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, and Bevins Threshing Barn. I cannot pas this up, so I take it in just for you. I will brag that the pictures are great, but they will not let me put them up here in Tenneessee just yet...............so please wait paitiently.

The Lenoir Collection is the sole gathering by one Willaim G Lenoir and he has donated it to the State now as a permanenet collection. The Museeum houses some 8-10,000 artifacts that emcompass all aspects of Appalachian life from the earliest times up to present. From Chiina collections, to crystal, and wood working tools, metal working tools etc.

Very intersting to walk thru and very well displayed. I move on to the Grist Mill, and take a look around, talk to the fellow who explains it all, the Mill is doen at the moment with some wheel preoblems but will be running this summer and grinding bags of corn etc for buyers.

I pedal on to the actual town of Norris, and have Coffee and apple pie.................hey, what are you chuckling about. After that barn storming ride I made yesterday................I nned a little caloric addition to my diet.Anyways, I was going to work on the blog from Norris Library but alas it was closed for Weednesday. SO, I ride on towards my destination of The official Appalachian Museum in Bethel.

It's Tennessee Home Coming Week, and that is what I had wanted to attend. In fact, I had ridden so hard that I got there 1 day too soon for the opening of the event. There were vendors in place for the event and to my luck and amazement I got too meet quite a few folks whom I had heard of and who were also quite knowledgable in Appalachian Lore. Do you remember the Fox Fire Books from back in the 70's, they were just great and I do not know what happeend to all of them now since I never see them around anymore. These books took in all aspects of hand craft and bush or woodsmen lore, they visited with folks who done ewach craft and wrote in depth explanations of how to do each craft etc. JUst great.

ANy ways, one fellow I remember is instrument maker, Charlie Blevins...........actually it amazed me that he was still alive. BUt low and behold, here he is not just showing me one of his latest Dulcimers, but playing it for me as well. Charlie, along with his wife done a great job of explaining all the details of maing instruments, playing, and having a opassion for what we do. Its not in the young folks anymore says Charlie a little saddened.

Back in the 60's and 70's you had a real revival of interest in these pursuits, but today is would seem that once agian it will all be lost. Charlie spent 38 years as a Army Special Forces soldier, and he is a bear of man even today. HIs wife showed me her favorite, a 4 hen scratcher............with each hen sratching and pecking on corn in the center of a board as you sway the board about in your hand............very cute.

I move on past strumming playing musicians, some on spoons, some on guitars etc...........its a cacauphony of sounds and melodies al intertwined at times. I meet a trio called the Ross Trio, a banjo player, a washboard and Harp Psaltry (3 string wash tub bass). These folks play only historic tunes, and it is just great. I loved the old hyms that they done in this manner.

The Museum houses a great collection of buildings that have ben moved in and completely restored to working order, there are canins aplenty, barns, loom sheds, grinding sheds and sawyers sheds. The you have the early homes of the famous, such as Mark Twains first birth place home. And the first Senators home. The log cabins that I really loved, were the ones with an open "dog run" or what some may call a breeze way thru the middle of two attached cabins..........very cool.

The soft melody of an instrument that I was not familiar with caught my ear and I let it lead me to another quieter area of the Museum grounds. And I met and befriended a great gal , Betsy. Who as it turned out was playing a Hammer Dulcimer, and a very fancy one it was indeed. She played some great tunes, and I asked why they had so far off in the corner? To which she replied it was so that folks could actually hear her instrument, since the others around would drowned the sopund of hers out. Hers was soft and quite delicate...............they are the actual fore-runner of the Piano she tells me.

I wonder over to the huge Red Barn Exhibit, and take in another collection but about 3 times the size...........of Appalachian Artifacts. What a great exhibit it is, with all the same sort of things just much more of it.............I am starting to get hungry since I haven't eaten all day. I can smell something that lures me.........yes it is the smell of some great cobbler being cooked in a Dutch Oven of all things. Now this is beggining to feel like home again. Ed Blackwell, is the cook and a mighty fine cobbler he makes. I visit with Ed for quite a while and it is begging to look like some seroius rain coming and it is 4:45 so I ma actually thinking of getting a Motel to charge up my cell phones and camera batteries.
I ride toeards Clinton, and find Circle *, and a cheap room..........everything is charging

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 1:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Good morning folks, I am in the town of Fairview, which is on Hwy 63 East up in northern Tennessee. Its a fair warm morning as I awake, it is 59 degrees but with a very heavy fog. Heavy enough that I walk my bike for the larger part from where I camped to where I had poor coffee and 2 eggs. MY tent is just soaked, and my bag of sleep.........well its moist shall we say with a rather pungent odor begining to develope. I noticed that it is taking on its own personality after all that we have been through together.............last night it rolled over on its own........and I was tangled for a good 5 minutes getting it all straitened out again.

