THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY: COMPLETING LEWIS AND CLARK’S JOURNEY

Photos by Joseph Insalaco
 

In 2009, two of my friends and I headed west from St. Louis following Lewis & Clark’s route. At that time only one of us, Hans-Peter, made it to the Pacific Ocean. In 2013, Joe and I headed west again to complete the journey.  Since Lewis and Clark took over 2 years (1804-1806) to finish, we felt that our delay was for purely historical purposes. During our trip, we posted a blog providing daily events, mileage, and photographs (http://lewisandclark2013.blogspot.com/).

After each of my cycling trips, I am asked questions like, “how was it” or “what part did you like the best.”   My answer is usually, “fantastic” followed up by a couple of good stories.   In some ways this trip had some real challenges that, at the time, seemed to overwhelm the many great things we experienced.  It took me a while to decide how I could characterize this adventure without the tough parts dominating the story.  After some contemplation, I thought of the title of Clint Eastwood’s epic spaghetti western, “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” and it seemed to fit our trip.

 

The GOOD

 

When Joe and I got off the train in Havre, Montana (the end of our 2009 trip) it was raining heavily (it was ugly) and my bike was missing (that was bad).  Both of these events could have a real damper on any cycling trip.   However, spending an extra day waiting for my bike allowed 3 good things to happen.  First, because we were unable to start cycling we avoided the heavy rains that fell the next morning and into the mid-afternoon.  Second, we visited Havre’s tourist attractions.  Third, our friend, Hans-Peter who was cycling from the Pacific Ocean to Bar Harbor, Maine, met us in Havre the next day. 

The town dates back to late 1800 when it started as a rough and tumble railroad and military town with few women but lots of bars and brothels.  A fire in 1904 destroyed five blocks of its business district.  The businesses soon reopened in their remaining basements and continued to operate underground even as the town was rebuilt above them, thus Havre Underground.  As the city above was rejuvenated, clear glass blocks were installed in the sidewalks to allow light into the underground.  As the glass blocks aged they turned purple, creating an interesting underground mosaic.  The recreated underground businesses include a brothel, bars, dental office, drug store, meat market, law office, bakery, laundry, and opium den.  While no brothels or opium dens were visible during our above-ground tour of Havre, the town still seems like it has a rough edge with lots of bars and casinos.

 

Our next tourist stop was the “Buffalo Jump,” about 8 miles from Havre.  The Buffalo Jump got its name from the Native American practice of stampeding buffalo over a cliff so meat and hides could be harvested. The site dates back 2,000 years and was preserved as the hillside collapsed and covered the remains.  In the late 1960s, archaeologists began uncovering 3 distinct layers of activity.  

 

Hans-Peter arrived later in the day.  That evening we cycled to one of Havre’s restaurants that overlooked the town.  There, we enjoyed swapping stories over dinner and beers.

 

Several days after leaving Havre, we had a string of good days.  From Great Falls we headed southwest on an old highway that was devoid of traffic as it paralleled the Interstate. We headed towards picturesque mountain ranges.  While the closer mountains were scenic, behind them sat even larger snowcapped mountains that caught our attention.  Pronghorn antelopes were in the fields and raced us as we moved westward.  When we reached the town of Cascade, we stopped at the newly remodeled Cascade Coffee and Café where the owner and her short-order chef served us great food and warn hospitality. 

 

Leaving Cascade, we cycled along the Missouri River.  The terrain slowly changed and became hilly as we approached Tower Rock State Park, noted in Meriwether Lewis’ journal as “The Tower.” Lewis reported that he climbed the 400 foot rock with some difficulty but from there saw a pleasing view of the country…and immense herds of buffalo in the plains below.  Just past the Park we could see the nearby Interstate climb up into the mountains.  However, we continued on our county road that ran alongside the river avoiding a big climb and providing us with a scenic ride.  Following the Missouri River, we soon entered a canyon that snaked through sheer cliffs for about 15 miles of cycling bliss.  We ended the day at the “town” of Wolf Creek that provided us good lodging and meals.  The town, however, wasn’t much more than several outfitters, 2 motels (only one still in business), a post office, 2 bars, a few homes and a church.

 

Days later, in Lolo Hot Springs, Montana, we were “treated” to a concert so it must fit the “good” category.   One of the first things we did upon our arrival was relax in the hot springs.  Later, we went to the bar for our meal and were immediately thrown into a time warp.  When making our reservations we were told that a “pirate concert” would be happening just across the highway from our lodge.  Neither of us took this warning too seriously. We still don’t know what a pirate concert is, but the clothing the kids were wearing was a direct throwback to the 1970s.  The guys were skuzzy and the girls half dressed.  Yes, we are officially old (which may be bad but does give us time to take cycling trips).  Furthermore, the music was nothing we could relate to.  It was a throbbing bass that literally vibrated our motel room that was 300 yards away from the stage. 

 

We left at dawn the next morning accompanied by the continuing loud music and a barrage of fireworks that sailed into the air in our honor…at least that is what we believed.  We climbed a long, but easy, incline for about an hour before the road got steeper as we crossed over Lolo Pass at 5,233 feet.  It was a relatively easy climb but the temperatures were in the mid-thirties and we were cold.  Next, we had a fast 5 mile downhill ride that took us to Powell, Idaho were we stopped for breakfast.  (In 2002, we camped here when we cycled across the United States.)  Powell is not a town but rather a ranger station with a camp ground, cabins, and a great restaurant. As we turned off the highway, we met Reinhare a cyclist from Germany and joined him for breakfast.  Reinhare was cycling from Portland, Oregon to Portland, Maine.  Our breakfast was excellent but too much for us to consume, which was good because it provided 2 large huckleberry pancakes for lunch. 

 

The rest of the day, we enjoyed a gradual decline, as we followed the Lochsa River for the next 70 miles. This was the beginning of several fantastic days.  As we continued westward, we met more cyclists.  Becky and Denis were cycling home to Delaware and were only 7 days from their start in Portland, Oregon. While we recommended the restaurant in Powell, they warned us that all we had to look forward to were fried foods and hamburgers until we got closer to Portland. 

 

The Lochsa River is scenic and fast moving. It races over rocks and around sharp bends through a valley of pine trees and steep hills. Along the way we saw many white water rafters which provided us with a great diversion. We would race ahead of the rafts to a good spot for photographs and after they passed we would race to the next spot for more pictures.  With our racing, the heat and head winds, we found ourselves low on drinking water.  But, as the old saying goes, “the road provides,” and one of the raft group support vehicles had plenty of water to share. 

At Three Forks, the Lochsa River merged with the Selway River and later the Clearwater River.  The river became less wild as it became wider and calmer but we were still faced with a constant head wind.  As we entered Orofino, Idaho, we saw a new motel across the river that was not on our list of lodgings.  While our “planned” lodging was 2 miles further downriver, we could not pass up a new motel.   The rate matched the prevailing rate on this trip but we got a much better lodging than most nights.  When we entered the lobby, Courtney, the manager, greeted us with bottles of cold water, and a warm smile.  Another woman, who introduced herself as the breakfast hostess, asked if we planned to leave early the next day.  When we told her that we did, she said she would have breakfast ready earlier than scheduled.  Sure enough, at 5:30 the next morning we had fresh coffee, real eggs, sausages, etc., and a wonderful start to our day.   Now that was good!

