The trick worked like a charm, and I was out by like 8 AM.

Not kidding, a squirrel woke me up. I had set up camp right underneath a big tree, and this squirrel had decided to whittle away at some acorns directly above me. Every time he/she would discard some shell, it would land on my tent. I woke up to raining nuts and squirrel chewing.

I opened up my tent, and I realized it was too chilly to pack everything up and hit the road. So, I grabbed my bear bag and made my way to their bathroom. The place was great: it had heat! So I broke out my food, and I enjoyed some PB no J’s in some killer ambience.

After I had my fill, I went back, broke camp and packed up. It was a beautiful, clear morning, and I had a seemingly short trip to Newport News. I was in a great mood and decided to throw on a pair of bike shorts that I hadn’t worn yet. It was almost too much excitement to handle.

Everything was packed nice and tight, and so I threw on my bike shoes and saddled up. And that’s when it started. As soon as I sat down, I knew it was wrong. I guess I must have already lost a little waistline since I started, and these shorts were a little big to start with. Have you ever tried to bike in padded shorts that are too big for you? It was almost unbearable. They kept falling down and the padding would dangle around my knees. But I’m pretty stubborn, and I didn’t want to unpack all the stuff I had done. I decided to forge ahead–it was supposed to be a quick little 30 some miler anyway, so I pulled those bad boys up to my belly button and chugged along.

Williamsburg is awesome. I wish I had more time to check out the sites, but I did find time to ride through William & Mary. The whole area was pretty cool, and no one seemed to be fazed by yours truly. I guess the place has been around long enough that it’s seen everything, and they don’t like to bother with some updates.

I  got through campus and went on to try and find this trail that would take me around the city of Newport News and to my destination point. I must had ridden around for 45 minutes looking for the damn trail. I would check it on my maps and ride to where the trail was supposed to be, and it just wasn’t there. I broke out my iPhone, and I still could not seem to find it. It was unbelievable. So, I decided to stay on roads and just go through Newport News a different way.

Let me just preface this: Mom, I was fine. So, I found this road called the “Pocahontas Trail.” I thought that this sounded nice and it looked like it was going to take me to Newport News. I think they just renamed the road in this area to join in on the Busch Garden theme. Well, to get to this trail, I had to cross this huge set of railroad tracks, and in order to do this, I had to go on an overpass. The overpass happened to spit me out on a pretty major road.

As I climbed the on-ramp, I  saw a sign that said “no bicycles, skateboards, rollerblades, etc. allowed on highway.” I like to think it wasn’t a real highway, and I made it all better in my own head by saying that I was an exception: I was not getting on the highway, I was merely using the “weave lane” on the right side and using the off-ramp on the other end of the railroad tracks. The “weave lane” is not the highway, right?

It also happened to be the time of day when the local inmates got to mow the lawn on this exit ramp. Perfect. I had about five dudes staring and yelling at me as I climbed my way onto my precious “weave lane.”

But seriously, there was not a car in sight, and nobody goes to Busch Gardens in November, anyway. I was completely fine, and it finally got me to a road that would put me on my way.

Well, the Pocahontas trail is just a little two-lane state road that is like every other road I had been on recently. It was also fully covered in foliage and the sun was nowhere to be found. The wind picked up, and I put my head down and charged. Oh, and I forgot to mention that this road turned the trip into more of a 45 miler.

I finally made it to Newport News. The sun was completely gone, and the wind had completely replaced it. It was that Nor’Easter day (of course), and I was riding directly into that cold air. It was very slow going, and I was freezing.

To get to Virginia Beach from Newport News, you have to go through a tunnel. I learned that there was no chance I could ride my bike through it, but I had arranged to have my good buddy, Sean Lillard, pick me up and take me across to VB.

I just needed to get through Newport News to our pick-up point. I thought I was going to get there super early and find a Starbucks where I could catch up on my blog. Well, I barely made it by our agreed time.

On my way though town I started to notice groups of people standing outside of big brick buildings. Knowing how perceptive I am, it didn’t take me long to put two and two together–just like 40 miles or so–It was Election Day! People were pissed about standing in line for hours, and they were driving like assholes. I don’t blame them–if you can’t tell, I was not having a good day either, and I was probably riding like an asshole, too.

Needless to say, I was SO happy to see Sean. We packed my trailer and bike in/on his car and we crossed into Virginia Beach.

