Out of the frying pan...

April 29, 2024

... and into the fire

IT'S COOL AND QUIET in the basement palace my friends have ceded me for the evening. That makes a stark and welcome contrast to some of this morning's and nearly all afternoon's experience.

Waking spontaneously around 0500, I check the forecast for today: sunny, high near 90. A good day to lay down miles early.

My hotel's coffee offering is meager, as expected, so I venture out in search of hot bean juice and a bite to eat. Even at 0530, VA Route 3 west of Fredericksburg is a whooshing, rushing mass of vehicles all of which are in a hurry. There's absolutely no provision- none whatsoever- for anything other than motor vehicles, so I'm forced to play Dodge 'em as I pick my way carefully along the shoulderless, debris-strewn margin of the pavement.

Nowhere to hide as the guard rail squeezes me onto the pavement.

Mission accomplished and safely back in my room, I pack up, change into riding clothes, haul gear and bike downstairs (the hotel has no ground-level rooms), and get rolling just after 0700. At that hour it's still pleasantly cool, and the roads through the commercial zone are reasonably empty.

Escaping the cesspool of big box store and mall development that sprawls to the west of the older section of Fredericksburg, I'm routed first into quiet neighborhoods and then onto the campus of what is now called "The University of Mary Washington". What's with that, anyway? Seems every institution of higher education has a yen to be styled as a "University" these days. It's no longer good enough, or fashionable, or something, to be a plain old "College". Call it what you will, it's an attractive enough campus.

I trickle through old Fredericksburg, long since rebuilt and recovered from the treatment it received at the hands of a vengeful Union army that suffered so terribly here in the winter of 1862-1863. It's now prosperous-looking and tidy, yet retains something of a quaint feel.

The Presbyterian Church has stood since the 1830s, so it survived the cataclysm of the battle that raged in town in December 1862.

Crossing the Rappahannock River on a modern bridge with excellent protected bike/pedestrian facilities I climb away from the river and turn north into the countryside. On the first hill Serenity lets me down for one of the few times ever. I try to shift onto the granny ring in front, but "CLUNK" goes the chain and lodges between the chain ring and the frame. CRAP.

The view downstream, from an excellent bridge.

After mucking about for a while, I eventually get things sorted and resume my ride, albeit in a slightly less pleasant mood. Once out of the City of Fredericksburg I'm in relatively rural Stafford County, but it too is under pressure and threat of development as urbanization (or just as bad, the "country estate lifestyle" pushed by real estate developers) encroach on the land. My time of riding in splendid rural isolation has come to an end.

The irony is that it comes too late: the banner stands at the entrance to one of the many new housing developments in the area. Sprawl is already HERE.

Keep off our trail. I understand about no motor vehicles, but REALLY?

Another protest, this time at the location of an historic home.

Doomed again: this is across the street.

I stopped to ask for water at the church where this nicely-restored VW camper van was parked.

The church was locked up but had video surveillance cameras all around, and a sign on the door saying the building was locked to ensure the safety of the congregation, staff, and children. Sad that it's had to come to that.

As I circled the van the secretary came out and gently shooed me away; she was clearly concerned about what I was doing, and watching me on her array of security camera screens.

As the day wears on, the traffic volume increases, and driver patience diminishes perceptibly. Many drivers still wait patiently until they can pass safely, but not as uniformly as on past days. After being passed close and at high speed one too many times, I resort to pulling off to the side of the road where and when I can to let groups of vehicles go past.

It's got that hint of color Bill Shaneyfelt mentioned a couple days back, so I'm fairly confident in my identification this time.

A vulture circles lazily overhead. I hope it's not eyeing me as a potential meal.

Skirting the Quantico Marine Corps base on its west side, I enter first Fauquier and then Prince William counties. Prince William in particular is an absolute mess, a disaster of epic proportions caused by too-rapid growth without good planning. Nothing's been built at walkable scale or with any consideration or provision for anything other than cars. There are huge roads everywhere, choked with loads of fast traffic and meager, intermittent now-you-see-it-now-you-don't accommodation for bikes. At each traffic signal a large slug of vehicles gets impounded momentarily, then released with a roar like the flood of a dam bursting when the light changes.

There's also not a lot of shade, so the full heat of the day is on me for many miles.

It's hot, and I've still got 18 miles to go..

The best I can say of it is that I got through it safely, and that I'm glad to live elsewhere.

I'm welcomed warmly by my friends, and shown to the basement bedroom because they know I'll appreciate the extra cool after my time in the sun. I do.

Showered, changed, and with most of the day's post in draft form, Art and I head for his favorite Mexican place for dinner. He's been following the journal so he knows I've had Mexican several times already, but we appreciate the symmetry of starting and ending the trip this way.

After dinner we sit on his back deck, chatting amiably until it's time for me to call it a day.

With an old friend I've not seen in far too long.

Heart

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Today's ride: 58 miles (93 km)
Total: 528 miles (850 km)

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Comment on this entry	Comment	2

John PickettMy apologies for not going down the street to the MVT to wave and cheer. Good luck with the big finish.
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3 weeks ago

Keith AdamsTo John PickettThat would've been today. I was thinking of you, and examining the faces of oncoming riders, as I rode up the trail. Almost emailed you to see if you were up for a meet, but elected not to since I had no idea of when I'd be passing through Pickett Territory.
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3 weeks ago