Planning to be out well before nine…

Riiiiight. Anyone who knows me will be unsurprised to hear that target was missed. Not by much though. By the time we were rolling it was only around 9:30. Good enough!

We decided to be conservative and choose the 40 smile mile ride today, understanding that 40 miles of hills is very different than 40 flat miles. It turned out to be the perfect distance.

It did storm well last night after turning in, the rain plunking loudly on my tent for around an hour. This was good because it almost drowned out my neighbors, who came in late and were talking and giggling and and just generally not endearing themselves to anyone within hearing distance. I lay in my sleeping bag, fantasizing about yelling out “Shut up!” for quite awhile before they finally silenced themselves. By this time I was still awake with my ears totally focused on the nearby interstate and the thunder-like sound that the trucks make going over the bridge. I’ve sourced some earplugs for tonight.

I woke to a wet rain fly but clear skies. Cynthia brought some buckwheat pancakes and coffee from the breakfast tent, which we shared while discussing routes. The 56 mile route was tempting but included some gravel, and it was not clear whether this was optional or not. Bianca’s skinny tires and stiff suspension are not the ideal setup for gravel, and Cynthia said she wasn’t really up for it, so we went for the 40 miler.

Today’s routes all started in the opposite direction of downtown Staunton, which made for less stressful riding. Much of today was hilly farmland, the roads rural blacktop.

Early in the ride I was thinking to myself that even the small uphills seemed way harder than they should, and I started wondering if there was something wrong with my bike. Then on a downhill I thought I’d shift the front ring and suddenly the pedaling was much easier. Turns out I did yesterday’s ride on hard mode for no reason except that I don’t understand how bicycles work. I felt rueful but pleased that things would be easier, and kind of impressed with yesterday’s performance.

Ten miles in we came upon our first comfort stop, a fine establishment called The Cheese Shop. We stopped (duh), and I had a very fine grilled cheese sandwich and a fried cherry pie, because calories don’t count on a cycling trip. I also picked up some emergency cotton candy flavored rock candy for later, in case I felt myself accidentally losing any body mass.

Thus fortified by cheese, we struck out for the next thirty miles. There were several delightful and long downhills, and being out in the country I stayed off the brakes and enjoyed the speed.

Speaking of speed limits, several times today I noticed signs announcing the end of a certain speed limit. End 35, End 45, etc. But they never had signage for the new speed limit. Is it driver’s choice? Is there a default Virginia speed limit that all the locals know about? Mysterious.

Today we also encountered the designated tour Asshole Riders™️, the guys that help promote and sustain the hate that many drivers have for cyclists. These guys, who of course are traveling in a group of Lycra covered mediocrity, have taken the “Share the road” suggestion to mean “We’re going to take up the whole road because what’re you gonna do, hit us?” I watched these guys ride four-abreast up the hardest hill of the day, taking up the whole road and preventing a driver from passing. Cynthia saw them do the same thing earlier. How little consideration it would take to pedal single file or even just two abreast to not block everything. These guys and millions of other riders like them are why we all have drivers pass us aggressively close, or throw drinks at us as they go by.

But enough about the entitled people of the world.

Since we had such a substantial meal at The Cheese Shop, we didn’t take any other breaks until making it back to camp around 3:30. As we put the bikes and riding stuff in our cars and refilled on water from my 5-gallon supply, I remarked that we’d cheated the weather. By the time I’d gathered my stuff to head to the shower truck the sky was darkening again and a cool breeze kicked up. While I was showering a storm moved through, but the timing was good and the weather had no effect on us. Then the sky cleared, the sun blasted down, and the humidity made me recall why I’m so happy to not be living in Florida (or any other humid place) anymore.

For dinner we were looking for a brewery with food, so we ended up back in Waynesboro, a small town we’d ridden through just hours earlier. This was probably the least favorite part of the ride for me, as it was congested and there was some kind of route glitch that resulted in a few u-turns (the routes are all available via Ride with GPS, and I download our chosen route to my Garmin each morning, which provides me with turn by turn directions on a moving map). But in a car it was just fine, and I completed my cheese powered day with a white pizza and a local brew at Basic City. There were still cyclists from our ride there on their bikes, and I was very happy we were done for the day, unlike them.

Due to the up and down terrain and our different riding styles, Cynthia and I haven’t gotten as much time to actually ride together as on the last tour, but we make up for it when we’re off the bikes. After dinner and an ice cream stop we were heading out of Waynesboro when I noticed a business’s sign: A Better Cremation. We thought this was just the funniest thing ever. I’ll spare you the jokes, but suffice it to say my abs were aching by the time we made it back to Staunton. Miles of smiles.

We made a quick stop at Aldi so I could get some bagels and peanut butter for the next several breakfasts, then we were back at camp with nothing to do but relax.

We are planning for the 48-mile ride tomorrow, and gosh darn it we’re really for real going to be on the road before nine. So now it’s time to put in my earplugs, brush the spiders off my sleeping bag, and rest up.

Good night!