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.

Virginia’s New River Trail: More Than Cycling

(Published in SPOKES, June 2010)

I suspect that most of you, like me, keep a file of places that you would like to cycle…some day. Over the years, I have opened this file and pulled out Tom Gibson’s excellent article on the New River Trail (SPOKES, June 2004) and have wondered when I would experience this wonderful trail. Finally, in the late summer of 2009, I found myself enjoying the New River Trail and the surrounding area of southwest Virginia. The trail is only part of the richness of this area. It abounds in outdoor sports, music, arts, antiques, cafés, and restaurants. I spent 3 days there and wished that I planned a much longer vacation. Because it is such a wonderful cycling destination, SPOKES asked me to provide an update to Tom’s article.

The New River Trail is a Virginia State Park that runs northwest 57 miles from the towns of Galax and Fries to the town of Pulaski (near Interstate Highways 81 and 77). Cycling this trail became reality when good friends invited my wife and me to visit them at their summer home in Galax. How much better could it get? Their home sits on a hillside overlooking the Cliffview trail head and a pasture full of wildflowers and horses.

To cycle the trail in one day I selected one of the several shuttle services (Blue Cat Outfitters, located in the town of Fries just off the trail—276-744-2027) to take me to Pulaski for the start of my trip. Blue Cat offered to pick me up in Galax; however, I chose to cycle the trail to Fries. The trail forms a “Y” with Galax and Fries at the top end and Pulaski at the bottom. While Galax and Fries are about 5 road miles apart, they are about 15 trail miles from each other. Thus my cycling day was much longer than the trail’s 57 mile length.

The town of Fries is on the trail’s New River branch and Galax is on the Chestnut Creek branch. My shuttle driver told me that the name “Blue Cat” was derived from a local Native American Tribe. In addition to its shuttle service, Blue Cat offers bike, canoe, kayak, and tube rentals. They also offer guided tours, tipi rentals at their primitive river-side campground, and fishing trips.

The New River is one of the few rivers that flow north. Thus, starting at Pulaski meant that I would be cycling against the flow and presumably “up hill.” However, being a rail trail I figured that the grade increase would be very modest (usually 1 percent inclines). Before hitting the trail I explored Pulaski’s historic district. There I found an active community with interesting shops and restored historic buildings. At the Pulaski trailhead I enjoyed the restored railway station and museum. The museum offers displays of the history and culture of the Pulaski area.

Leaving Pulaski, I quickly saw why the trail has been designated a National Recreation Trail by the U.S. Department of the Interior. Its packed gravel surface led me into a wooded wonderland and after a few miles, I was cycling parallel to the New River. The river is approximately 320 miles long, flowing through the states of North Carolina, Virginia, and West Virginia. From what I could see from the trail, the river would be great for water sports.

When I am on a rail trail, I imagine what went before. In the early morning mist I could see a Norfolk and Western freight train hauling lumber to one of Galax’s furniture factories. Once the lumber was unloaded, the train would then be reloaded with the finished furniture before heading north to the train’s main line. Like me, the trains would go through two tunnels, the longest nearly 200 feet; cross three major bridges, the longest at Fries Junction is over 1,000 feet; and, according to trail literature, nearly 30 smaller bridges and trestles. This trail was originally part of the New River Plateau Railroad Company that was eventually absorbed by the Norfolk and Western Railroad. The right-of-way was abandoned in 1985 and later donated for the rail trail.

The day I cycled the trail it was virtually deserted. Our 3 day vacation in the New River Valley was characterized by overcast skies and intermittent afternoon showers. I suspect that many trail users stayed home to avoid the wet weather. However, I did meet a few other trail users, most of which were deer but some were people. Just out of Pulaski I met a group from Ohio who were RV camping nearby and were on their cruiser bikes doing a short ride. They told me that while their trail back home was the best, they really liked the New River Trail. Their big tires were ideal on the packed gravel trail but most any bike would be ok. My touring bike with its 37mm wide tires worked fine.