I walked a couple miles in the fog, and decided that I would wait it out in a tiny Cafe. I took in my night case and had a shave etc, so I could feel just half house broke. I sat and ordered two eggs over easy and coffee. Well the eggs went down just fine, but Boy Howdy, these folks could sure use some help with there brands of Coffee that was being used. It was bitter, but not as if it had Chickory in it, just plain bitter and about 78 degrees in the pot

Anyways, things improved just a tad, as two Coon hunters took up a table next too me and the converssation was all dogs all the time.................well lets start over, it was all COON dogs all the TIME. SO, as I sat I had this running commentary on best breed, best water dog, best treers and of course best voiced dogs, then we get sizes of dogs and the ability to travel, and then we got into dispositions and color traits etc.

I of course asked a few questions, but in general, I just listened. It was intersting, and I was wishing I could have had an Apricot Poodle lying under my chair so that when I got up too leave these men may have at least one chance to see a real dog.

Its now about 8am, and the fog is lifting enough to allow me on the road it looks like, so off I go heading east to the junction of I-75. The road has some fair large hills, with long steady climbs. Had my firast real encounter with an idiot Cola hauler. Everyone has worned me to be very wary of these paid by the load Coal Haulers...........and this one guy fit the bill. I was actually fully stopped and parked on a wide shouldered section of highway. The bike and trailer are leaned against a guard rail, and I have stepped over the rail too take a picture of some hills off to the south. While I am standing there, I here the engine brakes of a tandem axle coming down the hill and I look up to see what we have coming.

The truck, rather in bad repair, moves over in a long steady line, off his lane and over onto the shoulder..............I am now thinking that he is making a bee-line for my bike and I reach to hang onto the bike frame as he goes by just inches from my means of transportation...............and then he moves back over onto his lane and carries on up the next hill. You go figure?

Plenty of hills more and I am at that junction of I-75, and now looking for Old Highway 63 to the south, which will allow me to skirt around riding on the Interstate. I am ontop of a large ridge and I try my trusting frind the Cell Phone..........whoa, Poochy Maggie, the ol'girl has decided to work. I get to taklk to my older brother Niel and fill him in on just whre we are and what has been going on. It is while I am talking to him, and I am standing over on one corner of the truckstop parking lot, that a near fight breaks out between a man and wife. It seems that she had made him spill his coffee as they were walking out of the shop.........anyways it sure seemed like he was about to beat the tar out of her. SO I took a change of direction to another area of the parking lot. I understand his anger though...............she did waste good coffee. Whoa now, take it easy I was just kidding.

AS it turns out, I have to back track about 4 miles back down a huge hill that I had just climbed in order to get onto the road that I need. Folks, the first 2 miles of this road are covered up with coal haulers who give you no room period.............and I darned near quit the road and turned back. But after that approx. 2 miles, the coal haulers turned onto a different road and I was alone on a aroad caught between two very deep ridges and following a creek as its compass course. What a great road, the sides of the road a deep with the fallen leaves of overhead branches, red, gold, brown and green line the road...............they swirll in the wind as I pass by. The road is entirely canopied with tree branches, and what sun does poke thropugh is mottled and fractured by the canopy. The shafting afternoon sun, brightly illuminates the leaves from behind crating a mosaic of color that gives the waters of the creek a stained glass effect in places. I was really hoping that the 15 miles would las a little longer.

When I broke out of the little section of nirvana, I was surroumnded with the noise that comes with a busy road such as I-75, the trees are farther away from the road now, and businesses line the roadside and crowd trees out to make room. We are now in Caryville (Karah-veil, as it is pronounced down here), and there is a Library rat there, as they say, and I dropped in to work on the blog. I spread my tent in the bright sun to allow the sun and wind to work there magic on it. I noticed while I was getting my tent off the trailer, there was a strain and struggle going on inside the bag itself................no doubt its my bag of sleep exercising its adolescent behaviour.................Ther is nothing like a sleeping bag to contend with when it's hormones kick in.

Okay Okay, I will be nice, my brother warned me I was starting to sound real harsh on the Librarians, okay I get it. I done my best to try to work with this gal , but to no avail. The whole of Tennessee has shut me down when it comes to photos and up loading. SO I typed in some 4 days worth and headed out. My mileage has been rather dismal as of late, with all the stops and photos and hills in a day slowing me down. So I had the determination that I would get to a certain place on this day no matter what. But I had spent over 2 hours on the blog, and it was now 3:45 and I had almost 18 miles to cover.

