Jeremiah Watt

To use an age old phrase, "you would have been hiding under a rock" in order to have never heard of the Blue Ridge Parkway....................which make up the bulk of todays ride. Ever find your self wondering as to the splendor of Gods Creation, well if ever you do, just take a short ride on this fabled piece of American HIghway and see for your self that we have a Glorious and Imaginative God working in our lives.

I had foiled old man cold thru last nights camping, I had as I said placed my camp inside of a ball diamond vendors hut and slept in a cool but not near as cold as it could have been night. For it was indeed a quite cool night. I rolled up camp and headed out to the nearest quick stop for coffee and a muffin to call breakfast. Then as soon as I could I got into the Buchanan Library to work on the blog once again. I worked strait from a few minutes prior to Nine, till exactly 5 minutes before 1pm. I went right across the street to a little town Cafe, of the sort that I have been missing so much on this trip, and I had a nice Chicken Fried Steak before I tackle Bear Wallow Gap.

The road that heads out of Buchanan to the top, is a rated climb of 9% with some steep sections in it. If my research is correct it is one of the 5 primary climbs out of many along the Blue Ridge that avid cyclists rave about for its difficulty. I found myself anxious, not in a fearsome way but rather in anticipation. I had parked my butt in a chair thru the morning and now find myself in one of the cleanest sunny days I have seen in few. They have a news type show out this way called " Catch the Color", and in this news report they rate from 1-10 the areas along the parkway in regards to the quality of fall color that will be seen..............and my destination and entire ride for that matter are rated a 9 out of a possible 10.

When you leave you follow and cross the James River several places, and feel the start of the climb within just a few short yards of Buchanan. I was ready, I had the right amount of groceriess in me, the right amount of wieght in the trailer I really felt good today. I just climbed, no hitches except for plenty of cars and no real shoulder to get off on. The shoulder is gravel which is firm but not real packed and it starts right at the white lined edge. There you are, climbing in amongst what feels like a painting in the works, you look ahead out on the road seeing the reflection of intense sunlight on the spiralling blacktop.................which gives way to resplendant color as you slowly make your way up the grade and on too the next bend in the road. The overarching camnopy of trees is made up of Beech, Oak, Maple, Ash, BUtternut etc.......so the colors are rich , glorious and in a wide array on the Master painters pallette today. I cannot say that I really had a day in which I have just wanted to quit.........but if you did this sort of day would give you inspiration to keep on going. WOW, what a beautiful day to ride a bike and know without fail that you are riding in Gods hands.

The climb up is stiff but even pulling a trailer I did not find it to be unbearable. The other thing is that I have been in constant practise trying to stand into a climb as I pull this trailer. And in the begining as you know I have stated that it is impossible, and indeed it was when the trailer was heavier. But I have reduced the trailer to some 30 plus pounds and I now find the climbing quite easy with the trailer. So as YOU would have already known the wieght does matter greatly.............I stood into the climb for a distance of 3.2 miles of the total 5.6 mile climb.............and I stood without stopping a single section. And on this grade you leave brilliant collor and climb into splendor at the top.

Almost that easily I was there at the top of a fabled piece of Americas road system the Blue Ridge Parkway, the entire piece of highway was constructed to do nothing but explore and appreciate the gifted hand of Gods creation and it runs for some 1000 plus miles. And do not make the mistake of thinking that once you have climbed to the top of the ridge that the climbing is over and a easy ride thus begins.............for it is not that way at all. There are plenty of climbs that are in the "grunt & fart" catagory. I took a left at the top out onto the Parkway from Hwy 43 that I had come up on. The road is constantly undulating and wending its way amidst the peaks of the Blue Ridge, my destination for the day was the Peaks of Otter area.

The down side of todays ride was the volume of vehicular traffic on the quite narrow roadway. In most cases the drivers were going quite slowly since they too were out to see the colors. But there was also a lack of careful attention on the part of the drivers and a alot of kids out driving way to fast for the weekend color watch that was in process. Given all of that, I found myself watching the color very little and really keeping an eye on traffic around me, by Peaks I was tired and needing a break. From my side of the trip, I can say that it was the beauty of it that proved to be the ruin of it..............the Peaks is such a beautiful area that the car and people count up there would rival that of LA, and so it was that finding a place to take a picture without ten thousand of my human brothers in the same pic was difficult. The traffic according to a Park Warden I talked to is heavy and more congested going north since many folks are returning that way towards the DC area making a weekend trip out of the "Catch the Color" weekend.

I made a decision to turn off the PArkway a little earlier and head down some backroads towards Lynchburg. And so it ws that I peeled of onto a steep downgrade and headed down towards road #634. The pitch down was much like the one I rode coming up, and I had to ride the breaks to keep from over running the corners. I turned left onto #634 and stopped at a family orchard to eat a few apples. The road is a narrow and winding affair that snakes it's way across the foothills of the Appalachin range and comes into Lynchburg from the north side. There are several intersections that I have to watch for and several turns that need to be made. As I ride the road is constantly deteriorating, getting narrower, no paint, no shoulder and soon enough no blacktop iether, I am down to a gravel road single track width. Very few folks or places to stop and ask as I ride. I met a lady out walking with her muzzled dog, and I stopped to ask for some directions................well the lady panicked and made gestures she was going to unmuzzle her dog on me. Now folks I dont want to be too harsh here, but really some folks could stand to watch a little less of Law&Disorder............and I know that there are bad folks out there. But really a man in spandex riding a fully loaded bike would hardly seem to be the best candidate for an axe murderer.........but this lady apparantley seen me as "Jeremiah the Ripper"...........so, no directions and a feeling that the lady could use an infusion of air pressure.

I rode on and down into a deep holler that was called Lister Mill Road. The grades were steep and all gravel, it was washed out in many of the corners and that forced me to get off and walk around the washed out areas........I was really beginning to wonder about the road I was on. It was almost dark when I finally pulled over and pitched camp amongst the trees on a ridge that I was riding down . I gatherd a few dry pieces of wood, and scrapped away a very deep layer of leaves exposing rich wet earth and started a fire to cook some sausage over. I sat by the fire and had a cuop of tea, headed for bed at about 10 after listening to both Coyote and Fox compete for air space in God's Amphi-theater. The sky was clear and stars were out in abundance, Owls hooted and dogs barked away the night time intrusions of the wild animal kingdom that haunt thier yards each night.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 6:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

As Jeremiah's EGO, I have not been asked or better yet given much opportunity to speak of my own expieriences during this ride, it seems that what ever JW says is how it was. I remind you that it took ME to bring out the truth of the night in the Park in southern Colo, and don't forget that it was ME who had to lay out the details of the Tornado back in Canvas. So rest assured that when I speak, I will speak as a voice independant of that of JW and with a voice of clarity and reason..............I will not fall prey to the "excited tourist routine"!!!!

We would be fools to think that a cross country trip of this magnitude would go without a hitch or flaw of some sort, and old Tanglefoot was just such a hitch. You can't get chased by dangerous animals from one coast to the oterh and just by mere coincidence escape all comers..............yes indeed I do know how powerful Jeremiah's legs have become, lets be resonable though.

This incident happend in the worst of situations for a cyclist, and it happend just like I am about to describe. I would suggest a box of tissues and maybe something to drink before we get started it is not a story for the weak of heart. If your a hairy legged MALE type ( for my nephew Walker I have chosen leg hair not facial hair of which he has none, for the measure of a man) , if adventure includes a degree of dangers that go unseen in the day to day suburban world, then this account is just what you need before the Sunday Football game.

The road ahead is wending it way up a long series of inclines that lead to a peak of sorts over to the Buchanan side of a mountain range, the pitch is a 6-9 percent type. The colored autumn leaves have been flattened as colored pavers against the blacktop by last nights rainfall, now the sunshine gives them a renewed brilliance in thier last gasp of presence in this years life cycle. The grass along the edge of the road shows a brilliant green amidst the fall foliage of weeds and leaves, burrdock and ragweed abound. You could hear it before you could see it. I was aware but was he, was JW listening or simply lost in one of his "Oh, look at the color" days. You just never know with JW.

As I rode there with JW, I thought that I was the one aware and ready but I found that indeed I was the one a sleep at the switch so too speak. I seen it too, that moment in which ol'Tanglefoot's foot left the safe haven of the grassy road's edge..............and he entered himself upon the ROAD GLADIATORS COLLISEUM. I was prepared because I had heard the barking off to my right and my focus had shifted from leaves to the danger that my fine tuned radar had sensed. But I was not as ready as Jeremiah, indeed I was not. I mean ol'Tanglefoot had only placed but one paw onto the roads edge, his awesome long black claws scratching the surface of the blacktop making sparks fly. We had been caught on our cycle in a low slow gear at the pre-precipice of a steep incline ( thats an uphill for Walky and Duster ), the time left to react was but a nano-second since our enemy had approached without narry a bark. The barking we had heard was from another adversary in a different yard................Tanglefoot indeed understood the tactics of guerilla battle and administering lethal blows to his would be victims..................he had played his first move in this game of life-chess, with his desceptive practise of laying low within a ditch as an unwitting rider passes by.............ambushing his prey in guerilla fashion.

