The Cookie Lady

So we left early this morning for the first time, a minor triumph among a series of neverending problems. We were delayed a few minutes while Jordan took the pedals off Charlie's bike and installed them on his own. That beat up a couple pairs of hands. Pedals are not meant to be removed with multitools. But we got it figured out.

It was a somber moment when we said goodbye to Charlie. There was a round of hand shaking and a few short words and then Charlie stayed at Jeff's while we began the ride. Our first stop was a country store where we bought their entire stash of bananas. The cycling maps show a shopping cart icon when there's food available for purchase – but that might mean chips, soda, and lotto tickets – not exactly athletic fuel.

Luckily we happened upon a pick-your-own strawberry joint and picked up some apples, and pears, and I got miniature animal crackers. We kept riding again and Adam asked to stop because of some kind of rub coming from the back of the bike. We came to a halt outside an antique store for an inspection. A number of spokes on Adam's rear wheel were totally slack. Not good. Adam took his panniers off, we flipped the bike over, and then I retensioned and trued the wheel as best as I could. We'll see if that holds.

Then we met the cookie lady. June Curry was born in Afton, Virginia and from what I understand has lived her entire life there. Since 1976 her house and property have been a safe haven for passing bicyclists. She's a major fixture. She's had some health problems recently, but she used to bake cookies for the cyclists, hence the name. An entire house on the property has been devoted to the postcards, photographs, books, old tires, jerseys, and all other manner of cycling paraphernalia. Cyclists can stay for free, there's food and supplies for them, and June's warm conversation. Donations are welcome. June shared a number of stories with us on her front porch, as well as Reese's candy for everyone. She is a tremendous lady. The whole thing was a statement not just about cycling, but about human generosity.

And all of that was almost fouled by Adam locking the keys inside the house. After a lengthy and complicated series of maneuvers, one of which included removing an old window pane that had been duct taped in place, we got the keys back. June was pleased.

We completed the first major climb of the tour, up the Blue Ridge parkway. The views were spectacular and everybody held up pretty well. We missed a town called Love where we had intended to buy more food and some riders were getting ready to board the bus to Bonk town. We exited after about 25 miles on the parkway and tore down a hairy descent to a place called Vesuvius. We heard stories about people burning out their brakes on the road down and it was easy to see why. Short, tight curves – winding turns – and steep downhills. I felt tough navigating down it, like: “Yeah, now that's riding.”

Once at the bottom we ate at Gertie's country store and reenergized. A 10 mile stretch followed where we held 22 and 23 mph after a long day. That's what a grilled cheese can do for you it seems. A train pulled alongside us on tracks that paralleled the road and we raced in the fading light of the afternoon.

4-5 miles more and we were in Lexington where we met our host Andy, a graduated law student studying for the bar. He gave us directions to the Kroger in town and we rejoiced at a full produce section and boundless options for food. We bought supplies for burritos and came back to Andy's and ate handsomely. I managed to fix the power cord for the laptop I'm using. It had been shorting out so I was quite pleased.

That's about it. 80 something miles. I suppose a lot happened today. We're trying to get back on track, back on schedule. We'll keep you posted on the effort.

Inside the bike house.

Ladies and gentleman, June Curry.

About to begin climbing the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I think I can see the ocean. Wait, no - that's the several thousand miles of the country that remain.

Sandwiches and french fries.

And ice cream.


Riding alongside the river nearly all day.