Folks, now I do have to warn you that even the description of this ride are racy and way too volatile for small children to listen too let alone see in person. Please realize, that since the very beggining I have had one motto to my blogging........tell'em all and tell'em everything. So, if you have small children in the room , mabe make'em leave, be sure thye do not read this section...................it could be way to frightening for thier little "sikeee's"

Folks its true, darned sure is. The folks of Caryville and also of Lake City are even today picking up the pieces that are left of there towns after I stormed them. I rode like a man freshly Demon Dis-possesed.............I sped on over that road in the full drops of my handle bars and my huge thighs powering away like the piston's on a steam-engine. It was amazing, sections of loose black top would explode out of the road as I passed at such speed.........town folks without teeth, just stopped, stood and "staired" in disbelief. They stood in silent amazement, as they watched leaves in thier yards being sucked out onto the road as I passed. There were several small train tresseles over the roadway as I rode, and at each one they are shrouded in tree branches...........I rode past with such force and velocity that the hanging branches were sucked inside the tressles as I passed by the whirling vortex of wind that I had created. Dogs would bark and chase thier own tails as I passed, becasue they just knew there area was being disturbed..........but they did not know by what and out of pure canine frustration they resorted to the onlyy thing that they knew ..........chase thier own tail and see if that was the culprit. Folks, I topped 39.7 mile per hour dragging that thar trailer back yonder, and that was while on the flats not coiming out of a downhill run...............hey listen now, I am not given over to being a braggerd................but I rode for 18.7 miles like a tour champ. I rode like a man with a testosterone patch on each tire>>>>>>>>>

One very earie place that I rode past, and partly I rode last becasue I had a huge hill to climb and the campground was still a ways off and it was very near dark. But I rode past the Memorial Marker for Coal Creek Mine Explosion of 1934 if I remember the year correctly. What is most remarkable about this event, is that the town gathered for a hugeBurial Ceremony, for apprx 134 miners that were still down in the shafts of Coal Creek Mine. Ther was no way that any one could move enough rubble and debris to get too and save the trapped men.......so after 14 days of fruitless digging and 24 hour working to frre the men............a Funeral Service was held for all the trapped men and the church Bells peeled in Unison to mark this solem occassion. It was over a month later, when the men trapped in Coal Creek were reached.............yes of course all were now dead. But what was found makes a huge emotional impact on oll whom read it............that many of the men were still alive and had written there families notes.and thiose notes show that many men lived on for up to 4 or 5 days after theier own Funerals were held above ground.

I rode on, up that hil.................shoot i DIDN'T RIDE IT, i ATTACKED IT. The hill runs about 4 miles and is a fair pull up to the top of Norris Dam. Very pretty, and a nice ride indeed. I finally made it to the Norris Dam, my destination for the days trip. Now to find a camping place. As I ride I spot the East Camp ground, which works out well for me, since that is the direction I needed for the next day. I camp at the east Camp, and as I ride in I can here a mountain melody being carried by fiddle and banjo................just right. The camp ground is stuffed full of trailers, and it seems to me as I pass thru, that each person carries a musical instrument with them. I sit and listen for about 20 nimutes, its all good and just an impromptu jam session.
Camp was simple this night, and the sky almost dark as I find a flat spot.
Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 12:11 PM | Permalink

I am up early enough in Allardt, but fog once again impedes my progress down the road. Until it lifts, I am staying put rather thatn ride and staying flat under some rig. I head to the one and only quick stop, get some coffee and sit with the locals who are all doing the same.

There are about 4 at my table, a horse-shoer and a retired Lawyer. Jason , the lawyer, tells me that kids today are spoiled. When he was young, he had to spud tobacah to earn money for School. KIds today, why they want it all handed to them, and quick like right out'a school. I call em "sers and spenders"..........whre'as in the old days we had folks who was "arners and adders". Used to be that when folks made alot of money, they would add to the communities they lived in, a different sense of civic pride was apparent back then.

These young folks today, they appreciate little, and use up every thing they have never adding to a community. I think that is one of the greatest loses that America has today, is that lack of civic pride that at one time made all of America proud. I can't add much, and the horse shoer for the most part agrees with Jason. SO I leave with some things to think about while I ride to the east.

As I am mounting my Irich Rocket, Jason tells me to be sure to take a little time to walk around Rugby, its just maybe 15 miles on up the road from here.............and my wife and I will Pray for your safe trip.

I do just that, Rugby, is a secnd home to the wealthiest that England had to offer to its second sons from the isles. They turned the area into a retreat for the younger aristocrat's to languish during the summer months rather than the Lake District of England which had become much to crowded . And so out of that grew the tiny town of Rugby, with Opera House, and a full Library with hundreds of volumes, a full stained glass Episcopal Church, a Linen Shop, and a Commissary, along with many other fine establishments.

I talked to Josie, at one of the stores that makes up the Rugby community of buildings that greets all comers. Josie, like me, is enamoured with the beauty of the Tennesse countryside. She has a love for the abundant waterfalls that speckle the river-scapes of the Tennessee river ways, and went into a long description of so many that I have lost count of them all. I came away saddened to know that almost non of them lay along the route that I had riddent, most are in the central or southern routes of the State.

