that she put up a map so we can pin our hometown locations.

We’ve passed the dog AND found a place to get breakfast. Happy!

Another time, we were about to head down a huge hill with an unknown road closure at the bottom. While I waited for Deidre at the top of the hill, three different people stopped to tell me the road was closed and give me directions around the closure. “We don’t want you folks to get lost.”

A horse in the side yard.

This area of Kentucky was devastated by flooding last year. All of the houses we are passing are on a creek or the north fork of the Kentucky river. Thus all the homemade bridges in the driveways. 

But so much of the road was damaged by the water. You can see the work they’ve done to make repairs, but it is still in progress. In some places big chunks of the road are missing. I don’t have pictures of those because i was too busy avoiding the holes.

On day 17, after 76 miles and 13 hours on the road, we arrived in Hindman Kentucky where the Hindman first Baptist church put us up for the night,  complete with showers, laundry, and a pizza place across the street (veggies have been so scarce I bought a package of cucumbers at a dollar general and ate them all day like bananas).

Day 18 was an easier ride—50 miles, but we were so tired from the night before we started late around 11. This put us at a big disadvantage when Deidre‘s rear brake broke with 12 miles left and it was already late. She had to walk the steeper declines (which was a lot). We didn’t get to camp until 8:45, just before dark. We also had no plan for fixing her bike because there were no nearby bike shops and no obvious means of transportation. But again the friendly people of Kentucky stepped in. We asked a park ranger for help. He didn’t know what to do so he called the sheriff. He didn’t know what to do so he called the fire department, and a volunteer fire fighter fixed the bike in the dark. It was quite a scene at our campsite! 

Dinner in camp? Ramen noodles with tuna. Onward!

Day 16

Well, after all of the anticipation, today ended up being a big dud. We had planned to pack up at 5:30 AM before the rain started at 6 AM, but that rain had the nerve to arrive at 3 AM. I don’t mind riding in the rain when I can control what gets wet, but I didn’t want to pack up in the rain and soak all of my belongings. Dryness is a commodity I dont want to waste. 

So tomorrow we will ride the 70 miles to Hindman, climb the 8000 feet of elevation, and fend off the mean dogs, but we will have the benefit of doing it in the sunshine instead of the rain. 

I was really disappointed at first because I wanted to get it over with, but now that we’ve stayed, rested, and done all of our laundry, it seems like a good thing. 

We did have a break in the rain this afternoon, so we went for a mile walk to this pond. 

Other than that, this has been my day. 

Every night in the woods I have been sung to sleep by the song of the eastern wood peewee. It seems like he’s always over my tent calling out. Which is a comfort. Last night, I had the surprise of hearing a bard owl call twice in the distance before I drifted off. The exchange of two bard owls had welcomed us earlier when we arrived. I’ll be listening for them all again tonight. 🦉🐦

Lesson of the day: if you put two cold wet feet into a sleeping bag, you will still have two cold wet feet an hour later. 

Day 15

We packed up on another cold morning—only 51 degrees, and left Council Community park for a short 26-mile ride to Breaks Interstate Park. 

The whole ride was mountainous. Down for 17 miles into the town of Haysi (which I think sounds like a pretty abbreviation of hayseed) where I met the nicest woman. Janie chatted me up outside the grocery where I stopped to buy a banana. She said  “I’ve lived round here bout near all my life and just wanted to come over and talk to you.”  We talked about the family reunions they hold at council park and the beautiful countryside. She had such a gentle way of talking. Then she reached out to shake my hand but it was more of a touch than a shake—like we were holding hands. She said she has a sister named Debbie and I told her my sister’s middle name is Jane. And we laughed and said how nice it was to meet. Such nice people. Later I had a similar chat with a man outside a dollar store. When I told him I was from northern VA, he said, “Richmond? I have a brother who’s been up round thar.” We have come far south for sure. 

After Haysi, three killer ascents. On the third, I discovered I was wrong. A bike can go slower than 3.2 mph and not tip over. I got down to 2.7 mph on the final push to Breaks. Reward? A chocolate chocolate-chip cookie. 😀

Here is the view (“lovers leap”) from just outside the park. Yes, we are riding through those hills!

A visitor at dinner. 

Then we hit the hay at 8pm because tomorrow is the big day. Breaks to Hindman, Ky. We have to ride 70 miles because there is absolutely nowhere to stay or camp. It’s supposed to rain, there will be 8 thousand feet of climbing, and apparently, a number of loose mean dogs.

Wish us luck!!  

Distance: 25.5 miles

Elevation: 2956 ft