 

Sometimes, those ugly head winds actually produced good results.  We had been leaving early to avoid the head winds that start as the day warms.  Leaving Pomeroy, Washington we encountered 20 to 25 mph winds out of the south west.  It was ok for awhile because we were not headed directly into the wind and had a 15 mile gradual downhill.  However, when our direction changed directly to the southwest, things got tough.  As if the steady winds were not bad enough, the gusts were much stronger and occasionally blew us off the road. (We learned later that the gusts were 30 to 40 mph.)  We finally arrived in Dayton, Washington, and decided to stop for the day. 

 

Dayton is a real gem that we would have missed if we continued with the day’s planned mileage.  Not to waste the day, we took a walking tour of Dayton, which dates back to 1860.  Dayton’s downtown has not only survived but appears to be thriving.  In addition to our motel (another new Best Western), we found several nice restaurants, a brew pub, several cafes, the usual bar and pizza places, several stores, art galleries, and antique shops. We also saw the historic county courthouse and the restored train station--built in 1881 by the Oregon Railroad and Navigation Company and is the oldest surviving train station in Washington. 

 

 During our walk we decided to check out each of the restaurant’s dinner menus.  We stopped first at the Fire and Irons Brewpub and sampled several beers.  Next we wandered into the Manila Bay Asian Café that required reservations and had some very interesting but expensive menu items. Near the end of our walk we found Weinhard Café and went back there for dinner.  Dinner started with local beers, cream of asparagus soup, mixed green salad and their own flat bread with a chickpea and radish spread.  For our main course we each had fresh halibut over a bed of rice topped with green curry sauce and a side of asparagus spears.  For dessert Joe had pecan pie and I had the black berry cobbler.  The menu changes daily and the breads and desserts are all “house made.” This was a fantastic meal and a far cry from the ever-prevalent hamburgers and fried chicken.

 

For several days, we had to cycle on the Interstate Highway that ran next to the Columbia River.  It should have been scenic but with the traffic noise and headwinds we just wanted to pound out the miles and get to The Dalles, Oregon.  This is where the Gorge transitioned from high desert to a rainforest environment.   Leaving The Dalles, we cycled on a trail that took us west along the Columbia River.  While the trail was paved, it was more of a nature trail;  meandering with lots of twists and turns meant to give the trail user a look at the flora and fauna that grows in the marsh along the river.  From there we got on Historic Route 30, a rarely used road that goes into the mountains overlooking the river.  Parts of this route are closed to motorized vehicles which was good.  It also  
had some climbs but we enjoyed the vistas and lack of traffic that took us into Hood River, Oregon.

  

From Cascade Locks we again cycled on a bike path that took us west along the Interstate for about 5 miles.  From there, we had to get on the Interstate for only 3 miles before transitioning back to “Historic Route 30” that took us by many large water falls.  Most notable is the Multnomah Falls, the highest waterfall in the Columbia River Gorge with a total drop of 620 feet.  Later, we had a long climb up to Vista House that was above the clouds (not that we were so high but the clouds were low over the river) and offered a wonderful view of the Columbia River and valley below.  As we continued west, we cycled along the top of the ridge for several miles before we came to the long anticipated downhill that dropped us back to the river and led us into Portland, Oregon.  As we worked our way into the city, we cycled mostly on bike paths along the Columbia River with Mount Hood looming behind us.  Once we got into the city, we headed for the River City Bike shop where we left our bikes to be shipped home.

 

THE BAD

After reading about the good, you may not be sympathetic about the “bad” we encountered. But one day was truly bad and cannot be ignored.  In Fort Benton, Montana, we woke to heavy rains and cold temperatures and contemplated staying in our motel for another day.  However, we thought we could tough out the weather but it really punished us.  The temperature stayed in the low 50s and the wind blew the rain under our protective gear making us wet and cold.  We worried about hyperthermia and there was no place to get out of the weather—no gas station, restaurant, roadside shelter—so we just had to push on to Great Falls, Montana, 43 miles away.  At the first motel we found, we took long hot showers, enjoyed several hot drinks, and blasted the heat in our room. Surprisingly, several days later as we were again battling headwinds up a 2 mile climb (near Helena, Montana) we met Marlowe Rames who had a different perspective to our bad day.  Marlowe told us he wanted to talk to us because he saw us cycling in the rain on the road to Great Falls.  He told us how tough he thought we were cycling in such bad weather and wished he had the determination to do what we did.  Gee, we thought that we were just stupid.

 

THE UGLY

I have made several references to the head winds we encountered on this trip.  Let me get this over with quickly. We had head winds during most of our trip and some days they were downright challenging.  Before undertaking this journey, we checked into the common belief that the winds are predominately from the west.  What we found out was that the trade winds are from the west but they are thousands of feet in the air pushing airliners east.  Surface winds, however, are “usually” from the south; except in the Columbia River George which acts like a wind tunnel. 

 

The winds up the Columbia River Gorge were as bad as predicted but they weren’t the worst and most days the winds came from the west; so much for our research.  At the end of one of our particular tough days we received an email from our friend Hans-Peter.  As you will recall, he was heading east and we were going west.  Hans-Peter complained that the headwinds were also keeping him from moving.  We wondered how it could be that the east bound cyclist and west bound cyclist both have head winds.  The old cyclist’s adage must be true, “no matter which way you are heading, you will have a headwind.” 

 

THE END

 In no way would I compare our “struggles” with those of Lewis and Clark.  Nor was our ending dramatic like an Eastwood movie.  In fact, our last miles between Portland and Astoria, Oregon, were not spent on our bikes but in a car reducing our travel time from 2 days to just hours.  After spending a day in Astoria, we drove back to Portland where we caught flights to our homes. Despite the headwinds and one cold/wet day, we had a great trip. 

 

 

Exploring the Acadian Shores

(Published in SPOKES, Winter 2012-13)
Photos by Joseph Insalaco

Our panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean and its rocky shores made getting to the mountain top overlook worthwhile. Leaving Cheticamp, Nova Scotia on the Cabot Trail we were encased in fog and buffeted by strong winds. We cycled along the ocean toward French Mountain’s 1,500 foot climb. The climb was slow but not difficult. The wind soon brought cold temperatures and rain that caught us by surprise. From the summit of French Mountain it was just a short ride to the top of MacKenzie Mountain. The effort was worth the reward: a wonderful ocean view followed by a great downhill ride into the warm sun.

The beauty of this trip was its many ocean views. Sometimes these views were anticipated but others just seemed to materialize at the right time. The Acadian Shores offer ocean-side cycling, mountains, valleys, natural wonders, interesting towns, and great cycling experiences. Our trip took us to 3 Acadian locations: Acadia National Park in Maine and Annapolis Valley and Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. Our daily experiences, photos, and maps can be viewed at http://acadiashores2012.blogspot.com.

The Journey Begins

To start our journey, I drove 300 miles from northern Virginia to Joe's home near Poughkeepsie, New York. Joe has been my cycling companion since we met 10 years ago when we cycled across the United States. Leaving Joe’s home, we drove 450 miles to Bar Harbor, Maine. Our only real stop on this long drive was in the town of Wiscasset, Maine. There we ate a lobster roll at Red’s Eats—an eatery featured on many PBS specials. Red’s Eats is a very small place (no indoor dining) located on Route 1 at the Wiscasset River Bridge. We got there at 1 p.m. and were 23rd in an ever growing line. It took 40 minutes for us to place our order, another 10 minutes to get our food, and only 10 minutes to eat a shared lobster roll. FYI, a lobster roll and soda cost $18.50. The place must be a gold mine.