We have a great visit, and I leave with a much wider knowledge of the local history now that I had met Josie. I then take in the Spring Hill WIlderness Gift Shop next door, and I find out that many folks who had been local artists dojnf many of the rural appilachian crafts have now passed away and sadly there skills have not been taken up by a younger generation of folks whom hail from Appilachians.

A little further on, and over many hills under a canopy of tree branches I arrive in Elgin.I get something to drink and check out a road I intend to take. Of course taking it is a big mistake, becasue it is a coal mine hauling route, and common sense tells you to avoid it if possible. That choice sends me north onto 27 then 63 east, and not more than 5 miles or so I see a sign that makes my brakes screech to a halt , the sign reads " Fried Dried Apple Pies, for sale" and I just gotta go in to this house which sits right beside the road and see what is up.

After all, and please do remember that all things are now measured against Frannies Pies..............and don't forget to send your pie in as well. I knock on the door and meet Sara Beth at the stove, she just hollers me in, since she has both hands busy right there in her kitchen to which she is busy tending to fried chicken and the smell of corn bread wafts through the house.................I know and love corn bread. Come to think of it, I guess I am a little like a goat, there just ain't much that I don't like to eat..............but good corn bread can get a women married off. Sara Beth, fills me in on all the secrest of making good pie, why to dry and why to fry.........................all of which will be for sale in a later but coming cook book. Hold on there, I was just kidding. I buy two of Sara Beths pies, and have great but quick visit and head on doen the road for Hartsville.

The old saying of it never rains but it pours makes me think of the 20 mile or so ride to Hartsville. I had 4 flats in that distance, and can only attribute it to the sharp crushed rock that dotted the narrow shoulders ???? I nevcer have liked the whole flat scene, and have done my best to avoid it. PS, Chuck, I am sure glad I didn't pull my tire liners. I had told you I would do something a little different with my tent and I have.

NOw, I pack it last, and loose, on top of my trailer, with a cargo net over top. Each time I stop, I gicve it a turn, aor maybe a new fold so the sun and wind hit it all and dry it while I ride. It has worked good now for 2 days, and saves me sdome time in the later afternoon working on drying my tent. It is while I am ridingh, and my continual strugle to work with a Library, that I come on the thought of stopping a a Business for Conputers, and see if I can doen load from there.

I tried this in Huntsville, I meet Sam Phillips and he allows me on to download some pics. Problem is the software used to hadle pics is slow for me becasue I am having to learn my way around the software as I go, and so I only get 4 pics done in maybe 2 hours time. During part of this time we also had to download some new drivers so it would read my CF card. SO, it didn;t really pan out to good iether. I did have a good long visit with Sam, who is an un-abashed Orthodox Jew. We visited about living in what is often called the BIble Belt of America and being a Jew, and how that goes over with the Chritian folks that make up much of the Community.

Then we goty onto teaching in Schools today, and how we are often leaving the brighter kids behind all becasue we cannot pidgeon hole there education with that particular child. And we closed with a discussion on what should and maybe will come of the Iraq confrontation. Sam, as you may guess, is no lover of Buch nor Iraq, and would wipe them out completely..........but understands the reason for going with some degree of trepidation also..since this whole exposure to freedom is brand new to the middle east and its Arabic people.

It is 5:10 and I am out of money, and food and water. SO I tear of down the road to find that Hunstville has nothing for a grocery store nor ATM. SO, about 8 milesz and 3 very large hills later I pull inot a tiny MArket and get some cold food, for some reason, I am looking at how dark it is and just don't feel like cooking at all. So cold chicken it is, along with some fruit. I camp on top of a ridge, between the road and a water ditch..................the dew is already very heavy. My legs are very tired, but I dont want to sit and take a chance ion getting full of Chiggers which I will then aklso bring into my tent. So I stand wishing that I had a small folding lawn chair right now.

Good Night and God Bless
PS- folks, my daily mileage has fallen off badly, so I need to stop talking to folks or maybe just throw the camera away.............but this is my tird day with less than 50 miles per day.?????

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 1:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Its Sunday and a figgy wet morning again, I have about 15 miles to ride to the next town and I dont get a real early start just due to the fog. I am camped on one of the many ridges that make up Dale Hollow Lake, and the ridges down to this lake are indeed steep, honestly, I don't know if I could have peddaled back up from the shoreline...........Poochy Maggie, they look like plus 20 percent for sure.