Near Foster Falls Park, I met a family who were exploring a small cave adjacent to the trail. As I arrived, a father and his young son were emerging into the light. After posing for a photograph, they told me that the cave went into the mountain about 30 feet. Once inside they found old bones and evidence of earlier explorers. Being somewhat claustrophobic, I accepted their report at face value and wished them well as I continued cycling on the trail to the wide open spaces of Foster Falls Park. The park is on the trail so stopping there should be part of your journey.

On the trail there is little in the way of refreshments. However, I was able to purchase light snacks and drinks at the restored railway station in Foster Falls Park. The store manager, Marilyn Rudy, told me that the park rents bikes, canoes, kayaks, float tubes, and horses. In addition to the train depot, other historic attractions include an old iron furnace, caboose, and a hotel and grist mill that have not yet been restored. The park also has an outdoor amphitheater that is used during the summer. Two festivals are held annually at Foster Falls. In early September, the park hosts the Railway Festival and on the third Saturday in September it hosts the Wythe County Heritage Day event.

A few miles north of Foster Falls Park is a 200 year old shot tower. According to Wikipedia, “lead was hoisted to the top of the tower using block and tackle and oxen. The lead was melted in a retort and then poured through a sieve at the top of the tower. The droplets of molten lead would become round during the 150-foot descent. The shot would collect in a kettle of water and workers would enter through a 110-foot access tunnel located near the bank of the New River to retrieve the shot from the kettle.”

The New River Trail State Park offers four unique campgrounds: Cliffview, Millrace, Baker Island and Double Shoals. I stopped at the Cliffview campground and was impressed. The facilities are primitive but well built. In fact the pit toilets here and elsewhere along the trail were in stone buildings and very clean.
The trail is accented with several interesting pieces of trail art. Just outside of Pulaski, I enjoyed the Ghost Train Sculpture by Harry McDaniel. It consists of five abstract sculptures on poles and telescopes placed at each end. Looking through the first telescope I saw the silhouette of a locomotive and from the other telescope I saw the silhouette of a caboose. The other sculpture near Galax was more abstract but I believe that it depicted the wild and scenic New River.

For the more traditional rail-trail cyclists several railroad artifacts remain. These include the mile-marker obelisks, warning signal light fixture, and tunnel warning device with tentacles hanging over the trail like a “brushless carwash” that warned trainmen to duck or get off the top of the train.
Before arriving back at Galax, it rained heavily for about 45 minutes. Luckily, I planned for this possibility by carrying appropriate rain gear—3 plastic bags for my wallet, cell phone, and camera. Since it was very warm, I did not carry any other rain gear and enjoyed the cooling effect of the soaking I received. At the Galax trail head, I had to climb the hill back to my friend’s house. After getting cleaned up and enjoying wine on their deck we headed into Galax for dinner.

Galax has a vibrant downtown with art, music, coffee shops, cafés and restaurants, and antiques. It is the home of the Jeff Matthews Museum with Civil War and Native American artifacts, the Old Cranks Motorcar Museum and the Rex Theater. This Theater offers live music which is often free during its Friday night radio broadcasts. In addition, Galax has hosted the Annual Fiddler’s Convention since 1935 and is on Virginia’s “Crooked Road” music heritage trail. (This 300 mile trail through Southwest Virginia is also included in my file of great places that I want to cycle). Finally, the Blue Ridge Music Center is only 12 miles outside of Galax.

After a night on the town, my wife and I packed our car in an early morning rain for our return trip home to Northern Virginia. We hated to leave and seriously talked about looking for a realtor so we could also live in the New River paradise.

click here for more photos

Places I Go and People I Meet

Pedaling where Lewis and Clark Paddled

The simple chalkboard menu read: “Monday: salmon patties, tater tots, coleslaw, strawberry cake and sweet tea. Tuesday…” If we wanted a hamburger we would have had to wait until Thursday. So it was salmon patties for all. We were hungry and the food was good. It was served with a smile and lots of conversation. In our spandex, we sat at a long table with farmers in coveralls and flannel shirts. One man joked that he also cycled—“the real kind with a motor.” He was called Preacher. Preacher was a grizzled man with lots of tattoos but a warming smile and full of talk. He had just returned from a rally in Arkansas where he rode his 3-wheeled motorcycle. “At the rally, I saw naked women riding motor cycles.” Preacher, a retired Missouri River pilot, is now a farmer. This particular café was between Jefferson City and Boonville, Missouri. Like many small towns that we cycled through, this café did not look like anything special—cinderblock structure, gravel parking lot with non-operating gasoline pumps, and a sign offering gas, food, and groceries. What was special was inside!