The speed of Jeremiahs one deft movement is still a blurr of amazement to me, and folks, I am not given over easliy to being impressed by any one least of all JW. HIs foot unclipped and his leg was over the burdensome saddle bag in one lightning movement, the second foot left the pedal just as the bike was laid over to its side. I found myself scrambling up off the ground in a rather hap-hazard fashion not being able to react near as fast as did JW. Like a cornered cat JW hit the defensive crouch stance.................

body low with legs wide set, the center of his immense gravity as close to the ground as it could be placed. Primordial man has been given an inherent desire to survive, in some men it runs strong and pure...and in others well its been all but bred out by the urban lifestyle, with JW the instinct to survive as the hunter gatherer that he is runs deep and strong. This may be a greater challenge for ol'Tangleffot that even he was prepared for.

The eyes were fiery red with anger, a throbbing and intense lust for the eating of his intended prey,........the claws dug deep into the roads hard surface as Tanglefoot's body lurched out onto the blacktop to face off with his now prepared assailant, his neck extended his, his back up his own crouch low in the expectant stance of a victor.........it was just another day of lunch in spandex for him. It was survival or burial for Jeremiah. I couldn't believe my eyes as I sat in the safety of a lower limb of a nearby tree........I don't want to mention my own family background and the Leakey Family side of things. The speed of Jeremiahs movements was like watching a grand master of Kung Poa a classic ballet of life and death...........leathal and fluid in one smooth move each counter offers his quarry a difficult tactical decsision to make....a game of chess for ones life...........one false move could could leave an opponent exposured to victoryor defeat. A mistake here would be painfull, and potentialy lethal. Boy Howdy, I was sure glad my side of the family was of the tuck tail and climb a tree type.

There it is, its the stunning blow, the one fient that would take ol'Tanglefoot off his strong right legged stance and leave him exposed to an attack counter move from the low left side.

You cannot know these sorts of things as JW does so instinctivly unless you have voluntarily placed yourself in dangerous situations....situations just like this or worse, say........... serving pancakes to a group of kids at AWANA's. It all happened so fast and with such deft movements that even Tanglefoot himself was caught up before he could open his mouth in retailiation to the move. HIs legs taken out from under him by a swift roll and grab move from JW, the roll came from under the menacing head and extended neck of Tanglefoot.

Being as how the point of purchase or grip was from so low around Tanglefoots body it renderd his jaws of little use. One last critical placement of body wieght for JW, and Tanglefoot found himself now unside down and of no harm to any passerby....................yes, you could see defeat written in this animal's eyes. He knew that he had been bested by a BEAST much fiercer than he had expected................the confidence of this silent "ditch attacker" was now shattered................he would forever be a changed animal after his encounter with my buddy, my ride partner, good ol Jeremiah

Uh, huh, huh...........hey, Jeremiah is it okay to come down now..............you not going to just turn him loose are you Jeremiah. This is what I so like about my buddy JW, you know what he said, man I am so touched. " No my friend, not till after you have had time to hide in the saddle bag, and then I will turn him loose in his ditch lair from which he arose. But don't be concerend for the next passerby, because as the famous war tactian Sun Shoe has said if you defeat an enemy physically he is defeated forever but retains respect...........defeat him Spiritually and he will remain an enemy forever without respect."

And so ends one of the most spectacular and dangerous encounters with that menace of the roads ways Tanglefoot of Botentourt County that I have ever witnessed..............and I think that all of america's cyclists will reap the benefits of this one episode by my buddy ol'JW. For they can now ride in complete safety within Botentourt County thanks to ME and Jeremiah.

For my children, Pine Winslow and Nevada Colleen.........whom I love!

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 7:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Well I did have a roof over my head at least the semblance of a roof. But the rain and wind beat me out this time and morning came both slow and cold for me. You know how it is when you are tenting in the rain and you know that you are slowly getting wet as the night goes by...........but there is really nothing that YOU can do about it. That was my night at the Blackwater Church. The wind came up just after I tucked in as did the quantity of rain that fell.

The wind to my misforune blew the rain in at a slant and over time filled my stairwell with rain up the bottom half of my sleeping bag,,,,,,,,,,,,,and from the waist up it just kept it moist instead of soaked. I did not notice in the darkenss, that when I laid my tent doen first that I had indeed covered a drain hole. Having done so meant the water that did trap was slow to leave...........it also assuered me of a steady supply of bugs to pick off thru the night.

I headed out just after 7 towards the actual town of Catawba, the map said 10 miles, and the ODO on the bike read 22.5 when I hit it. The wind this am is firece, I have not had a terrible time with wind for the most part but today was a struggle into the headwind.So it is I stopped at Catawba Store and bought a huge coffee to warm up with. I had 2 Fig Newt's and called her breakfast. The next town up the road is Fincastle and the road gets very narrow, untended and cloaked in heavy trees and a fair scattering of dissident dogs.

I finally took a sharp turn to the south at about the 10 mile mark adn this changed the wind to a left side wind for me and made pedallingh a little less burdensome. I was pooped by Fincastle, and pulled into a little roadside diner and had a Burger and Fries. It was a welcome addition to the Fig Newts that I had a while back, I think that the tum-tum apperciated it...............I know the legs did.

Fincastle is in Botentourt County, which by the way used to be of such an extent that it included Ill, INd, Va, Mich, Minn, Ohio and a part of Penn as its boundries. Assigned to Lord Botentourt of England back in 1762 I believe. And the locals pronounce the word os (Bot-en-Tot), I cannot tell you how bad the French must cringe when they hear us pronounce a name such as this.

The town of Fincastle resides on a steep hill,,,,,,,,,,a very steep hill that I had to push my bike up since I came to a stop sign at the bottom and was in the wrong gear to get on up the hill. At the top is a psectacualr Courthouse adn set of buildings dateing back to the latter 1700's as well as a Museum for the county.

The curator, Anne gave me a full and descriptive background on the importance of the area for coal, logging etc. In the end bad directions and hard to find signs would see me climb that darned hill back to the top a total of 3 times after the first push to the top...........I was really ready to leave the town by then.

I am headed due south towards Buchanan as my final days end but I had several miles of very narrow road adn many hills to pull in getting to that point. The overcast sky has given way to bright sun interspersed with scattered clouds, the vibrant colors of the overhanging trees makes the miles and hills slip by mostly un-noticed.........but nothing makes the dogs dissappear.

I was dogged good that day by at least a dozen. Adn thus it was after many miles of pedalling that I cam e to the easy portion of my trip, the last 8 miles inot BUchanan ar RIGHT along the rivers edge and thus they are also mostly flat.

NOw so that you do understand that MIRACLES do happen, and PRAYERS are indeed answered..............I heade strait to the town Library to wrok on the blog once again. And these sweet gals said......"why of course you can work on pics sweety, just let us know what you all need and we will help make it work for you" Excuse me I said but do you ladies actually work here"...................... Poochie Maggie, I couldn't believe my good fortune.

So, I got my junk off the bike and worked till 6pm, closing time and got several days worth of pics up in that time.I made an executive decision and decided that since they are open on Saturday from 9am till 1pm that I would work on the blog all that time. By the time the Library closed it was getting close to dark and I still had no groceries for the night nor a place to camp.

So I got directions and headed for the grocery store described by the towns folks as "third world", and they are not lying. I thought that I had maybe slipped thru a magic time portal and stepped out into the Russia that we visited last year. Boy Howdy, this was a bleak store to be real honest. So I bought some crackers and a block of cheese, along with some soap and what not for washing clothes.

I headed back to the other end of town right along the river banks and went to the local coin-op laundry. I washed everything, and dried everything including my tent. I pinned some of those smelly things you put in with drying clothes........to the inside of my unruly bag of sleep. I ate crackers and cheese while this all got done up. It was VERY dark and already very cold for 8:30pm, and the search for a camp spot had to start now.

SO it was at 8:30pm that night in Buchanan, while walking the streets and trying to figure out where to camp for the night that I met R.J Cash Jr..........actually I met his great looking car first then RJ. RJ, had his car parked out on the street under a glowing neon sign for the old timmey looking town Theatre which I thought looked very fitting given it was a 1938 Chevy. The car was a real beauty, done up by RJ when he was just 18 along with the help of his Grandfather.

Its the baby of RJ's life, and is kept inside and driven just on special occassions. I got to talking to RJ, and learned there is more to the man than just these hot rod cars...........in just a few words I found out that RJ is a devout Chiristian, and had lost the real love of his wife a few years back...............that being his wife. Tears streamed down his cheek just that quickly as we talked, and shared our stories of how and when we first gave our selves over to Christ. I came away with this, that all marriages would be better off, if we cared as deeply for our mates as a guy like RJ did for his................it made me ask myself if indeed i LOVED MY WIFE AS DEEPLY AND IF SO...............WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I TOLD HER SO!!!