I ride on to Livingston, and take in a beautiful Town Square. The actual Courthouse has a plaque that reads, made in the years 1868 and 1869 by Little Joe somebody, for a total price of $9,999.00 dollars. And folks, this is one gourgeous Courthouse, all the windows decorated with red/white/blue banners and planty of great trees to add colr to the brick building which stands as an edifice of commitment by the folks of Livingston.

I attend Church today in the town of Livingston. A First Baptist Chrurch on the edge of town. I mmet several of the congregation, take in the Lords Supper, and get best wishes and Prayers from several who watched me ride off.

I ride on inot what is breath taking country, the roads are small and winding, covered in a canopy of multi hued leaves, and more of the rock is exposed as we pass byu which adds to the granduer of this piece of road. Even though the hills are now getting much longer and also steeper, it seems that the beauty of it carried you on with out much effort...................you find yourself tired but not wanting it to end.

My steepest hill to date, at least marked hill is shown here at 12%. Just before arriving in Jamestown, I came upon a level Limestone Quarry, usuallu quarries go down into the ground to dig.........but in this case the quarried strait in, that is until finally it colapsed.

I arrive in Jamestown, which is the home town of the most decorated soldier of WW2 one Captain Alvin York. I missed the Museum and the Armoury under his name. I by a little something to snack on, and while doinf so, I throw my tent and bag out to dry. I see a little black mold staring on the tent, and I will adopt a new practise while riding after this day. I bough a little something to dine on later this evening, and so hit the cranks to the east again.

I came to a halt behind a Church which I had stopped to photograoph since the red setting sun on the Church and trees outside of it had caught my eye. I pitched camp out bakc the Church, nobody bothered me, nor even knew I was there it seemed. The tiny town of Allardt had other things to keep it occupied...................COON HUNTING as I would find out. I had a real feast tonight for supper.

I had bought a can of Mushroom soup and a small pack of 3 Cheese Tortellini and mixed those together along with a cup of Tea and I felt I should have had wine but decided to wait and have coffee later at the little quick stop which marks a junction in the road at Allardt.

About 9, I wander up to the quick Stop. There are 3 "tennesee typical" vehicles parked out in the parking lot.............older and very beat up Toyota's or such type of truck with a 2 compartment dog box in the back and aback window or tail gate covered in bumper stickers that say such as "When the Tail-Gate drops the BS stops", or "Hound Lovers make others Howl" etc. I was actually minding my won bisuness for a change and intent on Coffee, since the night was cooling quickly with dew. I got my coffee, and as I exited I was met with a butt end coming out from under the hood of a rather ruff lookin truck........................"How ya doin buddy" a gruff voice asked?

JUst fine I said looking aside to see who asked. And Dale Reagan smiled with fewer teeth than an adult should have, a cigarette hanging from a relaxed smile that crossed his face. I am Dale he said, and stuck his hand out. Dale is a certified COON HUNTING fanatic as it turns out, and there ain't no dog like a good Walker Dog he says proudly as he pats his dog box. So are these the sorta dogs that make coon hunting look as fun as movies like "Where the Red Fern Grows" I ask. Shoot says Dale.

These here are real dogs, that movie stuff just ain;t real. Why you take old BUtch here, signalling which side of the box is BUtches with a tap............why heck you can tell if he's on a squirrel or a deer or a Coon by his bark.............and you outt'a here him set up the howl when its treed. Oh, now "thet there, thet's music son" says Dale with the pride of a boasting grad night parent. You do that on a full moon night like tonight, and light yer'self a fire to keep warm, maybe drink a little shine while the dogs tree..........and son,you got yourself a movie fer shore. Well what do you do when you aren't out hunting Coons I ask Dale? Shoot mostly screw around I guess, I hate fishin so I cant do that, and a job just gets in the way of the best coon hunting............besides coon hunting takes it out'a a man.

Shoot he says, some times ya doin get in till 3 maybe four in the morning...........and a man and dogs need time ta rest, ya'know whatta mean? Yes I assure him, I can see where the requirements of a job may cut into good coon hunting. BUt how do you live if you don't work I ask, maybe a little bolder than good sense would dictate. Ah, shoot thets easy, I don't eat what them there rich folks eat...........a little Souce and greens will take good care of a man............sides I done drive the new rigs..........I need one like this rat here........something dependable in the mud. I takes a few ol'boys out huntin from time ta time, and I sell a few good hound pups along the way. Its done fed me fer nearly 60 years, no good reason to change the ways I see it.

My new friend Dale stepped both of his well mannered coon hounds out of there respective sides of the truck box kennels. I was then introduced to Butch, a large and thick chested, heavy muzzled Walker coon dog.............Butch made it clear he didn't want a pat from some gimpy bystander in Spandex iether. Then out cam ethe pup, BIlly, only 15 months. He has a great voice says Dale, but gets his scents crossed a little just yet, but he will run and hunt just give a little more time to season and he will make a good replacement for ol Butch here.

