We had a fun group at the Cookie Lady’s house last night. Phil, Masha, and 4-year-old Brooke arrived in the late afternoon. Daddy Phil is pulling Brooke in her trailer. Momma Masha is carrying a huge load of gear too. They were quite fun people. Australian Phil has great taste in music; he’s a Neil Finn fan.

I slept poorly but the price was right. Greg left for the east at sun up. I headed west at 7:15.

The first two miles were straight up Afton Mountain Mountain to Rockfish Gap where Skyline Drive meets the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I stopped to take a picture of The Mule at the sign pointing south for the BRP and north for Slyline.

After a mile of climbing I was tired and went to post the picture. I deleted it instead. Derp.

There were plenty of sights to photograph though. This section of the BRP had two big climbs: one to 3,000 feet another to 3,200 feet. I felt like I was out west climbing in the Rockies without the thin air. In between the two high points I descended to 2,600 feet.

Anyway I rode 27 miles on the BRP before descending on a steep and windy mountain road to Vesuvius. The road looked incredibly like the road over Deepwater Mountain between my in-laws childhood homes in West Virginia.

It was raining during the climb to 3,200 feet and the descent to Vesuvius so I put on my jacket. The cool air and raindrops were welcome relief from the hard work going up and the hot braking surfaces going down.

I did stop twice on the descent to let my rims cool down. The first time I’m sure I was close to a heat-induced blowout. These v-brakes are infinitely better than the cantilever brakes I used to have on The Mule.

The road from Vesuvius to Lexington was mostly flat but for a hill near the start and a couple of tough climbs near the end.

I’m at a Warmshowers house just east of Lexington. Dirk and Crissy have a chill golden retriever named Roxy.

Tomorrow I’m shooting for a hostel in the Appalachian Trail in Troutville.

Miles today: 49

Tour miles: 447

Last night’s dinner from 7-11 was a fine repast. A jumbo hot dog, a big bag of tater chips, a small bag of M&Ms, and a tall Arnold Palmer (sans alcohol).

I slept well using ear plugs to drown out the TVs in the hotel. Something big must have happened in the news.

The breakfast bar was no match for my hunger. Coffee, OJ, biscuits and sausage gravy, scrambled eggs, home fries, and a turkey sausage patty. Burp.

I took an apple for the road then packed slowly allowing the temperature to rise above 60 degrees.

I learned today that the Google doesn’t do country roads very well. It started me the wrong way on a two-lane, one-way road. Next it routed me onto US 29, a four-lane bicycle death trap. Later it routed me onto a gravel road. This worked out fine. A half hour later it did it again. This time the road crossed a cattle guard and ended at a farmer’s gate.

The paved alternative looked good until I arrived at an active stone quarry. A man at the quarry ungoogled me and I was soon on flat Rapidan Road, zooming south with the aid of a tailwind.

After climbing a steep hill in Orange, I stopped at a brewpub for lunch. The food was great even if the condiments were a bit pretentious.

After Orange I turned onto Virginia Highway 20 and headed 22 miles straight to my hotel. The road was rolling up and down mile after mile with each hill getting higher than the last. The traffic picked up and the drivers were impatient. The first tall building I came to was my hotel, high on a hill, of course. It’s next to a Wawa so I know where I’m eating tonight.

Hotels here are nearly double the price from last week. I blame Brandon. Still I sprung for another Holiday Inn Express because the psychological impact of staying in fleabag hotels is one of my least favorite aspects of bicycle touring.

I have booked a sofa at the Cookie Lady’s house tomorrow night. I hope also to ride the new tunnel under the Blue Ridge. I not looking forward to the brutal climbing during the day but I’m as ready as I can be.

Miles today: 54

Tour miles: 367

Despite taking time off for my daughter’s law school graduation and from being sick, I still managed to ride 22 days for a total of 921 miles.

My long ride was Day 1 of the Mo Mo Tour at 76 miles.

For the year, I’ve logged 3,902 miles, a 9,396-mile pace for the year.

The Mule cracked 75,000 miles on May 31.

With good health, weather, and luck I’ll ride about 1,500 miles in June.

But for some insane traffic and food issues, today’s ride was about as good as it gets.

Temperatures in the low 60s. Low humidity. Tailwind.

