Day 20 (August 31): The end of the Ozarks

We covered a total of 82 miles today, finally emerging from the last ripples of the Ozarks around mile 70, through Greene, Dane and Jasper Counties. My uncle Mark kept us company for the first nearly 40 miles, toughing out some very steep hills and showing his Cook stamina. Kathleen and I are relieved to be out of the Ozarks, which were beautiful, but relentlessly hilly. The only way to cope is to think of hill climbing as your occupation. If someone were to ask me, 'What do you do, miss?', I would say, 'I climb hills on my bicycle in the hot, hot sun.' The roads in the Ozarks generally don't wrap around the hilltops - they just go straight up (see example photo where the road in the distance looks like a big vertical wall). We were bleated at (?) by goats and hee-hawed at (??) by a donkey today, and mainly just ogled at by cows. Dogs and horses typically seem to want to come along, and the humans wave when prompted. Tomorrow begins the true Great Plains. Below, a gas station that has been closed since the days of $1.12/gallon, and Kathleen going for the gold around another tractor.

Day 19 (August 30): Mo Ozarks

Kathleen and I rode up and down hills for just under 60 miles today. I was passed by the tractor below. The sun was beautiful, with the temperature in the mid-80s and not as muggy as it has been. The scenery was some of the prettiest I've had since North Carolina. Our dead armadillo tally has risen to 7 total - I may stop being excited by them one of these days ... I made friends with a horse who decided to trot along beside me for a while (well, "beside" while still in his fence), which was a more flattering reaction to my presence on the road than the herd of cows I sent running for cover yesterday. My uncle Mark said he believes the cows were just inspired to go for a jog themselves. We passed from Shannon County into Texas County (and through the town of Houston) along the TransAmerica route, which I'll be on until Pueblo, Colorado. I must confess - we skipped 50 miles to end up here in Marshfield in the hotel that Mark and Elizabeth picked out. For that and the sake of my knee in the Ozarks, we'll be cycling from here in the morning (and leaving those 50 driven miles behind) into slightly flatter terrain.

Day 18 (August 29): Ozarks

Kathleen and I set out this morning from our motel, only to discover that her front wheel was all bent out of shape from a fall late yesterday. Fortunately, her folks were on their way into the vicinity. We had a barbecue lunch and met up with her parents. Mark and I set off in the drizzle for Eminence, MO, and the official TransAmerica bicycle route (plotted out by the Adventure Cycling Association). Kathleen and her mom Elizabeth went to Poplar Bluff to get a new wheel and talk about Tyler Hansbrough. I realized that Kathleen and I had only been through some hiccoughs of the Ozarks so far, as Mark and I really started into some longer climbs. Since I had dumped my big packs into Mark and Elizabeth's vehicle, I felt like I was flying. The cloud cover and rain kept the temperature down, and our ride through another pocket of the Mark Twain National Forest was lovely. We made it a short day with 32 miles and had lunch in Eminence. I'm still trying to sort out Missouri - people are a little less inclined to wave at us, I've seen many, many Confederate flags (Samuel Clemens himself was a Confederate soldier for a while), but riding through the flood plain of the Mississippi seemed like a hint of the Great Plains to come. It seems like an odd conglomeration of all of these different parts of the surrounding US (on the surface, at least). I can't quite figure out a category for it.

Mississippi and Missouri Photos

More Paducah, KY and Cairo, IL Photos

More TN Photos

More NC Photos

Day 17 (August 28): Missouri Ozarks

Today we pedaled 57 miles from Wappapello to Van Buren, MO. It was hot. We started in Butler County and passed through Wayne and Carter Counties.

For the morning, Kathleen and I were protected from the 90+ degree heat by the shade of Mark Twain National Forest. For the afternoon, we were on a hot highway, riding as fast as we could from cloud shadow to cloud shadow, but mainly were just exposed to the sun.

We got to Van Buren, planning to head south a couple miles to Big Spring to camp. However, I encountered my most formidable foe so far - a hill that I could not climb! I guess the end of the day, the heat and the steep country highway just did me in. So, we ended up back in Big Spring at the Big Spring Motel.

Big Jim, who owns the Big Spring Motel, offered to drive us up to Big Spring, a former state park, now federal property. We went up with Big Jim and his wife (this makes the second time we've been in a pickup truck with a Big Jim) to see the spring, park buildings built through the WPA and the Current River. Big Jim told us all about the history of the region and the river as we drove over huge hill after huge hill - even if I had made it up the one, the others would have done me in.

We saw a lid-less cooler today! Finally, one long-lost partner to the four lids. Also, if there's anyone out there looking for a mattress set (single), there's one along Highway J outside of Avert.

Big Spring, MO 2

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From: 9806228820@mms.att.net
Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:44:28 -0500
Subject: Big Spring, MO 2
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

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Big Spring, MO

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Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:42:57 -0500
Subject: Big Spring, MO
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

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Irrigation in Missouri

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: 9806228820@mms.att.net
Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2008 17:46:49 -0500
Subject: Irrigation in Missouri
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

{no text body}

Day 16 (August 27th): SE Missouri

The first 20 miles of our day flew by, and we stopped in Sikeston for
lunch at Lambert's Cafe. We were greeted by waiters throwing hot rolls
at us and a sorghum guy making the rounds with a spoon. There were
also okra lady, macaroni man and baked beans boy, among others. Our
server, Maxine, sent us off with cinnamon rolls the size of our heads.