Its now 10:20 and the coon hunters dispatch as if on que, dissappearing into the night to find a corn patch to commence the nights activities. And me, I walk back to the tent, all the while thinking that if I had asked, I believe that Dale would have taken me on a Coon Hunt that night. You need to know that Jeremiah has wanted to go on such a thing for the longest time. BUt I also realize that with what I have for biking clothes, they would all be tore up on such an outing and I wouldn't look very smart in the morning would I?

Good Night and God Bless......................I can hear dogs, several, barking and at times howling................then barking somemore.............and I wonder if its Butch and Billie out in the night after a coon with only the Moon to show there way?

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 12:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

This day is apptly named, becasue it is one in which you were always going up or down and almost always under a canopy of trees with turning leaves. I have fell in love with Tennesee, it is so absolutly beautiful at every turn thus far.

I rose up this morning in RBS, to find 37 degrees and heavy fog had rolled in. My goal was to shoot the Museum and then gte on the road to get in a few more miles. Off to the quick stop for some coffee or two. And then take a roll by the Hotels to shoot them before Cyclemo's opens at 8am. ONce I enter the Museum, I try to find out a little more information on what is coming and what are the important items already at the Museum.

Well the "GRAND PIECE" for John the owner who is also a landscape Architect, is his one owner 1936 completely untouched down to the original paint etc Harley. ANd to top it off, the one previous owner was an Uncle too John who willed the bike to him at the age of 14. John has been a cycle nut since he was old enough to walk, and it really shows, becasue every thing that possible pertains to vintage Motor-Ccyles is contained within the Museam. From that we move to a comparative of Harley and Indian war commissioned cycles during WW2.

Then there is the WW2 (mini Harley) cycle that John has, which records show as having been dropped out of a C47 during Operation Market Garden and the battle over Indhoven in Belgium. Its fascinating, even for a neo-phite like me, the bikes are staring to look rather sculptural even to me..........rather than just hard and mechanical. The stories are fascinating, and the search for the collection is every bit as fascinating as the pieces themselves. But the time had come to get on the bike.

It is now almost 11 am, and I hit the road. I find the road all the more busy than yesterday, and find out at the first station stop why that is................Son, its the Roller Coaster Rummage Sale weekend..................did'nt cha know? And it sure enough is, I mean every house has a single table or much more out front for sale and cars are parked any and every place you can imagine. The bargain hunters are every place that you look.

Vehicles pass with boxes tied in trunks, and boxes tied to rooves, and stuff hanging out of pick up truck boxes.it is every where. The road feels crowded today, and in the darkest shady places I feel very vulverable today. and so I ride a little less at ease than the day before. The country side is still very pretty, but I don't have the time to look as I did before.

I stopped in the tiny place of Oak Grove and decide to have lunch, simple a burger and fries. It was while I was here that I had a chance to visit with a Retired Air Force Captain, James Elwood. We visited about his stations and his deplyments, since he had spent time in both Cold Lake Alberta doing test sting on various items, but also his time in Labrador Canada and how cold it is there.

The time in Labrador was also to test items to see how cold worthy the gadgets would be during usage. We moved onto the Korean conflict, and the wasted efforts there, and in his opinion the first time that America sought a compromise to an end, instead of a victory.........which in his view has become a precident when we are engaged in a conflict of any kind. America lost her spine for war back in the early 50's said James..................and I am not sure we will ever get it back. Don't get me wrong, I think that the men and women serving are as good if not better than back then..................the problem is with our Press and the Politicians quite clearly in my opinion.

Our wars are being fought on the battle fields, but lost in the press by a press that is at times very anti American in its views and coverage. You take for example the very controversial topic of loss due to death, I think that one lose is indeed tragic, but when it comes to a military conflict I think that the way that the press portrays the death loss is also a tragedy. Because when you look at length of engagements and troop numbers deployed ..............our losses of man soldiers in Iraq are extremely small statistically speaking.

BUt I fear that the biggest mistake that has been made in Iraq, is in the handling of the war mechanism itself, we cannot win this sort of conflict when the orchestration of it is being handled by an Iraq tribunal................just my opinion, but I don't think we can win it now. And to me, a compromise here is completely the undoing of America. SO I ask, what about the young folks who are signing up, what are your thoughts on that issue, I myself have never served but have heard several thopughts on what type of individual is signing.

Well, says James, I think that the soldier in the Armed forces of USA, is at it's all time best right now. They are all volunteers, and they are being selected by SAT scores and aptitude rather than just needing bodies as in WW2. These young folks are just the best you can get, and I mush prefer the signees to the draft any day just becasue of the willingness of each person recruited.