He’s taking a few classes, and he had a test to take at ODU. I figured I could make some headway on my blog, so I found my way to the library and killed some time writing. I missed the memo that you are supposed to wear muted colors on college campuses, so my bright red jacket and the fact that I had no idea where I was going really helped me to stand out. I also felt extremely old.

As you can tell, this was one of my worst day of riding. It all started with those dog-gone shorts. Next chance I get, I am shipping them home, either there or save on postage and throw them in a local dumpster.

It was funny, as soon as I got out of those things and showered up at the Lillard’s beautiful home, I felt so much better. We had a wonderful dinner and it was great to catch up with one of my favorite Gonzaga families.

I had a grand old time with the Lillards. In the morning, Sean and I went to an iconic Virginia Beach diner for breakfast at the Belvedere. No real story here, just that we got to watch the waves roll in up close over some egg sando’s.

I slept in a little on Monday. When I finally got up, I decided to make breakfast and finally get to writing. I knew I was behind, and I had to make some progress before this thing snow-balled and I forgot what happened to me on this trip.

After a rousing morning of awful writing and struggling to figure out how to get through the city of Richmond and on to the next spot, I stepped outside to pack the bike. The sun hit me in the face, and my furrowed brow instantly released. “This is awesome!”

With my GoPro recharged, I threw it on the old brain protector to see if I could get some action shots of my journey through the city. It turned into a bit of a gauntlet: cobblestone streets, college kids who seem to cross the street wherever and whenever they want (been there), and construction that took me urban off-roading.

I pulled into the water-side trail that led me underneath some railroad tracks that were under construction. As I rode past a massive machine above me, it decided to drop a log the size of New Hampshire off the tracks. It blasted the road right next to me, and it reminded me of the Indiana Jones ride in Disney World. As you can imagine, I was totally unfazed.

But I made it out of Virginia’s capital unscathed and heading east. The ride out of town to Chickahominy River was pretty uneventful. I spent a lot of time on Route 5 (John Tyler Memorial Highway)–they’re actually in the middle of building a trail that runs parallel with it, and I got to log some miles on the parts that are already complete. I’m so happy to be in the flats, it’s ridiculous.

I  stopped by a gas station and bought a banana and gatorade. Everyone in the place was wearing camo, and they were all staring at me. I was a little worried that my bright red jacket had scared away all of the game in the area, so I decided to hop back on my bike and keep truckin’. It was a good idea anyway because of my late start, and when the sun got behind the trees, those last ten miles were pretty damn cold.

I crossed the Chickahominy River and arrived at the campground. The ranger inside was very nice and was pretty much the only conversation I had all day. He pointed out where my site was and also pointed out that there was a freeze warning that night. I had about 45 minutes until sundown, so I figured I should get moving.

I set up camp and broke out everything I’d need for the night chill. It wasn’t even 5, but it felt like I should be getting ready for bed. I spent some time cooking up something new: Ramen. But it was very nice to put something warm in my belly.

I put on pretty much  every piece of clothing I had and hunkered down for the night. Even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, I figured I’d throw up the old rainfly to try and retain some heat. Also, my good friend and true outdoorsman, Bud Oakley, introduced me to a cold night camping move that I use all the time: right before bed, boil water and put it in your Nalgene bottle. Throw it in a sock and then snuggle up with it inside your sleeping bag.  It keeps you nice and toasty,  and in the morning you got fresh water! I guess those Nalgenes are really quite useful–I used to just try and disprove their “unbreakable guarantee,” but I’m growing to truly appreciate that bad boy.

The ride from Ashland was quick and easy. I’m so glad to be out of those hills. The sun popped out as I rolled into Richmond. One of my long-time surfing buddies, Jon Angot, was kind enough to take me in. Raised in Hawaii, he knows how to take care of visitors, and this time was no different.

I made it just in time to watch the Skins lose, and I also got to clean my clothes for the first time in days. Because I cut back on so much extra stuff, pretty much everything stunk–I also got to hop in the shower.

We met up with his two buddies: Steve the Pilot and Torey the Chemist. We had a blast, and it was great to learn about their hopes and dreams. The three of them were awesome tour guides, and we soaked in the local Richmond scene. I also got to stop by my friend Caitlin’s pad. “RVA,” as they like to call it (which I figured out stands for Richmond, VA), is literally all over the place. Outside of those stickers, you can tell the city is trying to form an identity, and it was pretty cool to see.