Kathleen and I pedaled 70 miles through soybean and corn fields along
back roads, finally arriving at Lake Wappapelo. We competed in a 12
mph race with a tractor, crossed lots of one-lane bridges and baked in
the long stretches of roads without shade. And, today was the first
day of Kathleen's leg of the ride that we didn't get a flat! All in
all, it was pleasantly eventless.

The breeze began to strengthen a little today. I think this begins the
next few weeks of headwinds and cornfields.

Day 15 (August 26th): Mississippi River Crossing

Today we crossed the Mississippi River! We got a relatively early start, only to get a flat 5 miles down the road (Kathleen this time, and she changed it perfectly!), where I realized that the bike shop in Paducah still had my wheel key, without which I couldn't change a tire. So, we had to pedal back to Paducah and start our day all over again just before 10. Still, we were rewarded with a brilliant sun that illuminated the full palette of greens that Ballard County, KY, has to offer. The cycling itself was very easy over virtually no hills. We made great time, calmly pedaling away, until we were swept onto the Highway 60 Ohio River bridge into Illinois (there's a little piece of Illinois that dangles down at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers). I rarely feel physical fear, but I sure did when I saw this bridge ahead. Since it was around a curve and we were already on a causeway, there was no pausing to contemplate our situation. We just pedaled as fast as we could, and landed in Cairo, Illinois. At lunch in this virtual ghost town (at least the part we saw), I mentioned the crossing still ahead, into Missouri. Kathleen just looked at me for a while and said, "That wasn't the Mississippi?" We had both been silent through lunch, recovering from all that adrenaline, and we looked around for other ways to get to Missouri. Does Cairo have a ferry? No. A taxi service? No. Another bridge? Only an interstate. A route up to the Cape Girardeau crossing would cost us almost 100 miles, and we had no idea if that bridge would be any less daunting. Our waitress assured us that the Mississippi crossing wasn't as bad, since it had four lanes (this turned out to be an un-truth). I really hesitate to post these photos, and since they're taken from the ground, they make the bridges look super scary. They were scary, but not unsafe-looking from our vantage on the road. (I really don't want my mother to see these, but for everyone else's information ...) Here's the Kentucky to Illinois bridge over the Ohio River: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimfrazier/109019067/ And the Illinois to Missouri bridge over the Mississippi: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimfrazier/109019070/ Thanks to that guy for his two photos. We're still in the flood plain in Missouri, with soybean fields and one tractor-trailer every 5 minutes or so. It's calm and flat. I saw my first tractor since Cabarrus County, NC, driving along the road today. We traveled from McCracken County through Ballard Co, Kentucky, to Cairo (don't know the county in Illinois) and into Mississippi County here in Missouri, all along Highway 60. We're meeting up with the TransAmerica trail in a couple of days, so my routing will not take us over such frightening infrastructure again. Through my tension, the Big Muddy River still amazed me with its size and commerce. These next few states are all new to me, and I feel that full-on wonderment, even among the dried and dying corn fields.

Rest Day in Paducah, KY (August 25th)

Paducah's bike shop had two of the trustworthy tires I started my ride on (Bontrager 650 x 25mm), so I scooped them up, and they'll hopefully make it to California. I now have three spare tires (!), but can really ride without worry. When Kathleen and I limped into Paducah Sunday evening, we weren't expecting much. We didn't see much, either, during our walk. However, we decided to take a rest day because of the threat of thunderstorms (though it ended up being sunny all day ...). Downtown Paducah is really charming. At the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio Rivers AND with the Illinois-Central Line running through it, it was at the center of rail and river trade in the 1800s. William Clark (of Lewis and Clark fame) platted out the streets in the early 1800s, a grid that remains today. The city has an artist relocation program, which seems to really enliven its downtown. There's lots more fascinating Paducah history to be found on Wikipedia here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paducah,_ky We ate lunch and stopped in at a local pub for a bourbon. We met a Marshall County native who was a well-traveled Phish fan. Kathleen and I spent the afternoon talking with him and other regulars at the pub (one of whom was complaining of his gout - you know you're in a good spot when the bartender listens to gout stories). The still-robust building stock, shopping and obvious care Paducah-ans (?) put into their downtown development really won us over. I'd started the day annoyed at being at the gray weather's mercy, but finished it thankful for a fun day of exploration.