I and my friends, Joe (from New York State) and Hans-Peter (from Switzerland) started our westward journey in St. Louis Missouri. We planned a route that followed Lewis and Clark’s travels up the Missouri River as they explored the Louisiana Territory for President Jefferson. Like Lewis and Clark we met many interesting people along the way. Cycling out of St. Louis, we met the first of many new friends: the café owner who served us breakfast; the city guide who got paid to ride his bike and answer questions from tourists; and the park rangers who snapped group photos for us under the Gateway Arch. Our daily narrative, photos, mileage, and maps can be found at http://oldmensbikeride2009.blogspot.com/

Once we crossed the Missouri River we cycled much of the 225 mile Katy Trail that follows the Missouri River to Kansas City. In Defiance, Missouri we stopped to get coffee and decide if we would cycle to Daniel Boone’s Missouri home. As we pulled into town (3 stores, a bar, and several homes), we were met by the owner of those 3 stores (a general store/bike shop/gift boutique). While very friendly she was also very cruel. She let us smell her special coffee beans that just came out of the roaster but then told us that her coffee service was not yet in operation. She sent us across the street to the bar for coffee. We were crushed and had to settle for weak coffee and the smell of stale beer.

Further along the Katy Trail we met John. He offered to cycle with us to the next village to show us where to get good coffee. John seemed to know all the farmers gathered outside the café/general store. Once inside, he introduced us to Britney, the effervescent teenage store manger, coffee maker, and breakfast server. She sat with us and joined in our conversation. She did not have a menu but offered to make us several styles of egg. One style was called “daddy eggs,” a term that none of us knew. When asked, both John and Britney gave us the “look” that meant everybody knows daddy eggs. So we each ordered a daddy egg and as best as we can determine it is an egg fried in a ring with its yoke broken but not scrambled.

Later that morning, we met several cyclists who reported flood problems on the Katy Trail 2 days ahead. One couple told us that they cycled several miles in near knee-deep water and lugged their bikes over another section where the cliff collapsed and blocked the trail. This information took us off the Katy Trail and on the road where we met Preacher.

Days later, we stopped at the historic town of Arrow Rock, Missouri. While the docents provided interesting discussions of the town’s history and restoration, we got a different perspective on local history as we cycled out of town. An elderly gentleman waved us to a stop in front of his home. He told us that he was the fifth generation to live there. The home was built in 1835 by a great grandfather. He built the house for his wife before he left to make his fortune by taking trade goods to California, a 2 year journey. When he returned home his wife was pregnant…she then moved out to live with his best friend who owned the Arrow Rock Tavern.

Our arrival in St. Joseph, Missouri had 2 surprises. First, we were met by a local television reporter who filmed our arrival and interviewed us for the nightly news. She was particularly interested in Hans-Peter’s journeys in the United States. The second surprise was when friends from Chicago met us at our hotel. They had been tracking our progress from our blog and decided to meet us for drinks and personal updates of our journey.

In the town of Rock Port, Missouri, we were struggling with the fact that the town’s only restaurant was closed. However, we did find a grocery store. Rather than locking up our bikes we decided go in the store separately. Joe went in first but took forever to return. We soon found out that we were the central attraction and the crowd was growing by the minute. The 2 store employees could not do enough for us. While helping us get food they had lots of questions and comments. They were not alone and other customers were just as curious. The town doctor walked in and he was introduced as being an avid cyclist…so our story began again. Dr. Mike is a family doctor and a 3rd generation doctor in a family full of country doctors. He enjoys the rural life and the freedom it provides him to roam on his cycle. He and his wife have cycled in many states and in Europe. He examined our bikes like he would new patients, commenting on their differences and similarities. Our simple grocery stop took an hour but it was an hour well spent.

