The Devil's Country

So we woke up at the Rosedale church and made it just a few miles before stopping at a Valero to foul their toilet and buy whatever bars they had on hand. The gas stations of this nation could do excellent business if they had the good sense to stock Clif bars.

We had a major climb early in the day, it's hard to keep track of them all at this point. I think we all have one lump memory of the climbing completed thus far – grinding slowly in the heat. Individual climbs are indistinguishable in my mind at least.

On the descent we stopped at a fruit and vegetable stand in Council, VA. They had started selling food about two weeks prior – in a dilapidated house. The couple were pleasant to talk to and the man gave us all a few grapes on the house in addition to our purchases.

Then it was another climb, this one steep. Adam almost got hit by a car at the top. We had finished the hill and were taking a break but it was around a blind curve. Should've chosen a different place to stop. I heard screeching brakes and Adam sort of jumped into a ditch but he's OK.

On the next descent there was cause for great celebration as we finished our first state and crossed the Kentucky state line. A self timer group photo and a short round of congratulations later, we were riding again. We made a lunch break in a place called Elkhorn City and stopped off for Mexican food. We had planned to try 105 miles to get to a hostel but we called and they were closed. That ended up being a fantastic answer. When we pull into these small towns, there's often little choice about where to eat, if you'd like to get some calories in you. And we expend just about every single joule we have in wrenching ourselves up these nonsensical, never-ending climbs. Those bikes are heavy. The majority of the crew left with mixed feelings about whatever soup of ingredients they had just consumed, except for me. My plate was pretty good. I could definitely commiserate though. Jeremy's meal in particular looked like some sort of goulash once all the ingredients had stewed together. But enough on that. Let's just get back to California and eat real Mexican food.

Then it was the third world climb. Riding through Virginia most of the houses along the road were well maintained. There was an old barn here and there but it gave the scenery a rustic charm. There was no charm to this Kentucky climb. It honestly defied our conception of what America is, or is supposed to be. The road wound up, houses on either side, if you could call them that. A stream ascended to the right. Trash was strewn everywhere – in the waterway, in people's yards, in the tree line. Bottles and car tires and trash bags and rusted out cars and broken machinery. Some of the homes were burnt out, missing doors, falling over. Tons of buildings had been marked with “No Trespassing” signs by some official agency trying to keep squatters or junkies or whoever out. And the people were not waving and smiling anymore. These were mountain people and they did not put us at ease. Oh yes, and the dogs. We are chased by dogs regularly now, thankfully with no bites.

The worst time for a canine encounter is when you're climbing because there's no place to go. At one point we had a posse of 5-6 dogs encircle us. At least they were on the smallish side. I haven't had to spray any yet. Harsh shouting will do the trick a lot of the time. This climb was a wall too. Standing up, mashing on your pedals, surrounded by mountain people, surrounded by dogs, it was lousy. I forgot to mention that the stream that runs alongside this road had washed out sections of the shoulder. In the past, even without a bike lane, we could always count on having at least to the white line. Not today.

We finally got to the top, where the road was covered with patches of mud and dirt when the sky started to fall on us. Gasping for breath and having escaped dog attacks is not a good time to rapidly put on rain covers. It was miserable. It was the lowest point on the trip thus far. None of us cried, but I bet all of us were close. There was nothing to do but press on so we descended. Then it got hot. Wonderful. We are soaked. Everything is soaked and it's hot out. Be thankful that the warm funk emanating from both our persons and our belongings cannot yet be broadcast to your nose over the internet.

We pushed up our last major climb for the day and met a woman and her grandson. She told some great stories and Jordan and Jeremy played catch with her boy. They gave us a suggestion on a camp spot and we descended once more. We came down into Bevinsville and stopped at Hi-Lite pizza and asked for suggestions on where to pitch our tents. This kind of camping is stressful because it's getting dark and you don't want to get rousted. Thankfully we met some tremendous people including one gentleman named Steve who said it was fine to set up camp on a field he owned just across the street. Our faith in humanity was restored, and we gave Kentucky a reprieve.

Before we set up camp we reviewed some of the future maps and routes and started to get a bit nervous. It's a long and difficult road ahead and initial time estimates for completing the ride are inaccurate. It may take as much as a week longer than we thought. Here's hoping the legs hold up.

Elk Garden Methodist Church.

Watch out for the Exterminator.

Fruit and vegetable stand in Council, VA.

Climbing the Breaks.

It's hilly.

Kentucky State Line.

The roads are cut out of the rock.