Fwd: The Trace (Land Between the Lakes)

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Date: Tue, Aug 26, 2008 at 7:31 PM
Subject: The Trace (Land Between the Lakes)
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

Missouri State Line

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Date: Tue, Aug 26, 2008 at 7:40 PM
Subject: Missouri State Line
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

Cairo, Illinois

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Date: Tue, Aug 26, 2008 at 7:30 PM
Subject: Cairo, Illinois
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

Coal Barge on the Ohio (Paducah, KY)

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Date: Tue, Aug 26, 2008 at 7:38 PM
Subject: Coal Barge on the Ohio (Paducah, KY)
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

Day 14 (August 24): Land Between the Lakes to Paducah, KY

After a night of sub-par dinners (crackers, snickers and a bit of
leftover pasta) and a similar breakfast, we were ready for some real
food. Kathleen and I pedaled our way to Patti's in Grand Rivers, a
local establishment with a big reputation. Kathleen sang a lovely ode
in anticipation of our lunch, which she composed for the occasion. I
don't know that I've ever heard a better song about steak and mashed
potatoes.

The roads here look like big ol' egg noodles flopped over the hills.
They don't wrap around the hills, just drape straight up and down. The
climbs sometimes look like a vertical wall, the roads are so straight,
but most end up being longer and flatter than they seem.

Kathleen continued her serenades throughout the day while drafting off
my hill climbs (to be fair, only some of them), mixing up some
Beatles, INXS and Styx. The countryside up to Paducah was full of
easy, rolling hills and some really speedy riding.

Along the way, I saw a dead muskrat (or fisher or ferrett or
something) and another cooler lid! That's four. And, after all of that
speedy riding along a slightly messy shoulder, I got yet another flat,
this time the front.

Lucky for me we were just two miles from our motel, which is just two
blocks from a bike shop if we need it.

Tropical Storm Fay remnants may keep us from the Mississippi tomorrow,
but we're hoping to get there before the storm arrives.

Land Between the Lakes

Day 13 (August 23): Tennessee to Kentucky

In the Super 8, I replaced my troubled tube once again. After
breakfast, Kathleen and I were preparing for the day when we heard a
sharp hiss (on our to-do lists: work on tire-changing and
tube-patching skills). So, we called a cab to drive us the 6.5 miles
to the bike shop, the Bicycle Center in Clarksville, where some super
friendly guys took care of us. I felt very lucky to have a shop nearby
that carried my size tire.

About a mile later, my tire felt strange (and at this point I was sure
I was just paranoid). We stopped to look and POP, the tube blew my
tire off the rim. I called the shop, and someone retrieved my tire,
took it in, fixed it and brought it back to our corner, with a
corrected rim strip so my tire wouldn't explode again.

Then, Kathleen and I rode 57 miles through Davidson, Montgomery and
Sheraton (?) Counties to the Land Between the Lakes National
Recreation Area. Our two major milestones, not necessarily in order of
importance, were crossing into Kentucky and seeing our first roadkill
armadillo!

If no more tires explode, and barring any other major setbacks, we'll
cross the Mississippi on Monday!

It's strange to have cell reception out here where the crickets and
tree frogs may actually keep us up all night. We saw a beautiful pink
sunset over Lake Kentucky (the western lake; the other is Lake
Barkley), and we're looking forward to the scenery tomorrow. Hopefully
the cloud cover from today will still be with us.

--
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Day 12 (August 22nd): Nashville to Clarksville, TN

Kathleen and I started out from our (read: Kathleen's dad's friend's)
comfortable condo for a lunch with my NC State friend Andrea Havens, a
second-year resident at Vanderbilt University Hospital. We pedaled out
of fun Nashville north on Highway 41A, hoping to make the 50 miles to
Clarksville before the sun sank.

We climbed a few hills in the 95+ degree afternoon sun. One was pretty
long, and Kathleen powered right up it, newly saddled with packs and
all.

My first flat tire in my personal bicycling history struck about 20
miles outside of Nashville. We pulled into a shared driveway to work
on it, and one of the homeowners came out to offer us a coke. Another
pulled in from work and chatted. Another stopped to ask us how far we
were going. She said, "Y'all are traveling alone? Aren't you afraid of
men?" Kathleen later said that she wanted to respond, "Always."
Finally, a small woman walked out with cold cokes. When I answered her
"how far are you going?" question, she put her hand to her mouth and
said, "Oh no!"

My second flat happened a few miles later, and my third a good ways
after that. Across the street was a Baptist church, and it was kids
night! So, after some chatting and phone calls to Clarksville taxi
companies, it was decided that Big Jim, his mother and sister would
drive us into town, about 15 miles away.

There's a bike shop here where they can actually fix my tires.

Kathleen and I enjoyed a Waffle House dinner, complete with a jukebox
with actual vinyl 76's, which meant that the country music songs (and
other less relevant genres) were the real original recordings. George
Straight and Willie Nelson serenaded our eggs and hashbrowns.

Kathleen stayed patient and perky throughout the ordeals today, and
even patched my three tubes here in the Super 8. What a fabulous
cousin!

Tomorrow, we may make it to Kentucky! Today, we covered about 35 miles
(on our bikes, 50 including the Good Samaritan car ride), through
Davidson, Cheatham and Montgomery Counties.