I outwitted old man cold that night. I took a wallk down along the rivers edge, where I had seen a baseball diamond, and there I found one of those buildings where they sell hotdogs during the games that was not locked up tight. Yes, I went right in without asking permission so I could avoid a little cold. I threw my pad and bag out on the wood floor and slept quite well..............and without by the way any guilt.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 6:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

You know as any cyclist on a trip such a s this will tell you, you just never know whom or what you are going to meet on any given day. I never set about to make this trip in a given amount of time, jsut ride it, enjoy it, and record it. This day saw me packing up camp on the side of a holler above a fast flowing river, fog had moved in over the night and had thus far impeded my travels till about 8am. I set about my ride that day intent on getting to the route 460 between the rush hour traffic times.............I didn't really know what to expect for traffic to be honest.

I rode along in the still fairly dense fog, with all my clothes on and stopped to visit and take pics of two fellows out feeding there Jersey heifers. We got to visit and talk about the Virginia Dairy business, the lack of subsidies for farmers and tthe low price being payed for milk. We got to visit about the cost of replacement hiefers and how long a good producing Jersey will milk versus a good Holstien.........I didn't realize there was such a difference. I was utterly amazed at how much more productive a Jersey was compared to a Holstien ( Those are the Black and White spotted ones).

Any ways it was good to smell the silage and step in the remnants of yesterdays silage before I hit the road once again. I didn't ride more than a mile or so, and as I rounded a cornere and came down a road lined with planted Pine trees I met a pickup with two fellas in it and the driver had rolled his window down and was flagging me to a stop. Yes, I said flagging me...........now this is different I thought.!

The driver introduced himself as one Bob Coffey, and begged me to turn around and ride back to his house just back up the hill a wee ways, I relented since he also informed me that he to was a cyclist...............the silent fraternity of cyclists is small and tight, and to maintain my status amongst my brotheren I must comply. I ride back the shart ways to Bobs very comfortable little farm, as he actually raises cattle on his 60 acre farm. Bob, on this day was with a hired man named Ernie and they were just about to start some fence work on the top of the hill when they mat me. Bob told me that he and Ernie were going to celebrate that afternoon when the work was done, and they were going to gather as they burned Ernies 1962 version of a Walmart work shirt. I told ernie it would be a small fire, since there weas only 3 threads and one button left to burn.

BOb and his wife Mary are indeed avid cyclists having done almost all of two different cross USA trips. Mary, as Bob confesses is a stronger rider than he, his still plus 6 foot frame requires a lot more energy to take on the hills. Bob, a retired Virginia Tech Enginneer whom specialized in Plastics, now farms and cycle's. But just recently there have been a feqw health issues that have kept Bob close to home and off the bike......................but those will all be taken care of by mid spring Bob assures me and then its back on the bikes which they have quite a few of hanging in thier garage as well. And so it is that I spent over two hours sitting in their home enjoying a couple of great cups of coffee, and a great round of "spoked adventures" and friendship with two PERFECT strangers.

Dowen the road, with renenwed energy and out over the New River Bridge, up and down the many hills that dot the landscape between myself and the meeting of highway #460 running east to Blacksburg. I stopped at a quick stop as I hit the highway, they had a small sign advertizing homemade frie-pies.................just had to do a comparison. WOW.............I am hooked>>>>>>>>>>poochie Maggie these are good. I had the Pumpkin and would love to trade this lady my NOODLE recipe for her Frie Pie recipe.

I visted with 3 fellows from Mexico, all came across to work in the forestry industry which is thriving by the way in Virginia. They tell me that jobs are very easy to get, pays very good, and not one of them had any forestry expierience before coming up here. So it was that Geraldo, Pepe and Fernando wished me well as I headed out on to 460 and Blacksburg.

The day is cool, the boken clouds have fellen pery to solid cloud cover and the temp on my bike is falling steadily. There are four good hills to pull in getting to Blacksburg which is the home of Virgina State Technical School. It is a very busy town as I head right into the heart of it to work on the computers at the Library. It is a frystrating hassle, working with very suspicious Library crews, as in this case they had aTech student who overseen what was going on in the computer lab.

Even with his help, and being moved over onto the latest and most efficient Computer within the Library it proved to be a fruitless effort. So I spent from 1:45 till 4:50 that afternoon and couldn't take anymore of it. I headed out into a steady rain, and no groceries on borad yet. I found out that the only grocerie store was way back up hill from the direction that I need to to be going, and so made a mad dash back to get something to eat. Once I had some groceries, I was determined to get out and away from the city limits to set up camp.

At this stage I am riding in full rain gear, into a cooling evening and a setting sun, my initial portion of the ride was downhill into the beautiful Catawba Valley, and even with the heavy cloud cover and rain it was still a pretty sight. But I was riding and not taking pictures at this point. I was Praying for a nice covered Pavilliion behind a Church to once again offer me sanctuary from the weather..................the Lord, well he had other ideas.

For instance lets see what Jeremiah thinks if I dont give him the perfect shelter........will he still be pleased with me and continue to Pray and say thanks..............or is he one of those fair-weather believers...............lets just see. I rode across a narrow bridge and off on my left side there was a Church that say on a small hill. It was late enough that I thought it may also be my last hope of a place to put up foir the night.

The Church was not the perfect sanctuary that I had hoped for............."what gives I thought, I Prayed for full cover"?? I looked around at the camp situation, and came to this conclusion. There was no ideal Pavillion, there was no picnic area period..........but there was a narrow roofed stairwell, and tyhat would just have to suffice in the current situation. The bottom of the stairwell was full of leaves and debris, so I took my old license plate I carried with me to burn on and used it as a scoop for the leaves etc.

AS I cleaned I realized I had quite an assortment of multi-legged crawling bugs with hard shells................and those Centepede's with 2 million legs and about 3-4 inches long.....................ah, well, like yah, a bunch of the rascals. So I done my best inpression of a cowboy going primordial nativist..................I done my best impression of an Irish Jig for several minutes till I could see a drastic drop in numbers. Once again the license plate came in handy for the ............you know the slimy insi......well the guts that abound after such an event.

I didn't bother with a tent, just threw the tent down first and my matt and that was follwoed with the bag of sleep. Dinner was sort of a covert operation since there were many houses that faced this direction, I didn't want to alarm folks with a blazing fire. I did have a bout 5 deer come to join me...........till they heard I was having Venison and Noodles.

I bedded down by about 8 with 2 hot cups of Earl Grey Tea. So after all that I had done that day to get some miles behind me, I made it only 28 miles doen the road.................but I did have new friends to show and share for all of it.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:23 AM | Permalink

Good morning and thanks for coming along with me for the spin this morning. I had spent the night in a private Ruritan Campers Club set up that provided me with a roof over head to shiled me from the spotty rain that came thru the night. It is 55 degrees at 7:30 and very heavy fog for me to get started in, I dont feel to bad since this road has such light traffic, so I put my tiny tail light on and get to pedalling.

I have a fair amount of my clothing on, matter of fact there is very little else that I can put on, the fog and damp just seems to cut through everything I own. I hope you are warm enough to make it, the little town of Bland is not far off now. So, there we are , you and I and struggling up yet one more grade amidst the cloaked but still colorful leaves of the fall folliage..............when out of ALMOST nowhere comes and goes another cyclist.

Poochie Maggie, it all happens so fast that you are really wondering if what you seen was real or not. It just had to be, but nobody had time to speak or stop and share words amongst the back road fraternity of velo-apsirants.

So we may as well just keep pedalling and get the ride to Bland done, my breakfast of two gulps of morning air is now wearing off and I could use a cup of hot coffee, and I think will buy a gatorade to throw on the trailer for later. The sky is beginning to break a little and even show alittle blue hidden there amidst the leaden clouds of this Virgina morning. The coffee tastes great and it is not a $5.00 cup of Star.....something either. I have been trying to get on my cell phone.......YES that almost useless Cingular outfit I am using.

I have an Uncle in Canada whom has passed away and I was wanting to call my Aunt and talk to her. I have been watching for payphones but none so far on my ride up this holler, I even bought a phone card just in case I found one.

I get back on and keep riding, mostly north by by northeast, we are riding along a river, but not along a river bottom but more up amongst the hills that bank the river. Besides that we are heading to the crest of the Eastern Continental Divide for the Appalachan and Allegany chains of mountains, so the last 15 miles or so have always had a grade to them. I am in one of the prettiest spots that I have ridden to date, the clouds have dissolved leaving those white billowy picturesque type clouds and sunshine, the leaves are looking like stained glass windows now with the sunshine illuminating thier resplendant autumn colors. Wow is it ever a pretty ride, it is so pretty that I am forgetting to keep an eye on the traffic coming from behind..................well I will be darned.

NOt sure where he came from, but there is another cyclist coming up from behind as I am climbing this grade at a relaxed tourist pace. Say he is older than I am and wow, I have to hump up to stay up as he pulls along side. You know, us cyclists we sorta snobbish at times.............I am immediatly analyzing his ride.........silently in my mind you how you do..........it goes like this.

