Summary: Bowling Green, KY to Damascus, VA 394 miles
June 14th to June 20th
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Day 70: Bowling Green, KY to Bonneville, KY 56.6 miles
Sunday, June 14th
I woke up and ate some cereal with Matt before leaving. It was a quick and scenic 20 miles, mostly through Mammoth Cave National Park until I arrived at the visitor center and Historic Cave Entrance. Mammoth Cave is the world’s largest cave system, with over 400 miles of known tunnels and continually growing. The entire national park covers all the known area. Tourists flock from all over the world to be guided, via an allotment of unique tours, around the caves various avenues. I was lucky enough to be acquainted with one of the park rangers. Via Jen Bradbury, one of my teachers from high school and a big supporter of mine, I contacted a park ranger of past years who then put me in contact with Rose, a current park ranger. I arrived at the entrance around 10 o’clock but Rose didn’t start her shift until 1230 so I decided to grab a little bite to eat at the Mammoth Café and then took a nice one hour nap in the shade of a tree while I waited for her. It dawned on me later that day that the nap had been my first on this entire bike trip.
I met Rose at the visitor center, she spotted me almost immediately (“look for the tall, homeless looking guy,” I had told her). Although she was only guiding specialty trips that day she hooked me up with free passes to as many other tours through the caves as I wanted. I elected to take the Historic Tour as well as the Domes and Dripstones Tour. The Historic Tour, as the name suggests, took us through the first discovered and most popular sections of the tunnel including down 350 feet underneath the cave entrance. The cave was eerily lit by infrequent incandescent light bulbs which cast a muted golden glow over everything. Because of the dim light, it was hard for my camera to really capture the awe that the caves inspire. At one point we passed through a very skinny section of cave called Fat Man’s Misery, an aptly named section. It seemed to me the cave would have fit a hobbit quite nicely, however, my 6’4 frame was rather ungainly. I bumped my head on several occasions and walked out the entrance with more than a few goose eggs.
Found this little guy on the road. Much larger than it looks.
Entering into the National Park.
A model and map of the caves known so far.
My morning tour guide, Michael.
The Historic Entrance.
This room is called the Rotunda.
Cave writing.
A cool motion effect.
Fat Man's misery.
The Domes and Dripstones Tour took us through an “artificial entrance,” meaning that it had been blown out using dynamite in the 40’s. That particular tour included 75% of the features in the entire cave system (75% of the stalactites and stalagmites… etc). We also learned the difference between a living cave, a dying cave, and a dormant cave. A dying cave, for example, is one where the stalactites and stalagmites will continue growing until they fill up the entire of the cave leaving nothing behind. Kind of a misnomer if you ask me. At the end of this tour, before exiting, we saw some cave grasshoppers, which looked like really big spiders, and then we saw a really big spider. This tarantula sized arachnoid was perched in the corner of the exit door, and I heard more than a few terrified screams from exiting patrons.
First stalactites I've ever seen in my life.
SPIDER!
After the tours were over it was only 5 o’clock and I had plenty of energy for riding so I hopped back on my bike and headed north out of the park. My route took a sharp turn downhill and I quickly lost a hundreds of feet in elevation before hitting the Spring River which I had to take a ferry to cross. I then had to pedal right back up all that elevation I had lost, sapping all that energy I thought I had. I came out of the park into a very, very, rural area of Kentuky and I wondered at the literacy of many of the locals I questioned about possible lodging/camping spots. Right before I was about to call it quits for the day and set up shop in random forested area I came upon the Campground United Methodist Church.
I saw the church had plenty of sheltered lawn space that looked quite appealing. The church also had a separate, indoor recreation facility which I could see housed a basketball court. As I approached the building a family of four walked out, mom, dad, and two kids, clearly just finishing up a little late night basketball shoot around. Dad introduced himself as Wil Smith. That’s right. Wil Smith, meet Matt Dillon. I told him my story and he happily invited me to camp for the night and even use the facilities shower. He then proceeded to fill up my water bottles with ice and then a Styrofoam cooler for me to use later if I so wanted. Great family! This is a defining example of how my trip has gone. The more desperate I am the more God has provided. Amazing serendipitous moments around every turn.
Ferrying across the Spring River.
Pop Quiz: what would cause brand new paved roads to have these kind of wear marks in the center of the lanes?
Answer: Marks caused by horse shoes used by the Amish's horses in the area.
Wil Smith and family.
