Monday, June 22, 2009
7: More Hills and a Few Surprises
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| Stoker's Log Day Seven |
| 6/22/09 |
| From Bedford, PA |
| To Donegal, PA |
| 59 miles |
| 8-9? avg mph |
After yesterday's adventures and our dinner of cheese cubes and wafer cakes, we needed to start today with a big, hearty breakfast, even if it delayed our start. The Bread Basket Cafe in downtown Bedford certainly delivered.
While there we felt a bit like celebrities. We rested the bike just outside the restaurant and it got a lot of attention, including from the people at the next table who recognized it from the hotel and from an older couple who asked if they could contact the local newspaper. A few minutes later, whadayaknow, a reporter showed up to interview us. Hopefully we'll make the Bedford Post! We also ran into our motel proprietor, "Wild Bill," who seemed to know everyone in town. Much later than we initially planned, we reluctantly left Bedford and got on the road.
We made a brief stop to see the giant coffee pot.
Also a giant elf herald.
The strangest sight of the day? The shirtless rotund man in suspenders who emerged from a car to shout "He's not pedaling!" in a perfect imitation of Vicini from The Princess Bride. I couldn't make up these characters if I tried.
It wasn't long into the ride before we met more hills...surprise! They weren't quite as bad as yesterday but they remained brutally steep and miles long. You know you're dealing with serious hills when they come with truck warnings.
The hills were also scarce on amenities. When we made it over and down an exhausting hill and saw a Subway in the midst of a construction zone we felt like we'd found a miraculous oasis. I also found hope in a Bed and Breakfast / Oriental Carpet Cleaner, the only business we saw during a long climb. I didn't understand their business combo, but the important thing was that we weren't destroyed enough to want to stop and stay there. For one reason or another we wanted to keep climbing.
As Kyle pointed out, at least the climb up Mt. Ararat rewarded us with a view.
It also used to have a hotel shaped like a ship until an arsonist destroyed it a few years ago.
By far the best part of the ride was visiting the Flight 93 Memorial. After seeing it I can't believe that I had never been there before, and that I might never have gone if it hadn't been almost on our way. No permanent memorial has been constructed yet, so the space isn't filled with statues and plaques and signs. Instead there is a small wall covered in mementos and messages left by visitors, a row of wooden angels with the names of those who died, and an American flag off in the distance, marking where the plane fell. It was beautiful, and real, and unifying, and I wiped away tears as I circled the wall several times, thinking about the person behind each angel, and the person behind each object left to honor them, and especially about the child who gave up his action figure.
Kyle and I didn't talk much about the memorial, but we understood what it meant to each other. It was something to hold onto during the long, difficult day.
Make that a long, difficult day punctuated by moments of panic. In fact, I'd like to address the residents of Pompey Hill Road: Why do you all need to own intimidating dogs, and what do you do to make them so angry at cyclists? (Except for the friendly Mennonite family whose giant dog was a perfect gentleman; thank you.) Ironically, out of all of the overly aggressive dogs we encountered, the only one we had to spray with Halt was a chocolate lab. The dog tore off running as soon as he saw us and stayed hard on the chase, refusing to respond to his owners' yelling and nearly running us into a car. (Partly because I was busy freaking out and being very little help.) I think Kyle will always feel a bit sheepish admitting that he maced a chocolate lab, but we didn't have much choice and our patience with dogs was running very low.
Really our patience with everything was running low, especially after we (or googlemaps) kept miscalculating distances. Once again we found ourselves riding in the dark...down a massive hill at 40-50 mph. (I'd love to tell you our exact speed, but the speedometer still breaks whenever we top 40). That last part may sound like fun, and honestly it was pretty exhilarating, but sometimes I would get distracted by that whole fearing for our lives thing. It was actually safer to go as fast as possible, since that meant cars didn't have to try to pass us, but adrenaline doesn't always listen to that kind of logic. I had no control in the stoker position, but that was actually better since I trust Kyle's steering much more than my own. It did turn me into a wind and bug shield though, which was highly unpleasant. I don't know how many bugs died on my chest and face that night, but I do know it was disgusting to have to pick them off when we finally made it to the Days Inn. Thankfully we were asleep as soon as our freshly showered heads hit the pillows, which, incidentally felt like clouds.
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| posted at: 07:27 |
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