THIS IS WHAT WE DID ABOUT THOSE HILLS

We crossed on the bridge over the Chesapeake and Delaware cannel a few miles south of Newark, Delaware, Newark is a small college town and the northern most town in Delaware before entering Pennsylvania. Knowing the flat riding was over we rode through the center of town and located a Starbucks, we figured that a double espresso was in order to get that little extra boost for the climbs that shall begin in the next mile or so. We where the center of attraction at Starbucks; where are you going, where did you start, how long have you been riding and of course, what are you going to do about the hills in Pennsylvania?

We've been in the saddle since May 1, 36 days, and ridden 2,146 miles while carrying 65 pounds on my bike and Christine carrying 50 on hers, we are trained and in top form. I'm 6 pounds lighter, my bottom doesn't hurt, my heart is conditioned, my legs are strong, Christine is void of her aches and pains, lean and strong; bring on those hills, we are cycle tourists, we live in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, we train on hills every ride, how tough can it be?

Our destination is French Creek State Park, a very manageable distance of 59.4 miles, the hills are short and very steep; similar in contour to corrugated steel, continuously up and down. No long and steady climbs, short and steep; assents at 3.5-5 mph and descents at 20-25 mph, they never end, up and down up and down, not enough time on the decent to recover from the assent, lactic acid in our legs, not enough time to clear it before the next climb, we are tough, suburb condition, I know we can do it, it is very demanding, we are cycle tourists, we ridden 2146 miles on fully loaded bikes, lean and strong.

We've made it to the French Creek State Park entrance, a closed ranger station with honor system registration, over to the bulletin board to select a campsite, the heck with it, we can't choose a site from the map and decide to camp and pay on the way out. Back on the bikes, I must say rather tired and lacking energy; all campsites are up a hill, this is the rule of cycle touring and this was not an exception. We begin the climb and are greeted by the ranger coming down in her ranger car inquiring whether we have paid and what site are we camping in. "Haven't chosen a site yet, we are looking for one that is in the open and near the restrooms, we'll pay on the way out if you don't mind and by the way how far is it to the campsites? The ranger is agreeable, "That is fine with me, leave you registration on the post in front of your campsite, the campsites are about 5 miles, just up this hill, enjoy your stay". "Bean, did she say 5 miles up this hill"? Christine had sort of a defeated look on her face when she replied, "Yes, 5 miles up the hill". So much for up and down, up and down, this is 5 miles up, we can do it, we just rode near 60 miles, half of which was climbing, we can climb this, just 5 miles up the hill, we're lean and strong. "Bean you go first and I shall follow". I make an adjustment to my load as Christine begins to climb, she is now around a curve out of my sight. We begin the climb, by we I mean the swarm of gnats buzzing around my face, several hundred mosquitoes and me, damn gnats. I round the curve to find Christine stopped in the middle of the road, she has lost it, in tears, gnats swarming around her head, mosquitoes biting her, "I can't make, I can't climb this, damn gnats, I can't". I'm in the exact same condition as her without the tears, feeling defeated by the gnats, mosquitoes and the climb. We've come this far and my ego won't let me walk my bike. "You can do it, try traversing the road, apply bug repellent, take a drink of the PERPETUEM, you can do it, give it another try". We are back on our bikes, giving it everything we have, traversing the road, shooing the gnats and swatting the mosquitoes, at 3.5 mph, over an hour and a quarter of climbing to the campsite.

The chosen site is in front of the restrooms and in an open area, we chose the open area hoping to avoid the mosquitoes, wrong, they are everywhere. I now face an unfortunate reality; we did not find a store on the road leading to the park, no food and no cold beer. The food is not a problem, we always carry a one day supply with us just for this reason, the beer is another matter, we are the only campers in the "B" loop and the sign at the entrance states:" No Alcoholic Beverages Allowed".

CLOSED BETHLEHEM STEEL PLANT

No sooner did we get the tent up when we are greeted by the campground hosts, a mid 60's retired couple spending their summer at French Creek State Park as the hosts. "Where is your registration, if the ranger comes by and it is not on the post she will be upset". Now bear in mind we have just ridden 59.4 miles on roads that have the same contour as corrugated steel and "enjoyed" a 5 mile climb at 3.5 mph, surrounded by gnats, loosing blood to mosquitoes and arriving at the campsite without a cold beer; do you think I am concerned about the ranger's anger? "I'll get right to it but I have much bigger problems than a concern for the rangers disposition, where are the guys with the big motor homes camped, I must ride over there and introduce myself"? " What's the problem, maybe I can help, we are the hosts". "Don't think so, the sign states "No Alcoholic Beverages Allowed", I need a cold beer, it's been a tough day, I'm heading over to the motor home area to mooch a cold beer or two". "Well it's against the rules, keep it hidden, the ranger won't like it; personally I don't care what you do. I drink beer in the park myself or should I say I eat steak in the park. I have a couple of extra steaks in my ice chest, how about if we bring you three ice cold steaks, I'll be back in a few minutes". The Ford Taurus with the retired campground hosts on board arrives at our site within 10 minutes," here are the steaks, I hope you enjoy them". "Thank you so much, I'll get right to them". 3 Busch Lites in a can, my new favorite beer.