Don't mis-understand me says James, we can win the comflict in Iraq, it won't happen over a short time simply becasue of how different this conflict is when compared to all of the others we have been engaged in.........but we can win. And to answer the final question, yes says James, the folks who make up Irawq, deserve there chance at a new and free Iraq. It remains to be seen if they can hold onto a free Iraq with all of the other coutries around it willing to sabbotage Iraq's efforts............only time will tell.

Oak Grove is only 5 miles away from where I am supposed to be turning north into Kentucky and once again my stinkin Cingular has left me stranded. I borrow a phone from the waitress and call my wife to get Len Yules home address, he''s the fella that I am going to visit in Kentucky. Well how surprised was I to get my wife on the phone, and then to find out that Len had moved changed plans completely. I was in some ways relieved, since I could avoid the notorious Kentucky Coal Haulers. I can now carry on due east on #52 .

I have used up my last CF card for my camera, and am in search of teh replacement for it in every tiny town that I come to. Finally in Celine, I find a Walgreens and get a 512 card, that will hold me for a while now. I rode on but stopped early enough to let my tent and bag dry out before I went to bed.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

You know what I love the most about this country that we live in, its the diversity of not only topography but in human characters. You just never know what sort of a day that you will be having when you roll camp in the morning and hit the cranks to get some miles behind you.

It was a 48 degree morning with a cool wind blowing and overcast as I was ready to leave the Portland Tennessee area. It turned into a little more hilly section of the country than the day before. There was a distinct absence of the pungent "Tabacah" smoke smell lingering in the are as it was yesterday.

I rode only a few miles to the little town of Westmoreland and decided to stop and get something simple to eat. Most of the time if I stop in the morning I try to have some sour dough toast and coffee....................Lordy I do miss my sourdough. On this particular day I decided to eat because I am feeling rather dizzy and make theassumption that it is calories I may need.

I turn the cranks for a few more miles and it is time to find a Library that i can work with and stop at La Fayette to try to get a little work done on the blog. I am soundly defeated after having spent 2 full hours at the key board working on pictures that the lady was suere she could get onto the net for me........with that I decide to move on down the road................very little.

Ther is a parade going on in town for the graduating seniors, and the parade crosses my road.................to which a Sherriff tells me YOU STAY RAT THAR, N I'LL LET YA'LL KNOW WHEN YA KIN CROSS THIS HARE ROAD! So, I head into the quick stop for coffee and a cookie as I am still sort'a lightheaded. I try my cell phone and still nothing. I wait, and wait, about an hour .15 minutes and the Sherrif, smiles and looks at me and waves me on.

Its turning into a cool clear day, and riding requires a long sleeve jersey even though the sun is bright over head. I am pushing into a slight headwind for the whole day as it turns out. Its now into the afternoon and I am on the road to Red Boiling as the locals like to call it. The country side is hard work ion a bike, the hills are getting bigger, but the beauty of it makes each hill quite easy till now.

As I am coming up too the final hill to Red Boiling, I pass JT's Antiques on my left side and up a rather steep little hill, so I decide to tackle it and continue my Xmas shopping. JT, the elder and owner of the establishment is out front as I ride up and dismount..................How fer ya ridin he asks? And I tell him that I am goiong to quit in Red Boiling tonight But that I had stsrted in California.

Good land Son, why'd ya do it on a bike? Well, I tell him, I guess I am the sorta fella that needs a challenge once in a while, not real sure. Golly son, a man can get a challenge in a lot of ways with out workin that hard kin'he? Yes, that is true, but all men need to be challenged from time to time, I think that is the nature of a man. Well Sir, says JT, the Lord he ain't called on me to do nu'thin that there foolish!

SO, from that point on as I strolled the store which was chaulk full of very intersting things I would have taken some of home if I were in a truck................JT would announce to each new person whom entered into the store............"would ya'll be fool enough ta ride thet there "Bycicle" all the way from California. And the resounding answer would be......................"LAND SAKES, DON'T BE FOOLISH..................DID YA ALL BUY THET THERE RIG JT? And he would get the biggest chuckle out of the answers that folks had, and then point over towards me and say............."THET THERE FELLA, HE'S FOOL ENOUGH TA"............ LOOKY THEM THERE LEGS ON THET FELLA...........THEM AIN'T NO CHICKEN LEGS NOW!

Along came a fella who got JT to talkin and off the bike so I could explore the store a little. I looked but did not find that which I was hunting, and so I joined in with JT and his new guest as they both sat up front by the now cold pot belly wood stove. The other fella, as I am introduced to him is Pastor Buddy Davis. Buddy has been a Pastor for some twenty years now, but led a rather different life prior. The afternoon turns into an account of the history of MOON SHINING in Clay county, which was and still is an active SHINE county. Our PAstor friend was a road runner and betwen the two of them they told some great SHINE stories for the next almost 2 hours. I was taught the difference between SHINE jars, and the BALL BRAND #13 BLUE Sealer that some folks try to sell as SHINE jars.

