How can so much happen in one day?

As quickly as it seemed to arrive, end end of the tour arrived just as fast. I suggested yesterday that we do the 50-smile ride in exchange for getting up earlier. Which I did. I hope you feel special, Cynthia.

Knowing that I’d feel less enthusiastic about packing up after a long ride than I did at 7am, I did my future self a favor and had everything neatly put away in the car and we were rolling by 8am. Sometimes I surprise myself.

The day started out nicely and we were back out in the countryside. Compared to previous days, today was pretty flat overall. Or maybe I’m just already used to wavy topography and am no longer easily impressed.

We did have one bear of a climb this morning, where I finally decided to try the Jenn-recommended mini switchback method, and it helped immensely. I guess I learned a new skill.

Not long after that we had a comfort stop, got some chocolate milk, and took a picture.

The sights were more of the same: farms, houses, the distant mountains, and winding two lane blacktop. Then we passed by this odd monument.

So that was a fun little side track. So many interesting people out there.

We pedaled on for another 45 minutes or so into the town of McGaheysville, where the comfort choices abounded (there were like three places we could eat). We chose the Thunderbird Cafe since I was in the mood for real food; neither of us had a proper breakfast before leaving. I expected other cyclists to be in there, but they all seemed to have chosen the Kline’s Dairy Bar next door. We walked in and gave the rest of the customers quite a shock, to judge from the looks we got. I’m assuming they don’t see a lot of cyclists there on a normal day. But we didn’t get chased out of the place or anything, so we had a good lunch, with about 20 miles to go.

On a several hour bike ride, the morning and afternoon always seem distinct. I was feeling good and strong when we got pointed back towards Harrisonburg, but as the sun passed its zenith, the wind had kicked up, and the smoke was getting heavier. The next ten miles we’re okay, but the final ten felt like another twenty. I was getting close to bonking, greeting every new sun-scorched hill with exhausted resignation. By the time we got back into Harrisonburg and found ourselves winding through the James Madison University campus, we were both strongly suspecting there was a shorter route that could have been taken. But much like I do when I’m in the car and Google Maps tells me to take a route, I was following whatever the Garmin instructed. It’s not like I knew where I was to make any other choice.

The good news is that we did finally make it back, but I was checking the mileage every couple of miles until we recognized the neighborhood near the park where we were camped. Did I mention that this is a fun hobby for me?

I was thankful that I was free to head right off to the shower, everything but the bike already packed. I seemed to be running on only about 75% brain power, but I didn’t need that much to get cleaned up and ready for the road.

Cynthia and I went out for one last meal, at another good Mexican place at 3:30 in the afternoon.

And then it was over. Nothing left but to say our goodbyes and head home. We’ll keep in touch, but I won’t see her again until next year. As of now we’re planning to do two rides together next season. It was an odd and abrupt feeling saying goodbye after spending almost all of our waking time together for six days.

I stopped for gas and then drive out of town, driving too slow because it just felt too fast and reckless to go 55 mph with all those hills and curves. It took quite a while for that feeling to wear off. I felt very deflated and quite sad as I passed by the corner store in Hinton where just yesterday we’d stopped on the bikes and I met the orange kitty. I hope he stays safe and has a good life.

Remembering how dull the Penn and Ohio Parkways were, I decided to take the southerly route back to Michigan. I added half an hour but saved myself a lot of traffic plus $11. Also, the route was beautiful. I followed US 33 West / Rawley Pike, which hugs the mountains through forests and past lookouts. I would have stopped to see the views, except the views were mostly obscured by the smoke of the Canadian wildfires again, the air white, the sun a dull orange ball. It would have been a very lovely drive into West Virginia if not for the smoky haze. It was still great, but everything looked weird and wrong and vaguely unsettling.

I made it as far as Ellenboro, West Virginia, and called it a day. My mind is fuzzy, and my ears are ringing. This day seems to have begun in another day completely, and I’m ready for a solid rest. Having knocked off four hours of driving, I only have six to go, so I should be having a happy reunion with my kitties in the early afternoon tomorrow.

Turley and I (and Bianca) are all comfortable here in the Sleep Inn Ellenboro, and I for one am looking forward to a hopefully dreamless, restful sleep.