Acadia National Park

Acadia Park is just a few miles from Bar Harbor, Maine. Our first adventure was to cycle the Park’s carriage roads. These gravel roads were built by John D. Rockefeller, Jr. before the island became a national park. The roads allowed the island’s wealthy residents to ride their horses and buggies over the island to see its wonderful lakes, mountains, and scenic overlooks. Forty miles of carriage roads are still closed to motorized vehicles and widely used by walkers and bicyclists. We cycled a route to see all of the park’s lakes and overlooks and for Joe to photograph all 17 of the carriage roads’ stone arch bridges.

While we had many climbs, they were not difficult (since they were built for horse drawn carriages). The first couple of descents were cautious with a liberal application of our brakes. However, the down hills became fantastic once we got comfortable with the gravel surface. Words cannot describe the peaceful moments we enjoyed along the lakes or the “wow” moments the vistas offered after a long climb.

Our second cycling excursion was on the Park’s Loop Road. This paved road snakes about 30 miles along the coast, through valleys, and up and down many hills as it loops through the park. Even though the road has 2 lanes, much of it is restricted to one way traffic in a clockwise direction. We stopped at every pull-off and point of interest along the way. At Sand Beach we left our bikes and stuck our toes in the ocean. We figured that this area got its name because most of the Park’s shore line is covered in rocks. Another stop was at Thunder Hole—a narrow rocky cove with caves that “thunder” as high tide rolls in. Since we were there at low tide, we drove back in the evening to hear the thunder. However, the hole did not thunder. We were told that the “thunder” is best during full moon and bad weather—2 things that we didn’t include in our planning.

Cycling, not sightseeing became our focus once we left the ocean side of the Park Loop Road. We enjoyed the gentle climbs and surprising fast downhill rides as we approached Cadillac Mountain. The climb up this mountain was 3.5 miles with sweeping switch backs and only a few steep grades. The climb was well worth the effort. At 1,530 feet above sea level, it is the highest point on the island. The views were fantastic and we could see far out into the ocean and back into the mainland. Needless to say, our ride down the mountain was great. The broad sweeping curves allowed fast descents. In fact, slow moving cars pulled off the road to let us pass as we flew downward. Cadillac Mountain has the distinction of hosting the first sunrise to reach the United States.

Not wanting to miss a minute of the next day, we were on Cadillac Mountain at 4:30 a.m. waiting for the 5 a.m. sunrise. It was worth the early morning start to see the sun rise over the ocean. However, we were not alone. This popular tourist destination was crowded and one ingenious person set up his camp stove and brewed coffee. After descending the mountain, we decided to cycle the Loop Road for the second time. However, this time our focus was not sightseeing but just cycling. Our speed was up and stops were eliminated. We had a fantastic ride. When we reached Cadillac Mountain, we just had to climb it again.

In the afternoon, we drove to the nearby town of Southwest Harbor for a sea kayak tour. After being outfitted, we put into the water at Seal Sound and paddled 6.5 miles to the town of Pretty Marsh. During our journey we quickly realized that cycling did not prepare us for kayaking. We were tired after nearly 3 hours on the water but had a great time.

Annapolis Valley

It was difficult to leave Acadia Park’s natural wonders and great cycling. Our drive north took us through small towns and over some narrow highways before we reached Calais, Maine, where we crossed the border into Canada. We stopped for the night in St. John, New Brunswick. The next morning we took a foggy 3 hour (45 mile) ferry ride across Fundy Bay to Nova Scotia, Canada. As we approached the dock in Digby, Nova Scotia, the fog cleared allowing us to see this part of the Acadian coast. From there we could see the coastline and mountains that hid Annapolis Valley, where we planned to spend several days cycling.

We took 3 rides in the Annapolis Valley leaving from the towns of Annapolis Royal, Middleton, and Wolfville. During each ride we climbed out of the valley to cycle along the Fundy Bay coast. In the evenings we stayed in historic B&Bs and enjoyed Fundy Bay's fresh sea scallops. Each of our Annapolis Valley rides started with morning fog, cool temperatures, and a climb. While the fog delayed our enjoyment of Fundy Bay, it did turn our focus to all the gardens and wild flowers that bordered the roads. The variety of colors and plant types were wonderful. God must have used all the colors in a box of 48 crayons when planting these flowers. During these rides, we stopped at local restaurants, fruit stands, wineries, and art studios. We also met many interesting French speaking Acadians.

In Wolfville, we stayed at the Victoria’s Historic Inn that was built in 1893 by William Henry Chase. Locally, Mr. Chase was known as the “Apple King” because he built the province’s first railway warehouse which became a major shipping point for the region’s apple crop. By 1933 he was one of the world's largest apple exporters.

For obvious reasons, my friend Joe wanted to stop for dinner at a Wolfville restaurant called “Joe’s”. When we sat down, our waitress told us that it was spaghetti night and servings were only $2.88 with the purchase of a drink. Since most of our meals on this trip had been expensive, we thought that we were going to get off cheaply. We each ordered spaghetti and a beer. Only when the bill came, did we realize that our beers cost $7.00 each, more than twice the cost of our meal.

Before leaving Wolfville, we wanted to experience Fundy Bay’s famous tidal bores. Tidal bores are the phenomenon in which the leading edge of the incoming tide forms a wave (or waves) of water that travels up a river or narrow bay against the direction of the current. Some tidal bores have been reported to be as high as several feet, resulting in a high tide that can be 50 above the low tide level. We asked several people where to witness the tidal bores and got as many different answers. Even our internet search produced more options. We chose one that took us north along the Minas Basin and towards Fundy Bay. We cycled gently rolling hills for about 20 miles until we got to our selected spot. However, our timing was lousy and we did not see any surge of water. However, judging by the dock’s ladder the water rose over 2 feet in one-half hour.

Disappointed, we had one more option to see the tidal bores. During our drive to Cape Breton Island we stopped at the town of Turo, a popular tidal bore viewing location. We joined about 50 other tourist and witnessed the river moving in reverse as the tidal bore rushed to our vantage point and raised the water level several feet in about 10 minutes. While the experience was worthwhile, it was not as dramatic as we had hoped to see. At the welcome center we were told that “the fuller the moon the more dramatic the tidal bore.” Unfortunately, we didn’t consider the moon phases in our trip plan.

Cape Breton Island and the Cabot Trail

We drove to the town of Beddeck, Nova Scotia and left our van there for our excursion around Cape Breton Island. The highway that circumnavigates the island is called the Cabot Trail and it goes through Canada’s Cape Breton Highlands National Park. Because of its mountainous terrain, Highlands Park was appropriately named.

Our first day started out with cool temperatures and a warm-up climb of 500 feet. After the climb, we had forests and fog for many miles. Then, our day changed for the better. In the middle of “nowhere” we smelled fresh baked goods and it wasn’t long until we found the Dancing Goat Bakery and Café. The wonderful smells matched their excellent tasting pastries. As we lingered there we met several employees who were also cyclists. Soon after leaving, the forest and fog disappeared as we dropped into a long valley that was populated with farms. We were rolling along at a good clip when we spotted a bald eagle sitting in a tree just off to our right. It was majestic and posed for many pictures.

At the end of the valley, we came to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. We could not ask for anything more as we turned north and cycled along the ocean. We stopped for the day at a small fishing/tourist town called Cheticamp where we enjoyed a nice motel and restaurant. After dinner, we went to a bar and listened to a local female folk singer. Her music was a mixture of English and Acadian.