Our morning in Tarkio, Missouri started out with breakfast at a farmers’ café. Again our spandex did not seem to matter to the blue jean clad farmers. They were thrilled to tell Hans-Peter about American farm sizes and farming methods. When it was time for us to leave, the waitress told us that one of the farmers paid for our breakfast before he left. Wow, what a wonderful start to a great day!

Leaving Missouri, we cycled on the Wabash Trail to Council Bluffs, Iowa. Along the trail, we met a man picking mushrooms. He carried a golf club that he swung to chase the snakes away. The mushroom picker revealed that he lived in Council Bluffs, our day’s destination. Getting there would result in an 88 mile day, a long cycling day for Hans-Peter. Hans-Peter accepted a ride with his new friend but Joe and I cycled on; making this our longest, but not our hardest, cycling day.

We took a layover day in Council Bluffs to get some bike work done. My bike took only minutes to repair but Joe's took hours. Steve Batten, the owner of the True Wheel Bicycle Co, took charge of Joe's bike and as soon as one problem was fixed another was revealed. In the end, Joe was thrilled with Steve’s diagnostic and repair skills and the resulting price. The next morning, as we were leaving Council Bluffs, we passed several groups of children heading to school. One little boy got excited at seeing us and started to wave his arms and yell, “hasta la vista, amigo.” We were disappointed that we did not photograph the boy, but some memories are worth a thousand pictures.

Although Sioux City, Iowa was our destination, we camped in S. Sioux City, Nebraska. You could say that we were having a one-night-stand in Nebraska because this was our only night in this state. Just before crossing the Missouri River, we stopped at the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center and met the director and some of his staff. They asked if we had a blog and, of course, we obliged and gave them our address. The next morning we met 2 workmen near our campground who recommended that we have breakfast at the nearby Townhouse Café. The owner, Mrs. Curry greeted us with fresh coffee, good food and genuine curiosity about our travels. She has owned and operated this café for 16 years; serving food from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. She said that she likes her café and having family nearby but she would also like to travel.

We headed northwest out of Nebraska, through the corner of Iowa and into South Dakota. A strong tail wind pushed us quickly to the town of Elk Point. Upon entering the town, we were told that the best place to eat was the Legion Hall. So we headed down Main Street for our second breakfast. As soon as we entered the Hall, we knew that we were at the right place. A group of women were there for their weekly gathering. They quickly took charge and welcomed us to Elk Point. Sylvia, a spry woman, wanted to trade her electric scooter for one of our bikes. While no trade occurred, she enjoyed posing for pictures. Within 5 minutes of our arrival, Kelly Kruithoff, Editor of the Leader-Courier Newspaper showed up with camera and note pad. We became multimedia cyclists.

We were welcomed into South Dakota by the lovely ladies of Elk Point. However, the next day, South Dakota showed us a very different kind of welcome. We had strong north winds and cold temperatures. After 7 hours of cycling, we only covered 33 miles. To add insult to our day, we cycled a circuitous route of country roads. The direct route on the highway was only 23 miles. So the day was mostly about the “suffering cyclists” and not lovely ladies and cafés.

The next day, we arrived in Springfield, South Dakota before noon and stopped at the Libby Stake House for lunch. Everyone in the restaurant was dressed in their Sunday clothes except for us in our spandex. While we were trying to discuss our day’s destination and eat lunch, we were swamped by other patrons who either wanted to hear about our trip or provide input to our plans. Two middle aged women wanted Joe to go to the casinos with them. A grain storage operator had a thousand questions about us, our bikes, the routes, etc. A business man offered Hans-Peter some alternatives to our route. Four road cyclists told us that they were the ones that yelled encouragement to us as we battled yesterday’s head winds.

On our way to Pierre, South Dakota, we cycled together until Fort Thompson where Hans-Peter decided to spend the night. Joe and I cycled on. In hind sight our decision was “stupid.” Our journey turned out longer, windier, hotter, and with more hills than anticipated. It was totally desolate. I decided to hitchhike but Joe kept cycling. Since there were no passing cars, trucks, or planes, I kept moving, trying to catch Joe. As the day wore on and it got later I was worried about reaching Pierre. It was hours before I got a ride. However, I did not see Joe as I sped into town in a big pickup. When I got to our hotel, Joe had already settled into our room. He told me that he was picked up hours earlier by a trucker who said that he felt bad about not picking up the first cyclist he saw.

