The Road to Damascus – Day 46

Date: Thursday 23^rd September

Route:  Elkhorn City, Kentucky – Damascus, Virginia 

Distance: 82 miles 

Total climb: 7424ft

Net climb: 908ft

It is safe to say that we were both somewhat disappointed to have stopped in Elkhorn City, Kentucky last night and not forged on into Virginia – our final state.  In fact – as with so many things during the course of the journey – it proved to be a fortuitous turn of events.  Our early finish and the fact that we were setting off from a motel directly on the route meant that after breakfast at the diner we were out on the road by 7:45; earlier than we had managed for quite a few days.  This in turn meant that we had time to pause at both the tomb of the unknown Confederate soldier and Lookout Point – which had spectacular views over the surrounding valleys – before completing the short ride to the state line.  Arriving in Virginia was a moment that we had been looking forward to for weeks and a real mental marker – we had only one state left to cross out of the ten that had stood in our way when we set off from Astoria.  We celebrated, as ever, by taking photographs in bizarre poses which puzzled a number of the motorists driving past.

Our triumphant ride into the forests of Virginia was followed by a few small climbs and then a swift, winding downhill into Haysi, where we stopped at a garage for a quick snack and to put some air into Fred’s tires.  Our quick break turned into a rather more lengthy pit-stop as the valve on Fred’s rear inner tube snapped off in his hand as he attempted to remove the outer plastic cap.  The tire went completely flat in less than a second.  Whilst endeavouring not to think about what would have happened if the valve had broken as we were coming down the steep descent into Haysi, we both decided that this was a good point at which to change our front inner tubes which we had not changed during the course of the entire journey.  It seemed too much to hope that we could manage the entire route without one of our front tires malfunctioning in some way, but they had performed heroically, so it was with admiration and a note of sadness that we parted company with them.

Tires changed and cookies from the garage Subway eaten, it was time to press on.  Our route took us through Council and up a long and fairly steep climb above Honaker where we were planning to have lunch.  The views from up on the top were spectacular, although our mood was spoiled somewhat by a resident reversing out of her drive right in front of us, with little regard for our safety and by a couple of young scallywags driving a boy-racer who decided that it would be amusing to try and distract us on the downhill into Honaker.  As we were planning to eat in Honaker it would have taken more than a spot of juvenile banter to break my concentration.  Unsurprisingly their attempts came to naught and we were soon sat down, with Team Stockham, at “The Farmers Table” a small family restaurant on a side road off Main Street (just left after the railway if you ever choose to visit).  Although diner food had become something we were now rather over-familiar with, it was a good lunch (steak sandwich in my case) in a pleasant setting, overlooking the hills that we had still to cross in the afternoon.  We were joined by another cyclist who was attempting his own Trans-America journey; albeit on a different route.  His tale was a rather more sombre one than ours, as he had originally set out with his brother-in-law who part way through the journey had suffered from an aneurism and was now in hospital.  Still, he was soldiering on, but it made me reflect on how difficult it would be to attempt a trip like this alone.  Whilst friendly, our companion didn’t seem to be having a great deal of fun.

Back out on the road again, we were soon confronted by one of the least pleasant sections of the entire route.  We had to cycle uphill along a busy road and were presented with a choice of either cycling on the road and taking our chance with the traffic (which included a large number of coal lorries whose drivers seem not to put a great deal of store by watching the road in front of them) or attempting to cycle in the “hard” shoulder which was, in fact, simply a mass of loose gravel.  Fred, far better at being aware of the traffic around him, took on the road whilst I opted for what I took to be the safer option of the gravel.  Multiple wheel slides and skids later (one of which nearly took me under the wheels of an aforementioned coal lorry) I finally made it to the top, where Fred had been waiting for some time.   Fortunately, the quality of the road surface improved significantly after that brief section and at Rosedale we turned left onto a main road with a proper hard shoulder, which provided a suitable tonic for my now jittery nerves.  The rest of the day’s ride was unadulterated fun passing through a series of forests and lush valleys before stopping at Meadowview for a quick break.  It was after closing time so we didn’t hold out much hope of finding a shop open, but serendipity once again took charge in quite a surprising way.  We wandered into what looked like a cafe, but in fact turned out to be one of the best restaurants of the local area, “The Harvest Table”.  It was housed in a beautifully restored building which was itself the centrepiece of a seemingly genuine old town square.   The staff could not have been kinder and although we didn’t have time to stop for dinner they were happy for us to eat a couple of bread rolls and drink a few glasses of Coke.  To round off our stop perfectly we met a group two couples who asked us where we were heading.  It turned out that they all lived in Damascus, our evening’s destination, and that they had seen Team Stockham booking our accommodation for the night.  They assured us that we were in for a comfortable night’s accommodation and recommended Quincy’s Pizza restaurant to us for our evening meal.  All told it had been an ideal stop – relaxing, nutritious and allowing us to freak out Team Stockham by accurately predicting where we would be staying for the evening.

From Meadowview we had only 13 miles to Damascus, lit (until the last few miles) by a glorious sunset, and riding through rolling farmland.  We met Team Stockham at the point at which we rejoined the main road into the town and rolled on to the centre of town at which point we asked them for directions to the Hikers’ Inn.  Suitably astonished that we already knew where we were staying they gave us directions in return for an explanation.  Thankfully it was only a few hundred feet to the back door of the place and after we loaded up the bikes into the car for the evening (purely as a safety precaution) we got ourselves settled into probably the most homely accommodation of the whole trip.  Our hosts washed our kit and provided all sorts of recommendations for things to do in the surrounding area.  After a quick shower and change we were off out to dinner.  I love pizza.  I also love Quincy the 1970s TV show starring Jack Klugman.  That should give you some sort of insight into how much I Ioved Quincy’s pizza restaurant, Damascus.  To make things even better it was open mic night and the locals had turned out in force.  We were treated to music (mainly country but with some rock thrown in) from performers across the whole spectrum of both talent and sobriety.  The evening’s MC undoubtedly had the X-factor, but our favourite act had to be the guy who, perhaps after a few halves too many, complained that his guitar was not working.  Good pizza, quality live entertainment and a few racks of pool made the ride to Damascus all the more worthwhile.