The next morning, we woke up to strong winds blowing off the ocean. We headed north on the Cabot Trail fighting side winds before turning inland where we enjoyed a few miles of tail winds. Shortly after that we entered Cape Breton Highlands National Park and met 3 roadies that were also going to the town of Pleasant Bay. While our ride would be only 28 miles over the mountains, they planned to return the same day. Approaching French and MacKenzie Mountains we enjoyed ocean-side cycling. As we dropped down from the mountain we enjoyed ocean vistas and a view of our destination, Pleasant Bay.

The next day, our challenge was the climb up North Mountain. While not as long a climb as French Mountain, it was much steeper. We felt pretty smug as we cycled past a sign that indicated that the incline was 13 percent. Shortly thereafter, the grade increased to 18 percent and we had to walk our bikes until it went back to a mere 13 percent. At the top, we met several roadies that were also sucking air after their climb. As we all recovered, we shared cycling stories and they offered some suggestions to enhance our upcoming route. Just when we thought that North Mountain gave us “it’s all”, we started down the other side and were shocked by the steep grades. Thankfully, we cycled up the “easy” side but going down the other side was no cake walk.

At the bottom, we had to cycle further to get to our night’s lodging. We followed the signs that indicated our motel was just 3 miles off route in the town of Dingwall. Because we were headed away from civilization, we became skeptical that we were on the right road. It was scenic as we cycled out the peninsula toward the ocean. Just as the paved road ended and before the waves hit us, we found the Markland Beach Cottages. Our log cabin sat on top of a sloping mowed lawn that led to the ocean. As soon as we cleaned up, we headed to the beach. By far this was the best location for a nights lodging (and the cottage was also very nice).

The Markland has its own restaurant. For dinner we had salads, fresh halibut served with grilled new potatoes, lightly steamed fresh asparagus, and desert. All pastries were made on site and our waitress was also the baker. She recommended the carrot cake and it was great. Afterwards, we were stuffed and took a walk on the beach before retiring. Falling asleep to the waves breaking on the shore was a good way to crash after the day’s steep climbs. In the morning we had fresh baked pastries, rolls, and biscuits, fresh fruit, hot hard boiled eggs, and coffee. Needless to say, we consumed lots of calories and fats for the start of our ride to the town of Ingonish.

We had the choice of taking the new Cabot Trail with one large climb and then traveling through the forests or the old Cabot Trail with 2 moderate climbs and mostly coastline views (the route recommended by roadies we met on North Mountain). We chose the old trail which needed repaving but had no traffic. We climbed 2 hills that were easy except for the 3 short 18 percent grades that we had to contend with. About 10 miles out of Ingonish we rejoined the main Cabot Trail.

Our final ride took us back to our starting point at Baddeck, where we left Joe’s van. We had only 1 real climb this day. It was up Smoky Mountain, the last of 4 climbs on our clockwise trip around the island. After our climb to the top, we wondered why several cyclists told us that the hill was a terrible climb. Going south our climb was long but relatively gentle. As we started down the other side we remembered that the complaining cyclists were heading north up the other side of Smokey Mountain. Going down was like the first drop on a roller coaster when your stomach ends up in your mouth. It would have even been difficult to walk a bike up this side of the mountain.

Our last day, was also our longest cycling day, 70 miles. While our cycling was done, we still had a very long drive back to Joe’s home in New York and mine in Virginia. Despite our long drives, it was a wonderful trip and produced great memories and photos that will be enjoyed for a long time.

Ice Cream and the Pine Creek Trail

(Published in SPOKES, April 2012)

Photos by Joseph Insalaco

Most cyclists know of the relationship between miles pedaled and ice cream consumption. In fact, it was an ice cream story that introduced me to the Pine Creek Trail. In the spring of 2011, my friend Larry told me about the fantastic ice cream he recently enjoyed. It was only when I asked him where he had this ice cream, did I learn about the fantastic trail ride that led to his dairy delight.

Who couldn’t resist ice cream and a great trail? Early in the fall, my friend Joe and I decided to share in Larry’s experiences and drove to the Pine Creek Trail. The trail is located in north central Pennsylvania just northwest of the city of Williamsport. Its northern end starts near the town of Wellsboro and its southern end is in the town of Jersey Shore. The trail is a 60-mile long former railroad right-of-way with a 2% grade on a hard- packed gravel surface.

Joe (from New York) and I (from Virginia) met near the middle of the trail at the Cedar Run Inn (www.cedarruninn.com) to start our ride and seek out “the” ice cream.
The Cedar Run Inn, built in 1891, is now a bed and breakfast with 13 guest rooms (some with private baths). The inn is located next to the trail and just across the street from the general store that sold Larry his ice cream. Larry was definitely onto something. When I arrived at the inn, I saw many people with large double scooped cones relaxing from their time on the trail. Joe also was there waiting for me with ice cream in his hand. Besides great ice cream and fine lodging, this location provided us with a great place to watch a bald eagle sore over the creek. The inn is located in the “middle of no where” and offers serenity not found in our normal congested urban living environments. While we did not have cell service, both the inn and general store had payphones—old technology that seems to be disappearing everywhere else but valued at Cedar Run.


The trail originated as a Native American path that followed Pine Creek. As the area was settled, lumbering became its major industry and by 1840 there were a reported 145 sawmills along the creek. The creek was used to float logs down stream to the saw mills. In the late 1800s, the Jersey Shore, Pine Creek and Buffalo Railway completed laying its tracks and began service along the Native American trail. Primarily, the railway carried lumber from the many sawmills to markets. After a series of reorganizations, the railroad along Pine Creek became part of the New York Central Railroad and eventually Conrail. Freight and passenger service continued until 1988 when Conrail ended rail service along Pine Creek. The tracks were eventually removed and the first section of the Pine Creek Rail Trail opened in 1996. The trail was completed in stages with the most recent section (from Ansonia to just north of Wellsboro) being completed in 2007. The trail is operated by the Pennsylvania Department of Conservation and Natural Resources.

While the Cedar Run Inn is near the center of the trail, we decided to cycle the trail from end to end. To get to the northern end of the trail we cycled northeast from Cedar Run via state route 414 to the town of Morris then headed north on state route 287. Route 414 had no shoulder but was virtually deserted. Route 287 had traffic but a reasonable shoulder. We could have avoided route 287 by cycling Stony Fork Road. Stony Fork Road was clearly visible on the other side of a wide and knee deep creek along route 414. However, these roads were not connected by a bridge. To get to the Stony Fork Road we would have had to carry our bikes through the stream. Afterwards, we anticipated several steep climbs on this route.


We still had a long, but relatively easy climb on route 287 to get to the town of Wellsboro. Just south of Wellsboro, at the top of the mountain, we stopped at William Schlegel’s studio. Mr. Schlegel is a wood sculptor/carver. He gave us a tour of his studio and showed us his current carved animal projects including a bear, beaver, and an eagle. He starts his wood carvings with a chain saw and then uses a small hand tool for the finish work.