Day 71: Bonneville, KY to Springfield, KY 57.4
Monday, June 15th
I woke up with some wonderfully cold ice still preserved in the Styrofoam box. Although I thought I had made a nice and early start the time displayed by my wrist watch conflicted with my cell phone. It took me a second to realize what had happened. I had finally passed into the east coast time zone! I only had to ride a short way until I landed in Hodgenville, the birthpace of Abraham Lincoln. After seeing his childhood home, doing some blogging at the library, and checking out the local museum, I left town headed east. I was now back on the Trans America Trail. I only went a little ways before going to another library in New Haven. The internet was just too slow to upload pictures at the last one. After New Haven the countryside changed for the better. Dilapidated rural farms turned into very wealthy farm estates. The roads were better maintained and views improved as well. This type of scenery would take me all the way into Springfield where I would set up shop at the city park.
I was lucky enough to eat my dinner while catching the tail end of some little-league baseball games. I made some time to call some friends back home, but mid conversation I turned the corner while walking back to my tent and bumped into someone I knew. Lydia, the cyclist I had met and left in Kentucky, was standing right in front of me, both of us agape. I couldn’t believe it. We had split weeks ago and happened to meet right back up again. We shared some of each other’s food as well as some good stories before crashing for the night.
Lincoln's birth city.
Where Lincoln grew up.
Strange community of black appartments.
Day 72: Springfield, KY to McKee, KY 85 miles
Tuesday, June 16th
I woke up, packed, ate breakfast, and was on the road even before Lydia popped out of her tent. I guess I was more of an early bird than she was. Today was awesome. The rolling hills of wealthy farmland stretched for over 60 miles and I just enjoyed the ride and the good weather. I passed all the way into the city of Berea where I stopped as a thunder storm passed through. I went to a library to take care of some school things and happened to arrive right as a visiting Blue Grass band began playing. Very entertaining.
Sunrise from my campsite.
Looking at my map, I could see that the town of Big Hill was coming up within the next ten miles. That didn’t sound promising. Eventually, I approached what I thought was Big Hill and I could indeed see a nipple shaped mountain in the background. I was sure that was what the city’s name was referring to. I was wrong. I proceded to turn the corner and was faced with a near vertical road. It was one of the steepest grades I had yet to encounter and seemed to go straight up for miles. I gritted my teeth and started upward. It was now around 5 o’clock, the hottest part of the day, and I had already ridden over 70 miles. It was a slog all the way to the top of the hill where I then passed through the town of Big Hill and promptly bought me a vanilla milk shake.
This hill would mark my entrance into the Appalachian Mountain Range. Big Hill was just the beginning. The next three days would be tortuous; filled with hills, steep grades, hot days, and dogs. So many dogs. Dogs every day. Lots of dogs. Chasing me. Biting at my heels. Get the picture. THERE WAS A LOT OF DOGS. Luckily, I still had my bear spray which I had bought in Montana, which I now used as dog spray. It worked like a charm. One fractional second squirt of the stuff and the dogs run away with their tails between their legs. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t get a cruel sense of satisfaction every time a dog that had been viciously chasing me ran off home whimpering.
But I digress. I eventually found myself in the town of McKee, Kentucky. I stopped and surveyed the local park but was spotted by a man visiting the war memorial across the street. He waved me over and introduced himself as the murals designer and the owner of the towns motel. After speaking with him for the better part of an hour he offered me half-off a room at his motel. Being that it was game 6 of the NBAs championship that night, I eagerly accepted. That night, I watched the Golden State Warriors and my former neighbor, Clay Thompson, win the NBA championships, all while watching it comfortably from my hotel room with a gallon of chocolate milk in one hand and Ritz cheese crackers in the other. Life is good.
All the barns have some kind of unique pattern on the building.
In Berea.
What I thought was Big Hill.
Day 73: McKee, KY to Hazard, KY 69 miles
Wednesday, June 17th
Because the basketball game didn’t start until 9 the night before it didn’t end until midnight, so that meant that I got a late start, something I really don’t like to do. I packed up my bike and went to the IGA next door to buy some breakfast. It was only like 20 feet away so I casually threw my leg over my bike and shoved off. I didn’t realize it, but my foot clipped in. When I went to dismount my bike, that fact became apparently clear to me. I did a long, slow, fall to the ground with my bike on top of me. This had been my first fall since the first week of my trip. Unfortunately, there were about a half-dozen people entering or leaving the IGA who witnessed my fall. Usually such a moment of unadulterated clumsiness on my part would leave me hysterically laughing, but for some reason I wasn’t in the mood today. It made me angry, like kick-your bike and throw an angry tantrum. I guess that I was just at that emotionally drained point of my trip. Over two months on a bike will do that I guess. To top it off, my bike saddle snapped off its metal frame. They were not meant to do that and I could not put it back on. I would ride the rest of the day with my seat precariously perched onto my seat post. It would fall off repeatedly throughout the day and I would just stop, take a deep, calming breath, and put it back on as best as I could. There were no bike shops in the area, in case you were wondering.