Leaving Pierre was a lot easier than getting there. About 30 miles into our route, we met 3 other cyclists. These guys were cycling the Lewis and Clark route in sections and this was their last one. Dave, Terry, and Lauren are from the Twin Cities area of Minnesota and were taking turns driving a support van. At that point, we had planned to head 12 miles east to Onida for the night. However, these guys were heading north. While their route was twice as long as our planned route, it had a strong tail wind. We chose their route and flew at 20-25 mph for the next 25 miles to an alternative lodging. Even with these great tail winds, we made one stop. We saw a man sitting on the tailgate of his truck holding a sign that read “OLD GUYS WELCOME.” The man knew our names and knew our eating habits. Craig McIntyre, South Dakota’s State Bicycle Coordinator, had been following our blog and decided to give us a big boost. When he brought out the caramel sticky buns, 2 kinds of cookies, and several types of drinks we knew that he seriously followed our journey. Leaving Pierre was much nicer than getting there.

About half way into a 61 mile day, we stopped in the town of Kenel on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. It was the only food stop on the day’s route. We pulled in just as the owner, Ernest Martinez, arrived to open his store. He apologized for the lack of provisions and said that he expected a big order this week’s Pow Wow. We selected a healthy lunch of oatmeal-raisin cookies and orange soda. While we munched, the real richness of our lunch emerged. Ernest told us about his grandfather, John Bear King, a WWII Code Talker. Ernest was proud to represent his family at the 2007 dedication of Code Talker Hall at Quantico Marine Base in Virginia. Despite the popular belief that all code talkers were Navajo, many native tribes provided them. He showed us plaques awarded to his grandfather and a medal that lists all the Tribes that provided code talkers.

About 20 miles outside of Bismarck, North Dakota, we were exhausted from the headwinds and suffering from the cold temperatures. I asked a farmer if we could take a break in his barn to get out of the wind and cold. Instead, Arlan invited us into his home for coffee. When he opened the door he yelled to Shirley that “they had company.” Arlan said that he has 2 sections of land (1,380 acres) overlooking the Missouri. He has about 400 head of cattle that he grazes on this land. During 2004, the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial, Arlan said that lots of cyclists passed by and some stopped to enjoy his view of the river. Before we headed back into the wind, Shirley said “that the North Dakota wind never stops and when it does they declare a holiday.”

We cycled through parts of The Little Missouri National Grassland in North Dakota and stopped in Grassy Butte for quick refreshment. Like most towns its size, it had one “do it all store.” This one sold plumbing and automotive parts as well as light groceries and snacks. The owner, Don Trotter told us that “the coffee was free because some things in life should be.” Next, he offered us some of his wife’s home made cake. He said that despite the fact that he tries to sell pastries, she is always bringing in a cake to share. Don showed us a 5 foot skinned snake and said that it came from his farm. He had a “live and let live” philosophy about snakes. In fact, the snake kept his farm free of mice. However, when he got a new dog, things changed. The dog and the snake decided that the farm was not big enough for both of them. The dog lived.

From the Grasslands, we cycled into the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It was spectacular! We dropped down into the park and then had to climb out. However, that did not distract from our wonderful day. In the Park, Joe asked the Ranger where he could photograph buffalo. The Ranger gave Joe a cautious look and said “buffalo don’t like bicyclists.” He went on to explain that buffalo have poor eyesight and when they see a bicyclist, they think it is competition. Joe joked that he was fast but the Ranger quickly gave him a reality check. He said that “buffalo can run up to 35mph and they can get that fast in just 2 strides. While Joe still took some buffalo pictures, he made sure that I was always between him and the buffalo.

Just before we left North Dakota, we stopped at both Fort Buford and Fort Union. Fort Buford was established in 1866 and housed both cavalry and infantry units. Fort Union was not a military fort but rather a trading post. Fort Union dominated the area’s fur trade between 1828 and 1867. It belonged to John Jacob Astor’s American Fur Company. Lisa and Dave were dressed in period costumes. They described life at the fort and served us boiled coffee in tin mugs.