--
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Nashville Skyline

Fwd: Nashville Skyline

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Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2008 22:52:05 -0500
Subject: Nashville Skyline
To: ellen.oettinger@gmail.com

{no text body}

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Day 11 (August 20th): Tennessee Foothills to Nashville

I covered a lot of ground on this day, mainly because I cheated. I did tell some of you before I left that I am not a purist, and that if I have to take a bus during this trip, I would. Well, I did lie a little bit. I am a purist, and am thus a little troubled that skipped about 110 miles of Tennessee by taking the Greyhound from Crossville to Nashville, where my cousin Kathleen was waiting for me. I stayed in a fantastic (read: sketchy) budget motel in Rockwood, Tennessee, and, after a nice conversation with the man sitting in the lawn chair in the parking lot, set out for a 25-mile ride to Crossville. I climbed the last of the winding hills this day, through the worst heat I've encountered so far, passing into Cumberland County and the Central Time Zone. These hills are strange to see on a map - long diagonal spines running parallel to the TN-NC border (guess that's why the border's oriented that way, huh?). My legs were really protesting the whole way, and I knew I needed a longer break than just one evening off. The road was very remote, just a two-lane Highway 70, with a nice, wide shoulder through the green hills. A woman slowed down to tell me that she was a cyclist and 'you never see them around here.' We chatted, then she turned around. About an hour later she passed me again, this time with a pen and paper to write down the brand of my saddle (bike seat). She said hers always hurt after even 30 miles. I was chased by my first wild dog today - I'd read a lot about dog trouble on some other cyclists' blogs, so I have been on the lookout. This one was a salt-and-pepper miniature Schnauzer wearing a green kerchief. I somehow didn't feel all that threatened as he barked his way along the grassy shoulder. I guess the dogs get bigger and badder as you go west. I missed several towns along my route, somehow, and think that if it is possible to miss a town on a bicycle - especially when you are looking for it to calculate your mileage - does it really exist? I don't know the answer to that, but by the time I got to Crossville, I was blown away by its urbanity (it straddles I-40). I walked in to a cafe owned by an Italian couple. The Italian-Tennessee accent is lovely and odd. Then, one by one, four more Italians walked in to talk with the owners (in Italian), all sitting down to enjoy a San Pellegrino. I ended up at the Crossville BP Station for five hours or so, waiting for the Greyhound to Nashville with a couple from Arkansas and a Seventh-Day Adventist from Fort Worth, all of whom were praying for me to convince the bus driver to allow my bicycle on the bus, which is against the rules (without being boxed up). I think everyone should take a trip on a Greyhound, even a short, two-hour one like mine (many people were riding through the night to Texas). I was there, dirty and sweaty, with a cell phone (and other hidden gadgets) and fancy, if slightly beat-up, bicycle gear, among folks traveling with their clothes in garbage bags (why couldn't I have just strapped those on my bike rack?) trying to keep their young children from crying. Thankfully, my Southern accent kept me from being a complete oddity, though even in my own country, in a place very close to my true territory, I stuck out. David made the observation that it's odd to be from a place and return to it feeling a bit of a stranger (for him, the mountains. For me, the feeling was most distinct in the Better Burger in Troy). In our cycling outfits, we certainly look like city slickers. Part of this whole trip may be an exploration of a sense of my ownership of and kinship with different places, landscapes and people. Tonight, I'm writing from my rest day in Nashville, which is full of fashionable beards, hats (old time porkpie and cowboy) and unabashed ambition. It's the first of three state capitals I will be passing through, and the last big city until Carson City, Nevada. Unless I take a big detour, which is quite possible.

Day 10 (August 19th): Tennessee Foothills

With very reluctant cycling legs, we rode from Tellico Plains to Sweetwater, where David's brother was retrieving him for his return to Brooklyn. It was a little hilly, but we were shocked (and relieved) to see how fast the Appalachians ended in Tennessee. Once we came down the Cherohala, we had almost no climbs, just smallish hills, and the 26 miles to Sweetwater flew by. I replaced my untrustworthy tire in the Walgreen's parking lot, and then the Moses brothers went on their way, back to Boone, NC, taking the fast route through the mountains along I-40. From Tellico Plains, we rode through Monroe County, then McMinn. I continued on through Meigs, Rhea and Roane Counties (Roane was a detour). The landscape was rolling hills and lots of forested fields. I did see one tractor, and cows started making appearances again, having been uncommon through the mountains. There was very little commercial development, or even residences along Highway 68, and then Highway 27 up to Rockwood. I did see some churches and some industrial sites. I passed the Watts Bar dam - a TVA dam with nuclear and coal plants. I could hear the overhead wires buzzing from a hundred yards away. Eek! It was very hot today, and I was very tired from climbing the day before. I just poked along for about 65 miles (40 past Sweetwater). In Spring City I stopped to find lodging and talked with a man in a parking lot. He was wearing a real John Deere polyester ballcap - not one of those fake hipster ones. He asked me where I was from, where I was going, etc. He had a styrofoam cup of green ice cream, and as I answered his questions, I kept staring at it and wanting to eat it. My conversation skills were not at their best, and who knows what I told him. The landscape looks a lot like North Carolina, but has a different patina. It's like how a New Yorker feels in London - things look a little different, but you still think you understand what it's all about. You of course do not, and my kinship feeling is simply superficial, no matter how real I would like it to be. I have to say, it is really exciting to be in State #2. I used up one bottle of 70 SPF sunscreen in NC. So maybe one per state? I don't know how sunny the Rockies will be, but eight bottles of sunscreen sound like a lot.