The man, fit, tall, and dressed like he spends time on the bike.........legs look like al ot of time on the bike. The bike, an old steel frame Paramount...............YIKES I say to myself........as I stop to pick my false teeth up................my God, he's riding a 3 speed and I am grunting and farting to keep up.............OKAY JEREMIAH don't panic, just look for the tiny chord that leads to the electric motor, there has to be a catch here someplace.

So it is that we stop at the top of the grade, and my visitor is the same fella whom I passed in the fog earlier this am. HIs name if Gene Oliver, and he is retired from the Rail Road Company now living in one of the tiny towns that dot the western Virgina landscape. Gene is an avid cyclist, and has ridden in both Europe and all over the USA. He has never done a cross USA trip, but would like to. Gene is very active in ultra marathin riding, it is an age catagorized event in which each rider sees how far they can ride in an alotted time.

To date, genes best is 375 miles in 24 hours non-stop. Folks, now I am here to tell you, that I am in no sort of condition for that sort of thing. Gene, tells me that he and I are standing on the hill that actually forms the crest of the Appalachian Divide for this east cost range. I just have to ask Gene about his bike, why the old 3 speed, and is that your standard ride. Well, as it turns out no, Gene is like most bikers in that he has several rides hanging in the stable at home..............yes I said stable. Since Gene is a horse raiser and a cyclist as well. BUt back to the ride, he likes the ride from the steel frame, and the work out he gets from doing a 3 speed in these hills.

But when I enter the competative rides says Gene, I ride a carbon fiber framed bike and a Dura Ace 20 speed componentry. Gene is also a leather saddle seat fan, looked just like the seat that I am using on this ride. Each day begins with a 45 mile spin, almost no matter what the weather looks like says Gene..............it has to be real bad to keep me off the bike.

So it is that we meet on the road , and depart heading the same direction but one rider is going alot faster than the other. I ride on for several more miles and off to my right on the top of a ridge I spot a tower and it makes me think that I should try my Cell-Phone once again just in case. Wow Mama, my Cingular is working. SO I get to talk to my Aunt Lucy, then my wife and also my older brother Niel. It was good to touch base and let them know that I am still alive and fine.

It is time to stop at the next small town Library and do some catching up on the blog. So it is that I pull in at 12:15pm and work on text only till 4:05pm, by 4:20 I am on the road and committred to riding like a mad man and see how far I can make it. The sky is such a rich blue, and I am being showered with falling leaves from the trees that canopy the road. The crrek is a fast running creek on this side with a rocky Limestone bottom which leaves the creeks very clear and with many tiny waterfalls in their course.............just beautiful.

I am really humping along, hitting that 22-25 mile per hpur mark alot as I ride, the terrain is rolling but no pitches that are too steep along this section. Still plenty of dogs, but no close encounters here today. I actually hit the junction of road 100 and sorta confused, becasue the map I had showed 2 small towns that I would pass thru, but I ver seen hide nor hair of them as I rode???? I don't know.....Aliens maybe!! So, I flag down a car and get an update on the roads and directions, then hop back on and hit it due west and up over a steep pitch of a mountain, yes it is a low gear grind for me but the scenery with the falling sun is all worth it. The fact that is is getting darker makes me aware of a need to look for a camp site. I hit the bottom side of the grade and make a hard right onto a tiny little road with out any paint on it anyplace. Looks like a side walk really, this little road will cut across to Maybrrok and shorten my ride a little to the coast.

I zip right along on this road, even though it winds and rises as it traverses the river bottoms and edges of the hollers. All the time I am riding I am thinking about the sausages (Bratwurst ,that I had bought 2 days ago thinking about my friend Fritz), I know that I need to get them cooked tonight and to do it I need to find a safe place to light a hobo fire..............so LOrd, please send me a Church with brother Emile for my Chef...........even just a Church would be fine. The river bottom is full of MAples, and the color on this evening was just glorious, then we rose up out of the river valley and commenced an up hill climb thru White and Red Oaks, these were big fellas with planty of color.

I climbed up a series of short switchbacks, and came around a corner to see the top of a Steeple that was on the hill out in front of me. Hey Lordy, thankyou, now lets hope it had a pavilliaon cover near it. As it turned out it not only had a pavillion cover but also a bar-b-que pit just for me. I didn't bother with a tent, just put my bag of sleep on the table top after I ate. I gathered some small wood and built a nice fire thenlet that burn down to some good coals. I managed to eat 4 of the 6 Brat's, and decided to donate the last two too the Red Foxes that I could here barking out in the darkness. The Brats had been traveliong with me for 2 days, and I didn't want to take a chance getting sick. My campp was the Green Valley Episcopal Church, set amongst the huge Oaks, just a perfect ending to a 54 mile day.
Good NIght and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I goes with out saying that even if it isnt raining the wet roads will make you wet anyways. When your bike has no fenders etc, and the tires spray up water you will get soaked. BY morning the rain had iether fully stopped or was a light drizzle. I doned my rain gear and some plastic bags on me feet and made for Saltville, the next town, and a larger town that I could buy some groceries for the following day.

I no longer carry any more than just enough water, and just that days food on the bike or trailer. I have shipped home any and all items that I absolutley did not have to have and am traveling with bare essentials only.

I am coming doen hill inot what will be Saltville around the next bend, the road is wet, and I see a Rail Road track ahead............I look in the mirror and move over to the center of the lane for room while I cross and to hit the higher center section instead of the tire rut sections. I notice that the tracks cross at a long diagonal and am just pondering that when I roll over the tracks........................and WHUMP................my fat butt and my bike are both sprawled out across the road before I could say anything or even think it.

Yes it hurt a bit at 10-15 miles an hour, but more than anything I was just sayingh thanks to the Lord that Coal truck was not right behind and my head and helmet could have been stuck between his dual rear tires.............................Can you imagine how dizzy you would be going rounn and round like that before you could get you noggin preied loose and the eyes refocused. I could have been sick and thrown up my Brumley Gap Apples that I ate for breakfast.

I am safe, a little skinned, and the bike has a few scratehs but we are fine. SO, I coast easliy into Saltville, first stoip is for some food and then call home. While I am there I stop by the Library, but it is useless, the Computers are so full of bugs.viruses that using them is a waste of time. I am told that I need to take in the Upper Appalachian Museum next door, since the Curator really knows his stuff.

I take in the Museum, and it is very cool, and yes the Curato Harry does indeed know his stuff. We walk thru time from the first Spanish discovery of this area back in 1521 as they came up from Florida. Then the play of the Salt brine wells during the Civil War. The beggining of an era of experimantation with making of Flouride and Chlorine etc in the area.and then on to the importance of salt once agin in the modern agriculture sector of Americas economy.

I think that I spent some 2 hours walking and talking to this fellow, and another 45 minutes trying to work in the Library, so now I really needed to get riding.

The road out of Saltville is mostly a rising road to the top of the Eastern Continental Divide for the Appalachian region, so I but a badly made treat as I leave a Cheesburger..these folks could take some lessons from In+Out Burgers back in California..............but anyways, I usually do not buy a meal.

Then I am off under grey thinly clouded skies with no sun. The road even in these conditions is just beautiful and Broadford is my next town to make a road change in. I stop at the Broadford store and have visit with Charlie Frye, about such things as Iraq. Being ex military means that Charlie is all for what wee are trying to do in Iraq, but does not think that we can give up control of the military extensions into Iraq and still win this conflict. I cannot stay too long so make my way out, with half a GAtorade in tow. Next stop is the Sprat Creek Store, and a quick visit with MArion Weyhause, a fellow of some 80 years of age.

We talk about the education and the jobs and what not left for kids today. Marion is a grade 6 grad, and made it thru life just fine without anymore..............but these days a man without a University Education just can't make it. But we don't leave any jobs here in America for young folks to do so I don't know what to think about it all says Marion. I agree so that I can get left and on up the road.

There are a ton of hills on this route, and as I said it runs mostly up hill as we head to the crest of a row of Appalachian MOuntains. The houses are scattered, and few and far between on this remote portion of road in Virgina. Every house has its obligatory 5 dogs of every breed and mongrel description from a pedigree look to the metal muncher type with canines.............some just barkers and some with a seroius intent in there eyes. It was on the crest of the VERY TALLEST CLIMB of the day, only fitting isn't it..........that as I am climbing in my lowest chainn ring that I met BUCK.

I am struggling to get to the crest of this hill which comes at the end of an up-hill left hand curve.............I can see some daylight in the trees ahead and figure it is the crest..................htere is just one house left that is a log home high on my right hand side. Iam practising my "STEALTH MODE super COVERT SHIFTING TECHNIQUE", its a little practise that I have gotten into when riding over here in dog heaven. The chain clicks silently into the next lowest gear and I am slipping like a ghost along the road and amongst the trees on this last pitch of the hill.