Leaving Mr. Schlegel’s studio, we had a 2.5 mile drop into the small but vibrant town of Wellsboro. The town founded in the early 1800s has a population of just over 3,000. Despite its small population, its downtown is lively with many shops, motels, and places to eat. We ate lunch at the historic Wellsboro Diner. This restaurant is an authentic diner dating from 1939. While the diner was old, its food was great with home made soups, pies, and cookies…we tried all 3. Wellsboro also offers a bike shop and several outfitters that rent bikes, canoes, and kayaks. We had planned to kayak on Pine Creek but were told that the creek’s water level was too low. The outfitter suggested that we come back in the early spring when water levels offer great kayaking. Also, just a few miles from Wellsboro is one of Pennsylvania’s largest wetland complexes called “The Muck” that offers bird observation blinds that are open year round. In addition, Pine Creek is a very popular place for fly fishing.


Leaving Wellsboro we headed north on route 6 to the Pine Creek’s northern trail head. Across the road from the trail head we first stopped at the Tioga Central Railroad (www.tiogacentral.com) which operates on a right-of-way that dates to 1840.
The railroad offers excursions on vintage rail cars. There was also a restaurant at the trail head…the only place to eat along the trail until you reach Cedar Run. (If planning to cycle the trail note that the Cedar Run Inn only serves food on the weekends and the country store is also open only on the weekends. To obtain food during the week you will need to cycle 5 miles further south to Slate Run.)

Cycling was easy on the trail’s hard packed gravel surface. We quickly left civilization as the trail meandered through marshes and farm lands and headed into the Pine Creek Gorge. The glacially-carved gorge is about 12 miles from the trail’s northern terminus.
The northern section of the gorge is known as the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. After visiting the Nation’s Grand Canyon in Arizona, I would not use the term “grand canyon” to describe this gorge. However, it is a wonderful gorge in a narrow valley with only the trail and creek on its floor. Both sides of the valley are steep, tree covered hills. The deepest point of the gorge is 1,450 feet and while it is mostly narrow, one part does spread out to nearly 1 mile in width. As we cycled through this narrow valley, we enjoyed the creek and we wondered how the gorge would look in just a few weeks as the leaves took on their fall colors and how the creek would look in the spring when it flow increases dramatically.

Access to the gorge appeared to be limited. While we did not see any roads or parking lots, the Department of Conservation and Natural Resources’ map shows 2 roads entering the park from the north and east. We did share the trail with horse pulling 2 Conestoga wagons. These wagons offered a great way to experience the gorge and were full of tourists. Each wagon had a narrator describing the areas history and resources.

Since we were cycling on a weekday and the weather was overcast, we saw only a few other trail users on the northern section. We saw several day hikers and 2 cyclists with heavily loaded bikes on what appeared to be a long journey. We talked to a couple cycling on their tandem. They were going in the same direction but were much faster than us. While they both have cycled across the United States on their tandem, he has crossed the country 5 other times on his road bike. No matter how many trips Joe and I take, we find someone who makes our adventures seem like trips around the block. We also met a park ranger who told us we just missed 2 black bears that crossed the trail seconds before we rounded the bend to his location. Earlier, I saw a black bear from the safety of my car and was not too disappointed in not seeing bears while we were on our bikes. However, Joe is always looking for a great photo opportunity and was disappointed in missing the bears. The ranger also told us that camping is allowed in the park and during the spring and summer the trail and creek are used by bikers, hikers, equestrians, canoeists and kayakers.

Heading south below Cedar Run, the trail is closer to public roads and goes through several areas that are more developed (but still very rural). On my Sunday drive to Cedar Run, this section of the trail was very busy with many cyclists and walkers. However, today it was deserted.

About 5 miles south of Cedar Run is Slate Run which also has lodging and food at the Hotel Manor (www.hotel-manor.com) and is open during the week. The 10-room hotel was built in 2004 to replace the original logging era hotel that was destroyed by a fire. We stopped there to eat. Talking to our waitress we expressed our frustration over the lack of cell phone coverage. She told us that we should cross the road and stand in Bill’s driveway where we would find a cellular sweet spot. While we did not know Bill, there was only one home across the road. So after filling our caloric needs, we crossed the road and used our cell phones in Bill’s driveway. (I wonder if this is why the chicken crossed the road.)

Continuing south, the next town is Waterville, about 18 miles further down the trail from Cedar Run. Waterville also offers lodging, food and a great side trip up to Little Pine State Park. This park offers lodging in campgrounds, cottages, and yurts. Little Pine Lake in the heart of the park offers swimming, fishing, and boating. Additional camping on the southern part of the trail is allowed at Bonell Flats and Black Walnut Bottom.

The trail’s southern terminus is in the town of Jersey Shore located along the West Branch of the Susquehanna River. This town dates back to the late 1700s but did not get its current name until 1826. Originally the town was named Waynesburg but was frequently referred to as Jersey Shore. According to Wikipedia, one of the original founders had relocated from New Jersey and settled on the western shore of the Susquehanna. Thus the nickname Jersey’s shore eventually became so fixed that in 1826 the town’s name was officially changed. In the town of about 5,000 people, we found a great Italian restaurant to celebrate the trip.

Joe lives in New York and I live in Virginia and we both had to travel about 250 miles to get to the Pine Creek Trail. A week before our trip, the 10-day weather forecast indicated that we would have sunny days with temperatures in the low 70s. The closer we got to the start of our trip the weather forecast changed from sunny days to rainy days. The day we drove to Pine Creek we had the promised sunshine. The next day it was overcast and cool and the second day the rain came. However, it was still a great trip and I look forward to going back and spending more time exploring the Pine Creek area.

A postscript on the ice cream is required. After returning from Pike Creek, I talked to Larry, my ice cream loving friend. When I described our trip and the Cedar Run ice cream stop, Larry’s face took on a puzzled look. He said that he was having second thoughts on where he had that great ice cream and it may have been at Waterville or near Wellsboro. He revealed that he made several ice cream stops on or near the trail and while he could not remember which ice cream was the best, he did conclude that “the one I am currently eating is always the best ice cream ever.”

The Great River Road

Photos by Joseph Insalaco

It is difficult to think of the Mississippi River other than as a wide fast-moving torrent with locks and dams that allow long strings of barges and tugs to carry the Nation’s wealth. While it is mostly this, the River does have humble origins in northern Minnesota. Appropriately, that is where our journey began—in the little stream that emerged from Lake Itasca and is considered the birthplace of the Mississippi. There, Joe and I stood in its waters and enjoyed the calming sound of shallow water flowing over rocks. As we traveled south, we passed through many wonderful river towns dating to the 1800s, met some really nice people, and watched the river grow into the Mighty Muddy that we all know.

OUR ROUTE
The Mississippi River Road is a network of roads complied in the late 1930s as a scenic car route. While many of these roads are bicycling friendly, in 2008 Bob Robinson published a guide specifically for bicycle travel, “Bicycling Guide to the Mississippi River Trail: A Complete Route Guide along the Mississippi River.” This guide provides bicycle friendly roads and bike trails on both sides of the river giving the cyclist many travel options. As best laid plans go, our planned route changed several times as we headed south. Our journey from Bemidji to St. Louis totaled 1,200 miles and was completed in 21 consecutive days of cycling. Our daily journal, detailed route, mileage, weather, and photographs can be found on our trip blog (http://greatriverride2011.blogspot.com/).

Looking at a map, I see the Mississippi River as a north-south blue line bisecting the country. However, from its headwaters the river first heads northeast to within a 100 miles of Canada before turning south. About half our trip was spent cycling through Minnesota and the other half cycling through parts of Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois, and Missouri.