From the moment I arrived to the moment I left, the weather was beautiful. You may say I have a small sample size, but I say I’d definitely come back.

We had about ten minutes to set up camp before it was dark. I didn’t have time to stretch out or rehydrate. I just started unpacking everything as fast as I could. It was going to be cold, and there weren’t many people around. We ended up pitching both my little tent and my dad’s four-person dome. Body heat was going to be important, so we decided to both sleep in the big one–from then on, we made the genius decision to not set up both tents if we are only going to use one of them. All about efficiency, baby!

My pops had arrived in my trusty CR-V, and we figured we’d take advantage of the horsepower over my leg power. After camp was ready, we took off through the hills to find a place to have a real dinner. I know it had only been one day of biking, but I had almost forgotten how fast you can go on these roads with a real engine under you. After dodging about 250 deer on the way out of the campground, we ventured into town to find some sustenance and to kill some time.

We came across Point Potomac Winery, and we decided to go for it. The place was perfect–great food, great wine, and the most comfortable seating on the planet. I sunk into my chair, and I could almost hear my battered tush saying thank you.

The next morning, my dad figured I should get some more fuel in me before I hit the road. We decided to head towards my next destination and stop on the way. I know it’s cheating a little, but I couldn’t turn down the double-whammy: a good meal and less hills.

The diner we found was awesome. Classic America, serving big portions of eggs, grits, bacon and of course, real pumpkin pancakes. It was a good start to what I know will become a true love affair with these joints as I head south.

We found the next point on my route, and he dropped me off with everything to continue on my way. I swung through Randolph Macon–it was their homecoming and I almost convinced myself to stop by a tailgate and throw a few back. But I’m not comfortable with this trailer yet, and I’m wobbly enough as it is.

The ride into Richmond was beautiful. Looks like Sandy didn’t get to every tree along my route.

Because of the head start, I made much more headway towards Richmond than the original plan. We decided to tent up in the KOA in Ashland, which would leave me with a pretty easy ride into the city on Sunday.

We had time to set up camp and then some. We piled in the car in search of something to do and another big meal. After a solid tour of American franchise restaurants, we decided to go with Chili’s. It was Saturday, and we spent about 5 hours in the place watching college football and chatting. After all this time, it’s amazing how much I still learn about my father. Even though we are different generations, our life stories paralell each other in many ways, and he’s got some wild stories from back in the day. Other parts I just sit back and listen. Twain once remarked that it’s amazing how much wisdom our fathers gain during our transition from teenager to young adult–it’s a very valid point, he just said it much more eloquently. And although we might differ in some of our opinions, and our points of view are from different ends of the spectrum, it’s still so important to listen.

5 hours is also more than enough time for my father to make friends with everyone in the room. By the end of our night, the bartender made us some drinks on the house, and those put us over the top and into sleepy mode. We went back and hunkered down into the four-man tent to enjoy some solid Z’s.

We woke up pretty early to our oblivious neighbor conversing at about 120 decibels with the girl he was trying to impress. It was pretty funny to listen to, and I still think he had no idea how loud he was talk-yelling. I did a quick search for a diner near the KOA, and we decided to double-down on our luck. We found a place called the River City Diner outside of Ashland. Honest to God, one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been. The food was awesome, and they definitely take care of you.

Her name is Theresa, and she was almost glowing. She was our server, and she is also exactly the reason why I went on this trip. She is such a sweetheart, and her positivity and kindness is contagious. She genuinely wanted to know how we were doing. Coming from a bustling city where people don’t/can’t take the time to listen or care, it was so refreshing to chat with her. Most of the time, I refrain from blabbing about my trip, but when she asked us what we were doing in Ashland, I couldn’t think of a quick and easy way to answer her question. So, I explained to her what I was doing, and she half-hugged me and walked away. Dad and I enjoyed the rest of our breakfast until we couldn’t even look at another bite.

Theresa came over and handled our stuff and we sat back to take a breather. Then, another server walked by us, “wished me luck on my travels,” and slapped a $5 on the table. Then, another waitress did the same thing. Then another. I swear, it was like the scene out of Rudy. I didn’t even know what to say. And then Theresa came up to us and said that the meal was on them and then handed me a $20 on top of that. She told me how happy she was that I was doing this, and this was the least they could do to help. Both my father and I had tears in our eyes. It was unbelievable.