ANd I hear a large volume "WHOOF WHOOF WHOOF" to my right...........I look up to see a dog, large and chocolate brown coming out from under the sanctuary of a truck on wood blocks "WHOOF WHOOF" again as he comes bounding doen the hill while I am stuck with grunting up the hill. WHOOF WHOOF he sounds, as he jumps from the ditch's edge to the road below and me struggling on my bike. I am really uncertain as to what to do, since if I unclipp at this speed I cannot pedal, and I am only going 4.5 miles per hour and am more likely to just fall over as any thing. BUCK, as I find out his name later..........makes his first pass by me from front wheel to reaer of trailer.........he's growling and barking as he goes......................then he's back with a little more zeal for his job of offereing protection to the entire HOLLEr as well as the distant King of England.....................he gets in close to my front wheel which I have not peed on for several weeks. He's sniffing and checking it close...which shows you how slow I am going up this hill.

BUck looks like maybe a Mastiff and Rotweiler cross.............but he is all chocolate brown.............big slobbery jowls and heavy square muzzle and thick neck..............not at all like my neck. Buck works his way right to my leg on the right side...........and as I am pedalling he places his entire mouth around my ankle above my cycling shoes. He has all of my ankle in his mouth, but he is not biting down, I can feel his teeth but no pain............simple I think...........I am looking at this from the after life and when I look down I will find I have one carved wooden leg and a Parrot on my shoulder. NOt the case, but I have stopped pedalling since BUCK has my right foot in his mouth. Its at this point that I made an anatomical observation, that the human leg and the sphincter are inter-connected ................man I had the tightest hold on that leather seat. BUCK, COMM"ERE BUCK, BUCK YA"ALL COMM'ERE. I learned Buck's name. and I spoke in tongues to him...........english tongues................I Praised God for learning his name, and then spoke to him..........."easy buck easy buck easy buck". Then I pulled out my Smith 357 and shot him....................just kidding, but I would have if I had one. BUck was gone, I was rolling down hill, and a whole man once again. Praise the Lord I said to myself, then decided to just shout it out in case BUck was not yet saved.

Folks, I am riding on Hwy 42 at this point, and it is just so beaurtiful with all the leaves and creeks etc. JUst a picture at every tuen in the road at least for me, and its over cast..............just imagine how pretty it would be if the sun were out. I am headed towards a small town , but the heavy sky that has pending rain makes me consider a small covered picnic area at about 5:15. I am just not too sure if I will make another good camp sight in time before it gets too dark for me to ride. I am camping at the "Ol,Lystery" Pentacoastal Picnic grounds. NO church to be seen, but a roof and it will work for me.
She's a soup and noodles sort of night adn a few Fig Newtons with Tea to finish the day out.
Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 1:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I am up when the chore time call is made by Gregg at about 6am. Gregg's oldest boy Eli is a 4th year student at the Virginia University at Wise and also a member of the Golf Team. Gregg's other boy is a greade 12 Honor Student at BIg Stone Gap Highschool. SO cattle and horses all need to be fed before the boys can leave for school.


With chores done up, I pack my gear and shed the denim for Spandex. I notice on the trip back to Coeburn where Gregg will drop me off that Gregg covers his head any time we go thru a small town where folks may know him..............just not sure what that was all about??? I get dropped right where I was picked up so I do not gain nor loose miles from my trip. I leave Coeburn on route 58, and have a afternoon with plenty of hills to climb before I get off to another road.


During the ride I pass the Old RUssel County Courthouse and also home of Log Cabin Crafts. The buildings are real pretty, but unfortunatly also all locked up. But there was one oddity I should mention. The folks who ran it, had plastic crap of all sorts strung and sitting everywhere. I mean, here is a real neat old log cabin and plastic lawn chairs sitting on the front porch. Here is a split rail froint porch with 2 or 3 plastic himmingbird feeders etc, and it just went on and on.



FOr an avid photographer, it was almost a waste of time trying to take a pic, becasue no matter what you shot some sort of plastic would show up..............I found it somewhat of an irony especially since they had a neat hand made sign claiming Log-Cabin Crafts and Folk Arts??? Okay folks, I know I am being picky here but why do the preserve historic buildings, and cover them with modern plastic trappings???



I rode on till I hit my little worm trail road that leads me north by east up a small valley. I had ridden maybe 10 miles and I stopped to talk to a father and son who were putting up Tabaca in the barn. They were putting up shorts, or end cuts as they also call it. Hard work for maybe 2 months putting up Tabaca.


BUt it is the best paying crop fpor a small family farm, and Albert the father ands son Andrew like doing the work. They feel the Tababca market is much better now that the Government Quota's are removed. And the subsidies are gone, so everyone can get in or out of the market as they choose.


Its raining, so I get a few items of rain gear on and head towards Brumley Gap, I find a few apple trees along the road and avail myself of the sweet delights that come with stolen................borrowed apples really, since I did give them the core back. I carry on this very narrow very twisty rolller coaster road that runs deep between two ridgfes that flank me on iether sie. The ridges are covered with trees from top to bottom, and often they come together to form and arch under which I and the highway run together.

I finally come to Haytville, marked by a Church that sits only feet from the roadway, and actually had to be moved over 8 feet so as to not sit right in the road way. Haytvill, has been here since 1815, and a very good photo of this town resides a little further on at the Saltville Museum. I am about to leave when I spot a rarity out this way.......a lemon tree that I am told shows up in a picture taken of the once town from back in 1875. The tree though not very tall, and with very unusualk shaped leaves has huge thorns on it ranging from 1-2.5 inches long. I ate one lemon just to see what it was like...................I found that it indeed tasted like a LEMON.

I kept pedalling, and watching the sky as it darkened with heavy grey clouds and more rain fell as I rode. I spotted a small country Church with a covered picnic area off to my left, so I made a bee-line for that sanctuary. It had all that I needed, a tabl;e to eat on and a roof to keep me dry. I had a simple dinner of Soup that night, just couldn't bring myself to put noodles in it...........Poochie Maggie, I am getting so tired of noodles.

I also had a dinner guest, a young fella who lived across the street came by for a visit. HIs name is Jaydon, and he is 9 years age. NIce kid with an unfair start too life from the way I see it, but I won't go into family details from this blog. JAydon left me when his Mother called him back home, and shortly after Mom and a man left, I noticed Jaydon came back with Yahtzee and some Cards too play with me. We began a game of Yahtzee, but I noticed that Jaydon was a cheat to the extreme level, and I made subtle mention of it which seemed to curb his enthusiasim for the game. We then tried a game of cards, but the same result was made clear, no such thing as a normal game in both cases it need to be cheated to be enjoyed.

SO, I invited Jaydon to dine with me, and told him a little about myself and asked more about himself and his very extended family. The soup is ready, and I split the can with my young guest............the bigger reason to invite him to eat with me is to engage him in Prayer , and I openly Prayed for Jaydon to know and receive Christ in his life, and that the soup was not too badly burned. To the second part of the Prayer, I know it turned out just great. Then Jaydon showed me a NEW THING.............crunching crackers and putting them in your soup...........I played my part real well, and was amazed at teh great taste this gave the soup..........he thought that this was great.

Then Jaydon left, and I cleaned up my dishes and rolled out my bed on a picnic table. Young Jaydon came back to talk to me a little more. He was very intyerested in California, and had somewhat of a "fairy-tale view" of the state with all folks being rich, and all folks living on the coast in a mansion etc. I told him all that I could, and made acase for what the rest of California really looked like. A car puuled up, and a young fella steps out to chek on Jaydon and see who I am camping at the local Church that so far non of them attend.


Once that is out of the way, I get the same Cal questions from this fellow who is almost 20 and has the same misconception of what the State is all about. These folks leave and Jaydon begins with a leg pulling story about how he needs top smoke cigarette butts to avoid having bad headaches. SO, as he produces a butt, we talk a little about the properness of a boy 9 smoking, but more about the long trerm results of smoking period. Finally I tell Jaydon, that he is welcome to visit with me, but not smoke when he is with me............Jadon leaves for home......

About 1/2 hour goes by and Jaydon is back but this time with his future Step Dad, who may be all of 25 at the most. Thie fellow Steven, a nice guy raised locally and having not left the county is all fired up about California and has the identical notions that all the rest have had.........California is MONEY, MOVIESTARS, MANSIONS..........
SO, we talk about it at length, what we look like, what we produce and what we do for jobs out that way. All this time Jaydon is smoking his cigarettes under the protection of his about to be step-Dad who at one point asks for a cigarette from Jaydon. We talkm hunting, we talk bears which there are plenty of, and we talk PANTHERS something they see often around these here hills. Then in the pouring rain, I am invited to come with them and get some wild Brumley Gap Apples. SO we walk just up the road, and then over a ditch and into a field to pick wild apples at night....................6-8 apples later and we are headed back to my camp site. The apples are very god, quite tart and very firm and crisp................but the outsides would make a Preacher flush.............the skins are a mottled black and red color.............they look like cannon balls from Hell more than a scrumptous apple that they are.
Company is gone, and I crawl into my tent which I have tied to the top of the table.