Day 9 (August 18th): North Carolina-Tennessee Mountains

We ate oatmeal and granola for breakfast, and had some coffee that we later discovered had no zip (and it tasted bad - a double disappointment!). This was a completely insufficient breakfast for the climbing we would encounter on the Cherohala Skyway, a breathtaking road that winds along a ridgeline through the mountains from Robbinsville to Tellico Plains, TN. David can correct me if I am wrong in saying that we climbed about 4,000 feet in 14 miles or so (It's not called a skyway for nothin). The top was 5,400 feet, and it took about 3 hours or so. I say "or so" because I didn't keep good track of mileage and time on this day after it started getting very hard. I was, however, stung by a bee at one of the overlooks where we paused. In a shocking repeat of an old childhood story - my first bee sting at 3 - the bee stung, and I wiped it away, only to be stung again on my thumb! There was no dad with a cup of Coke to stick my thumb in, just 2 first aid kits with no sting relief ointment. But, the sting quickly subsided as the next section of mountain loomed. Fortunately, the traffic was very light and we were mainly passed by friendly motorcyclists (I am leaning towards motorcyclists: friends, but we'll see). Some of them were great motivators and slowed down to cheer us along. At the first overlook we met a man from the Allstar Bike Shop in Raleigh, where David had visited many times in college. He was the first cyclist we'd seen in a while (days, maybe). Although we told him that we were both NC State graduates, he still seemed to enjoy telling us about what a hard time we would have climbing up the mountains that day, especially with big packs on our bikes. Near the top, he passed us again on his way down, and rode beside me for a minute. He said, "Ma'am, I am really impressed that you made it up here, especially with those heavy packs and all." Poor David got no recognition for having climbed up, with equal if not more weight. Sometimes, it is really fun to be a girl. We ran out of water at the top, and ended up getting some from a very nice woman at an overlook who was out to enjoy the scenery. There was nothing along the road except overlooks and informational signs, which made for fantastic scenery, but a bit unsafe cycling conditions for those who didn't pack enough water (oops again on the trip leadership!). The mountains fell quickly away on the Tennessee side. They must cut their roads differently over there. I had to be careful about a blow out because of my damaged tire, coupled with hot rims from intense breaking, so we stopped every few miles to cool our brakes. We finally rode in to Tellico Plains along the Tellico River. We felt lucky to have been in two beautiful river gorges along our road, two days in a row. And we had climbed the mountains in between! After the nearly 50-mile day of tough climbing, we found a log cabin to stay in along the river, opting out of sleeping on the ground again. We ate a big dinner, drank a beer and crashed after such a hard day. It was probably the most physically difficult thing I have ever done. I don't think I would have made it over the Cherohala had David not been pedaling in front of me the whole way. He is a tough, steady cyclist and happy presence even when exhausted, and I was grateful to have him along.

Day 8 (August 17th): North Carolina Mountains

Our day began with pancakes and homemade blackberry jam, though Elias was the only one who got a special frog-shaped pancake. Our regular ones were still delicious. We said good-bye to Axelle and Mike and their lovely house, cats and very smart son, and Mike dropped us off in downtown Sylva. We took business 23 back to 74, and were then on the highway for quite a while, mainly between a rumble strip and the grass off the shoulder. It was not a comfortable ride for this first stretch, and at one point I ran over a big piece of hard plastic (relevant for Day 9's narrative). So, after some skillful riding (and thanks to David for not whining about the route I had picked), we turned off to hit Bryson City, crossing the Tuskaseegee River. We passed through Jackson, Swain and Graham Counties on our way to Robbinsville. We continued along Highway 19 and stopped for a quick break at the Nantahala Outdoor Center where David and I had each spent some time. Riding along the road through the Nantahala Gorge, right along the river, was beautiful. I had driven that road many times before, running a shuttle to the put-in for kayakers, or being shuttled or riding in vans with rafts. I had been up and down the corridor in various crafts - a kayak, a raft, a car, a van. From all vantages, the sun has enough room to pass through the trees and make the rippling water shimmer. Lots of happy/frightened/tense rafters waved at us as best they could with their bulging orange life preservers. We climbed out of the gorge (which at the time seemed very long and very hard - I'm writing this from the foothills of Tennessee) and recovered at a gas station in Topton. It was there I discovered a small tear in the outer layer of my rear tire. So, David suggested we swap the back for the front since my packs are on the back, and he patiently wrestled with my tires until we were finally ready to go. We then rode to Robbinsville, where the campsite my map said was there was nowhere to be found. But, we found a place along the Santeetlah Lake, cooked dinner on the dock and went to sleep.