My route to Culpepper repeated a little over 30 miles of the start of Day 1 so I changed it. Instead of using the Mount Vernon Trail, I rode flat neighborhood streets through Hybla Valley. I repeated the two-mile stretch on US 1 through Fort Belvoir. Instead of the big ups and downs of Lorton and Occoquan, I rode Old Colchester Road. It has rolling hills but is much more pleasant. It put me onto US 1 at the bridge over the Occoquan River, skipping the steep drop and climb at the town of the same name. I was now in Prince William County.

I followed the Google’s directions through Woodbridge and Dale City. I rode through heavy traffic on three-lane highways and dealt with five asshole pickup truck drivers. One even cleverly told me to “Get on the sidewalk.”

Eventually a side path appeared, lowering my anxiety level considerably. I picked up Dumfries Road, a busy cross county highway. There was a side path but I chose the 12-foot paved shoulder with rumble strips.

I turned onto Aden Road where I danced with dump trucks a week ago. After six miles I stopped at a country store. Judging from the lines, the grilled food was awesome but there was no place to sit down and eat it.

I bought a chocolate milk and a cherry pie in a box, went outside and inhaled it next to a parked plumber’s truck.

The plumber came out of the store and remarked that I must be brave or insane, considering all the dump truck traffic. Ironically, I only saw two dump trucks all day but the plumber nearly hit me as he backed his truck up. (We both had a laugh over it.)

After another six miles I left the Day 1 route and gave myself over to my Google master.

As I continued toward Culpepper the route became a bit hillier. It was now a bit warmer and more humid. Still it was comfortable riding. I stood at two more places to get proper lunch but their grills were closed. One place sold nothing but packaged Latin food. I admit the cases of cookie-like pastries were tempting but I needed protein.

Near Remington the road ran parallel to a train line (the one my Amtrak train used last week). It was totally flat.

All good things come to an end. The road began to roll. At Brandy Station I stopped at a Subway for a wrap. Turkey, bacon, avocado. My tummy was happy.

The next nine miles were up and down until I came to Culpepper. The Google was drunk and sent me all over town to get to the hotel.

I had intended to stay at a Best Western but when I arrived it had been re-branded as a Days Inn. I walked around the complex looking for the registration desk. At least half the rooms were under renovation. I never found the check in desk so I went next door to the Holiday Inn Express and booked a clean, quiet room for $10 more. Well worth it.

Tomorrow’s ride to Charlottesville is about 50 miles. The weather will be a repeat of today.

I’m off to buy grub at the 7-11 next door. I ate lunch at 4 so any old food will do.

Miles today: 74.5

Tour miles: 313

I have spent the last three days lying around the house feeling generally useless. I have had no energy. In a way, I wish my symptoms were worse so that I could feel better about abandoning the tour.

The folks at a local bike shop all came down with “the flu” which may or may not be the exact illness I have but it sure sounds like what I’ve got. The Washington Nationals had an outbreak in early May. Their catcher was so sick he lost 15 to 20 pounds. I should feel lucky.

Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling so hot when I left home last week. I attributed this to the usual pre-tour anxiety but maybe it was the first signs of the illness. This would explain why the second day climb through Fredericksburg and the ensuing 30 miles were as so much harder than in 2017.

Yesterday I drove to REI to get some replacements for tour items. One was a power pack. I bought one from Best Buy a month ago but I never could get it to work properly. It didn’t come with instructions that I could find. The new power pack was very similar in design. It had instructions. I plugged it in. Then, on a lark, I followed the same instructions for the old power pack. Voila! It worked. During this process I opened the box that the old power pack came in. There, under some packaging, were the instructions in a small booklet. Dang.

So today I needed to return the new power pack to REI. Instead of driving, I rode. I figured I needed to test my fitness to see where my body was at. The ride is generally flat, until the last half mile when some climbing is involved. I felt crummy the whole way – lead legs, coughing up gunk – and the climbing didn’t help.

The REI return process went smoothly and I headed home by a different route. Again, most of the way was flat. Still I kept having to clear my lungs. About five miles from home there is a 100-yard incline to negotiate. I zipped up it. My legs felt better. Hmmm. How odd.

About two miles later I decided to take a hill that I have used for tour training in the past. It’s maybe 150 yards long and pretty steep. Definitely granny gear worthy. I rode nearly all the way to the top in my middle chain ring, then got out of the saddle and muscled the last 50 yards over the top. Whoa.

