Whack... You are now in the south.

 Out of North Carolina I nipped the corner of South Carolina and rolled into Georgia. Abruptly and suddenly we crossed the line and are now in "The South". Accents, big trucks and swamps sprung up with a BANG.  

Still North of Asheville

Epic tunes for mountain climbs

The holy coffee grail of southern dirt roads

The Asheville Lasso

So we've been in Ashville, NC. Some boob kinda locked himself out of his blog for a while but that's ok, we're back.  Davie and I have literary been assaulted with great folks and comfort in this little haven. Yes, physically held down and pummeled with awesome.  Like some unloaded trail ripping, a ride with hundreds of others at the "bike of the Irish" on St. Patty's and a warm house to chill with some gracious friends and a fetch-aholic dog.  I was actually on my way out of town once, way back a few days ago but ended up with 3 jobs. So much for sneaking out of town. I worked for two days with Peter doing masonry work and then a fill in day at Pro Bikes. The option to do some land surveying with good ol' Brad was available but I had to stomp this out before things got out of control. South America is not riding towards me.
   We'll continue the ride report from the outside, I gotta get off this rock. Gotta hack out of this joint.

A huge and fat thanx, farewell and see ya to Matt, Carriedell and Hedi dog. You guys are the greatest.
  I also received a package of amazing homemade cookies sent from the remarkable Sarah Womer. I wish I could have stopped eating them so that I would still have some so I could eat them all again.   

A Rough Cut of Part 1- A clamor from the Virginia backwoods

I left the farm country and a group of head shakers in Ottobine. SR742 became 933. The going got good at 225 Union Springs and the snow met me at 85/ 85A. This was a trickle of a dirt road that met a strip of pavement at an out look for the Shenandoah Mountain. Back to dirt it met the 95 at the Little River.  That Junction was the start of a fantastic, long squiggle of Shenanadoah Trail. This borders the Ramsey Draft wilderness and divides Highland and Augusta Countys. Bikes are not legal in the wilderness area so I was advised to "ride on right side of the trail".   

   I met a friendly dude named Ben running up the Road Hollow trail.  Hwy 250 and some coffee at the Market in West Agusta. Down Paved 629 towards Deerfield. I overshot the turn I wanted (173 Benson Rd.) and ended up taking 399 toward Wallace Peak. This route should be avoided unless you happen to carry a chainsaw and stilts. But it eventually got me back up to the ridge and down trail 447 past the Sister Knobs. A Ralph on SR627 Scotchtown Draft a Louie on paved SR625, eventually leading off on SR624-> SR609.  Swing left at the Bath Alum windsock on a nip of hwy39 and turn onto SR629. This is where I was spared the "stumble-a-bike" of Little Mare trail and breezed the rideable route into Douthat State park. As the name Suggests you should really "Do that". Beards gap got me to Stoney run  up to Middle Mountain Trail. I hit Clfton Forge for supplies, a Pizza feast and a stay at The Red Lantern Inn.  Back up the SR606 and south onto the Fore MTn Trail. A stupid fun Decent plopped me onto a frontage road of the I-64. At Low Moore I turned onto SR616 then 621. This was a scribbly rorschach of roads and I ended up missing a turn somewhere and got stuck on the West side of the Patterson range. Craig creek outlines the bottom of this ripple and several dirt roads frustratingly end at the river. Not wanting to retrace my tracks back up in a cold drizzle I stayed on SR615 into Newcastle. Off the 311 I turned back up 618 and took a right on 224 Wildlife Rd. Flopping back out on the 311- I dog-legged onto SR621 and pushed up for a stay at  The Pickles branch shelter on the AT. This was the end of map 2 of 4. So we will call that part 1.

Gnawing

 maintaining a high level of nutrition is essential

2 out of 3 ain't bad

It ain't the Hilton but what the hell.  Felt more like the Waldorf when the rain bucketed and the wind howled.

After

Before

P.S.I. (press slightly inward)

Its all about the right pressure....

 Too much and you are trying to ride in a jumpy castle full of obese ten year old's.

 Too little and your sloppy and wandering like being drunk on lighter fluid.

 Just the right amount and you are eating rocks like Cookie Monster and smiling like a satanist at a church burning

Warning!