We are up early the next morning, about 5:30 knowing that the mosquitoes don't get up until 6:15; I must replace a spoke on the drive side of the rear wheel that disappeared on one of those climbs, by this I mean totally gone from the wheel. I finally get to use the 6 pounds of tools that I've been carrying for the past 2000 miles. The spoke replacement takes about a half hour, one hour and fifteen minutes to break down camp, you do the math; the mosquitoes are up and begin to attack as we head out for the 5 mile decent. Fifteen minutes later we are back to the "corrugated steel" terrain and wondering if we have what it takes to do these climbs for the next 60 miles. We are greeted at the foot of one of those short steep climbs by two Canadian men in their 20's with 10% body fat on light road bikes and less that 30 pounds in their kits, "these climbs are killing us", states the leanest of the two. Here we are with 65 and 50 pounds on our expedition bikes, the reality strikes, "I have an idea Bean, let's ride to Philadelphia, hop on a plane and spend the next 5 weeks in Jamaica sipping rum and hanging out on the beach".

Ten miles later we leave the route and divert into Pottstown, Pennsylvania to find a bike shop hoping for a little encouragement or at least some sympathy; we strolled into a small shop on the main street, "beautiful day out there, how you doing on the hills with your loaded bikes", ask John the shop owner, "they are steeper from here north and a little longer". Not quite the encouragement we were looking for. "Hey John where is the airport, will you watch our bikes for the next 5 weeks, we' re going to Jamica to sip rum on the beach, the hills are too steep, we have too much weight, we are too old, where's the coffee shop and a good place to eat, may we leave our bikes here, I think we want to walk". On the walk around Pottstown we came up with plan two and three, plan two: rent a car, load the bikes and head to Maine and Acadia State Park or plan three: lighten our load, ship all the camping gear to the Hinckley Yard in Southwest Harbor, Maine and stay in motels for the next tendays.

The coffee shop was closed, we had the world's best hot dogs along with the world's best coffee two doors from John's bike shop before returning to the shop to retrive our bikes, "John where is the UPS Shipping store"? We rode to the store, unpacked every item from our kits and shipped 55 pounds of gear to Southwest Harbor, Maine, we are now commited to motels for the next ten days; we are off to find a cheap motel. So much for the sipping of rum on the beach in Jamica.

That is what we did about the hills in Pennsylvania.

"AMBER WAVES OF GRAIN"

The rain and northeast wind that ended our ride in Otway, North Carolina creating a good day to rest and catch up on chores; laundry, grocery shopping and needed bike maintenance has ended. We are up early, 4:00AM to be on the road by 5:30; our goal is to catch the 9:30 Cedar Island Ferry to Okracoke, camp in the Okracoke National Park and the following day begin the ride north on the outer Banks of North Carolina with a 15-20 mph southwest wind pushing us to Hatteras. The strong southwest wind and insects add to the challenge of setting up the tent and getting the camp ready to prepare dinner and ready for the expected high winds of the night; I’m pretty good at setting up the tent by now, never the less it is made difficult by the strong southwest winds, well worth it considering we will be riding NNE on the Outer Banks; we are excited by the thought of an 18 mph+ ride. A three mile ride north from the campground, into the wind, returning to Okracoke for some hydration and fresh fish remind us of how wonderful it will be with the wind at our backs for the following days ride. Being fully hydrated in town interrupted my sleep with a call to nature about 2:30AM, the wind as expected is blowing harder than when we went to bed, the ride north will be even faster and more exciting, the wind has increased beyond the 15-20 from the SW, blowing 20 with gusts to 30; while standing to do what needed to be done and using the skills learned early in life; the wind at my back for the obvious reason, the Atlantic Ocean is to my left. “Bean, the wind is on my back and the ocean is to my left, am I confused or has the wind shifted to the NE?” 20 gusting to 30 from the northeast, I boot my Droid to consult The Weather Channel and confirm the prediction of SW wind 15-20, I am reassured now about the wind, SW 15-20 and reminded why we have never sailed the outside route around the Outer Banks, the wind is clearly from the NE 20 gusting to 30. Ten minute pulls is the answer for the 42 mile ride from Okracoke to Avon, with Christine keeping the clock, 10 mph we are giving it everything we have, we are not defeated by the wind and complete the ride at Sands of Time Campground, a cute island like campground.

The ride from Avon to Kitty Hawk is 62 miles; the wind has decreased, making the ride not too difficult. Christine is concerned about finding a campsite while I reassure her, “it will all work out”; it’s only the second biggest beach day of the year. We ride to Joe and Kay’s Campground located just down the road from the Wright Brothers Memorial, greeted by a” No Vacancy” sign and a closed office, we are not good at advanced planning, it is the Sunday before Memorial Day, what did we expect. “It will work out”. I locate the manager lounging in the back room of the office, her home, and suggest, “There must be a space for one more tent”. “I have a lot of room, a group just left, right here next to the water”. A small channel with several crab fishing boats and bushel baskets full of live craps lining t he dock, perhaps the prettiest spot yet to camp.

The following days ride is to Bells Island, North Carolina is fast heading NNW with the long awaited SW wind. The plan is to leave Bell’s Island and catch the ferry from Currituck to Knotts Island and from Knotts Island to ride to Virginia Beach. Again our advanced planning came into play; we are up early on Tuesday, 4:30AM and mess around until 5:45. Just before climbing into bed I asked Christine, “Do you have the ferry schedule from Cedar Island, what is the departure time to Knotts Island”? “I threw it away yesterday, goodnight”. A short 3 mile ride to the ferry dock timed our arrival just in time to see the 6:10 ferry casting off; the next ferry is 9:30, on to plan two, the alternate route to Virginia Beach.