Day 7 (August 16th): North Carolina Mountains

Today David and I rode to Sylva from Asheville (about 45 miles or so) along Highways 23 and 74, through Buncome, Haywood and Jackson Counties. We climbed a few hills, though none as long as the hill from Lake Lure the day before. We were caught in our first big storm outside of Waynesville on the way. If this keeps up, I should expect Kathleen's bike ride baptism on Friday. David and I happily found a fruit stand to take shelter in to wait out the storm. As it got later, we decided to ride on Sylva in the light rain. Not the most fun ride on those highways. The highways were big, and at times a little scarier than I would have liked. Still, we ended the day in downtown Sylva, where Mike Faughn picked us up to drive us up the mountain to his and Axelle's house. Axelle is an old friend from NC State, and Mike and their young son Elias had cooked an amazing dinner for us. They have a fantastic view of the mountains from their porch, and we watched the sun go down through the rain clouds while eating and drinking some wine. We also played with play-dough, toy trains and wooden vegetables, all a wonderful respite from traffic and rain.

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David along the Tellico River in Tennessee.

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tunnel under a mtn in asheville. I stayed on the sidewalk!

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blue ridge parkway

Day 6 (August 16th): North Carolina Foothills and Mountains

(One correction from earlier - Robbins, NC is in Moore County, not Montgomery. Sorry John Edwards!) I landed in lovely Asheville this afternoon, after a very hilly ride from Lake Lure. In all truthfulness, I mainly skirted the lovely part of Asheville somehow, but am staying west of Asheville in a hostel. I covered only about 30 or so miles today, but the true accomplishment was crossing the Eastern Continental Divide (labeled 2,880 feet elevation). So, I guess if I just stop pedaling I'll end up in New Orleans via the Mississippi River? If only I were a little drop of water. I reached the Divide only after an hour or so of climbing, so I was happy that there was some type of reward at the top. I passed through the rest of Rutherford County, then Henderson and Buncombe Counties. Lake Lure and Chimney Rock each had rows of tourist shops and cute coffee spots. Asheville, of course, has a huge assortment of outdoor stores, quirky bakeries, music shops and anything else a mountain gal (or one affecting that persona while she's here) could want. The road itself was gorgeous (NC Highway 74-A), and the sun was hot today. I was on the Blue Ridge Parkway for just a bit, to avoid a short stretch of I-40. It is far less serene when you have to climb its hills, but still beautiful. Lake Lure had a bike lane for a while, and Asheville for a few blocks. Buncombe County had plenty of 'Share the Road' signs, and traffic was really friendly, especially the pelotons (ha!) of motorcycles out to enjoy the fantastic weather on the winding two-lane roads. When I arrived at the hostel this afternoon, two guys were leaving to get pizza and said, "We know you are hungry." Although they knew not my name, only that I was very dirty with bike grease and sweat, I said, "Cheese, please." Then we all had pizza and beer on the porch, before I had even met the proprietor. It seems like a good place. My mom and sister Sarah dropped me off this morning, and I'm meeting up with David tomorrow morning for the actual mountains! Thanks to Karen for her support this week, and to Sarah especially for being such a great companion. I can't upload photos for a while, but I think I can send camera phone photos.

Day 5 (August 14): North Carolina Piedmont and Foothills

Today I rode in to Lake Lure (right) from Lincolnton (from Lincoln County through Gaston, Cleveland and Rutherford Counties), again without Sarah. I really miss having her during the day. I started the day a little bummed out, a little queasy and under a heavily clouded sky. By Shelby, the clouds had rolled on north and I was pleasantly pedaling over the undulating terrain. I went through Ellenboro, but recognized nothing with which I felt a kinship. The houses got larger today and the traffic thinned. The land really started rolling, with fast, curving downhills through the sunshine, and long, easy climbs. This afternoon I caught a first glimpse of the shadowy blue southern Appalachians (I'll have much better pictures later). I love cycling because it calms the static in a person’s mind. I end up thinking far less while I'm riding than I always anticipate I will. Excitement from these sightings – the first glimpse of the mountains or a red cardinal – erupts dramatically from that quietude.

Day 4 (August 12): North Carolina Piedmont

Today, I rode alone through Concord to Lincolnton. I took Highway 73, which was lovely, on the way to Concord. I’d been worried about the traffic, but it only looks bad from a car. I don’t know what that means about the actual safety of cyclists, but I felt safe. I saw a couple of ‘Share the Road’ signs in Cabarrus County. I ate a long lunch with my older sister, Hannah, who lives with her husband and son beyond Concord, right off of 73. I continued on to Lincolnton in Lincoln County, through Huntersville in Mecklenburg County. This stretch was heavily trafficked, and I didn’t relax and enjoy the views nearly enough. Charlotte is seeping into all parts of Mecklenberg County (and beyond), especially this northern part, and the accompanying traffic is becoming unbearable for residents and visitors alike on this corridor. In Lincoln County, I was on a designated bike route. So although I felt in the way, I was confident that at some point in history another cyclist had been on that road. In Concord, I got to ride in my first bike lane of the trip! And near Birkdale Village in Mecklenberg County, I got to ride in another 2-block long bike lane right off of I-77. Yes, a 2-block bike lane is a little silly. But, baby steps, I guess. The hills were at a constant roll all day. The last couple I didn’t feel like climbing, but I made it up them and on to Lincolnton where my sister and mom picked me up. My friend Randy Fike (b. Parkersburg, WV, 1969) made us bright yellow “Team Ellen” t-shirts, and he managed to choose the worst photo of me possible to put on the front. Sarah couldn’t come today. We were going to take a rest day (hence the 84-mile day yesterday), but it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow and thunderstorm. I decided not to risk it, although it dampened both my and Sarah’s spirits. I much prefer having a traveling companion on the road. And not only because we have matching pink shirts. Sarah’s knee and heel were both bothering her a little – enough to sit out the day of hills. I’m amazed at her performance so far, and proud.

