Postcards to Troutdale – Day 47

Date: Friday 24^th September   

Route:  Damascus, Virginia – Radford, Virginia 

Distance: 102 miles 

Total climb: 6,463ft

Net climb: 6ft

The only downside of our arrival in Damascus was the fact that mysteriously my back wheel started to stick almost as soon as I hopped off Diana and started to push her around the town.  Another visit to a bike shop was needed, but after our session in Quincy’s the night before we weren’t hugely keen for a very early morning.  Still, we managed to haul ourselves out of the comfortable beds and head out for an excellent (if expensive) breakfast in the town.  Damascus is something of an outdoorsy tourist hub, with walking, cycling and climbing in the near-by hills.  It also lies on both the Trans-America cycle route and the Appalachian Trail (a famously difficult walk through the Appalachian Mountains).  As a result the town is chocked full of cyclists, walkers and (luckily for us) bike shops.  Fortunately, there was no great rush as none of the bike shops opened until nine and so we had time to have a brief look around the town.  Once the shop did open the repairs were done very quickly (a few adjustments to the spoke tension) giving us just enough time to stock up on supplies and to finish packing up back at the Hiker’s Inn.  We headed back to the bike shop to collect the bikes and head back out on the road.  Damascus seemed like a fun town and it was a shame to leave, but at least our route was taking us through some of the rich scenery that the area is renowned for.  The road out of Damascus took us up through the hills of the Cherokee National Forest, all the while with a small free-flowing stream off to our right; conditions that were perfect both for cycling and the mandatory Parkes two-miler.  We were straight into a climb of almost 2000 feet, but the gentle gradient and green and pleasant surroundings meant that in what seemed like no time we were past Konnarock and at the summit, and undoubtedly feeling a little smug towards those tourists who were getting a lift up to the top in minibuses.  The reward was a magical ten mile downhill to Troutdale where we had agreed to meet Team Stockham for lunch.  As it turned out we had got there too soon and the Team missed us completely; but we were treated to some more Virginia hospitality in a very friendly diner.  In addition, we chatted to a lady who was very excited about the fact that we came from England – her granddaughter was doing a year-long project which involved getting postcards from as many places around the world as possible.  She asked if we would send her a postcard from England, which we agreed to do, and with Fred’s impending travels during his gap yah we hope that she might just have a few more postcards than the rest of her classmates.  We also met up with another cyclist – this time on the same route as us.  He wasn’t doing many miles each day so we hoped that we would be able to catch him and get back into first place in our race. 

The next stretch of the day was an enjoyable, although mainly unremarkable canter through rolling Virginia farmland which was generally downhill.  Sadly, our cycling lunch companion must have stopped at the town of Ash Grove as we didn’t encounter him again, despite making rapid progress.  We were convinced that we had found him as we closed in on a cyclist on the final hill into Rural Retreat; to our dismay it turned out to be a teenager on a mountain bike.  Still, a cyclist is a cyclist and so we arrived in Rural Retreat delighted to be back in first place and very much ready for an afternoon snack.  Rural Retreat is marked by a large corn silo bearing its name and a large number of sizeable dogs in the houses on the road into town.  Team Stockham were on hand to greet us at the diner next to the railway in the town that was once the cabbage capital of the USA.  Although the town has lost some of the sheen of its glory days as a vegetable hub it still boasts an excellent diner which is clearly a Mecca for the locals (some of whom, ironically, professed some rather anti-islamic sentiments).  For the third day-time meal in a row we met a cyclist during our break, although this time he was setting off as we arrived.  In any event, we couldn’t afford to hang around for long as we still had over fifty miles left to go for the day and it was already past three o’clock.

As we made our move to set off , however, we were stopped by a policeman who asked us if we were missing anything from our bikes.  Initially concerned that we might be in trouble for something, it quickly became clear that the cyclist that we had met half-an-hour beforehand had had his GPS unit stolen from his bike; the policeman was merely concerned to ensure that none of our kit had been taken.  Our bikes intact, we set off again and after a quick stop to inflate our tires our route turned sharp right and we trundled through Wytheville and on to the frontage road which runs a few metres away from interstate 81.  We took our final stop of the day at a service station Dairy Queen for milkshakes that were delicious, refreshing and cooling in the late afternoon heat.  The route for the remainder of the day remained on the frontage road, periodically crossing over the interstate.  It was not a picturesque section of the route and surprisingly provided a few navigational challenges, but we finally arrived at the turnoff to state route 626 into Radford after a warning from Team Stockham that the road was in a pretty poor state of repair.  The team were a bit concerned that we still had a way to go and that we would be cycling on a gravel track in near total darkness.  As a compromise we decided to ride on but with the Team behind us ensuring that all was well (a now well worn tactic).  The Team were right to be concerned; the road was in a pretty shocking state and was also fairly busy with traffic.  Nonetheless we managed to navigate it without any wheel-spins or slides and, running along the side of the New River, it proved to be a pleasant route into Radford.  With a population of over 15,000 Radford was the largest town we had seen in weeks and as we crossed the bridge into town its bright lights were quite a change of scenery.  We also noticed a large football stadium just across the bridge and had high hopes that we might catch part of a college game.  Sadly it was not to be, as there was no game that night and the highlight of the evening ended up being the whistles we received from a car-full of girls who (probably ironically) gave a shout out to our ever diminishing backsides.  Just after our fan club had made their presence known we stopped to get directions to the motel from Team Stockham – “don’t worry – its just left, up a hill and then you’re there.” In fact it was a further mile and a half to a point where we were genuinely concerned that we had cycled past the town.  Thankfully, Tammy the Texas Chariot eventually came into view and whisked us the 500 metres up to the local Super 8 Motel – our palace for the evening.

For dinner it had to be Appleby’s; eventually.  G2 once again took us on a rather circuitous route around the town although it did give us the chance to drive past a high-school football game – with a crowd of what looked to me like well over two thousand.  It never ceases to amaze me how seriously Americans take school sport.  Once we arrived at our favourite neighbourhood bar and grill and changed tables to give ourselves a better view of the multitude of TVs, we settled into yet another cracking meal (although Mother Stockham did send back her prawns on which there was definitely too much sauce – a subject on which she was undoubtedly an expert having ordered the same meal by this stage on six occasions).  The stress of yet another late night finish came to the fore briefly over dinner, but all were soon tucking into the enormous helpings while watching at least 7 different sports at the same time.