Our friend Diane invited Christine and I to join her and her friend David for a bon voyage dinner a week or so before our departure; David lives in Newport News, Virginia and suggested that we alter our route to include the Delmarva Peninsula. “Fabulous idea David except that bicycles are forbidden on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel”. “Just call me and I will come with my pickup truck and transport you, your bikes and gear to Kiptopeke”. It is agreed that the Delmarva Peninsula will be an extraordinary addition to our tour. “Just give me a little notice”, suggests David. Again our advanced planning pays off, “David, hey this is Christine, where are you, we will be in Virginia Beach this afternoon, how about the ride across”. Luck is with us as David planned (I suspect he changed his plans to accommodate us) to return to Virginia that afternoon from a visit to Chapel Hill and was available to transport us across the Chesapeake Bay. David met us at the Subway closest to the last entrance to the Bridge/Tunnel within 15 minutes of our arrival; we loaded our bike and gear into his pickup truck and he delivered us to Kiptopeke, Virginia, offloading us at the rest area. Thanks David for the suggestion of including the Delmarva Peninsula and making it possible.

The ride north through Virginia, Maryland and then into Delaware was flat and absolutely beautiful, primarily agricultural; corn, wheat, tomatoes and peppers, very rural and almost no traffic, old churches and small towns.

After a night in Chincoteague, Virginia we looked forward to a 92 mile ride through Maryland ending at the Delaware Seashore State Park, no headwind, in fact a good tailwind, never the less not an easy ride. We have left the rural agricultural area of Virginia and Maryland and arrive at Ocean City, Maryland. After crossing the bridge we head directly to the famous Ocean City Boardwalk, we are greeted with a warm reception by a police officer on bicycle, not to inquire about our ride or see where we had come from, to inform us, “no bikes on the boardwalk”. Back to the road and on to Delaware.

We arrived after a long day of riding, nine hours in the saddle, at the Delaware Seashore State Park and begin to set up camp when two gentlemen, Rick and Mitch, “camped” in front of our site in their 24 foot travel trailer greet us, “where did yous coming from”? It seems to me we have crossed the Mason Dixon Line, no longer “you all”, now “yous”, no soda, just pop. “Come on over, yous sit under our awning, have a cold beer, get in the air conditioning, put anything you want in our cooler”; two guys here to catch Striped Bass in the Indian River Inlet, famous for the Stripers. We now decide that this is worth seeing, the big Stripers; Rick’s mom holds the record and Rick doesn’t waste any time fetching the photo of his mother holding the record Striper. The following day Mitch invited us to dine with them, “come over at 5:00. Rick is making his famous stir fry, shrimp, green peppers, tomatoes, onion and squash”. Excellent, a home cooked meal, and a famous one at that, “we’re going to Bethany Beach for a coffee and maybe a walk on the beach, we’ll be there at 5:00”. Bethany Beach is a small well healed beach town with beautiful old beach architecture and manicured yards, we returned at 5:00 for our dinner engagement, Mitch was right or close, it may not be famous but it sure could be, what a wonderful time with the two Striper fishermen. We left the following morning never seeing the big Strippers; my Droid beeps, a text with photo, Rick holding a 36” stripper.

We left the beautiful Delmarva Peninsula and entered Pennsylvania, “what are you going to do about the hills”, ask several people, I’ll tell you what we did about those hills next week.

We left Orange Park, Florida early, 5:30AM heading north to Daytona Beach arriving in time to see the sun rise on the beach. Daytona beach holds many fond memories; on the hook in the small boat basin on “Swallow” my 33 foot Polish built wooden cutter, riding my bike up and down the beach, cycling with the racers between Daytona Beach and Ormond Beach on my Raleigh Record, being informed that if I wanted to be fast, the first thing I need to do is buy a bike. I was crushed, my Raleigh was a bike, I was young, in my late twenties and foot loose and fancy free. Daytona Beach has changed a great deal since then; I remembered mom and pop motels, now Hilton, Embassy Suites, Days Inn and my favorite LaPlaya; who chose that name?

The ride north on A1A was fantastic with a nice tailwind allowing us to ride 82 miles and arrive early at Anastasia State Park located between St. Augustine and Jacksonville and its adjoining beautiful white sand beach. We did what any normal tired cyclist would do after riding 82 miles, went for 5 mile walk on the beach following a quick stop at the local convenience store to pick up the necessary hydration, 32 ounces of water for Christine and 2-24 ounce Heinekens in the can for me. The northern coast of Florida is beautiful and unchanged; the McManisions have not arrived.