Unfortunately, my dad doesn’t know how to work an iPhone, so I don’t have a shot of us, but we tried! If you’re ever in Ashland, please stop by the River City Diner. They have great food, and I know for a fact that they will treat you right. People are just amazing.

My apologies for taking so long to get updated. I have either been too busy or too tired to write anything. Also, I have taken quite a few pictures which I hope to include in these posts as soon as I get the chance…

I woke up at Mike’s place wondering if this would be my last chance to sleep in a bed for quite some time. I decided to try and soak in a few extra hours, because I thought I had everything ready to go. When I finally got moving, I realized getting out the door required a lot more steps than I had thought. After double-checking every little thing, I moved all of my stuff out of his place and on to the road, and I was officially ready to hit it at 11. I took a last look at Adams Morgan and started pedaling.

It was a little windy, but the sun was out, so I was happy. Headed out of the Park and across the Memorial Bridge into Arlington. I took a minute at the bridge to drink it all in…Then the glove I had removed to take some picures blew into the road. I tried to get down to reach it and my trailer toppled, and I almost followed. Being graceful, smooth, and pretty has officially gone the way of the do-do bird.

A guy in a gray ARMY t-shirt was running by. He stopped, handed me my glove and smiled. Exhibit A for “people who I don’t even know yet” who supported me on this trip. I have a feeling that I’m going to run out of alphabet.

I took a left before the Arlington gates. My grandfather who had received the Medal of Honor is buried in Arlington. I know I’ll never be able to fill his shoes, but I hope that I’ve taken a step in the right direction. I thought about Arthur Murray Preston and his courageous story–they don’t make ’em like they used to.

I dropped into the Mount Vernon Trail and started gunning it. I figured that if I could open her up now, I’d make up for lost time from the morning. It was a big test for the first day, 62 miles, and I hadn’t exactly gotten off to a flying start.

The Mount Vernon Trail is amazing. If you live in the DC area, I HIGHLY recommend grabbing your two-wheeler and checking it out–especially on a nice day. After a couple wrong turns, I finally arrived at the Mansion. It was already 1:30, and I had almost forty miles to go. I stopped for about five minutes, shoved an entire cliff bar into my mouth and kept pedaling.

The day was full of stopping, pulling out my map, and trying to figure out if I was going the right way. Quite a few times, I wasn’t. At the beginning, I would turn around and make sure I would get back on the route exactly as planned, but by the end of the ride, I realized I needed to get to the destination-that’s all that matters. Obviously, I am not going on any dangerous roads, Mom.

The 4 major points of the ride itself: Hills, Wind, Sidewalks, and Cold. I was blown away (almost literally) by how many hills I had to climb. And thank God the sun was out, but man it was cold, and I had to deal with a nasty headwind the entire time. Also, because I was in the city or in nearby suburbia, I had to manage on sidewalks–the ka-chunk ka-chunk of the sidewalk never quite becomes melodic, and my rear-end was not all too happy.

With the trailer and hills, it was slow-going. I knew it was going to be a close call with sunset, so I put my head down and kept chuggin. In my research, I found out that the campsite itself was another 12 miles from the campground entrance, on winding and hilly roads. But on their maps, I noticed a service road that lead straight to the campsite from the backside, and I called ahead to see if I could use that road to reduce my first day from 74 to 62 miles. The friendly ranger said I could, and to just move my bike around the gates.

By the end of the ride, my legs were screaming at me on every hill and I felt like all of the fluid in my body must have flowed out of my nose.

Finally, I made it to the back-side road, and then to the service road entrance. As I swung my bike and trailer around the gate, I realized that this was no road at all–just a mixture of wet and dry leaves, dirt, and thigh-high grass. The sun was very low in the sky, and I knew I was running out of time. I took my biking shoes off and dug through all of my neatly packed gear to find my normal shoes. I put them on and took off running/walking next to my bike. Of course, that was even tougher than normal, and sticks were getting caught in everything. It was about two miles of this, and I couldn’t have been happier to see that second gate which let me know I made it to the campsite.

My dad was planning on meeting me there, and I hopped back on my bike in my walking shoes and pedaled around the site until I found him. I turned the last corner to see my car sitting in a parking spot, and I heard my dad smile and say, “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

…And I’m off.