McKee memorial.
So frustrating.
This day was very difficult, even with a functional saddle. I was constantly going uphill and it was hot. The elevation profile looked like a sin wave, up and down, up and down. I did, however, have one highlight for the day. I passed two groups of bikers who were super friendly. I spent about an hour total talking to one of the groups, Chris and his girlfriend, Rachel. They were so friendly and their genuine friendliness renewed my enthusiasm for the quickly deteriorating day.
After more brutally steep hills I found myself in the city of Hazard where I met with another Rachel, this one a Couchsurfer and an AmeriCore volunteer. She was a very active person who had just returned from Colorado and was planning on moving to Bolder soon! We met her friend Mae who also had a cross country bicycle tourist staying with her and together we ate a delicious dinner and talked adventures. I learned that maple bar donuts aren’t a universally recognized dessert. I couldn’t believe it. It was a very good end to a very rough day.
Me and Chris. Rachel took the picture.
Pool like these ones were teasing me all day.
Little bit of road deterioration never hurt no one.
Coal steeple.
Good people.
Day 74: Hazard, KY to Coeburn, VA 71 miles
Thursday, June 18th
I would leave before Rachel even woke up and would eat breakfast at a Hardy’s just outside of town. The cashier would ask me what kind of Coke I wanted. She said they had all kinds of coke: mountain dew, root beer, Coca-Cola. Apparently they call all kinds of soda coke in Kentucky. After breakfast, as I started climbing yet more hills, I passed a muffler and AC repair garage where I stopped and asked one of the mechanics to take a look at my bike saddle. He did, slapped it in a vice, and used a little leverage and voila! It snapped back on. I was very thankful to say the least.
Apart from my fixed mechanical problems, the day passed rather nondescriptly. I began noticing large conveyer belts coming from towers. I stopped to refil my water at an antique store and was invited to eat lunch with the owners. They gave me sandwiches and pineapples and explained to me that the conveyor belts were coal steeples. Coal was one of Kentucky’s major exports, they were the nations second largest producers, right behind Pennsylvania. After lunch, I was faced with Pound Mountain. It was the divide between Kentucky and Virginia and it was a climb over 1500 ft. As I approached the hill I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, somewhere between the sensation when you’re about to drop down in a roller coaster and the brief second as you witness a car accident about to happen. A kind of anxious anticipation. I gritted my teeth, and climbed. Although it was over 90 degrees out, I was blessed to have a gentle wind at my back, simultaneously cooling me and pushing up the hill. At the top of the mountain there was a gas station where I bought a pair of Sobe juices and guzzled them in seconds. It was the closest I had ever come to vomiting from exertion.
I then pedaled, mostly downhill, into the city of Coebuern where I stopped at a gas station/ Subway to buy some dinner before looking for a place to stay. While there, I ran into Bill, who offered to drive me to his house a mile out of town, let me use his shower, and camp in his backyard. This was becoming too easy.
Fog in the hills reminded me of Macchu Picchu.
Helped this little guy cross the road.
Day 75: Coeburn, VA to Damascus, VA 55 miles
Friday, June 19th
That night it would thunder and rain all over my covered tent. I love a good storm and the sound, rather than being disquieting, lulled me into a harder sleep. In the morning, it seemed that my tent hadn’t been a shelter for me alone. I woke to find all sorts of creepy crawly bugs on the outside of my tent but inside my rain fly. I had to fling a rather large spider out of my shoes before putting them on.
My goal for the end of this day was Damascus. It was only a 50 miles away, but it was yet another hilly day, and I needed a break. Damascus was the crossroads between the Trans-America Bike Route and the Apalachian Hiking Trail, so it was a traveler’s oasis of sorts. However, to get there, I had to ride on VA-58, a four-lane commercial trucking highway that had no shoulder. It was a scary, dangerous 50 miles. I was riding so defensively that I had my eye on my rearview mirror just as much as I had it on the road in front of me. It was a day I would not like to repeat.
