July 19, 2005

The ten footer was barely enough - VA/DC border

If it weren't for the terrible pain and numbness it would have been great to have stayed longer. Now how to leave? Closest Greyhound? About 110 miles away in Johnson City TN. Amtrak? No chance, you would have to go to Ashland Kentucky. Rental car? No luck there either. My left hand broke down quite literally in the middle of nowhere. There was one more option. It was overkill, but it was the only option left: U-Haul! There are U-Hauls everywhere in rural America and Breaks was no exception.

The goal in setting out on this journey was to circle the earth without leaving the surface, a goal that is in line with a kind of spiritualism that will be demystified in future dispatches. Now it's appropriate to mention a spry 91 year old named Carl Lane and our meeting as he was leaving for church.

"Is Jack Turner Branch Road this way?"
"Sure is! Why don't you come to church with me?"
"I would Brother, but I have a lot of miles to pedal. It's going to be another hot day and I'd like to cycle as much as I can while it's reasonably cool."
"It won't take that long, why don't you come with me?"
"I think the Lord would probably want me to stay alive to witness and not die of a heatstroke."
"That he would"

Fresh with the spirit of Brother Carl in my mind I have concluded that the plan to circle the earth primarily by bicycle is going to be impractical. There have been some really tortuous cycling days, no question about that. Downpours from the remains of Hurricane Dennis, 95 degree heat and the toughest moutain passes ever have made the journey hard and immensely satisfying. I have gotten through those days because of a belief in the transient nature of life's moments both blessed and cursed. Right now, pick nine random events of your life, three good, three bad, and three mediocre ones. They all have one thing in common: not a single one of them is as real as the other and they are all ancient history now. When the tough moments have reared their ugly head, this belief has been a silver bullet. Remembering this during the good times is important too. It allows you to appreciate your fortunate times. Regard all phenomenon as dreams eastern practitioners say.

My doctor says the condition is called ulnar compression: an ailment that affects the nerve from the elbow to the pinky and the left side of the adjoining finger. It takes several weeks to heal and this is what makes my journey impractical. A few days of recuperation would be no problem, but requiring several weeks to heal every time I decide to go hard charging isn't realistic. The alternative would be to go numb, keep pushing and have my condition to transform from temporary setback to lifelong companion. Start your engines because I can handle being laughed at. I invite you to snicker, guffaw and laugh your behinds off at what I have attempted to do. That's what I am doing as I ponder the questions that are left.

Can I circle the earth without leaving the surface? Yes. Will I tell a good story? I'll do my best. Will I still record it with my trusty 3 CCD digicam? Uh huh. The original goal remains intact, but sadly there will be no ego pumping, chest thumping roars of athletic success at my triumphant two wheeled return. The upside is that I should have more interesting stories since I will be able to cover more ground.

First I have to get all of this stuff back to Washington DC and that is why I am negotiating this U-Haul through a terrific rainstorm. A ten footer truck was a good choice, it can transport me, my bike and all the touring gear without a problem. It's only when I loaded my disappointment that it really got crowded.

Posted by Julian Cook at 01:06 PM | Comments (20)

July 18, 2005

Gimme a break, gimme a break

Gateway to the Breaks motel is a great place. "Great" is a vague adjective that is thrown around a lot, but this time it's as true as the ridge is blue. Planted at foothills of the Breaks Interstate Park, there's always an interesting cast of characters that pass through. Ira Williams, Hoyle Styles and his wife Drue have owned the Gateway for nine years now. They haven't regretted the purchase and if the day I arrived was typical then it's obvious why.

What was supposed to be a 60 mile ride turned into at least 70. Taking a side road to avoid heavy traffic resulted in many extra miles and an uphill climb that nearly killed me from exhaustion. I arrived in near darkness and got the last room: a second floor smoking room. No matter.

By the stairs were several ladies chatting and enjoying the evening. Hoisting my bike with my good hand, the eldest one said "Come on down when you're done and talk a bit". The name tag plastered on her more than ample bosom read "Dolly Parton". Not wanting to appear unsociable I showered and came back with my stove and entertained the ladies with it's operation. I was grimacing at the prospect of eating yet another bland prepackaged pasta dish, but if I've learned anything it's that carbs by the truckload are lifeblood to the touring cyclist.

While shoveling in the noodles, a gentleman came over and brought me a plate of food that was lifted straight out of my dreams. Several meatballs, Polish sausage with sauerkraut, two cupcakes and two pieces of fudge. "You look like you could use this" he grinned and was he ever right! The food never stood a chance. In a few more minutes he brought me a big piece of blackberry cobbler that I inhaled with equal gusto. There was no boundary to this man's kindness.

All of these folks were part of a large family reunion that met at the Breaks every year. Dolly was the matron and she had a sense of humor that matched her huge bosom. "If you're going to North Carolina, I'll pull you in my van" she would say with a straight face and then laugh. We talked for about an hour and I learned that Dolly didn't have a dream life. She was happy nonetheless, a quality that reminded me of my mother and that stung a little. I slowly began to realize exactly where I was and my place in it.

This is a spectacular and rugged country where Clinch mountain forever echoes the beautiful sounds of Ralph and Carter Stanley. It's where moonshiners still make their whiskey and Amazing Grace is sung for it's spiritual strength. It's nothing like a Coen brothers movie. While I often reinvent myself by slight degrees to people I meet, deep inside I know that this will always be where I came from. The hills will always be home and I'll never escape that.

That's a great thing.

Posted by Julian Cook at 01:00 PM | Comments (1)