I am all snuggled in, and I can see headlights pull up to my camp and the screech of brakes.............so, I know it is Steven and JAydon once again. Then I hear Steven calling me outside the tent...........I unzip and talk to them. What they want is too give me a pair of rubber boots to ride in since my cycling shoes are not water proof...........it takes me a while to convince them that I cannot clip in a pair of rubbers like I can the shoes I have. Reluctantly they leave for the last time.

It rained all night, and I hear of anywhere from 1 inch to as much as 3 inches fell, and I don't know the exact as to where I camped...............but I do know that it rained steady all night...................but baby I was dry. Thanks be to the Lord, and these Churches with a covered Picnic area.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 12:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

JUst becasue we sat up late does not mean that we get to feed late..NO Sireee BOB. Gregg was up and rattling beds by 6am, and there were cattle to feed. SO we bailed out, got the feed loaded and headed out to the feed bunks to feed. With every one working in unison, it doesn't take that long to get morning chores done, and the fog hadn't even started to lift by the time we were headed to town for Breakfast.

A good breakfast under our belts, and we were ready to get home get saddled up and bring in not only the 600 pound grass cattle but also Greggs heard of 20 or so Corriente Roping Cattle. Jeremiah Horse back,,,,,,,,,,,,hey what gives I am usually on the ground where I can be of some use!!!!!!!

I get to ride the old Stud, who in fact is broke ebnough to babysit me, so all I had to do was sit and flop........the horse done the rest. We gathered, sorted, wormed and once again found ourselves finshed up and at the roping dummy just before it got dark. The call was made to get the evening chores done up, and we would go to town so I could download some work for my Blog. And with that we bailed into the feeding and watering of the cattle and horses that occupy the Sirron Ranches pens ( Thats NORRIS spelled backwards)

This time we went to the town of Norton, and I got to meet Greggs girlfirnd Jackie, and it was Jackies daughter whom had allowed me to use her computter to put up some opics on the Blog. We had a little more Pizza, watched a FootBall game............I think the third in my life and headed back to the ranch to visit and then let me pack for my Monday departure. We were all in bed by midnight, and ready to get to it.

I know that there are a lot of nice folks in this world...........but some how a Cowboy hat and a silk scarf always seem to make for a welcome stop in life. For those of us who live out west, we sometimes think that we have rodeered all the folks and held onto the ones whom are most hospitable...................but I have just met a few from way back east who must have slipped thru that rodeer and made a home in Virginia. Thanks Gregg, Eli and Jacob for making me feel so at home in my bad taste clothing and all.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 1:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

This day was a very cool greeting indeed, the tent a a good 1/4 inch a frost on it, and getting undressed-redressed was a little chilly.........thank goodness I have the wisdom to not shave my legs. That highland blood shows up in the hair of both thier men and thier cattle.............hey at least my legs were warm.

My camp was an erie one, since the back drop wasa cemetary, and with the frost in the morning it could have been on the set of a horror film..................."The Camper in HELL"

I get camp packed up, and ride just down the road and spot a Post Office..............and it is open even warm maybe???? SO, I enter in, and find Becky to be very warm and friendly. Then in comes Ganey Summey, and he is the real chatty cathey.....so we vist about all things pertaining to my ride/California. and every thing else that crosses his mind. I learn that the winters are very mild these days, and they used to be real bad when he was a boy growing up in Fort Blackmore.

And boy let me tell you, there comes a flood here too, that is why Fort Blackmore never grew.................sometimes we get 20-30 feet of water comes down the holler. There was one younf fella whjo came in to mail an item and was 95 cents short...............and as it turned out I had my fanny pack open to get out my log book, so I threw down a dollar and told him I would be glad to cover it for him. I never though much more about it, as Becky then related to him that I was riding across the country and had stopped in to warm up. He left saying thanks for my kindness, and me and Ganey continued to visit while it warmed and the fog og the river bottom lifted.

I bet another 10 minutes went by, and I see the same young fella walking back up to the Post, but this time with his hands full of a food warmer. He proudly presented me with scrambled eggs and 2 biscuits and sausage gravey as well as a hot coffee. He wouldn't let me pay him, he was just so surprised that someone from California would pay his Postage he wanted to return the favor. NOw it was me whom felt honored or Blessed. He left as quickly as he came, leaving Ganey and I to visit more.

I rode on some 8 miles and stopped to take a picture of an old train station. I had leaned by bike agianst a small flower planter...............and that was enough to bring out a very suspicious building superintendant. Howdy says Herbert Horne, we don't lean no bikes on the flowers round here. SO, I move my bike to another place less troubling. I take a few pics and he asks if I am writing a book or work for the Government? To which I tell him niether, just riding and taking pics as I go. I ask if I can take his picture, to which he is surprised, and very reluctant....but finally agreees.

I get him talking, and find out that he served in KOrea and also in Vietnam. During WW2 he helped his father break Mules for the Army. He loves to work with Mules and work Horses, they are horses with some sense............those WEST horses, they are just to tough and hard headed to be of anyreal use. Herbert is matter of fact, and I don't challenge a word he says. He goes on to tell me that as a boy, he and friends would ride the train from here in Dungannon over the mountain to St.Paul and watch a movie on saturdays, then ride the train back home before it got dark............those were the days when life was fun, and Dungannon was a real town.

From the town of Dungannon, I have some seroius hills to climb before I can stop in Coeburn. It was made up for by how beatutiful it was to get up in the hills and the canopy of turning leaves. I finally arrived in Coeburn, and had expected some mail for me, but to my surprize the Mail was closed. ONce I found that out, I called my cowboy friend Gregg Norris, and told him I was passing thru town.

Gregg told me to stay put, and he and his boys Elijah and Jocab would in to pick me up. I was not real sure what to expect, since I had never met any of these folks before, all I had ever done was talk to Gregg few times on the phone was all.

A nice 1 ton Dodge Flat Bed Dually idles up, and out step 3 heafty fella's who could have been from Elko Nevada by thier dress........and I greet them all. After which Gregg says to his boys with a wry grin...........lets get this Jeremiah home and properly dressed..........thank god for tinted windows eh Eli.

Gregg lives in Big Stone Gap, the ride was interupted only long wnough to eat a little Pizza, and then on down inot the gap we went. The ridges are a blaze with the oranges and reds of fall here in Virgina. I find that Gregg is very serious about having me re-dressed...........so I shower and then the boys give me clothes between them so I am outfitted in any thing but SPANDEX.

Well, lets go boys, says Gregg. We got cows to feed before we can take Mr.Watt her for supper. ANd so by 4pm that day, I am feeling very close to the lifestyle that I know best..........and Spandex Dreams are quickly fading into my distant past. The day is filled with the bellering of cows as we feed, the click of shod horses hooves against rock, and the smell of hay. Gregg runs the largest cattle back grounding operation in Virgina, and has apassion for good horses as do his boys. So we feed up the cattle, take a look around from the feed truck for any cattle that may need extra attention, and then return to the barn to feed up the large number of horses that fill every pen and corral on the place. Well, as it always is the case, once that is done we can get down to small talk, details of the ride and of course a little roping on the dummy. We peoably rope for an hour at least, and its time to hhave a little more food.

Gregg is a BlueGrass nut, and we listen to the likes of Snoop-Dog and Filthy Cent doing numbers ion Banjo and Fiddle, to be serious it was good to hear that coming out of the radio instead of the other junk. We head into Big Stone Gap, for a little Mexican Food, really its just a chance for Jacob to take a clsoer look at the pretty little Senorita's that work there.....................I may be old Jake, but I am not blind.

It was a good supper, plenty of visitng. I find out that Gregg runs a Scrap Metal Yard, and also buys and sells Herbs. Now this is right amazing to me, because I tell Gregg about meeting BIlly Tignor...............and before I can get the words out of my mouth, he says yes I know, I buy all his Gensing from him. SO, you see the world is smaller than we think.

We head to the house, and visit until3am, way to late for me but I tough it out and enjoy the Cowboy Company.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 12:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I just all but froze last night, the bike therm says 22 degrees and later I would talk to folks who said they hit 19 degrees....so suffice it to say it was a cool night in the ol'bag of sleep'

I woke in Sneedville, with folks driving by and honking at me as I dressed..............easy now Mike and Rob, not that I was naked..........but a fella has to get down so many layers before he can add the other ones in their proper order. SO, there I stood at 22 degrees with just my base layer bib shorts on, and looking in my clothes bag for some sandpaper to remove the GOOSE BUMPS, so that the next layer would slide on as it should.

Finally dressed, and now begging to warm up, I have camp put away, the tent is hard with frost and will be wet if the day wearms up.

The take my frozen water bottles in with me to the Quick Stop restaurant. Can I break in here with an observation. Back her, the small town cafe's have almost all given way to the tiny deli cafes at Quick Stops, and its terrible in my opinion. I visit with the ladies that run the thing, they are wondering about my bike ride in this sort of cold. I am just fine really, nothing that a little sun will not cure later on , and coffee will cover up right now.