There is a price to pay for all the beauty we have enjoyed riding on A1A in northern Florida; we are about to find out what the cost will be. From the northern most point of A1A north of Jacksonville Beach, Florida a ferry ride crosses the St. Johns River, with an 18 mile ride due west landing us in Yulee, Florida. A1A has a dramatic change of scenery, a four lane divided highway with a very narrow shoulder, more traffic than I-40 during rush hour with one difference, more logging and gravel trucks than cars. We arrive just in time to encounter a huge traffic jam; a log truck has rolled over in the median blocking traffic in both directions. Now this is a bad scene for everyone except us, the stopped traffic will allow us to ride on the 3 foot shoulder without trucks passing within 2 feet at 65 miles per hour to our destination, Lofton Creek Campground. We cross the bridge over Lofton Creek and find our camp on the left, discussing how wonderful a peaceful campsite beside the creek will be after a horrifying ride along this stretch of A1A. We are greeted by the manager of the campground, a pleasant lady caring for her daughter’s 2 week old baby, welcoming us to Yulee. “Camp anywhere in that grassy area you choose”, she states, “electric and water are right on the post”. “May we go a little further back to get away from the highway and these mercury vapor lights”? “I don’t recommend going back there, they stay up late and sometimes are noisy, best to stay up here”. Now if you ever wondered where motor homes end up when their motors “don’t run no more” check out Lofton Creek Campground, a variety of mostly men whose motor home engines “don’t run no more”. We set up camp, charge batteries, make dinner, shower and in the tent for a peaceful night’s sleep. Imagine camping in the median of I-75 north of Atlanta during the peak rush hour, that’s what we have here, the car traffic did decrease significantly, only to allow more log and gravel trucks. We are concerned about the ride tomorrow, riding west on the highway that does not appear to have any law enforcement and the 3 foot shoulder; needless to say it was not a restful night.

We decided to leave very early to try to avoid the traffic; we are informed by one of the permanent campers whose motor “don’t run no more” that the traffic begins to get heavy by 5:00AM. We are on the road by 4:30 for the 31 mile ride on the road from hell that will lead us into Georgia to a stop for coffee at a small café, the only café or restaurant, in St. George, Georgia. We’ve ridden much further than our normal distance. We were just too terrified to waste any time with the simple pleasures, the log trucks are coming. A warm reception by our waitress and a good cup of coffee now finds us a bit more relaxed after the previous 31 miles of logging trucks. We will head north on Georgia Highway 121 to Folkston, Georgia. We are ready to attempt the final 41 miles when greeted by a log truck driver that asks,”you riding north on 121”? I reply, “That’s the only way to get to where we want to go”. “Be careful, there are a lot of crazy drivers on 121”. We begin, there in not a shoulder to ride on so we must stand our ground on the road, there is not a car in sight and I wonder what this man is talking about. We soon discover what he was referring too, guys like him, driving log trucks and gravel trucks fully loaded heading in both directions at full speed. I don’t know how fast they will go wide open but that is how fast they are moving. We are now visualizing two log trucks going as fast as they will go having a head on collision while trying to avoid a couple of old cyclists heading to Maine or will they choose to gently move us into the ditch with the overhang on the trailer?

We make it to Folkston, Georgia totally horrified and set up camp at very peaceful state campground, of course it’s peaceful; anything short of open-heart surgery would be peaceful after what we had just been through. A good night’s sleep and we are set for a long 82 mile ride to Happy Acres Campground in Odum, Georgia, our only choice within the next 115 miles. Christine is now fantasizing about Happy Acres; the name itself puts a smile on her face. We arrive and are greeted by Steve, the owner, and are informed that this campground has been closed since 2005. “I never turn away cyclists; pick any spot beyond that old truck. Water is at any spigot and I’ll turn on the hot water in the shower house, none of the electrical outlets work, you can charge your phones in the house”. “Hey Steve these spigots don’t work, what about the hot showers?” “Oh, I remember, they where turned off two years ago, I’ll turn on the hot water in the showers”. Christine showered under the hose attached to Steve’s house and I decided I didn’t need a shower after Christine had explored the abandoned shower building. Steve claims he stopped operating his RV Park because the property taxes are too high with the new assessment in 2004, taxes went up 700%.

Another long day ahead, over 80 miles to Statesboro, Georgia, home of Southern Georgia University, and a much needed day of rest. We pulled into Parkwood RV Park kind of beat up and tired, we are greeted by Lisa, the owner and operator of the park. She offered us a motel room for $39.00 a night, we needed two nights, “we’ll just stay in our tent”. Big mistake, way too hot to nap, the campsite was in the sun and we had a lot of work to do on our day off. Just as things are looking down a gentleman introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Van from the Villages, you know the Villages in Florida, where are you going”? “Bangor, Maine”. “Come on over to our coach, the green one right in front of your site, meet my wife Joy and join us for a cocktail”. “What time”? “Anytime you want”. Nice folks, visiting their daughter and new baby in Statesboro and working their way through a slight disagreement on the terms of a contract, I shall not go into detail other than to say that both parties to the contract are attorneys, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. “Take our car to Wal-Mart and use it for whatever you may need to do, go out to dinner, we don’t need it”. Two Bud Lights later, Christine had tea, following the routing on that Garmin 76CXs finds us enjoying Greek salads and pizza in the local Greek restaurant after a successful visit to Wal-Mart and Starbucks. We did manage to do all of the chores and catch up on much needed rest the following day.

The route continues west into South Carolina, the destination is the Point South KOA, in Point South, South Carolina at the intersection of 17A and I-95. At a stop for coffee at Tommy’s in Kildare, Georgia we are warned about an approaching storm from the south, “it looks like it may be a severe thunderstorm”, Tommy warns. Maybe we can stay in front of it so after sampling some honey from Chris and repairing Christine’s tire, lack of air caused by a puncture in the tube, we set off for Point South KOA. Upon arrival and after check in the rain began, the tent is set up in light rain and we feel all is well, the sky dumped, 2-3 inches of rain in less than 3 hours finding our tent floating in 4 inches of water, not one drop inside. “You all can sleep in the shelter if you like”, the manager offers, we did. We washed the tent the next day and set off for Andrews, South Carolina, a 78 miles ride. You should never have a reason to visit Andrews and if you do find an excuse to pass it up; Andrews is one of those places where time has stood still, for a good reason. We where warned in Walterboro not to camp in Andrews, too dangerous, drug activity; we checked into the only local motel for our second night of air conditioned sleep since the tour began on May 1.

