Day 8: Bristol, V/TN to Moorseburg, TN (69.8 miles, 533.4 total, 34.9 mph max, 15.8 mph avg)
Very hot today. We're finally in Tennessee. Two broken spokes on Chris's bike. We'll be in Knoxville tomorrow and will go to a bike shop to get our rear wheels straightened out.
I'm not sure if I'm enjoying myself or not.
We met a man called Mr. Fuzz. He is a DJ for a Rogersville radio station. Very nice to talk to and was interested in our trip.
I think I'm homesick and it's the worst while riding. Then, when we stop or when we're camping, I'm fine. I wish I could call a friend.
We're at the Cherokee Lake Campground and there's an article on the wall of the office about a man who did the same trip, except west - east and stayed here. We're just beginning. He was almost done. I'm glad we're ending in California.
Day 9: Moorseburg, TN to Rockwood, TN (104.5 miles, 637.9 total, 33.6 mph max)
We maxed out for distance today, tra la la. Went through Knoxville. Nice place, except for the Greenlea Bike Shop. (I don't remember why I didn't care for the shop).
We got to Knoxville very quickly and then it was like this (a drawing of a steep ascent). Hills and more hills.
We finally got to the Caney Creek Campground in Rockwood. Hillbillies with porches 2x the size of their campers, a lot of them year-round tenants.
It went up to 90 today, a real scorcher. My knee is a lot better, surprisingly, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable.
Chris and I got into it in the middle of downtown Knoxville today, but I think we're both a lot better for it. Funny how things work that way.
Tomorrow - the Cumberland Plateau. I keep hearing about it from locals.
Day 10: Rockwood, TN to Cookeville, TN (76.7 miles, 714.6 total, 36.8 mph max)
Today we went up and down the Cumberland Plateau. Going down was fun, but I wrecked today. Chris jammed on his brakes because of a dog and I smashed right into him. We were going around 20 - 25 mph so I hit the gravel shoulder hard but it resulted in a only a few cuts and scrapes.
We ate dinner at the Pizza Hut in Cookeville and the waitress seemed to like us. Free salad bar and other food. I was working on a yard to camp in but figured I'd be pushing it.
Tomorrow we'll make it to Nashville, but it'll take about 90 miles. We can do it.
I eat as much as possible now, and even though I get very full, within an hour I'm hungry again. I can't eat enough. I figure with the way we're going we'll run out of money somewhere in NM or NV. I hope we have some sympathetic parents.
Yesterday we went off the course of the book. We'll rejoin it in Memphis. It looks like we made the right choice because it's about 100 miles shorter and we're seeing beautiful places.
The Cumberland Plateau was great. We're meeting some kind of a variety of people out here -- hillbillies and cityfolk. The accents are becoming easier to understand as we get west and as we close in on the bigger cities. I want to take photographs of things, but decide not to. I'm not sure why.
I'm not sure why people are amazed with our trip, but nobody has really been willing to help us other than the man in the Knoxville Visitor's Center and the waitress tonight. I'm not sure the lady at the pool even wants to. I hope that changes.
We got to change our clocks today.
By week two we'd gotten into the zone. Virginia was behind us and the miles were flying past much easier because of our conditioning as well as the diminishing gradient. However, countering the relative comfort, the heat kicked in. Because of this the word Tennessee still sounds dreadfully hot to me, even more so than Florida or Mexico or Swaziland. (Is Swaziland even hot?)
I don't even remember crashing, so apparently it wasn't all that bad. When I was in front of Chris we'd stay together; he was faster than me and would get away if in front. But when I was in the back I had to draft in order to keep up. That means I was following very closely, increasing the risk factor.
Fortunately I don't recall being homesick while on the trip, but apparently I was. I had a girlfriend, who was probably not worth missing at the time, but more so I was head over heels with the job I typically had each summer at a summer camp. Now that I look back on it, I was on a life-changing journey, and I should have realized it at the time. Ironically, the maturity that I needed to fully appreciate the trip was one of the greatest rewards that I'd ultimately gain because of it. They say that hindsight is 20/20.
I also have since forgotten about the stress in knowing that Chris would be running out of money at some point. We'd both contributed equal shares into a bank account and were using a debit card as we traveled. I don't remember how much, but I believe it was around $1000 each. So, we were both anticipating hitting up parents for loans. Two things contributed to the expense: the amount of food we were eating and using campgrounds instead of poaching. Unfortunately poaching isn't easy when you're restricted to paved roads.
"We got to change our clocks today?" Seriously? Who gives a shit? Who's writing this crap?
Funny, I don't recall going at it in downtown Knoxville. I remember going to the campus at UT, they had a mini amphitheater that looked like the Opera House in Sydney. However, I do recall getting into an argument later on in NM.
ReplyDeleteThe conversation with Mr. Fuzz was interesting. I believe he was also a school teacher. When we got out to the parking lot (I think it was a quickie mart or gas station) one of his students was driving by shouting "Mr. Fuzz, you rock". I recall the campground that night being on a lake.
The dog incident was definitely my fault. You were definitely upset about that crash in my recollection and let me draft after that. I remember later on in the trip you had problems with one of your hands, your pinky was numb and I thought that had something to do from the crash.
I totally remember the kids shouting to Mr. Fuzz.
ReplyDeleteIt's funny how we remember different things. I don't recall the Knoxville argument at all, nor do I remember a think about Cookeville (where UT is, right?).
My fingers have gone numb from riding my entire life, and it happens now even on short rides (getting old!). That was the first time I'd ever ridden long distances and so it was the first time I was feeling it. It had nothing to do with the crash.
The crash was your fault? I thought it was a dog running out in front of you.
Yes, the crash was my fault. I'm not a big fan of dogs while on a bike. That crash taught me a lesson about how to handle dogs from that point forward. Although I've even learned a few more tricks since. . .
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