Crossing into Montana, our cycling got easier as our direction changed from north to west. In Culbertson, we stopped at the local museum. Not only was it free, it had great exhibits and the ladies served us home baked cookies. The museum was filled with artifacts from the surrounding community and depicts life over the last 100 years. At our hotel, we met Robert, a youngster at 60. He was cycling from Seattle to Minnesota along the northern tier of the United States. He took 3 weeks off work to do this and needed to average 77 miles a day to meet his goal. He told us that he is "not smelling the rose but looking for bragging rights." We had dinner together but found it difficult to wish each other great tail winds…since we are going in the opposite direction.

We continued westward through Montana and ended up in Havre after 1600 miles of cycling. At that point, our paths separated. Joe met friends from his home town and packed his bike in their van for his return trip. I boarded Amtrak for my trip home and Hans-Peter cycled to Portland, Oregon for his flight back to Switzerland. It was a great bike trip that gave us wonderful memories of the places and people along the way.

The Ageing Cyclist

While this is my story, you may find similarities in your life. I have been a cyclist since I got my first bicycle. I was a young boy then and that seems like a long time ago. Well, in fact, it was a long time ago! With a career, wife, and children I did not cycle very often in my middle years. I still have my wife, but I am retired and my children are on their own. Cycling has again become an important part of my life.

During my non-cycling years, I was not a complete slug. I was a compulsive runner. My transition back to cycling occurred when my body could no longer endure the punishment of running. In hind sight I was not too bright. The doctor told me that I should quit running to heal the stress fractures in both of my feet. I ran 3 years beyond my doctor’s recommendation. Eventually, I traded my running shoes for cycling shoes.

I restarted my cycling where my running left off—punishing my body. I was not an efficient runner nor was I an efficient cyclist. Spinning was for wimps and smelling the roses was for slow pokes. Now that I am even older, parts of my body and mind are telling me to smarten up. Knee pains at the start of a journey across the United States sure smartened me up to spinning. However, I am a slow learner. Just in case you are feeling sorry for me, I am not in a nursing home and I am only 63 years of age.

MY FIRST BIKE

I sometimes wonder if childhood events foretell what is to come. My first bike was a “3-speed English” bike. It had an internal gear hub, skinny frame, even skinnier tires, and hand breaks. Today these bikes are known as road bikes. I don’t remember why I got an English bike. I do remember that I initially resented being different from my friends. They all had the big cruiser bikes that were popular in the 1950s (before many of you were born). However, I quickly found out that my English bike was lighter and could climb better than my friends’ cruisers. That bike would not compare favorably to today’s road bikes. However, it would be considered a classic. Cruiser bikes are back in vogue and internal hubs are again gaining popularity. Bikes@Vienna has a bike on display with an internal 8 speed hub. Perhaps I am also a classic and may yet have a rebound.

Until I learned to drive, I went every where on my English bike. I took it to the swimming pool, the store, and even to see my girlfriend (who became my wife). In fact, I also used my English bike as a mountain bike. Don’t get me wrong, it was a road bike but that did not stop me from taking it into the woods and over jumps. I abused and enjoyed my childhood bike. I did not worry about miles or hills. Nor did I worry about the temperature or the weather. I even joyfully remember the reckless abandon of my youthful cycling—racing down hills thru intersections and disregarding stop signs. Just so you know that I was not completely stupid, I quit this practice after the first time I got hit by a car. However, I proudly beat my friend to the bottom of the hill! Also, I was very lucky with only minor injuries to my body. While my bike did not fare as well, I was able to replace its damaged parts with those from a discarded English bike.

REDISCOVERING MY YOUTH

No, I don’t want to rediscover how foolish I was. Nor do I want to cycle on a 3-speed bike. Rather I want to get back to that youthful feeling of freedom that the bike of my youth provided. As a youth I did not concern myself with putting in X miles over X time to maintain my fitness and prowess as a cyclist. As I free my mind I also need to take care of my body. Mind and body are not separate and they both must be nurtured.