Day 3 (August 11): North Carolina Sand Hills and Piedmont

The morning was thick with fog for the first 20 miles. I rode from Spring Lake outside Fayetteville to Carthage early, where I met my sister and mom. Sarah and I then rode from Carthage to Albemarle, for a total of 84 miles (Sarah logged 54). We continued on Highway 24 West today, and part of the trip was my route to and from college in Raleigh, so I knew the road very well from the 70 mile-per-hour perspective. Albemarle is our home town, so riding through our (regional?) stomping grounds was really fun. I saw another cooler lid on the side of the road. That makes two cooler lids, one throw pillow, one bed pillow (both floral) and one mini-fridge door. Traffic accidents? My guess is pick-up trucks. The counties for the day: Cumberland, Harnett, Moore, Montgomery and Stanly. Harnett County had many bare areas where the trees had been cleared, as did Montgomery. My dad had warned us about logging trucks, and honestly, they and tractor-trailers are the most polite of the drivers out there. I guess I appreciate their politeness so much more because they are huge. In Moore County, I was on two actual bike routes, made official by the county’s signs. Stanly County also had them. There were ‘Share the Road’ signs in Montgomery and in Stanly Counties. The hills really kicked in today through the Uwharrie Mountains. There were several tough ones. One coming in to Troy, the Montgomery County seat, I named ‘Peanut Butter Milkshake Hill’ in gleeful anticipation of a peanut butter milkshake at the Better Burger in Troy where we (read: I) had decided to take a lunch break. Little did I know that I would soon encounter Peanut Butter Milkshake Hill #2! I made it up #2, down Highway 24 in Troy that was being repaved, and, with a full choir of angels singing, to the Better Burger, its celestial glow gracing the westbound curb of Highway 24 (right). They were not as thrilled to see us as we were them, and did not fully appreciate my admission that I had been looking forward to a peanut butter milkshake for the last 50 miles. I had not had a peanut butter milkshake from Better Burger in at least eight years, but it was fantastic. I also ate a hamburger and tater wedges (that's what they call 'em on the menu). It was all delicious, and Sarah’s and my lunch was $6.92. Stanly County (our home county) served us up hills that were worse than any other county so far. We felt slightly betrayed. Still, riding into town with my sister was truly lovely. Crossing the Pee Dee River from Montgomery County, the view across is always beautiful (right, the bridge over, from Stanly County). On a bicycle, you get to enjoy it longer. On a political note, the water in the Pee Dee is currently in dispute in my hometown (and state-wide, thanks to some of our active County Commissioners). A brief description of the issue an be found at www.ncwaterrights.org. We also passed Sarah's old preschool, two sites of my grandmother’s former store, our old elementary school and the town’s water tower in the schoolyard. Our teachers always made us race to it. We’d get there, and one kid would say “It’s falling!” And because the clouds were moving, it really looked it, so we would all scream and run frantically away, every time. Sarah approached our parents' street with trepidation: she had run into the telephone pole rounding the corner in June, having not been on a bicycle in 10 years. This is causally unrelated to, though temporally correlated with, my collision with a fire hydrant. Sarah successfully made the turn this time, and we pedaled into the driveway, which we haven't done together in 15 years. We may make this more of a tradition, though municipal utility collisions we are aiming to keep to a minimum. During the day, we made a couple of friends near Robbinsville in Montgomery County (John Edwards' hometown). Sarah bought a couple of peaches from a roadside stand, and one of the girls from the stand told us that a friend of hers had ridden across the country on his horse, pulling a mule behind him. I think that sounds scarier than riding a bicycle. We also met a man named Deaton who asked us if we were carrying a gun. I told him we were thinking about it.