I figure now is as good a time as ever for me to head out. I’ve had about 6 “last nights” in town, and I think my friends are sick of celebrating me. I know I am.

I’ll barely count my first leg as a real ride. I went from my parent’s place outside of DC to my brother’s place inside DC. 18 miles along the Capital Crescent Trail, and then I swung off in Georgetown to drop into Rock Creek Park. Posting up on the waterfront in Gtown:

The toughest part was dealing with all of the debris on the trail. Sandy has done quite a number on the trees. All of those leaves I thought I was going to see change before my eyes are now under me as I ride and are clogging up my bike.

I stopped by City Bikes in Chevy Chase to say goodbye to all of my new-found friends. They’ve been a continuous source of knowledge as I have prepared for this journey. They also allowed me to log some hours in their shop apprenticing their service department…I did my best to become a grease monkey, but I definitely had more than my fair share of embarrassing moments back there. They were so patient with me and I learned a lot. Those guys are great, and they might actually know everything there is to know about bikes.

My brother, Michael, never seems to disappoint. A last minute Thursday get together was the perfect send off. I also got to spend time truly appreciating DC up close:

     

“The Capital of All that is Free and Good.” Special thanks to Mike, Chris, Dennis, my sister Kelly, Ryan 1 & 2, Brayden, Sweet P, and the rest of the squad to make sure I headed out on a good note.

Hurricane Sandy has thrown my departure for a loop, and I’ve decided to bail on heading out until she has passed. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise–I didn’t sign up to swim to North Carolina and then bike the rest of the way (although that would be a sick biathlon). Not only did it prevent my mother’s first heart attack, but it bought me some much needed extra time for preparation. I’ve been running around with my head chopped off tying up loose ends for the past week, and I didn’t realize how unprepared I still was.

I was planning on leaving Saturday morning and getting about 60 miles southwest of DC. Then I figured I would wake up early on Sunday and charge hard and hopefully make it to Richmond by Sunday night–just in time for some real shelter before Sandy hit. But that didn’t leave any margin for error or any lost time for snags. Not to mention fallen trees, flooded roads, and debris everywhere.

On top of that, I was planning/hoping to have a riding partner for the first few legs of my trip. My buddy, Sean, had requested some days off and was going to bike with me through some of Virginia. He’s an avid outdoors-man and has done like 27 Ironmen triathlons. He promised he would take it easy on the bike and he’d certainly be nice to have around as I got my bearings on the first few nights. He also works for NYC and was Indian given his weekend/days off because he had to work with FEMA in prep for the storm. So it looks like I’m going solo.

And here’s the kicker: the last two training rides, I have gone with my trailer 100% fully loaded to simulate a typical day on the road. Before then, I had been riding with the pretty-much-everything trailer, and I felt comfortable. But those “last few little things” added up quick, and this was a different story. The extra weight was quite significant, and the distribution of said weight is paramount. I learned these lessons the hard way–after I ate shit flying down a hill and trying to bank a turn.

So, all of the stuff I “wanted” to bring with me on the trip had to go. You should have seen how much I had originally. Now I’m down to the bare essentials: everything I’ll need for riding and camping…and like 1 pair of jeans. I also make sure to put the heavy stuff at the bottom in the back. This has made it much more doable, and it’s going to be a little easier on the old legs.

I’m getting a little anxious, and I’m really Iooking forward to heading out. Maybe it was the right move to stick around and figure out alternative routes in case of flooded roads, but I’m losing daylight and it’s getting colder every night…

For a while there I figured this start would be a great way to put my gear to the test, but if it fails that test, I’d literally have left myself hanging out to dry.

In other news, looks like we got waves!

Maybe I’ll be able to finagle a last-minute surf before I head out. I heard that Mother Ocean and Ol’ Sandy are quite the duo, and we could get some really good surf. Below are some of the chargers who ignored the mandatory evacuation in Ocean City, MD (great shots by Nick Denny). Who says the East Coast doesn’t get surf??

That last one was OC’s best re-enactment of the final scene in Point Break–Bodhi in the 50 Year Storm…Oh, and it’s also not the best day to get caught inside (see the little head in the center of the frame):

In all seriousness, I hope everyone is safe, and that no one is truly affected by the damage.