Transcontinentalitis, Day 1 (DC to Chancelorsville, VA)

In the fall of 1994 I was a Junior in college and came up with a grand plan. After dwelling on the plan for a few days, I attempted to self-advocate some freedom: I told my father that I intended to take the spring semester off so that I could ride my bicycle across the US. Rather than telling me I was nuts, he was supportive of the plan but persuaded me to do it the following summer instead. For the next six months, I spent every free moment planning and dreaming of the great ride I would be taking. This obsessive condition is known among those who have done similar trips as Transcontinentalitis.

After finishing the spring semester, on May 15, 1995 I climbed onto my road bike at the foot of the Washington Monument in Washington, DC. My friend Chris was the only one willing (crazy enough) to join me for the journey, and as we spun away from the National Mall I felt an anxious freedom that I would never forget. Chris and I would spend the next six weeks in a constant state of experience. As we took in the cultural, geographical, and physical experiences of extended travel by country road on a bicycle, we grew closer. So close, in fact, that we fought like brothers at least once. At the end we had gained far more than we had ever imagined.

This is the tale of my first journey across the US. I was happy to find the journal I took on the trip this morning buried among old photos in a plastic bin in the basement. Every few days I will transcribe a day or two of my entries from 1995 here and then reflect on the experience.

Day 1: Washington, DC to west of Chancelorsville, VA (84.5 miles, 35 mph max)

Whoa! We're on our way. I'm here at Chancelorsville, VA, about 50 yards in from Rt. 3. Today went well; we're getting started. We are still experimenting with our bikes and will hopefully find comfort soon. 

I can't believe Chris -- he's exhausted and had a rough ride today. I feel good but am worried about getting in trouble for camping here. Road kill is nasty up close. Today -- turtle, birds, squirrels, and something unrecognizable. I think dog; Chris thinks pig. 

I'm very sticky and would like a shower. 

13 of the 85 miles today consisted of a loop when I realized I dropped my sleeping bag. We had to ride 6.5 miles back on the trail before we found it. 

It's morning now and cold as hell.

Of course the first day will always remain a vivid memory. We rode the Mt. Vernon Trail from downtown DC through Alexandria, and then took Rt. 1 south through the suburbs. I remember it being miserable; lights, traffic, not much of a shoulder. Chris and I both had a rough day (contrary to my claim to have felt "good."), which is not surprising due to the fact that neither of us had previously ridden more than 50 miles in a day, We had to get outside the expansive suburbs so that we could find a roadside camping spot we'd feel comfortable with (after all, it's generally illegal to camp in the woods on the side of the road anywhere).

I was surprised that I weathered better than Chis on the first day; he was in better shape than I was and much more tolerant of discomfort or pain (I knew this because we were on the rowing team together and he could row circles around me).

Our bikes had front and rear panniers (aka, saddle bags) and handlebar bags, and they were all stuffed full. Tent poles were strapped to my bike frame and the tent and sleeping bags secured to our rear racks. The routine of securing all of our gear to our bikes was important, and losing my sleeping bag would have been a major mistake. Then, once my bike was loaded, it was very cumbersome and riding in traffic and braking or turning while descending proved to be difficult tasks. In addition to the difficult riding, we were on bikes ill-equipped for the weight. For the next six weeks dozens of spokes would break on each of our bikes.

Photos forthcoming.


Git r dun.