I am really on some back roads here, and I just love it. There are a steady rythm, of small climbs, some fairly steep, but all just enough to give you enough work to stay warm. I just keep getting run by dogs, they are everywhere, and on this day at least 30 of the boogers ran me. NOw most are in it for the sport, but some come with a blood lust, and that will make you grab a gear and do some cranking. I am just coming up the road, and see a small store so Its about 10:30 and I think I will stop and see what there is inside.

Low and behold, I walk thru the door to be greeted by Steve and ADa as they sit by a pot belly warming there toes. Yes Siree Bob, a pot belly, chugging away right beside the cash register.............so, I grap a pack of crackers and join them to dine and find out just what takes place in Blackwater VA on a Saturday Nite.

As it runs out, not mush happens in Blackwater at all................matter of fact never did. I pay for the food, and take a few pics outside, and exit the area for more road ahead. Its is about 15 miles to the next Junction that I need to be looking for, and It goes by very relaxed, the sun is out, but it is cool maybe 55-58 degrees is all. I come to my junction, and make a left towards a gas station that I can see. I first buy myself a couple of Virginia Maps, and have a coffee while I sit and look them over. An elderly fella comes in and sits having a burger, his name is Billy Tignor and he is a Gensing hunter.

Its pays real good money says BIlly, I get almost 450.00 per pound from a feller up in Coeburn ( you will find out how small the world is in just a few pages). Billy is a retired Pastor, and has taken to hunting Coons and Gensing so that he gets some good hard excercise..........and he looks it since he is in very good shape. Billy suggests a small detour in my ride since I am so close to a very neat item.

It is a 4-5 mile detour that will bring me to a naturally made tunnel thru a mountain, that is right after I pull a few very steep grades to get there. The tunnel, made right thru the mountianside by the boiling waters of a river, runs some 900 feet in total length, and about 450 feet below the sharp rock wall that used to hold it all back.

The tunnel is some 40 feet in diameter, let me just say it is large enough to allow a train to pass thru it today very adequatly, and without the rail ine having to expand or almost no leveliningg of the floor of the tunnel. It was very impressive, and well wirth the ride, the scenery was just great.

But, It was now time to get to the cranks again. I ride south for some 8 miles and turn left to pick up Highway 65 that skirts along the Clinch River. As I am making the turn, a very nice for this area SUV is coming out the same road. How far are you riding says a man driving it, and I tell him . Well isn't that something, we are from California as well, MIssion Viejo as a matter of fact. Have a Blessed trip they say, and they depart.

The ride along the Clinch is just superb, with the modertate rolling terrain, the turning leaves and the small farm steads that dot the countryside. The only negative, was the abundance of dogs that ran me as I went. I rode till as late as I could, and came to a Church on the side of the road. I made camp and called it a day, another very simple supper and this time I wrapped a jacket around my feet, and had all my other clothes on, and saved my towel to wrap around my head, just trying to stop a little heat loss is all. I bundled up, closed the tent and done my best to stay warm.


Good NIght and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 12:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We are up at the Motel, and all things are packed. Right now I am trying to persuade the clerk down at the desk to send a parcel home foe me in the mail, which would surely make it a lot easier for me.

Its a cool grey sky the hangs overhead as I ride out of Clinton Tennessee. I am actually riding past the Appalachian Museum once again, and let me tell you folks I hit it at the right time, becasue it is already very crwoded in the Museum grounds as I ride past. Its about 10am, and I stop for a cup of coffee to starty the days riding in hte hills that come out past Andersonville. There are even signs warning folks of steep switchbacks ahead, so I know that I am in for some climbing.

I am leaving Andersonville, and the cloud cover is trying to break just a wee bit, and every once in awhile you get a look at the brilliance of the autumn colored leaves. There is a lot of exposed rock jutting out along the ridges and down along the numreous creek banks.

They are not lying about the switch backs, I am in them and they are fair steep I can tell. There are no gradient signs posted on theis entire piece of road, but there are some spray markings on the blacktop that I am wondering about. The paint reads gr10 or some were gr13 and many other numbers in between..........so, I dont know. I felt alot steeper that the 7-9 percents I have encountered before, but I am just not sure. When I got to the top my ol legs were burning good, so I know it was a climb.

Once you top out and ride by the tip of the lake on the other sirde the country gets sorta blah by comparison. Ther place is sparcely populated and not very impressive. I ride on to New Tazewell and find the library where once again I can post text but not pictures. So, I post two days worth and head out. Its is sunny for the most part, but not warm. The bike has not gotten over 54 degrees yet, and I have long pants and a heavier top to ride in.

I am turning due south here at New Tazewell, and I find myself on the road that no biker likes to ride. It is a narrow road under construction, and there is no shoulder once you hit the white line that marks the edge of the road. The shopulder that does remain is full of deep heavy ruts from the construction vehichles using it. So as a rider you are left with pucker up Pray and pedal..............and that is just what I am doing.

Not real sure how many miles i had rode, but it was not real fun, a few good hills to struggle up and no room for mistakes as cars went by without any regard for a cyclist. I was hating the road and spotted a gas station. So I took a turn off the busy road to ask if there may be another route or road that would get me where I was going. It was while I was talking to the fella behind the counter and relaying too him my lament about the current state of the road that I noticed a fellow sorts on the edge of our conversation. I paid little attention to the fact, and got tyhe sad answer that I didn't want........and basicly decided that I would have to tough it out for another 5-6 miles and a least two more good grades, which are mixed with the heaviest construction on the road.

So, away I go and just go to pedalling, Prayin and watching behind me the best that I can. I was climbing the first more seroius grade, and getting quite near the top and also thinking about getting off and walking due to traffic and room..........when VRRooooom. Up pulls a small red Toyota type rig, and a fella with a thick beard and long grey hair pushes his head out the window...................THROW THAT RIG IN THE BACK 'N' IL GIVE Y'ALL A RIDE TO THE ROAD YA WANT...........SAVE YA GETTIN KILLED OUT HERE. It sounded like sage advise to me, and I made a hasty decision to do as suggested. I unhook the bike and heft bike and trailer into the back and start climbing into the back myself...................WHAT THE HECK YA DOIN, GET ON UP HERE BOY, Y'ALL AINT RIDIN BACK THAR. Okay I say, and jump out of the back and climb into the passenger side just as a fresh case of beer is being moved off the front seat. DAVE'S MA NAME, he says and his large hand is extended to me. Its the same fella that was listening in at the Gas Station. THIS AIN'T NO PLACE FOR A FOOL ON A BIKE HE SAYS,his words much more slurred than I am able to relate here. In fact, I look at the beer case again, and can see it is un-opened but the speech is very heavy and slurred, and the eyes are very drowsy as well. The truck is rolling and there is very little that I can do about it all now................mentally, I am thinking that this may have proven to be a very foolish chlice in order tyo avoid a bad traffic scenario.

YA'ALL DONE SHOULDN'T BE ON THAT THAR HIGHWAY, THOSE FOLKS WILL KILL YA UP THATR SON, THIS HERE IS SHINE COUNTRY AND FOLKS WILL BE DRUNK AS #%$@@*& UP THAT THAR WAY. The language with this fella is very coarse and has more cussing in it that words used for conversation............so, if you throw in a serious mouthwashing cuss word every three words that may get close. yA'ALL SHOULD TAKE MY ROAD..............%$# HECK i'LL JUST TAKE YA ON DOWN THERE. sHOOT, THOSE THERE HEATHEREN #@$% ^%$#
SHOULDN'T ALLOW A BIKE OUT HERE. Well I say, all I need is to get off right here Dave, and I will take my chances...........and as I am saying this my road is whizzing by me as I speak. dANG *%&$# i AM SO DRY i CAN'T SPIT says Dave, i DRANK A QUART OF vODKA FER BREAKFAST AN NOW i AM READY FER A %$#@* BEER, HAND ME ONE THEM BEER.............WHAT THE ^$##@ DID YA'ALL SAY YER NAME WAS..........AH *&^*(&%$ NEVER MIND JIST HAND ME A BEER. As soon as I hand it to him, he sorta throws it back at me and says something mostly unaudable to me.............and then a string of cussing comes as we pass a Tennessee Sherriff's car, and a string of cussing fills the cockpit of the red rig. IF HE TURNS ROUND, YA'ALL DRINK THAT THERE BEER.

