Sand traps

DAY 02
Chickahominy River Park, VA to Ashland, VA

"Hey! Hey! Where are you headed to?"A fellow cyclist yelled at me from across a 25 foot grass median. He was an older gentleman with a bright yellow shirt on. His bike was loaded to the max with massive back panniers and smaller front ones as well. I noticed a bit of an accent, but couldn't narrow down from where exactly. "Oregon, how about you?"  I replied. This long distance, loud conversation continued at 10 mph until our paths joined. 

Alan was a soft-spoken polite Englishman. Although very composed and not overly excitable it was apparent how elated he was to have met fellow cyclists. He timidly asked if he could camp with us that first night, and possibly ride with us today. 

The morning was complete perfection. A remarkable contrast from the day before. Birds were chirping and the sun was shining. I wouldn't feel how badly my ass hurt from the day before for another hour until we jumped on our bikes. The plan was to ride 63 miles to a KOA just before Ashland. 

Location of the first Thanksgiving

It all happened in a split second. The three of us, Becky, Alan and myself were speeding down a hill approaching 20 mph. The shoulder of the road was about 7 feet wide. As we neared the bottom of the hill the road leveled out and went over a bridge. I was in the lead with Becky then Alan trailing. At the far end of the bridge a pile of sand had collected, awaiting unaware cyclists... i.e. Becky. I was hugging the white stripe because it generally has less debris on it than the far outside edge of the road. At the exact moment we cross the sand trap, for reasons unknown, Becky decides to ride along side me. From my peripheral I see her dart up beside me and directly over the sand. My head snaps around and my voice calls out in alarm, but it's too late. I watch the whole thing happen in slow motion. Her front tire enters the sand and plows through decreasing her speed by a quarter. Her second tired joins in the chaos, adding a violent fishtail. The momentum of the bike carries it forward and somehow corrects the wheels. All three of our hearts pound as we let out an uneasy sigh of relief. Get out of jail free card? Possibly, but definitely a very valuable lesson.

Allen waiting outside Ashland Coffee & Tea

Bypassing the KOA campground we opt to continue into downtown Ashland. Cyclists we had met at our lunch stop earlier in the day had convinced us how easy it would be for us to find free camping in town. Recommendations included the fire station, University athletic field or "just walk into the Ashland coffee and tea shop and someone will offer you to camp on their lawn". All lies. However, after 30 minutes of searching, Dave from the local bike shop offers to let us camp on their back lawn. 

74 miles, physically drained, sore ass, numb hands, mentally loving it!

Becky setting up camp

Our camp for the night thanks to Dave Murphy from Olde Town Bikes!

Stats for the day:
Miles: 73.54
Average speed: 10.7 mph
Max speed: 25.2 mph