Taking care of my body

First things first. As I get older I am learning to change and adapt. It’s not that long ago that I would have ridden through pain and that would have been considered a good thing. Didn’t our high school coaches tell us to “tough it out.” Today, I cycle with a 27-gear touring bike and my body appreciates those easy gears. It is a great bike and has transported me about 25,000 miles over the last 8 years. However, my new aches and pains (that I would have dismissed in my earlier years) are lingering to the point that they are annoying. As last summer drew to a close, I suffered from a stiff and sore neck. I tried to ignore the problem as long as I could but it would not go away. Eventually, I admitted that I had a muscle imbalance from using my drop handle bar and I needed to do something to fix the problem. What could I do: (1) purchase a new bicycle (2) replace my drop bar with a flat one, or (3) work with a physical therapist? I chose “all of the above.”

Lance Armstrong said, “It is not about the bike.” However, sometimes a new bike may be the answer to that needed change demanded by our bodies. It sure helped me. I tested many different recumbents, trikes, and other style bikes. Not only did I need a change in position to relieve that pain in my neck, I also wanted something that would be fun. However, I did not try a tricycle or Big Wheels. I did try a racing trike and liked its quickness and maneuverability. It reminded me of the Big Wheels my children loved. Maybe when I am older, I will use a tricycle. That is, if can I figure out how to attached panniers to it. Then I can keep taking multiple day/week/month cycling trips to and from the nursing home. In the end I purchased a recumbent bike that allows me to sit upright and not strain my neck muscles. Yes, recumbent cycles can be cool.


While the new bike is nice, I did not want to give up my touring bike. After some research, I purchased a butterfly handle bar that turned my cool looking road bike into a European touring bike. I bet that you thought I would say that it made my bike look___________ (add your own term for “less cool”). Getting older allows me to put a positive spin on events and totally disregard the popular racing image prevalent in U.S. cycling. Instead of looking like a “racer,” I will now cycle with a European flair. Also, without the drop bar I have an excuse for being slow.

Finally, I saw a doctor and had my neck x-rayed; nothing broken and no arthritis. The doctor sent me to a physical therapist. She gave great massages and put me on a series of strengthening and stretching exercises. She also told me that “at my age” I needed to take better care of my body and get off the drop handle bar. It took several months of serious work but the pain is gone and most of my mobility has returned.

Taking care of my mind

Taking care of my body was relatively easy; ha ha ha. The real challenge is taking care of my mind. When I am on my bike, I sometimes still focus on fitness and prowess with miles covered and time spent. Feeling cool with a European looking handle bar and recumbent is just a start on my new mindset. Sometimes, but not often enough, I focus on the moment (a Zen thing), my location, the company I keep, the weather, or just being alone and lost in my thoughts. However, I still want to enjoy the carefree cycling of my youth. No, I don’t want a 3-speed bike nor do I want to race down hills ignoring stop signs. Rather I want to let my mind free to soar with the wind until I drop and then lie in a grassy meadow to watch the clouds go by.

I am not yet where I want to be. This year I plan to cycle the Lewis and Clark trail from St. Louis, Missouri to Astoria, Oregon. I figured that this is a good opportunity for me to work on my mind set. But, this was not as easy as I had hoped. I wanted to do the trip in 2-months time which requires a modest 55 mile-a-day average. However, one of my 3 cycling companions thought that this would be difficult for him. He offered to let us go on without him. My initial response was “I want to do more miles per day not less…this sucks.”

After taking a deep breath, I thought about my goal of freeing my mind and rediscovering that lost youthful abandon. Because I enjoy my friend’s company, a new plan emerged. We reduced the average daily mileage to 45 and extended the number of days on the road. This is “now” a good thing. It means that I will have more opportunities for smelling the roses each day. I can take longer stops and enjoy more side trips. Heck, Lewis & Clark did not try to do this trip in 2-months. Their journey took 2 years. They discovered new lands, found new plants and animals, met different cultures, and their trip resulted in many books. When I get home I don’t want to find my journal filled with miles, elevations, and time on the road. Rather, I want to read about the wondrous things I saw and did. Especially, I want to read that my journey was really about smelling the roses and laying in meadows watching clouds move across the sky.

You can be the judge of my success. Check out our Lewis and Clark trip travel blog at http://oldmensbikeride2009.blogspot.com/