If you feel the need to vomit when considering the out of doors or are a road cyclist who loathes the idea of off pavement riding? You may not want to look at this.

 

 huhhhh

ghaaarrr

 blllaaaawwww 

   Yea its pretty gross

DKVMBR

The Dirt Kurt Virginia Mountain Bike Route is now officially under way. It will entail a bit more dirt road than the Virginia Mountain Bike Trail but roughly follow much of the same beautiful terrain.

A big thanx to these guys for hooking it up.

Virginia is for MTB lovers

 A morning on the Patomac

 Old habits die hard. I spent the night ready to jump up and run every time a heard a train slow down on its way into the near by yard.  

 This shelter was amazing to stumble into the evening before in a howling ice storm. This morning was so warm and sunny its hard to believe the icicles coming off the roof were almost a foot long a few hours before. Needless to stay I didn't get an early start. More than a few cups were sipped enjoying the sun and view.  

 Drying out after an all day wash.

 They can't all be this good but one can hope.

 I some how feel a connection.

A little Recat.

Re- prefix; indicating repetition of action
Catapult (kat-uh-puhlt); an ancient military engine for hurling stones, arrows, etc

As structured as it is I see this blog as fairly atypical. So I'm gonna write this recat in a no nonsense, nonsensical kind of way. Don't say "get er' done" I hate that.

-I met Mark at the butt-crack of dawn for a coffee, chat and Beacon roll out. 
-On to Garrison to meet a bit of THX (Team Highland Extreme) consisting of Clemson, Fredrika and Ray. 
- A stop at Gypsy Donut in Nyack
-Over the George Washington bridge and into NYC that Night.
- Stayed up late with Sarah and friends
- Had coffee with Robert Olson (thanx for the book)
- Met Sadie and went to a NYC transit exhibit
- Stayed with Greg and Chloe and got a late start blabbing away about traveling with Greg.
- Took the Path train across the river and rode through Hoboken, Jersey city and out to Newark to get properly lost in the hood.
- Finally found and camped on the D&R canal path. (85 miles of urban cycling hell was well worth it for that 25 miles of dirt town path)
- Battled traffic from Trenton to Philly
- Had a great time in Philly. Fantastic to hang out with Dan, Nathalie, Willum, and the Curtises. (Jon and Sarah also came down from Beacon to hang out, some truly great buddys that were really difficult to say good-bye to)
- I rode north west out of Philly on the trail to Valley Forge. Also well worth putting myself back north for the niceness of avoiding the city traffic wrestle.
-Then started a fantastic lostness. A kind of directional meandering. Vague directions and instinctual winging it. I think only years of bike touring has gotten me comfortable in doing this. Riding with no map or directions. Its funny how I yearn for a contradictory time. Where there are no roads or barbed wire fences but mountain bikes somehow exist. I know I'm not alone in this thought. 
- The smallest roads I could find got me slantways across Pennsylvania into maryland. I sure don't mind sharing the route with horses and buggies.

- I'm in Maryland now butted up against the Blue Ridge Mountains. With the rolling hills and farmland out of the way. I'm doing a bit more navigation so I can crash neck-long into the less-populated and forested world without a pavemental accident. 

   

If I've said it once? I'll say it again... Those travelin' undies sure are comfy.

A Tarzan swing from the Beacon

It was a mad, distracted, focused and distorted flip flop to get out of Beacon. Galloping about in circles, mumbling, tweaking things with wrenches and sewing my fingers bloody. I was my own ball boy in the volley between productive buckle down and fuck all good times.
 In the end it was a tidy mess and I was sad and excited to leave. I will certainly miss that pubescent flower of a fantastic community. To save myself the typing of a long credits list and the embarrassment of getting all gushy. I'll just say thanx and cheers to everyone. Friends and good places are not easy to leave. 

The Beacon beacon

Beacon, NY is a lot like the name suggests. A signal buoy to guide large vessels. Its also a shining community with lots of great folks and good things afoot. I've been lurking in its shadows, suckling from its bosom and eating corn without chewing. (i.e  hanging out, drinking and goofing off). Its been a few days and the itch is itching.  Time to get serious, tie up loose ends and hit the road.