When this morning dawned, my energies were high. I no longer felt so lonely, especially when it turned out that I would have not one new riding companion, but three. Carrie and Brenda, the pair of female cyclists I had noticed the night before, asked me if I wanted to join their group and, when I explained that Jeff and I were new partners, they invited him to join as well.
Thus began the first of many enjoyable days together during which the four of us sometimes covered fewer miles than I would have liked, but had a lot of fun smelling the roses along the way.
On that July day, Jeff christened me “Alpine,” for my persistence in surmounting one of the worst hills I had encountered thus far — a five mile grade of considerable steepness between Damascus and Rosedale, VA. I waited for a solid 30 minutes on the far side of Church Mountain as Jeff shepherded “the girls” up and over. Jeff and I grew to enjoy our assumed roles as protectors; it gave us opportunities to forget about our own pains and fears, and to sit by the road taking in the moment, perhaps drinking a Coke, and talking to whoever else happened to be nearby, usually because we were awaiting the arrival of “the Turtle,” as Brenda had quickly, and aptly, been named.
Carrie could hold a steady pace, but she generally hung back to encourage Brenda, who rode better as a result. Once, on a ridge next to a tumble-down miner’s shack, Jeff and whooped aloud, instantly wet beyond all caring, as rain poured down suddenly and fiercely and Brenda at the same time crested the hill, grinning from ear to ear. At the same moment, a grubby little tow-headed boy peered out from behind the plastic sheeting covering the windows of the shack, probably wondering what all the commotion was about.
What would have been grim, even scary riding was I alone became enjoyable with my new companions, and I began to feel that this journey might be fun after all.
After getting sidetracked talking to a lonely old minister, eating “lunch” (from 3 until 4:30 p.m.), and dealing with my first flat tire of the trip, we arrived at Sykes Grocery Store, and set up camp in a cow pasture behind the store. We had covered about 40 miles for the day, and were only a little more than 30 miles from the Kentucky border.