Thankfully, I would arrive in Damascus early in the day, at 2 o’clock. It was indeed an oasis, full of outfitters and tourism shops. The trail that runs through the town is known as the “Creeper Trail,” not named for the type of hiker who visits this trail but rather the type if creeper ivy that grows on it. The town was full of traveler’s hostels so I arbitrarily picked one that sounded interesting: Crazy Larry’s. It was $20 a night and included an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast. As I entered I met my first Appalachian hikers. They were three girls who had stayed at the hostel the night before and were just eating lunch before getting on the trail again. They tell me their “trail” names. All hikers are given a trail name by another hiker and from then on that’s how they introduce themselves. Theirs were Nip-Nip, Donut, and One Truth, or something along those lines. They were friendly, full of trail stories, and I couldn’t help but notice that they were all quite attractive. After talking and eating some of their Digorno pizza they put on their 40+ pound backpacks and set out. Before they left though, they wanted to see my bike and gear. I showed them my stuff outside and something caught their eye. They pointed at my bear spray and asked me if I ever had to use it. I explain I had used it on dogs every day since Kentucky. They didn’t believe me and told me to prove it, so I ripped of the lid and shot a quick burst away from us onto the grassy lawn of the hostel. They oohed and ahhhed, saying they had never seen bear spray or pepper spray being used before. We talked about it for about 20 seconds before I started to get this strange taste in my mouth which developed into a subtle burning, and that’s when my eyes caught fire. At the same time, the girls all started coughing and quite literally ran away. Apparently, my bear spray hadn’t dissipated fully, and had then been caught up in a breeze and blown back onto us. Let me tell you, the stuff is dang strong. I, meanwhile, was laughing hysterically. I had met three, rather cool and beautiful hikers, the first Appalachian hikers I had ever met, and I had bear sprayed them. I was crying. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was laughing so hard or because I had pure pepper extract in my eyes. Very smooth Matt. Real Casanova.
After showering (a second time) I still had a few mildly burning spots but not enough to bother me. I went into town to find some dinner and ended up at a place called the Old Mill. Before entering the restarurant/hotel, I saw a pair of guys struggling to carry bags full of groceries as well as their guitars. I jumped off my bike and offered to help them carry their guitars up to their rooms for them. They accepted. Their names were Stephen and Lee, they were in town to see the Wayne Henderson Festival which was happening the next day 30 miles down the road. They offered to drive me there if I wanted to go. I was planning on taking the following day off anyway, so this was perfect. My luck on this trip is never ending.
I ate dinner at the Mill which was mostly devoid of customers that night which left me to chit chat with the bartender and servers who didn’t have much better to do. I then went back to the hostel and fell soundly asleep.
Day 76: Damascus, VA Rest Day
Saturday, June 20th
After eating my complementary pancake breakfast, cooked by Crazy Larry himself, I met Steve and Lee back at the Old Mill and we drove to the Grayson Highlands State Park where the festival would be. The Wayne C. Henderson Music Festival was all about Blue Grass Music, the main event being a guitar picking contest. It took place in a hilly field overlooking the park and stage, and was filled with camper chairs, canopies, and the smell of philly cheese steaks. I was introduced to some of Steve and Lee’s friends including a girl from Columbia who had just graduated from school with a degree in mechanical engineering who loved to bike. We had lots to talk about.
The day passed, going from clear and near unbearably hot to overcast and cool and back again. Eventually the passing clouds would become darker and darker and then started to burst with rain. Each new onslaught of clouds would bring heavier and heavier drizzles of rain. Lee had generously donated me a rain parka. The bands played on through the rain and I enjoyed every second of it. I was comfortably dry with my parka sitting in a park listening to Blue Grass bands play amazing music with near strangers who were incredibly outgoing and friendly. Life was good.
The storm worsened and as the thunder neared they finally decided to call the festival off, but not before we had heard over ¾ of the musicians play. We packed up camp, folded our soaking umbrellas, and climbed back into our cars dripping wet. After returning to Damascus, I thanked Lee and Steve for bringing me along today, shook their hands, and returned to the Hostel where I then wrote these words.
Deciding my route here was mildly difficult. I could continue on the Trans-America which would take me northwards into Charlottesville but would keep me in the mountains. The alternative was taking the scenic creeper trail all the way into North Carolina then hopping on the Northern Line through NC. It is a much flatter, much more direct right to Virginia Beach. I’m choosing that one.