Yesterday was a very good day that started with some strong coffee that Joe knows I like after being here last year with his usual weak stuff. Then I got to ride on the Virginia Creeper Trail, an old railroad bed with the tracks removed and cinders and such put down for a trail for walkers, jokers, bikers and horses. It passes by beautiful rivers girgling, cut away rock faces, sheer drop offs to one side and rising mountains to the other, an occasional open field and a small town, a golf course, and people’s homes fortunate enough to settle by the tranquility.
I met a couple from England on holiday, as they say, at the beginning. They wanted to know all about Red and in the process said their son biked across the country when he was 17 (now 41) in six weeks and was very impressed by the hospitality. I wonder how it would be now.
I went ten miles up the trail and stopped for a moment by the river and listened to its gentle voice
(push play, set on repeat, close your eyes and enjoy as long as you want)
and saw the home of two riders who went by me on mountain bikes.
They had a split-level with gardens and porches. A beautiful spot. The slightly up return was a bit of a challenge but no too bad especially in the cool. At one point I had to unclip because a group was walking horses across the bridge. I commented on how the bridges were a good release point for horse biscuits and one of the riders said,
“Yes, they (the bridges) scare the s--- out of them.”
I said they do me too.
I had lunch with my buddy, Joe, the interim associate dean of something at Emory and Henry, a mini-majestic, secluded little Methodist school with red brick building and walkways and bustling with Suzuki camp kids. We ate at the deli and had Reubens, my favorite sandwich and we walked back to his office and I realized I did not have my POC (cell phone – piece of crap). I went back to look and it was not on the table. Somebody suggested calling it to see if it vibrated – no luck. The waitress was going to look in the trash and I left thinking I dropped it. I got across the street and she came running out saying, “Sir, it was in the trash.” I guess the trash vibrated. My POC saved once again.
The rest of day and evening were totally relaxing and involved some replenishing fluids and a wonderful supper with broccoli salad and chicken and rice prepared by Betty, Joe's bride, who is a great cook. Life is good.
Betty getting ready to hike in 90 degree heat and Joe getting ready to work in the AC.
And I burned some more of The Brief History of Nearly Everything (which is not so brief – so far 7 CDs and I have the third part yet to burn) for my long travel day of 11 plus hours coming up this Saturday.
Enjoy the ride.
Crossing the Bridge
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