Monday, October 16

The '17 Bicycle Times Adventure Fist: Part One

I'm out the door forty minutes late because the adult things won't stop coming into my world.  I hop in the Honda Fit of Rage knowing full well that the "business" ain't done yet and won't be for some time.  The Pie is gonna take the brunt of it while I'm out playing in the woods for the next few days.

Scoop up Bill Nye and stop for broceries.  Make our way north and east... again.

We stop at Carvin's Cove in Roanoke, because the weather is looking pretty iffy later when we get to Stokesville.  There's a surprising number of people in the parking lot, considering that it's the middle of the day on a Thursday.  We jump on our bikes and head down Hi-Dee-Ho, which is actually two miles with 883ft of up because I don't read maps so good.

"You should let the geography major look at the map," Bill Nye grumbles.


Upon further review, it appears that most of the trails fall off the ridge line where Brushy Mountain Fire Road sits.  The only "easy" way up is the five miles gravel road from the marina, which I remember from the race last year... which means there is no easy way up.

Down the OG Jump Line...

and the geography major amongst us is much happier.  We shoot back up the top for another run because our ride plan is, if anything, fluid.

OG to Gauntlet and I realize that the things I thought we had time for, we didn't.  If we wanted to get something to eat and set up camp before dark, we had to start heading back to the car.  Up the Trough and down Hi-Dee-Ho and on our way to Mexican food and then Stokesville.

Fortunately (or not), The Pie needed much adult information from me over the phone throughout my meal.  Fortunate because I had signal and could respond.  Unfortunate because I don't even remember eating or if my food was any good.  Meh.

Into Stokesville just as the sun was diving down behind the mountains, set up camp in front of my parking lights, and head down to the lodge to look for the Bicycle Times/Dirt Rag folks.

Drink beers into the late hours of the night.

Scott asks us if we'd rather sleep on the couches in the garage instead of schlepping all the way back up the hill to our moist tents.


Scott asks us if we'd like blankets.

"No," we reply for some reason other than that it would have been the smart thing to do.

I spend the night pulling cushions over myself for warmth.  Eventually, I awake with the desire to pee... hard.  I stumble around the garage in the dark looking for a side door only to discover none.  I find the door into the lodge, come across a bathroom, make good use of it, wander back to the garage, enter, shut the door...

it's pitch black.  Within seconds, I'm walking into chairs, tables, corners, bikes... everything.  Everything except my couch.  I'm starting to panic a bit, as I think my only option is going to be sleeping on the garage floor, and then a hand reaches out and grabs mine.

"What are you doing?"

"Where am I?"

"You're in the garage at the Stokesville Lodge."

"Where's my couch?"

Bill Nye walks me the five steps from his couch to mine, and within minutes, I shiver myself back to sleep.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

the science guy should know about the thermal advantages of spooning