Minnesota’s route was over gently rolling terrain with an overall drop in elevation of just a few hundred feet. In Minnesota we were mostly on rural roads and bike trails but yet our routes took us through many good sized towns. For example, between Grand Rapids and Palisade we cycled for 50 miles on scenic, but desolate roads with no traffic or services. Some days we had miles of trail that took us off the roads and closer to the river. Our 70 mile ride to St Paul, Minnesota included over 30 miles of bike trails.

After Minnesota, we planned to cycle through Iowa (skipping Wisconsin) and Illinois before finishing in St. Louis, Missouri. However, we changed our plans several times. Before leaving Wabasha, Minnesota we stopped at the Eagle Nest Café for breakfast where we met Mel, one of the Café regulars. He said that the Wisconsin side of the river offered a much nicer ride for the next two days. Using his computer, Mel showed the Wisconsin route and the other café patrons agreed with his suggestion. Crossing over the Mississippi River we left Minnesota for a great ride on Wisconsin’s 2 lane roads with minimal traffic that took us to La Crosse. We spent another day in Wisconsin and cycled to the town of Prairie Du Chien. Generally these roads were flat with good shoulders and overlooked the river.

From Prairie Du Chien, Wisconsin we crossed the Mississippi into Iowa. We quickly learned why Iowa has a reputation for tough climbs. For a short distance we cycled along the river then climbed our first bluff. After cycling on the bluff, the road dropped back down to the river. Then we had another climb. While the climbs were not long, they were steep and we climbed and dropped 6 times as we headed to Dubuque, Iowa.

To avoid more of Iowa’s climbs we changed our route from Dubuque and headed into Illinois earlier than planned. From Galena, Illinois we headed south along the river on country roads to Savanna, Illinois and the next day Rock Island, Illinois before heading back into Iowa. Our final route change occurred when we could not find lodging in Pleasant Hill, Illinois and had to cross the river to spend the night in the town of Louisiana, Missouri. From there we cycled 70 miles to Grafton, Illinois and the next day crossed the Mississippi River into Missouri for our final ride into St. Louis.

IT WAS NOT ALL ABOUT THE BIKE
For me, a cycling adventure is more than just miles, routes, and terrain. I also enjoy exploring towns and stopping at anything that seems interesting. From the smallest towns to the largest cities our route offered many unique points of interest.

Bemidji, Minnesota, the first city on the Mississippi River, is an Indian name meaning “the river runs through it.” The town lies 32 miles northeast of the River’s headwaters at Lake Itasca State Park. After a round trip ride to the Park, we visited Bemidji’s famous icons—Paul Bunyan and Babe, his blue ox companion.
These monstrous statues stood near center city. We also walked around the downtown enjoying the town’s “art walk” and historic district.

Near Grand Rapids, Minnesota we spent several hours at the Forest History Center, a recreated turn-of-the-century logging camp. There we enjoyed the center’s museum and immersed ourselves into the logging camp. The camp was staffed by docents in
period costumes including a blacksmith, saw filer, clerk, cook and lumberjacks who demonstrated logging techniques, described life in a logging camp, sang and played music, and told period stories.

In St. Paul, Minnesota we stopped at the historic flour mill in the heart of the downtown. Initially, we focused on the mill and the large Grain Belt Beer sign across the river but soon got diverted when we met Bill, a Segway tour leader. .
After his group passed, Bill let us ride his Segway along the bike path allowing us to fantasize about replacing our bikes with these fun machines.

Wabasha, a small town near the southern end of Minnesota of our river route was a place not to miss. The town has maintained its historic character but also has a modern resort distinction. In addition, the town hosts the National Eagle Center where we participated in its educational program. Not only did the Center show us several different injured eagles undergoing rehabilitation, we also saw eagles in their natural habitat flying above the river. One of the town’s “claims to fame” is that the 1993 movie “Grumpy Old Men” and the 1995 movie “Grumpier Old Men” were based in Wabasha. Before leaving Wabasha, we stopped at the Eagle Nest Café for breakfast. We asked the patrons about the movies. They said the story was set in Wabasha but filmed elsewhere. With some bitterness, one man concluded that “the film people found a town that looked more like Wabasha than Wabasha.”

To get to Dubuque, Iowa, we cycled some tough rollers. Once there we found a better way to climb a hill. In 1882 a rich banker wanted to go home for lunch but the buggy ride took too long to go around the hill and up to his home on the buff overlooking the town. The banker solved this problem by building a private incline railway. This tourist railway is now called the Fenelon Place Elevator Company and provided us our easiest climb of the day.

Near the end of our travel in Illinois, we noticed many barns with large quilt
patches painted on them. An internet search revealed that they were part of a barn quilt project. We liked them and found ourselves stopping at each barn to take pictures and admire the many different patterns.

MEETING PEOPLE
We met many wonderful people as we headed south. Some of them became extra special because of their help, an offered smile, or just their desire to welcome us into their lives for a little bit.

For example, one of those wonderful people owned the Gosh Dam Place Motel (near Deer River Minnesota). Getting to the Gosh Dam Motel we had to cycle 12 miles off the highway on some very rural roads. We missed some significant clues along the way that would have had us call ahead for reservations or make alternative plans. Numerous trucks passed us, all pulling boats. When we got near the motel we saw a large lake surrounded by packed campgrounds, RV parks, and cabins. The motel’s parking lot was also crowded with pickup trucks. In our defense, neither of us fish nor knew that it was fishing season. We entered the packed bar attached to the motel and asked Linda, the owner, for a room. Despite being swamped serving customers, she did not laugh but rather made reservations for us at a motel 12 miles away. Linda was our trip’s first trail angel.

On the morning we met Babe, we wondered if we looked malnourished, in need of mothering, or if we were just charmers. We stopped for breakfast at the Roadside Family Restaurant in Aitkin. There Babe, our waitress, took charge of our meals. We both wanted the breakfast special—one pancake, one egg, and two slices of bacon.
Babe did not think that was enough food for “two hungry bikers” and told the cook to make our blueberry pancakes extra large. Our one pancake extended far beyond the plate and was half an inch thick requiring us to eat it starting from the center. Before leaving, she insisted that we also take 2 of her huge fresh baked cinnamon buns. We each ate most of our pancake and took the buns for lunch.

At another breakfast stop we met more wonderful people. Arriving in Burlington, Iowa mid-morning, we expected to have a choice of breakfast places. In its downtown we asked several people where to eat and the best that was offered was either the gas station or a 2 mile ride out to the highway where we were told there were many places to eat. With a heavy heart we parked our bikes at the gas station. There we met a man who told us that “Jerry’s Diner, a very little place, was only 2 blocks further on our route.”

So we headed off to Jerry’s Diner which was actually 8 blocks away and not very visible. Jerry’s was truly a small place with only 10 stools at the counter and no tables. We squeezed in and were welcomed by Michele, the cook, and several of the customers. Michele had the warmest smile and a twinkle in her eyes that made us feel extra special. Even though we were hungry and our objectivity may be questioned, the food was fantastic. The price of our breakfast was also amazing: two eggs, coffee and one very large pancake was only $3.50.

ALL GOOD THINGS MUST END
Our route on the next to the last day took us over the Illinois River to Grafton, Illinois. To cross the river we took a ferry which was the same ferry we used two years earlier when we cycled west following the Lewis and Clark route. Another coincidence was our repeat stay in the historic Ruebel Hotel in Grafton. This was our next to last night on this trip and 2 years ago our second night was at the same hotel and same room.

