I was awake way before daybreak, and snoozed for a while longer before breaking up camp. By 6:45, under a vermilion red sunrise, similar to the sunset the night before, I began my ride North towards Roanoke. It was cool and brisk on the down hills, and soon my fingers were stone cold, and my face tight and wet from the morning dew. These early mornings at 3,500 feet made me realize that fall was in the air and that the higher temperatures experienced at the beginning of the trip, are day by day, slowly starting to fade away. By 11:00 am I took a break at the Smart View picnic area, overlooking an alpine meadow with grazing cattle and distant mountaintops. I wasn't alone for long. Adam a serious road cycling fanatic, as he called himself, stopped by for a chat. He told me that he was pretty hardcore when it comes to cycling, but that he had the utmost respect for us cross-country trekkers, carrying all that weight up and down these hills day in day out. While he admired my ability to do what I do, I was envious of his speed, strength and power to ride the way he did.
I told him that I was hearing some clicking sounds coming from my crankshaft, and attributed it to my chain being stretched, because of pulling all that weight. He recommended a bike shop in Roanoke and gave me directions to the place. Again it would take me out of the way and short of my daily miles, but if the chain broke in the middle of nowhere, I would have a bigger problem on my hands. As we talked some more, a car drove up and parallel parked next to us. After a little while, the visitors from next-door, Ed and Anita approached us and introduced themselves. When they learned of my dilemma, they spontaneously offered to help me out. The plan was for me to bike to Roanoke Mountain, some three cycling hours away, and settle in at the campground. Ed, a semi professional landscape photographer, and his lovely companion, were on their way to Mabry Mill to take some pictures there, and offered that on their way back home could come and pick me up, and take me into town to the bike shop.
Shortly before five o'clock Ed and Anita knocked on my tent-door, loaded the bike in the SUV, and drove for quite a while into town, to Cardinal Bicycle, where Robert, the bike mechanic, spent 45 minutes taken my bike apart and tuning it up. The problem was not what I thought it was, but the clicking sound was arrested, and now the bike felt in better shape than ever before. The evening was still young and Ed and Anita invited me to join them for dinner with their friends. We ended up in downtown Roanoke at Table Fifty, and after a delicious main course and a local brew, they drove me back to the campground via The Roanoke Star, a famous landmark since the late forties. It was a beautiful evening and the view from above, under The Star and an almost full moon, made for another perfect memorable day!
I told him that I was hearing some clicking sounds coming from my crankshaft, and attributed it to my chain being stretched, because of pulling all that weight. He recommended a bike shop in Roanoke and gave me directions to the place. Again it would take me out of the way and short of my daily miles, but if the chain broke in the middle of nowhere, I would have a bigger problem on my hands. As we talked some more, a car drove up and parallel parked next to us. After a little while, the visitors from next-door, Ed and Anita approached us and introduced themselves. When they learned of my dilemma, they spontaneously offered to help me out. The plan was for me to bike to Roanoke Mountain, some three cycling hours away, and settle in at the campground. Ed, a semi professional landscape photographer, and his lovely companion, were on their way to Mabry Mill to take some pictures there, and offered that on their way back home could come and pick me up, and take me into town to the bike shop.
Shortly before five o'clock Ed and Anita knocked on my tent-door, loaded the bike in the SUV, and drove for quite a while into town, to Cardinal Bicycle, where Robert, the bike mechanic, spent 45 minutes taken my bike apart and tuning it up. The problem was not what I thought it was, but the clicking sound was arrested, and now the bike felt in better shape than ever before. The evening was still young and Ed and Anita invited me to join them for dinner with their friends. We ended up in downtown Roanoke at Table Fifty, and after a delicious main course and a local brew, they drove me back to the campground via The Roanoke Star, a famous landmark since the late forties. It was a beautiful evening and the view from above, under The Star and an almost full moon, made for another perfect memorable day!
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