We will now leave South Carolina and enter North Carolina, the final good bye was on Highway 17 through North Myrtle Beach, and a memorable goodbye it was, you know Highway 17 in North Myrtle Beach, think I-40 during rush hour without a shoulder. Captain Andy welcomed us to his Campground in Calabash, North Caroline with a wonderful waterside site overlooking the haystacks in the waterway, shaded picnic table and a hot shower.

After much discussion on whether to visit our friends in Wrightsville Beach, 20 bonus miles out of the way or continue on the planned route and stay in Carolina Beach State Park, the conclusion was to stay two nights in Carolina Beach. We had a blast, Gary and Debi came from Wrightsville Beach to join us for dinner, a marginal meal, slow and inattentive service with small tasteless portions, the company of our good friends made this dining experience enjoyable. The following day reintroduced us to life as it is at Carolina Beach including the fishing pier at Kure Beach, a rare opportunity to see a slice of life that may only exist is this area. We highly recommend a visit to the Kure Beach Fishing Pier and the arcade in Carolina Beach, a sample of North Carolina beach life at its finest; have a donut at Britt’s.

A relatively short ride is planned from Carolina Beach for an early arrival in Surf City; we will be camping on the waterway at Lanier’s Family Campground. The day was made longer by my error in navigation adding 12 bonus miles to the ride, now 68 miles of riding versus 56, not an early arrival as planned but made up for by the fresh catch tuna steak from the local fish market in Surf City. I prepared it rare with just salt and pepper on our propane camping stove and a fresh garden salad was prepared by Christine, maybe I should go back to Carolina Beach and let the cook taste this. Our neighbor at the campsite warns of a low pressure system to the south that will cause rain and high winds from the north, this is not good when heading in a northerly direction; he was correct in that prediction. We set of for Sea Level, North Carolina, a 64 mile ride only to be cut short by high winds that reduced our speed to 8 mph or less and beating us up; the ride ended after 49 miles in Otway, North Carolina. We settled back to sit it out for a couple of days, enjoying the hospitality of the campground owner, Becky and her husband. Christine has gone to the Food Lion with Becky and I now have time to write this blog. We will be off tomorrow, riding to Cedar Island and boarding the ferry to Okracoke to begin the ride up the Outer Banks onto the Delmarva Peninsula. We now have ridden 1,537 miles and pray the winds will turn to the south and the fresh caught fish are found.

"Just Ride Your Bike"

The 81 mile ride from my brother and sister in law Tom and Sharon’s home in Lake Worth, Florida to Ft. Pierce, Florida took a toll on Christine, a pulled muscle in right leg just behind and below her knee, probably caused by her compensating for some numbness in two of her toes. We concluded that a rest was in order and began to consider our options in case a couple days rest did not find Christine able to continue to ride. I will ride my bike 63 miles to Daytona Beach, rent a car at the Daytona Beach Airport and drive back to Chapel Hill, pick up our Jetta and return to Ft. Pierce. Christine will then drive from campsite to campsite with her bike and kit in the car (a kit is all the items on her bike) until her injury has healed; I shall continue to ride carrying my kit and meet her at each campground. We spent two days at The Road Runner Travel Resort in Ft. Pierce while Christine nursed her injury, packing her knee with ice and applying Chinese liniment, praying for the healing gods to remove the soreness. A short 6 mile ride to the farmers market on the water front in downtown Ft. Pierce on Saturday was without pain, what a relief, perhaps she will be able to continue. Christine decided to go for it on Sunday, a 63 mile ride to Wickham Park Campground in Orange Park, Florida, the healing gods had come through for us and she rode without pain. Two days later we cut a ride short due to Christine having pain in her sciatica and again began to worry about her being able to continue, it is not looking good. I massaged the sore area and suggested the she had become a hypochondriac, causing these injuries by worrying too much about being injured, I made a suggestion; “maybe you should stop worrying so much and just ride your fucking bike”. We rode 240 miles in the next three days , Christine was back, stronger than ever and now pulling me for a change, no more pain; even combining days rides to make up for a lost day on our schedule so we can play longer when we get to Maine.

The alarm rings at 4:00am on my Droid, I push the snooze for 10 additional minutes of rest before we begin to dismantle our camp, Christine dresses and begins by making Starbucks Via instant coffee and prepares to pack the cooking utensils and food, I compress the pillows, roll the sheet and stuff them in their waterproof stuff sack, next I roll the Therma-Rest sleeping pads and stuff the sleeping bag and the rolled sleeping pads into their waterproof stuff sack. I dress in the riding outfit chosen the night before and placed in the tent, usually the same clothes as the day before, and get out of the tent; we then take the tent down stuff it in its sack. We do all the usual morning hygiene and personal care, I shall not list them, and begin to load the bikes, turn on all the running lights; a LED headlight, a blinking white LED headlight, a red LED taillight and a blinking red LED taillight, boot our trusty 76CSx Garmin GPS and get it on the page displaying the map, mount up and we are off by 5:15-5:40 depending on how things go. The first 25 miles is very pleasant, waiting for the sun to rise at 6:23, the air is cool; we are fresh and riding at our cruising speed, 13-15 mph looking forward to a rest stop and second cup of coffee after two hours. We are out of nutrition now, consuming 2-28 ounce bottles of Hammer Heed and now must resupply with 2-28 ounce bottles of Hammer Perpetum that will last for the next 2 hours or 25 miles when again we stop to resupply our nutrition and perhaps have a small amount to eat to prepare for the last 10 to 30 miles. We arrive at the campsite usually between 1:00 and 3:00pm and set up our camp, this usually takes about 45 minutes, followed by a nap that ranges from one to three hours, followed by dinner, some bike maintenance, a shower, nutritional preparation for the next day’s ride and then back to bed by 9:00, soon it will be 4:00am again.