Before starting our ride into Grafton, we set a goal of cycling 70 miles and arriving at our hotel by 11 a.m. Despite the many hills, food stops, flooded routes, and photo opportunities we made it into town by 11 o’clock. However, our actual mileage was 2 miles short of our goal.

We expected an easy ride for our triumphant entrance into St. Louis, Missouri. However, the day was anything but easy. Because of predicted early morning thundershowers we delayed our start until 6 a.m. (that was a late morning for us). Before leaving Grafton, Ilinois we had fresh doughnuts and coffee at Kim’s Bakery. About 8 miles into our ride the sky got black, lighting danced just to our west, and Joe let out an ungodly shriek. On the last day of our ride and in the worst weather, Joe had his first flat tire. (My 3 flat tires were all on deserted roads during nice weather.) No sooner did he get off his bike than the sky opened up and we got drenched. Once we got back on our bikes we cycled another mile and found shelter at an abandoned gas station. When the storm abated, we headed out again on a bike trail. However, the bike trail was so flooded that when our pedals were in the down position, our feet were underwater.

We arrived in the town of Afton, Illinois where we had a short breakfast stop as the weather began to clear. From there we cycled on the levee with an asphalt trail. Eventually, the asphalt turned into gravel. Just when we thought that things were going great, the gravel ended and we sank into mud. It was so soft and sticky that we could not move. Mud was packed between the wheels and fenders and the wheels would not turn. The mud was so deep and thick that bikes stood by themselves. In addition when we lifted our feet, we had a ton of mud on them. With great effort we drug our bikes off the trail and onto the grass embankment. Instead of cycling the “Mighty Muddy” we became the less-mighty and very muddy. The muddy section was about 100 yards long so we had to push our bikes along the levee’s steep embankment before crossing the Mississippi River into Missouri.

We were filthy and would have welcomed a rain shower as we pedalled our final miles into St. Louis. While it did not rain we did get a slight head wind. Joe, the optimist, said that a head wind was good because it dried our clothes. This is the same friend who during the earlier lightening storm commented that it was great that he was cycling with someone taller than him. As our journey ended, we talked about our next adventure and I contemplated raising Joe’s bike seat to make him taller.

VIRGINIA’S CROOKED ROAD

(Published in SPOKES, June 2011)

Photos by Joseph Insalaco

The Crooked Road is Virginia’s Heritage Music Trail that celebrates the roots of American Mountain Music. It meanders 400 miles through the southwestern part of the state (http://www.thecrookedroad.org/) between Rocky Mount and The Breaks Interstate Park. The road goes through wonderful towns, provides many sites to experience great music, and allows interaction with interesting people. The road is also very challenging for cyclists with its difficult climbs and fast downhill rides.

We started our journey in Pikeville, Kentucky, just west of the Breaks Park. Initially we planned to follow the Crooked Road highways identified on their webpage. Doing so, the first day’s cycling would have been 76 miles on some very busy highways with nearly 10,000 feet of climbing. Subsequent days would also be spent on some very busy roads. Once the reality of highway route set in we devised a more bike friendly one. Our bike route and elevations can be found on our trip blog (http://crookedroadtour.blogspot.com/). Our route took us to all of the Crooked Road stops except the Breaks Park. While the park is wonderful, Joe, my cycling companion and I had cycled to the park and camped in it during our cross country bike trip in 2002. The park’s main feature, Breaks Canyon, is five miles long and ranges from 830 feet to 1,600 feet deep; earning it the name of “Grand Canyon of the South.”

Leaving Pikeville early, we missed the morning traffic. Just outside of town we
cycled 7 miles on a deserted one lane country road. After this, we transitioned to a major highway with a wide shoulder that lasted us until we got to Virginia (30 miles into our day). During the day we had some great down hill rides and several serious climbs. However, the only one that was challenging was the last one up to the town of Wise. We were tired and the climb seemed like it would not end. Our first cycling day turned out to be "only" 47 miles and we climbed "only" 5,000 feet. With temperatures that exceeded 90 degrees we were thankful that we did not follow the car route through Breaks Park.

Our route for the second day avoided cycling 47 miles on route US 23 that goes directly from Wise to Gate City. However, avoiding traffic on roads without shoulders had its consequences. We chose to cycle 39 miles on country roads. Less mileage over country roads sounds like a “no brainer”, except for the added climb. The first few miles out of Wise we had a nice downhill and averaged 25 mph. In the town of Norton we got on route 619 which turned into a climb of 2,000 feet over 4 miles to the top of High Knob Hill. Once we got to the top, we looked forward to a wonderful and long down hill ride. However, the asphalt road ended and we had to traverse down a steep gravel road. While that may not have been so bad, a torrential downpour started and the gravel turned to mud and then the mud turned into a river. We were “white water biking” as our brake pads deteriorated and our rims got too hot to touch.

Surviving that down hill, we arrived at a smooth asphalt road where we were cycling at 20 mph for about 7 miles. Eventually we had to climb 3 more hills (all 10% grades) but with adequate shoulders and minimal traffic.

Arriving in Gate City, we had a fast descent but came to a quick stop where town folks lined the road. We stopped and were congratulated for being the first to complete the Clinch Mountain Challenge Bike Race. We smiled and explained that we were on loaded touring bikes and not racers. However, we did accept offered bananas, trail bars, and friendly conversation.


The bike race was not the only attraction in Gate City that day. The town’s main street was closed to traffic for the 5th annual Clinch Mountain Music Festival.
A stage was at one end of the main street and vendor tents extended for several blocks. Despite being soaked to the bone, we were cheered to spend the afternoon listening to numerous country groups (including Papa Joe Smiddy and the Scott County Boys), talking to other spectators, eating excellent food (and getting rained on several more times).

Even though the town was focused on its music festival, many people took time to greet us and make us feel welcome. The town’s bike shop provided us new brake pads and Tom and Martha (festival volunteers) offered to put us up for the night. Check out the link to our photos on our travel blog and watch the video of some of the musicians and dancers--especially Carl Wooten doing a dance called Flat Footin’.


Since Gate City did not have a hotel we cycled 5 miles south to Kingsport, Tennessee for the night. If we had not had guaranteed reservations, we would have accepted the offer to stay in Gate City. We were also told that if we had contacted the local chamber of commerce we would have been given a list of homes that host visitors for the night.

We left Kingsport early and headed toward a Virginia country road that took us eastward to Damascus, 62 miles away. The first 36 miles were relatively flat with some minor rolling hills and no traffic. Along the way we stopped at A.P. Carter’s birthplace cabin and country store and the Carter Family Fold (a music theater where only acoustic instruments are played). On this section we averaged 14 mph under cloudy, but dry skies. After this, we had an 8 mile trek on a 4 lane highway with a shoulder (small but adequate) as we climbed 700 feet to the town of Abingdon. During this climb, we experienced our first rain shower of the day.

Cycling down the main street in Abingdon, it appeared that everything was closed for Sunday. We expected to go without lunch and headed for the Virginia Creeper Trail that would take us on our final leg to Damascus. However, near the trail head we found the Trail Café and enjoyed its excellent food and hospitality.

The Creeper Trail, with a slight downhill grade, took us 17 miles to Damascus. The Virginia Creeper Trail began as a Native American foot path and by 1900 it became a railroad right-of-way. Going to Damascus, we cycled just half of the trail. (The trail extends 17 more miles beyond Damascus to the North Carolina border.)

