Joe and Heather Biola
And another great day rushed into since I slept til 7 and Joe wanted to ride at 8. I barely got my morning stuff done and no blogging. And a quick yogurt for breakfast and some almonds and quickly stuck my glasses and snacks in the bag and off.
I clipped in and off we went and I fell off at the first stop since I could not get out of them quick enough. This was a sign of things to come unfortunately. We stopped early for spring water that trickled down the mountain and would not have been noticed except by someone who had been this way a hundred times before.
I went down at least three or four more times and Joe got a huge kick out of that and when Heather was talking about the historic battle at Rich Mountain Joe talked about making a reenactment film with me falling off my bike. The worst fall was when I was going up an steep uphill that I could not pull and tried to dismount but got thrown to the side of the road and got the knee and elbow digs and the palm of the hand plug and (later when we got to the turnaround point realized that is where my glasses were probably thrown off the bike too). Oh well another pair – on one of my trips after a long ride through the rain on Blue1 across the state of Tennessee I stopped at Wal-mart and left my glasses on the shelf above the sink in the bathroom for about five minutes until I realized I had left them and came back and they were stolen, and on a series of physics competitions with students in 2001 I went through three pairs of glasses in the month of February. I am hard on glasses.
The last fall was when I had finally gotten back on my recumbent after having an awful time and realizing it was in a big gear, I got to the top of the hill and started down Joe said stop a minute I want you to see my gear. Down for the last time. No more clips for this ride. At the turnaround point I duct taped the bottom of my shoes and the pedals so it would not happen again (though my left foot seemed to find a way to lock in anyway – but I was spared further humiliation).
On the way back we took a brief ride on 219 and it was unsettling to say the least with no bike lanes and going over a curvy bridge with a dump truck roaring by two inches from my elbow. We did make it to Beverly where the covered bridge was whose beams are in the Joe and Heather’s house where she grew up. It is also the place where the first telegraphs were used to send battle news to Washington.
Along the way there were beautiful postcard views across the sprawling mountains and valleys and along the river and indigo buntings in flight and on the road to fly no more. Heather said you can go back and say you are at the Headwater. This river runs into another that runs into another that runs into the Ohio that runs into the Mississippi. “My grandfather says the higher up the river you go the better the people, and we are at the Headwater.”
On the way back I got way ahead and made a wrong turn less than two miles from home and took a two mile detour until I realized it was not familiar and stopped a man on the road to get directions. Then another woman at a stop sign and she said turn right here and it will take you into town. Joe and Heather were having lunch when I arrived and I joined them.
My 38-mile trip ended up being 41. Later it was fiddlers in the park on Wednesday and I heard some classic West Virginia tunes from a group circled in the park two autoharps, two dulcimers and two guitars. And then we took another trip to the El Gran Sabor to hear a not so good young guitarist after supper at a place that served Grand Lake Elliot Ness and home.
We are running in the morning for a change. He wants me to swim before hand but he does not always get what he wants which is unusual for Joe the ex Marine and Progressive insurance exec and ironically liberal Democrat and one of the most generous people I know but don't tell him he already thinks he is in the fourth stage of manhood - wisdom.
Enjoy the ride.
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