The four running lights, the Garmin GPS, two I-Pods, two phones, the electric toothbrush, two Canon cameras, the Minty Boost charger, the HP Mini Computer, the Coleman tent light and the Petzl Tinkka Plus head lamps all require batteries or charging. The Garmin GPS requires two AA batteries a day, the bike running lights require fresh batteries about every three or four days; 8 AA, 6 AAA and 4 N batteries, the Petzl headlamps 2 AAA each and the Coleman tent light 4 AA, the phones and the I-Pods need charging every day and the cameras when needed require 4 AA each. I carry 16 AA 2600ma and 16 AAA 1400ma spare NiMH batteries, 4 spare N batteries and 2 kit made Minty Boost battery powered chargers requiring 2 AA batteries each, the Minty Boost can be used to charge the phones or the I-Pods if no other source is available. We use Tenergy batteries and a Tenergy battery charger capable of charging 8 batteries at the same time in any combination of AA or AAA, this requires from 1-3 hours depending on the state of charge and the ampacity of the batteries placed in the charger. The tour would require about 360 batteries if we used alkaline batteries, not to good for the environment or our budget, hence the NiMH rechargeables. The management of this gives me something to do in my spare time between naps and bike maintenance. The photo shows our charging set up in full action.

We are at the end of a day of rest after 7 consecutive days of riding to do laundry, charge batteries, do bike maintenance and catch up on rest in Statesboro, Georgia before the 73 mile ride to Point South, South Carolina in the morning. The batteries are charged, the laundry is complete, the bikes are washed and tuned and we are rested; off to Point South KOA and exceeding the 1000 mile point of our tour.

We're Off

For several weeks we have made lists, gathered the gear and purchased equipment; many trips to REI to purchase and to return, getting ready for the “trial pack”. Let’s try to do the ‘”trial pack” at least two weeks in advance; we will never know what is needed until we gather everything. Back to REI, we need more Velcro strapping. Finally, time for the pack; we get started, getting everything on the lists in one room, clothes laid out on the bed, tools and spares on the floor, cooking utensils, pots and pans, stove, tent, footprint, sleeping bag; a double from Big Agnes, 2 sleeping pads that slide into pockets in the sleeping bag, front and rear panniers for each bike, a duffel bag, 2 waterproof stuff sacks and 20 or 30 other assorted items of much needed gear. 50 pounds on each bike is the goal. We have plenty of time, it’s only Saturday; “let’s stop this and go for a ride” Christine suggests; a quick 42 miles, perfect day and we need the training, we can finish tomorrow. Sunday, another perfect day, a short ride, 25 miles after which we can finish the pack. Lunch at Weaver Street in Carrboro can be short after the ride so we can finish. Anyway we have next weekend, we’re not picking up the rental car that we will drive from Chapel Hill, North Carolina to Key West until a week from this Friday; we can finish the trial pack this week. Close; the next weekend, somehow distracted, perhaps it was Christine suggesting we ride our road bikes, it looks like everything will fit with room to spare and we have four more days to get it together. Finally the panniers are packed, the duffel is full, one waterproof stuff sack has the sleeping bag and the other has the pillows and a sheet, perfect. “Should we take a full liter of this first cold pressed oil”? “Get the scale SB, let’s see how we are doing on weight, bring it out here”. I put blue masking tape on each bag to note the weight on. This is not as planned; mine is 72 pounds and Christine’s is 60, way too heavy, we are leaving in the morning.

Off to Avis to pick up the car, wrong size, we need an SUV, two bikes and all the gear, no problem, I upgrade to a Dodge something. Load all the gear and head to Key West, 987 miles, a 20 hour drive. Not bad, a couple of short naps and keeping the left door closed on the Dodge we arrive at 9:20AM on Saturday and turn in the car. We have never ridden the bikes fully loaded; 72 pounds on mine and 60 pounds on Christine’s, we immediately conclude that we do not have the proper bikes for this kind of weight for this long of a tour. We practice in the parking garage at the Key West International Airport; “might just have to get used to the feel of a bike and gear weighting around 95 pounds”. Christine panics, what now? Let’s ride to the southernmost point of Key West, actually the Keys run east and west; see if they begin to feel like bikes we can ride 2847 miles. 7 miles to the marker that designates the southernmost point, made it and things are looking up; now only 24 miles to the first campground, Sugarloaf KOA. I’m thinking of a cold beer right after the Hammer Recoverite recovery drink. I belly up to the bar and enjoy a cold beer with Jody Payne, the lead guitarist with Willie Nelson for the past 36 years. Already cool experiences are happening; this is why we set out.