We were rained on several times as we cycled on the Trail but enjoyed our traffic free ride. The rain did not deter other trail users either and we all shared a muddy veneer. Near Damascus we saw a sign for a winery and took a side trip. The tasting was fun and Joe purchased a bottle of wine for “later”.
Damascus is a small, but important town in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It is the gateway to the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area and is traversed by the Appalachian Trail, the Virginia Creeper Trail, the Trans-America National Bicycle Trail, the Iron Mountain Trail, the Daniel Boone Heritage Trail, the Crooked Road Musical Heritage Trail, and Virginia's Birding and Wildlife Trail.

We stayed at the Mountain Laurel Inn, a historic B&B that was built between 1901 and 1903. Innkeepers, Jim and Nathalie Graham, welcomed us to their Queen Anne Victorian home with a grand tour and introduction to the other guests.

Since the intermittent thunder showers continued, another guest and her husband offered to take us to a local restaurant for dinner. Before leaving we sat on the B&B’s front porch and shared Joe’s bottle of wine and got to know the other guests. Our conversation was only interrupted by the birds chirping and the occasional rain shower. After dinner, we returned to the front porch and finished off another bottle of wine, watched the fireflies, and enjoyed the night air and good company.

We stayed in Damascus for a second day just to cycle the rest of the Creeper Trail. While our morning started with thoughts of the weather and anticipation of the ride, our thoughts quickly mellowed at breakfast. Our hosts served a nice hot breakfast that we enjoyed with the other guests. As we were winding down with our second cup of coffee, our host turned up the volume on the CD player. We all looked at each other wondering why this sudden change in atmosphere. Then he began singing; entertaining us with 2 songs. His singing is great! So much so that this facility should no longer be called a B&B but rather a BB&E (Bed, Breakfast & Entertainment). You can listen to him sing by going to the pictures/videos on our travel blog.

Shortly thereafter, we headed to the bike shop for our shuttle ride to the top of the mountain. As previously mentioned, Damascus is a long but gradual down hill from Abingdon. Damascus is also downhill from the other end of the trail but a much steeper downhill. It took the van 45 minutes to get to the top of the mountain for the start of our ride. Before heading down, we toured the restored Green Cove train station and learned of its interesting history.

Our ride down was great. We probably could have done it without pedaling and still have had a fast ride. The only thing that slowed us down were the large mud puddles that dotted the trail. As we reentered Damascus, we spotted the café that we stopped at in 2002 as we came through here on our cross country bike ride. This café is very special. In 2002 we spent a wet and cold night on top of the mountain in a rustic Forest Service camp ground. In the morning, we had to pack in the rain and gave up trying to have breakfast. As we dropped down the mountain, we got colder and wetter. This café provided a warm and dry haven for us. Over the years we have often reminisced about the hot breakfast we had and how that café brightened our day.
The next day we cycled to Galax and were exhausted after cycling 75 miles and climbing lots of hills. We were doing well until we got to within 8 miles of Galax when we hit the wall during our ride up a never ending hill. The good news is that it did not rain on us. Well, actually, that may not have been bad, as the temperatures got into the 90s. Otherwise, our ride was very scenic and, until we got near Galax, without traffic.

Our evening in Galax got more interesting after a hardy pit barbeque dinner and a stroll down the street to the Stringbean Café. Every Tuesday, the Stringbean hosts a country music jam. Between 6 and 9 p.m., the sleepy café was transformed into a very lively place. They have 2 stages. One stage shares the room with the café and the second is in an adjacent room with a dance floor. The café stage had about a dozen musicians and the other stage had nearly 20. The dance floor was crowded with folks flat footin’ dancing. When a group of children from fiddle camp arrived at the café, a third area was set up for them. With 3 groups playing music the place was hopping. We had an incredible evening.


Cycling out of Galax took us on major roads with shoulders, essential because of the heavy traffic. We were heading to Stuart, 50 miles northeast. When routes US 221 and US 58 split, we took route 58 and lost the shoulder and most of the traffic. We climbed for about 36 miles until we got to the top. There, a sign informed us that we were about to experience cyclists’ ecstasy, a 9 percent down grade over the next 6 miles. Joe flew down recording a maximum of 44 mph. I, the more timid, only hit 37 mph. While the downhill became less steep, it continued another 6 miles into Stuart. Stuart boasts a historical theatre featuring performing arts and concerts, traditional Gospel and Bluegrass venues, music and dance studios, coffee shop, restaurants, and a museum.

Before leaving Stuart we had an early morning breakfast at the local café. We walked into the café at 5 a.m. and its tiny dinning room was already busy. We were greeted by several local men who spent minutes checking us out. It wasn’t long before they warmed up and started asking questions about our trip.

From Stuart, Floyd is only 26 miles away. Since it was a short day, we decided to take a side trip to Fairy Stone State Park. According to local literature, fair stone crosses are only found here. Joe being a “rock hound” could not miss this stop. My wife has had a fairy stone cross “forever” but I have always been skeptical that these crosses were found in nature. After we got to the park, a sign directed us to a digging site 3 miles further off our route. We searched the site for about half an hour. Since we did not receive instant gratification, we went into the nearby rock shop.
There we saw a craftsman transforming the crystals into the crosses. While we could see the crosses in the rough stone, they looked nothing like the stone cross my wife wears.

To get back on route we ended up back tracking to the main highway. Thus, our 26 mile short day became a 50 mile day. To get to Floyd, we had to cross the Blue Ridge Parkway which meant a 6 mile climb, which for the last 2.5 miles had a 12 percent grade. Once we conquered this climb, we looked forward to a great down hill. However, there was none! We dropped some but had 5 miles of rolling hills to get to Floyd.

We stayed at the Hotel Floyd. It is a fantastic hotel that did not cost us any more than some of the less desirable hotels we stayed in. The rooms are spacious and have natural oak doors and trim. Each room was individually decorated by a different community group—i.e. a winery, music store, and the Crooked Road. All furnishings and art are local. Our room was the “holistic room”. Inside the room we found lotus blossom paintings, yoga pads, books, and other amenities that convey peacefulness. Check out Hotel Floyd’s web page for more details (www.hotelfloyd.com).


The hotel is shaped like an “L” with an open air amphitheater. At 5 p.m., we purchased dinner from a barbeque vendor set up in the parking lot and sat outside our room eating and listening to a local blue grass group. They played until 8 p.m., which was about the time our beer ran out. What a great climax to our day!
Arriving in Floyd, we were disappointed that we did not get a good downhill ride. However, leaving Floyd we were glad that we did not have that downhill and could easily get onto the Blue Ridge Parkway to head 50 miles north to Roanoke. The Parkway is scenic with minimal traffic and no commercial vehicles. We cycled lots of rolling hills and generally climbed until we got near Roanoke. The Parkway has many scenic overlooks but the most exciting thing we saw were 2 black bears crossing the highway not more than 25 feet in front of us. As we watched the first bear cross the Parkway, we complained that we just could not get our cameras out fast enough. Then the second bear crossed and we were once again caught off guard.

About 8 miles from Roanoke, the down hill from heaven started. We cruised down at 25-35 mph. After getting off the Parkway, we experienced about a half mile of very heavy traffic before getting on some city streets for our trip across town to our hotel. Later in the day, our friend Jenny, who was part of a 2002 trip across the United States, picked us up and took us to her home for dinner. It was a wonderful end to our journey.