RIGHT HERE says Dave, RIGHT HERE TIS THE ROAD YA'ALL WANT TO TAKE, THAT OTHER &*$$#@ ROAD WILL GET YA KILLED. YA'ALL NEED A MEAL....................HELL YAH YA NEED A MEAL, never waiting for me to reply. YA'ALL NEED TO MEET MY OLD WOMEN.....SHE'S A GOODERN, THIRD %#@@* TRY SHOULD BE A GOODERN he says. YEAH, I THINK THAT i BETTER FEED YA SOME %#@@*& FOOD BEFORE i TURN YA LOOSE, LETS GO TA THE HOUSE AND SEE THAT HEATHEREN &%$##@ BOY OF MINE...........THEN I WILL FEED YA SOME GROUN HOG..........MY GOLDY, SHE MAKES THE &%$$#@ BEST GROUND *&%$# HOG YA EVER ET. All the while, I am trying to aswer but realize that Dave is too far gone to be cognizant of much of what is sayed. We make a hard left off the very narrow road of hows number I have clue, and we are on a very poorly kept vertical gravel road/trail. The red rig, and Dave, now drinking his second beer since we left the main road some 5 miles back is just barely at the weel. I can catch parts of the conversation, as he relates his Vietnam time to me, and the Agent Orange issues are working there way into it all, the wife Goldy may well be the fifth of sixth not the third as he had once sort'a said. We arrive at the top narrow neck of the "holler" that has a single wide sitting at the top at an angle and postion that seem to defy gravity and common sense..................but then, I stop and think of my new chauffer Dave and realize it looks just like Daves very scrambled thinking.

RAT *&%%#@ HERE BE HOME BOY, LETS SEE WHAT THE %$##@ THOSE HEATHERN ARE'A DOIN. Dave exits the rig, and stamps real hard on the stairs leading inot the trailer house................smiles, ............turns towards me and says...........JIST NEVER *&%%$# KNOW WHO OL GOLDY MAY HAVE &%$$#@ VITED OVER TO KEEP TYHE HOUSE WARM. There is a little time lapse, and finally a voice calls Dave on in................just Dave not me..........I stand out side with 4-5 dogs checking out my leg length and the smell of my fingers..............hair is up, and teeth just barely show below a raised lip on one. And then the door cracks again as a small boy comes out, very reserved and looking at me....................in my attempts to speak to him I get no reply at all.............and this goes on for a few minutes. Then he asks if 'thet there bycicle be mine or Daves bycicle".........so I tell him it is mine and the boy just turns and leaves me standing out side by myself once more. Several more minutes go by, my hyena friends are back sizing me up.............when the door cracks and the boy says "Ya'all shude come on in har".

NOw folks, I will tell you that this is a classic paradox , my friend dave cant say three words without a serious cuss word............and his cussin is clearer than his spoken words. He goes on about his heathern wife and kid. I know from the conversation that he has anothre wife just down the road and also a daughter with that wife.......and I won't waste my time with his describing them. SO I enter the trailer, all the lights out, and hte noise on the TV is a noise I have heard before.............and it is on to the very top of the volume setting............i am greeted by a women laying on the couch smoking a cigarette and the boy sitting beside her. I extend my hand towards the women and tell her my name is Jeremiah.................she never moves nor acknowledges me.......just goes on smoking and talking sorta yelling at Dave. The boy watches me closely, the women just smokes and talks loud to Dave. The TV is playing the Jesus Movie, the conversation is filled with more cuss words than real words and I am now sitting at what room I could make at Daves kitchen table/gunshop/small engine repair shop. Folks, I am casught in a culture warp, and wondering what possesed me to make the choice I had made.

Dave is wanting to make me some supper, and all the time I am telling him that I am just fine all I need to to get on the road and ride. I do bnot dare to tell him I want to ride before it gets dark....fearing that he may decide I should stay the night. YA'LL NEED A GOOD %##@ SOUP...............i KNOWS JIST THE KINF DO AS HE DIGS OUT A B&W LABEL CANNED PORK MEAT............ and I just know its all knuckles, lips and buttholes. Then Dave digs out a can of Corn..........and the phone rings..........the boy named Chancey hands to phone to Dave who is now on his second beer since getting home and smoking a cigarette with a load of ash............Dave holds the phone upsdie down and turns the water on in the sink.........................the conversation ensues between Dave and his last wife whom he hates, its easy to tell by the conversation. Its at one point during the conversation, he says that he is washing some disshes to feed a fellow some supper..............he picks up one single fork that had been set in the sink since who knows when and swishes it about under the water for a bit................then with smoke rising heavily up into his eyes he takes adrink of beer and removes the cigarette to carefully point the ash of the cigarette on the blade of the fork he was washing and replace it in his parched lips as he found his beer and finished the conversation in a very gruff tone. BOY, GIMME ANOTHER BEER, I A FIXIN THIS HERE FELLA A SAM'MICH. N' BOY, GIMME SOME HO'PEPPERS FRUM THE WIND'A ...............WHRES MA CIGARETTES BOY. And Chancey was scurrying for each item. I sat frozen, locked in on the conversation and tones of the room, as different oparties related to one anothter and Jesus played as a back drop for it all.............the boy Chancey is attached to both the movie and the reality of his home. He is teasing Dave about being drunk, and Goldy is trying to shut that down, and tell dave that the pork meat is buring on the stove......and Dave insisting that what I need ias a good warm sammich............and I am huntingh a hole to crawl out off.

Finally the pork meat is stuck fast, and I am invited to come on up and fix it for myself...........all there is for me to see is a can of pork meat emptied into a pot and burned to the bottom and I am supposed to make a meal of it............Boy Howdy, I am struggling here. Chance brings me a loaf of bread, and i commence to building the best "ROAST PORK" sammich I can. Chancey brings me some mustard, and I slather some on and then he hands me the Peppers from the window. I sat and ate a hefty pork sammich while Dave drank.......INHAILED.......... another beer. I am ready to get out, the clouds have filled the sky with dark clouds of rain, and have no idea where I really am. JOSHUA,SAYS DAVE, IAM GONNA TAKE YA TO THE BIG CREEK BRIDGE...........THET'LL BE FUN............YA WANNA GO WITH ME LIL'UN. And Chancey is game for this, I have no idea what is up. Now it s Daves turn to take in a couple of sammiches, and he is enjoying the food .........munch munch , smack smack alot, let me tell ya folks.......... alot. GIMME A BEER FER THE ROAD BOY SAYS DAVE. We all make our way to the red rig, and Dave produces a belly pistol, waving it about the truck cab, and proclaims to be a real good shot with it.............the conversation takes a dark turn with gun in hand as dave talks about various things from the past. Chancey and I just sit, quite.

We are now rolling, and back to the main road once again, at least the main troad to daves holler. AS we go, I am trying to find out just where we are, and where I am going compared to where I was wanting to go. Dave takes a hard fast left at the main blacktop, which is so narrow it doesn't even have a dividing line on it. We rip up the road towards some place called Big Creek. WE GONNA GET US A DEER LIL'UN AND EAT HIGH TA'NITE EH LIL'UN........dave waves the belly gun out the window and calls to the Bambi's. The boy wants to drive, and Dave is now considering as he suggestes we should not hit the ditch nor a telephone pole like last time you drove says dave. I am wishing I could just get out and crawl.............even roll a peanut any think but ride in here.........and whre is Big Creek I wonder to myself. WOW..............LOOKY THERE SAYS DAVE, THAT THERE UN'S ON THIS SIDE TO...........the red rig swerves hard at a 400 pond calf that stands just inside the wire fence by the side of the road........blades of grass fly over my mirror, and you can here dirt hitting the floor of the red rig as Dave makes a move to correct the carrening vehichle. %$##@* NEAR HAD US SOME BEEF LIL'UN, THAT THAR %$#@@#@ CALF WAS JIS PERFECT FUR A *&%$$#@ COOK POT...........*&^&%%$# THAT WIRE FENCE, WAS IT THERE LAS TIME LIL'UN.

I find out that I am on a road that leads to Sneedville, which is a town that I was wanting to get to on this day. And after several lurches and quirks in the driving Dave has arrived at a bridge over BIg River. He points strait ahead as I unload my bike, tells me that right up there is Sneedville.................BUT BE CAREFUL SON, THAT THER BE RED NECK TOWN................THEY'LL SHOOT A MAN EASY LIKE. GET IN LIL'UN WE GONNA FIND US A DEER TO BRING HOME TA GOLDY..................TAKE CARE YER SELF JOSHUA AND COME ON BACK UP THE HOLLER SUM TIME........ the roaring red rig does a sharp U-TURN and tailights dissappear into the nite, blue smoke streaming from the drivers window as he waves one last time...............and he is gone. So, how close to hell had I been.........I don't really know. I never got hurt, just worried, Dave done me no wrong, but it could have gone really bad at almost any point becasue Dave had so much to drink. SO, thanks ed the LOrd for once again watching out over a fool...........and as I rode in the cool of the night, I was wondering if that was something that the Lord had really wanted me to see. The other side of another man's life.?

I am riding along a river now, it is very cool and Sneedville is 12 miles according to the sign. So I turn on every tail ight and make for town. I arrive, it is real cool, and it will surely freeze tonight I think. I find a place under a parge Pine tree and beside a Chruch. I make camp, and have a simple supper.
Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I am up an moving by 7, my camp is packed and most other campers appear to be still in bed, so I slip through the upper camp ground quietly. There is a light drizzle of rain falling and the sky is a heavy leaden grey which promises to make somebody wet by the end of the day.

I ride out of the Norris dam area, and within a couple of miles I come to the Lenoir Appalachian Museum, the Norris Grist Mill,