East through the Keys, perfect wind, 15-25 knots if we were going the other direction. Headwind for the next three days, 90 degrees, humid, late start; we are just learning. After 36 miles Christine is overheated, dehydrated and no longer can ride; I built her a shelter to provide shade and perhaps she can cool down in the ditch along the side of the road with the sun shade over her. After an hour of rest, 28 ounces of water, two electrolyte tablets, she feels she can go on to the next campsite, only 22 more miles, about 2 hours. We made it, a 58 mile day.

Next a 62 mile ride; we will be leaving the Keys and enter the mainland, Homestead. Great wind, unfortunately, the wrong direction again. Hotter than hell and cruising at less than 11 mph. The Seven Mile Bride is today, an opportunity to ride our bikes over the Bridge, reminisce sailing under and ponder Christine’s record run in 1992, setting a course record that held for 12 years. No record today; 25 mph headwind reducing us to 6 mph at the top. Finally we arrive at the campground around 2:30PM, great spot, next to the NASCAR track in Homestead. We are greeted by a couple of thousand mosquitoes and I mange to find a piece of wood with two nails sticking up next to our picnic table. I shall not go into the details of how I found it or what was said after I located it. “Have you have had recent tetanus”, asks Christine?

We are just learning. Today’s destination is North Miami Beach; we want to get an early start so we will pass through Miami at peak rush hour and our timing is perfect. Riding through the low country north west of Homestead around the tree farms, very cool. I’ve done a very thorough job of entering the routes and checked and rechecked the waypoints, via points and the destinations. Days of Google Earth, Garmin Mapsource, no way we can go wrong. The Garmin 76Csx GPS is accurate to within 3 meters. The arrow on the screen shows a left turn, the GPS does not lie; one problem, no road to the left and we want to go east, not west. The GPS is accurate to within 3 meters; I’ve checked and rechecked the route, 36 waypoints, 23 via points, Google Earth. Should we cross the ditch and cut through the tree farm and head the opposite way we want to go? I have flown airplanes, sailed sail boats; I’ve been trained to believe the instruments. My training kicks in, we turn right, the GPS recalculates. All is well now, the distance to our destination is decreasing, some sort of error on my part I suppose. Turn right is displayed on the screen now; I’ve been trained, heading east a right turn will put us on a south heading, Miami is north of Homestead. Again my training kicks in; we turn left heading north. I hear a voice from behind, “hey, where are you heading”? Miami. The conversation continues, “I’ll help you get out of this area”. “I don’t need guidance, I have my trusty Garmin 76Csx GPS, accurate to within 3 meters programmed to indicate every turn, all the distances and my final destination”. “Turn right at the next road” states our new best friend. “Hey, my GPS indicates a left”. “I’ll help you get out of here, your GPS is scrambled, you know Homestead Air Force Base is just west of the tree farm, they don’t want you to bomb them; I’ll help[p you get out of here”. South Miami here we come just perfect timing for the peak rush hour.

We are headed to my brother Tom and his wife Sharon’s home in Lake Worth today, a 61 mile ride. We are off at 6:00AM, tailwind today, we’re cruising; 14, 15, 16 mph. Passed a couple of road bikes north of Ft. Lauderdale, a guy on his Harley joined us for several miles with curious conversation. Arrived at Tom and Sharon’s right on schedule, 1:00PM. We are learning, left early, applied and reapplied the sunscreen, 8-28 onuce water bottles of Hammer Nutriton, great ride. A nice dinner party, 10 guests, a Cinco de Mayo celebration. Big bottle of Tequila, fortunately I know better than to drink Tequila before an 81 mile ride ending in Ft. Pierce. Rum is the answer for me. We want to leave at 5:00AM to avoid the heat, early to bed and early to rise to be in peak form for the ride. Way too much rum, bed at 11:30, 81 miles with a slight hangover, I am still leaning.

81 miles down arrived at Ft. Pierce, drank 3 beers, goodnight.

Cycle North Carolina Spring Training Ride

The weather forecast for Thursday night was 70% rain, thunderstorms, possibly severe at times, winds ESE at 20-30mph. Not ideal conditions for camping. The rain was forecasted to begin at 3:00AM. This didn’t deter us from setting out and joining the other 800 or so campers setting up camp on Thursday afternoon in the city park on the banks of the Albemarle Sound in beautiful Edenton, North Carolina. The number will grow to 1200 riders by the weekend. We had our brand new Big Agnes Slide Mountain 3 person tent and our Alcove Shelter from REI, several coolers, 4 chairs, a folding table, bike repair stand and all the necessary cooking gear and food for 3 days and of course our bikes. Not an easy task to set up a tent that we have had no experience with in 25 mph winds when every time we let go of a piece it becomes airborne. The tent, footprint and rain fly all flapping in the breeze, 6 sections of unassembled tent poles, a dozen stakes on the ground and absolutely no idea where to start, tents don’t come with instructions. With the assistance and direction of several other campers and many varied opinions as to how to set this up, we managed in spite of the wind, to complete the camp in less than an hour.

As predicted the rain began around 3:00AM, severe at times; winds estimated 25-40mph. We had retired an old friend, the $39.99 Wal-Mart tent that served us well for the past 3 years and purchased the Big Agnes knowing that we would be living in it all of May and June while on our tour. Last year’s model Slide Mountain at 40% off cost 10 times that of our Wal-Mart tent; our expectations are high. Big Agnes claims these tents are tested in the most severe conditions, 12 inches of rain per hour and 100 mph winds, these claims convinced me to switch from the REI tent I had been studying to the Big Agnes.