I finished strong, 30 miles in all, and felt fine. There’s a lingering trace of congestion in my chest and sinuses but I feel better than I have in a week.

So, how do I proceed?

Well, hanging around home for the next six weeks isn’t going to happen. It’s boring. Moreover, it’s dangerous because my wife will kill me. She wants alone time too.

I have two options to resume the tour. Option 1 is to ride to the Amtrak station 6 1/2 miles from home and take the train back to Charlottesville. I’m not crazy about this idea because the loading process could damage The Mule, and I’d have to deal with the mechanical aspect of removing and installing the wheel without a stand. (I know, I’d have to do this if I get a flat. I’d rather avoid it if I can.)

Option 2 is to ride The Mule to Charlottesville by a more or less direct route: 75 miles or so to Culpepper on Day 1, 50-ish miles to Charlottesville on Day 2. (My tour route was about 230 miles).

After Charlottesville, I get back on the Trans Am, starting with 30 miles to Afton and the Cookie Lady’s house . This involves a brutal climb for the last five miles. Then, 30 or so miles up to and along the Blue Ridge to a campground in Love VA. Then it’s downhill to Lexington. Depending on how I feel, I could do Afton to Lexington in one day. Thursday the weather improves so I am thinking of leaving then.

Either way I have been thinking of ways to lighten my load: leave my master link tool (they look like pliers) and my allen keys home (a multitool will have to do). I can take two spare tubes instead of three. (I have patch kits.) I can switch my off-bike shorts and belt to a second pair of bike over-shorts. Also, I’m going to leave the maps for the Great Rivers South and Lewis and Clark routes home. I’m only taking four TransAm maps and one Route 66 map (in case I continue to Oklahoma City). All of this might come to a pound. Anything else I might use I can download from Adventure Cycling. Every ounce counts.

If I feel good tomorrow, I’ll start packing for Round 2 of the Mo Mo Tour.

I slept very well at the church hostel. Alone. I haven’t seen a rider on the TransAm and the hostel says there have been very few riders this year.

I took my time getting on the road after eating a breakfast of leftover food from yesterday. As soon as I mounted the bike I could tell that this would not be a good day. I had lead legs. I had been using my granny gear until today but this was getting ridiculous. Hills that I would have sped over last year were brutal slogs.

And, like the last three days, the weather was perfect.

I kept at it hoping that my Warmshowers hostess would come though with a place to stay 20 miles beyond Charlottesville. She never did.

I plodded along and stopped at a gas station convenience store without the gas. It was a place out of the 1940s. While washing down a homemade brownie with a Diet Pepsi, a local came by. He’s 68 and has livestock on his land. He lives off the rent from six log cabins he built with his own hands. He spends summers on a ranch near the eastern entrance to Yellowstone. He had on a weathered cowboy hat with the sides of the brim turned up like Junior Brown. He was missing a few teeth. And he could talk a blue streak.

After a half-hour chat I took off for Charlottesville. I often have a problem with congested lungs when I ride, but today, instead of going away, it worsened by the hour. A shot of albuterol had no effect. I was coughing up gunk all morning and feeling drowsy to boot.

As I was grannying yet another hill, some local riders in Lycra zoomed down the hill, all smiles.

Must not kill.

The hills seemed to be getting steeper with each mile. Climbing past Monticello took everything I had. The climb into Charlottesville nearly did me in.

I checked a few a few hotels and they had plenty of empty rooms. So I went downtown for sustenance. When I got off my bike I was dizzy. No bueno.

I concluded that there was no way I could continue in this condition. And even if I could, I wasn’t having any fun. If Monticello was tough, Afton Mountain and the Blue Ridge only a day away would be impossible and dangerous.

I had a burger, fries, and a beer at a bar downtown. It tasted great but my head still felt out of kilter.

Back in 2003 I abandoned a tour when my brake and shifter cables froze, the sidewall of my rear tire blew out, it was raining, and I was sick as a dog. I called my wife and she rescued me.

I did not feature laying about in a hotel for three days getting over whatever it is that is ailing me.

I rode a mile to the Amtrak station and checked about getting the train home. $46. Roll on service. In bed by 10:30.

Sounds like a plan.