In 1987, we got rained on along the Blue Ridge Parkway, and I noticed that there was a chance of rain tomorrow. Looked like history might repeat itself.
The early riding was smooth: some of it was along I-81 and some was through hilly farmland. I stopped at a coffee shop in Lexington to kill some time. But I was still approaching my destination at 1 p.m. The only place to stay was in a field behind a grocery store and I was starting to think I'd possibly have a long, possibly wet stay there.
Suddenly, I started to entertain the idea of riding up to the parkway today, instead of waiting a day. By the time I was nearing Vesuvius, I had decided to keep going up to the parkway.
Then, my seat came apart. The bolt that holds it together sheared right off and pieces fell into the road. It wasn't clear how to fix the situation. I rode -- without sitting down -- about 3 miles into Vesuvius. Fortunately, there was a garage there and I took my bolt and my problem to them. They matter-of-factly got the sheared bolt end loosened and gave me a new one I could use: no charge. It felt like a lucky break.
With that problem solved, I began the climb. As you can see from the elevation profile, the hill is steep. It barely lets up and I often had to stand up just to keep going.
This hill deserves its reputation among cyclists: it was the toughest hill of the whole trip, although it was harder because I did it in the afternoon, having already ridden 65 miles.
Once up on the parkway, there were still some hills, but some of them were down. I decided to ride to Afton, which is at the end of the parkway, rewarding myself with a hotel room with a view. In all, I rode 96 miles.
Tomorrow I only have maybe 35 miles to Charlottesville where I'll be staying with some college friends.
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