Not much sleeping going on Thursday night when it’s blowing 25-40 and raining, severe as predicted. At 4:30AM we heard noise that sounded to me like an Air Force jet troop carrier landing next to us and reversing the thrust of their 6 jet engines to slow the aircraft to a stop. The tent was pushed down, I sat up to hold the spars to prevent the tent from coming down on us, rain now falling at rate 3 inches per hour, a troop carrier landing next to us, mysterious, what is happening, then 10 seconds later relative quiet for 10-15 seconds, then the sounds of another troop carrier aircraft landing. Another 10-15 seconds and quiet again with only light wind and rain. The only sounds now are the voices of people up out of their tents wandering about trying to figure out what just happened. I quickly put on my rain gear to go out and see what just happened, is anyone injured? Tents destroyed everywhere, perhaps as many as 20-30, metal framed shelters twisted and discarded in various locations, parts of tents, bikes, and camping equipment scattered about. A 12 inch pine tree snapped like a tooth pick fallen in the center of the camp ground, the trunk grazing a tent on the way down, another tent under the branches. Hundreds of campers out in their PJs, the fire department arrives, EMTs, police and folks from the city of Edenton. The good Lord was with us, a true miracle, not one person hurt or even injured. A lady from Chapel Hill was under the branches of the fallen pine tree, in shock in her tent, she was rescued by another camper that cut her tent to get her out, a true miracle. Not a troop carrier landing, a downburst, winds near 80mph, everyone is safe. Big Agnes has stood the test, no water inside and no damage.

Out of our tent early on Friday with very little sleep, we came to ride. “Let’s do the 52 mile ride,” (actually 58 miles) suggests Christine. It’s 55 degrees, dark and cloudy with winds steady at 15-20 mph, Christine mixed the Hammer Nutrition into the water bottles and gathered the needed supplements, I cleaned and lubed the chains, pumped up the tires and we set out, we came here to train. The route was flat and wide open with steady winds, seemed like in our face most of the time and the skies are getting darker as time goes on. The weather is predicted to be clearing by early afternoon with highs about 64; we dressed accordingly, long sleeve wool jerseys and wind breaker vests, wrong choice. 30 miles into the ride; light to heavy rain, 30-35 mph winds, open and flat terrain, nothing to block the wind, not what we expected. Rest stop soon, maybe 5-6 miles, we are hoping for shelter there. We arrive to find a group of riders in the same condition as us, cold, wet and tired; they are waiting for the SAG wagon to take them back to camp. Christine is wet and very cold, freezing. John, a volunteer, notices Christine shivering standing in the lee of the fire station at the rest stop and loaned her his jacket, wonderful people these CNC folks. Within 20 minutes the clouds begin to open up, the wind has laid down to maybe 10-15, on the nose of course, let’s finish the ride only 20 mile to go, Christine is now in a bright yellow men’s large jacket and is beginning to warm up, we’re off. We finish to bright skies and warm sun about 60 degrees. Great experience and training for the conditions that may confront us on our tour. Later, on several occasions Christine tried to return the jacket to John, he said, “keep it, it’s cold”, then on the final day John insisted she keep it in memory of the spring ride. If you see a women riding north along the east coast on a fully loaded touring bike wearing a bright yellow men’s large jacket it just may be Christine, she’s grown quite fond of it.

As predicted we woke to clear skies, warm sun, about 55 degrees with light winds on Saturday, “let’s do the 80 mile ride.” We are looking for a group to ride with, we ride slow, maybe 14-16 mph knowing soon a group we pass and perhaps we may join them, participate in a little socialization and enjoy the benefits of drafting. “On your left”, music to our ears, the group, 12 riders in perfect form, two abreast, look to be going 18-20 pace, we’re on. “May we join you?” Riders training for an Ironman in the fall, steady pace with their trainer keeping control holding the pace below 22, they are riding the next 50 miles without a rest stop. Each pair pulls about five minutes, then drops back for the next 30 minutes, easy riding. Fortunately we had enough fuel and water to go the distance, great fun. It turns out that we met two of the riders at the last Spring CNC, Melissa and Alan from Raleigh with their friends, 4 women 6 men between 30-40 years old. Steady, not fast, most are tri-athletes, not cyclists; we are training for a tour so the slower pace was fine with us. 80 miles average 17.7 mph.

We are invited to join this same group on Sunday, 70 miles, first rest stop at 50 miles, we accept. We will need to carry three water bottles with nutrition to go the first 50 miles before the rest stop. We get two more water bottles and mix enough fuel (Hammer Nutrition) to last the 50 miles. Melissa volunteers to carry Christine’s third bottle and I put mine in my jersey, we only have two water bottle cages on our bikes. We had all the ingredients for an exceptional ride; perfect weather, warm with light wind, disciplined group, slower pace and enjoyable conversation. 17.5 average speed, 135 bpm average heart rate; perfect.

Excellent training for us, 210 miles in three rides; our average heart rates looked good, the Hammer Nutrition products are providing the needed fuel and we felt fine at the end of each day. Christine has about 600 and I have over 1000 miles this spring, we are just starting to get comfortable on our bikes again. We will be riding an average of 55 miles per day on our tour for 50 days, we can do it.

Ragan and staff are to be commended on the fabulous job they do putting on the Cycle North Carolina Spring Ride and a big thank you should go out to the people of Edenton who welcomed us with open arms and allowed us to take over their town. Thanks Ragan, the CNC staff and the people of Edenton, North Carolina for a weekend we will not soon forget.