Thursday, June 25, 2009
10: Small Miracles and a Harrowing Hundred
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| Stoker's Log Day Ten |
| 6/25/09 |
| From St. Clairsville, OH |
| To Newark, OH |
| 100 miles |
| 10 avg mph |
With 112 miles to cover we needed an early start, and by some miracle we were ready to leave at sunrise. By another miracle the hotel breakfast was already out, so we could grab a quick bite before departing. We had a pleasant start; as much as I hate waking up early, I do like riding at sunrise. Maybe I'll admit that to Kyle someday. It wasn't long, however, before we noticed a familiar sqeaking and slowing; our wheel was rubbing against the frame, again. Kyle was worried that our problem was weight; the bike, the gear, and the two of us probably weigh almost 400 pounds all told (I'm always tempted to go to a truck weigh station and find out exactly) and much of it is focused on the back wheel. We tore through our bags, pulled out everything we could spare to send home, and mailed it away at the first available Post Office. We managed to lose 8 pounds of stuff; Kyle was astounded and kept yelling "8 Pounds!?!" at random points throughout the day. We also switched seats so that Kyle, who weighs more, would be over the front wheel instead of the back. It was my first time captaining on this trip, and I was initially terrified every time a car passed us. Kyle was probably terrified as well since I was wobbling all over the shoulder of the road. Eventually I settled in and straightened out - for the most part. You'll notice I even managed to smile for the day's self-shot. Unfortunately none of our strategies seemed to work; the wheel rub was just as bad if not worse. We eventually switched back, resigned ourselves to a slow and squeaky ride, and took solace in the existence of a good bike shop near Anne's house.
As we entered rural Ohio the cars were replaced by tractors and the buildings by hay bales. School buses apparently grew in rows along with the crops.
It was peaceful and open, and the yellow buggy signs reminded me of home. The charm soon wore off, of course; picturesque farmland is still pretty boring. For a while we occupied ourselves by watching three soaring birds that followed us for miles, circling far above us. We couldn't tell if they were hawks or buzzards, i.e. whether we looked like easy prey or near corpses.
We were hungry ourselves, so we stopped for a picnic lunch in a park pavilion near Quaker City (not actually a city). We had bagels with peanut butter - I of course added honeynut cheerios to mine - and talked to Steve and Daniel, two local guys who were eating at the next table. On our way out, the already charming park won a very special place in my heart by offering a freshly emptied and cleaned port-a-potty. I never thought I would be so lucky in my lifetime.
After a long stretch of riding in the hot, open country, we happened upon the Sugar Shack, which (like all of the other Sugar Shacks I've been to over the years) had delicious milkshakes. They also had - if you can believe it - a freshly cleaned port-a-potty. Lightning does strike twice. To add to its charm, the store's walls were decorated with the dancing food products that you see in movies about old movies and the parking lot bumpers were painted with rainbows.
In the dining area was, of all things, an exercise machine. I assume the owners were storing it there to save space or use it after hours, but I liked to imagine customers hopping on it after finishing some giant dessert. We had our own way to burn calories, however, so we reluctantly climbed back on the bike. I was glad to be into gently rolling hills but my foot, achilles, and knee pain wasn't letting up yet.
We soon found the holy grail of touring cyclists: a paved and shaded bike path...
...followed all too soon by the bane of any touring cyclist's existance: endless road construction.
I'm not exaggerating by much when I say endless. There were at least 20 miles of cones, signs, and dangerously narrowed road for less than a mile of actual work being done. When we asked one of the flaggers how long the construction lasted she just laughed at us and then gave us a very bitchy "No" when we asked to ride in the coned off section of the road where it was safer. I hate ODOT already.
Finally we emerged from the construction zone of doom and hit some really nice riding, including downhills and even a bike lane (!). Unfortunately around mile 90 it started to rain. It was getting colder and we were moving quickly, so the drops felt like needles striking my chest. Soon the needles turned into knives and we saw lightning on the horizon, so we turned around and sped to the nearest shelter: Pitter Patter Daycare Center, which was closed but had a wonderfully ample awning. We joined two motorcyclists who were also taking cover. We chatted for a while and through them found out that Michael Jackson had just died. Soon they decided to risk it and headed out into the rain and the setting sun. We decided to wait longer and were treated to two visitors: a woman who saw us riding apparently drove back to her house to pick up her husband, an avid recumbent rider, so that he could see our bike and make sure that we had found cover. We had a great time chatting to them and when they left we headed out as well, bearing with the light rain and keeping an eye on the lightning. At the next shelter, a gas station, we called Anne to let her know where we were. We considered asking her to rescue us, but we thought we had a good chance of making it. Besides, I had never broken the 100 mile mark before, and we were so close. "Let's get you that century" Kyle said as we headed back into the storm.
We soon realized that we had made a grave mistake. The rain picked up, the lightning closed in, and we found ourselves in the dark and surrounded by trees with no shelter in sight. We were more than ready to call for rescue now, but we had to find somewhere to stop safely first. I tried to find something, anything on the Garmin as we rode, but it's hard to operate a touch screen through a plastic bag. We started to see lightning on all sides of us and I became truly terrified that we would be struck. I prayed for a shelter, or at least avoidance of an electrifying death, but all we could see were trees and an empty road. We passed a park with no structures whatsoever, and buildings that were behind impenetrable fences. And then, finally, there it was: an illuminated steeple in the distance. We tore off towards it with a sigh of relief. In a final moment of insanity we took the long way around the church, a big loop that brought our mileage for the day to that all important 100, and then we quickly ducked under the front door's small awning.
It turns out we had already done a day over 100 miles on the way to Bedford -- thanks to odometer problems we didn't know it at the time -- but doesn't 100 miles at 10mph on day 10 have a nice, round, ring to it?...Maybe?...
Happy to have completed a century but much happier to be under cover, I threw on all the dry clothes I had and huddled on the rubber mat. As we waited I played with my camera and the rain and the lights, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a train went roaring past at the edge of the church parking lot.
It was still raining when Anne arrived in her family's truck. We climbed in and Anne presented us with towels and tupperware containers of food as we made our way towards warmth, safety, and the comforts of home. We were about to have a two day break, and once again we needed it.
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| posted at: 08:26 |
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