Day 2 (August 10): North Carolina Coastal Plains

Today, Sarah and I pedaled 68 miles to Spring Lake north of Fayetteville. The last ten miles were a little tiring. After riding through Fayetteville (on Bragg Boulevard, a 6-lane road with little room for cyclists. I felt a little less comfortable than I usually do on the road, but I guess I was more tired), we thought we were home free. But, I hadn’t calculated how far we had to ride through Fort Bragg or Pope Air Force Base. Sarah claims she was not fully informed when she decided to finish the day with me. (Right, a tobacco field and drying warehouse. Eastern North Carolina has more to see than tobacco, swamps and the rusting and rotting things that I tend to take pictures of. I don't want you folks from other places to get the wrong idea). And on that note, Sarah got stuck behind a tractor for a bit today. He was there, waiting on the side of the road to pull out, and I waved to him and said hello. (I should have said, There’s another cyclist behind me!). He pulled out, and I briefly wondered 'how fast do tractors go?' It is now confirmed that tractors are slower than bicycles, or this one, at least. I turned around as he saw her and pulled out a little into the opposing lane to let her by. (And as a tantalizing preview to my Tuesday ride through Cabarrus County, I was there passed by a tractor and was also stuck behind one, so the tractor speed debate still rages. Cabarrus County has both tractor and bicycle awareness signs lining Highway 73. We only saw one ‘Share the Road’ sign today, in Spring Lake.) Sampson County was beautiful. It had lots of rolling hills and farmland, beautiful small fields that ended at lines of trees. The terrain began to ripple a bit, though the roads were still straight. A little later, the roads started to curve a little more around land forms. I saw kudzu today, first a little, then the full carpet over whole groves of trees. It’s really begun to look like the Piedmont where I grew up. The smell of the wet, hot air and the plants (I cannot name them), and the smell of dry piles of pine needles. We had passed through the rest of Duplin County, then Sampson and now Cumberland Counties. We went through Warsaw (from Kenansville), which is a truly charming town. There are several beautiful homes and inns there. Highway 24 was beautiful on the way to Clinton, then all through Roseboro. Though she'd probably ridden about 30 miles total before these last couple of days, Sarah is an unflappable cyclist. (Although, she said that on the last leg – the hot, hilly leg – she was flapped.) She primly rides through rain and scary traffic, keeps her cool when stuck behind heavy farm machinery and eats her dessert dutifully at dinner, all with incredible aplomb. I’ve been eating biscuits and gravy for breakfast, appropriate eastern NC fuel.

Day 1 (August 9): North Carolina Coastal Plains

Sarah and I took off from Emerald Isle Saturday morning. We rode 66 miles down NC Highway 24, across some beautiful bridges over the Intracoastal Waterway and several inlets, through flat, sandy fields with groves of straight pines, past corn and tobacco, a few pig farms (with lines of septic tanks), chicken warehouses and swamps. The oppressive heat of last week had eased off, and our day was comfortably in the high 80s. We passed through Swansboro, where I went on a mission trip with our family's church in 1994. I may have even conducted a puppet show along this highway for little kids from some of the area's trailer parks. I can't say I really remember. Highway 24 took us through Jacksonville (above, from Business 24) and Camp Lejeune, the Marine Corps Base, then on to Richland and Beulaville, with some thunder and a good bit of rain the whole way. Having sung many hymns about Beulah-land growing up in a Southern Baptist church, I had high hopes that Beulaville would be somewhat heavenly. But we just stopped for some crackers. Our day ended in a little city park in Kenansville, which has some lovely inns and houses (right, a church from the historic district). I had forgotten about the fire ants that live in the sand out there until one got me in the park. Just one, though, is pretty lucky, as fire ants go. Through Carteret, Onslow and part of Duplin Counties, we saw four “Share the Road” bicycle signs and were honked at only once (!) at the turn off for Camp Lejeune. Sarah chose to believe that the driver just liked our matching hot pink shirts. In a Hardee's parking lot in Jacksonville, we met a motorcyclist (I have long wondered, motorcylists: friends or foes?) who asked us what was on our feet (pedal cleats) and why we were riding so far (still no quick answer to that one). He told me that I should be riding to California "for cancer or the kids or something." I think he's right, and I'll get back to everyone on those points. And finally, about safety orange (and safety other colors), Reese Witherspoon expresses our sentiments best in 'Legally Blonde': "Whoever said orange was the new pink is seriously disturbed." We totally agree.

The Why

This blog is about my bike ride from North Carolina to California. I'm leaving August 9th and am aiming to arrive in San Francisco by October 7th or so. Will Hooker, a landscape architect and horticulture professor at North Carolina State University, has planted hundreds of thousands (millions?) of seeds in his life. This trip is one of them. Of his repertoire of travel stories, those from his cross-country bike ride have stuck with me since I listened to them in his permaculture class in 2003. It grew and grew as I began deciding what to do with myself after graduate school, and thus, here we are. My sister, Sarah (b. Albemarle, NC, 1983), a third year law student at UNC Chapel Hill, is joining me for the first week through our home state, where my mother Karen (b. Albemarle, NC, 1952) is providing shuttle services. David Moses (b. Boone, NC, 1983), an old and newly rediscovered kindred spirit from NC State, is joining me for the Appalachian Mountains, a region for which we share a deep affection. My steadfast traveling companion and cousin Kathleen Cook (b. Albemarle, 1982), is signed up for the Nashville through Missouri leg. Her parents, Elizabeth (b. Greensboro, NC, 1954) and Mark (b. Albemarle, NC, 1948) Cook will be providing car support and some bike-riding companionship through Missouri and Kansas. Colorado I'll be either on my own or with friends I find along the way. In Utah, my father Tony (b. Wilson, NC, 1953) is coming out to do some hiking and car supporting. My aunt Elizabeth is back out for the loneliest highway in America through Nevada, and from Lake Tahoe to San Francisco, it's again my trusty steel steed and me. I'll be taking pictures and typing in some stories and observations along the way. Let me know what you think. And if you have a grandmother who lives along my route that makes a famous meatloaf (or even squash casserole), send me her address!