But SHINERS are supersticious fok, and they broke every #13 they got there hands on due to bad luck. The conversation moved onto wood and wood lots in the area and the prevalence of Pine as the newest tree to plant on what had been deciduous hardwood country since time began. The price of Timber at the stump versus at the final yard and where all the profits are going. It made for a very interesting couple of hours, and to share these tales with a PAstor made it all the more fun to be in on.........................I'll have to ask my own Pastor Mike about his background when I get home..................maybe this is typical??

I rode on up the rest of the hill that leads to Red Boiling. AS it turns out, you take a sharp dive down a steep series of hills into the creek bottom now known as Red Boiling Springs. There is not a lot left of the once very popular little town, time. floods and attrition have taken there toll on what at one time had 9 huge hotels to boast about. Red Boiling, as history tells it, is one of only 2 places in the world that has 5 different types of mineral water bubbling up out of the ground. There is one other place in Germany that can boast of the same sort of thing happening there. SO, back as far as 1880's this was ahealth Spa town, and folks with ailments came from near and far to achieve better health by taking the disease diminishing and healing waters of Red Boiling. Over time there were 9 Hotels of very large size built along the creek that spills thru Red Boiling. Each crossing of the creek is covered by a wooden bridge as it was back in the old days. And today, there are 3 very grand hotels left to remind us of Red Boilings days of glory. I really wanted to stay at any one of the old establishments but refrained from spending any extra money.

So it was as I rode the many winding roads and streets of Red Boiling Springs (RBS), that I spotted a new establishment to RBS. On the site of the old Excelsior Hotel, one of RBS most luxurious Hotels, now stands a vintage looking motor cycle museum called Cyclemo's. Now, for folks who know Jeremiah, they know that I am not really into Motor-cycles. But it is here and so am I with a little time to kill till evening sets in. I am very pleasantly surprised, I meet the owners as I enter and we start right in wtih the history and the importance of RBS even prior to the reasons for the Museum. The Museum, at this stage only about 30 days into is actual opening, and only about 30% complete..........is very impressive even for a non-Harlie nor Indian cycle nut. Every rig in the building is a running road bike, each can and is ridden out on the open road. The walls are lined with all of the ephemera that goes with the early vintage years of the brands of Harley and Indian. I start in to take a few pic''s and find my batteries are dead. SO I make the call to go back in tomorrow and take the pictures that I want then.

I head out with the promise to return tomorrow, and ride to the little quick stop an buy a few sausages to eat with my noodles. There is a great little camp place out on the north end, and near a creek, it had tables and a grill place......so I ate soemwhat fancy this night. I walked doen at about 9 to get a cup of coffee before bed. While I was there, I talked to 2 different fellas about the Coal Haulers in Kentucky..................and they both felt that I was really taking chances on riding hte back roads of Kentucky. SO I ponder the advise and walk back to my tent for the night. Its about 10:15 and time for bed, love ya Mom and kids take care.

Good NIght and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Well, I have done all the stinking blogging I can stand for a day or so, and I have made myself two promises. To work harder at finding a Peaceful resolution with the Librarians of America, and to kep my blog done up each day from whatever little town I come to with a Library to work from. We will see how it goes.

I had worked way to late and visited far too long into the evening to be up early............but I was. I beat the sun up, and was in the shower to start the day, not sure when I will get another so take advantage of it is my motto. I could hear Chuck and Beth were up and about upstairs and left them to there morning routine while I packed my trailer. I had bought some new duds at the bike shop, a a pair of tights to over bike shorts. And YES FOLKS>..........a new pair of BIB"S. My butt was just a few threads short of falling out of my oldest pair and I had to be very carefull not too hook them on the nose of the ssaddle when I stepped onto my bike for fear of leaving eveything exposed for good...................or bad I guess depending on you point of exposure.

Beth, such a wonderful host while I occupied her basement apartment, fed me a great meal of eggs and ham and some sweet rolls, along with some fresh Orange juice and COFFEE. I was ready, I visited with Chuck for awhile longer about the smalest things he has learned in all his road trips and was ready to ride by 10 am. I thanked them both and told them my home is theres should they ever get to California.

I was riding back roads, those are the ones that look like earthworm trackas when you look at aTennessee Road Map. I have found these to be by far the most interesting to ride but also the most serious canine infestations are here as well. The sky is grey and overcast, the temp running about 60 degrees and the terrain is a gentle roll, not the "grunters" I have had prior to this section. There is a palpable aroma in the air, and there is enough smoke in the already heavy sky to make it just slightly deeper grey. I am now fairly sure that the smoke that fills the sky over head is derived from the tabaccoe smoking barns that are very prevelent in this region of the State.

To me, the smell is pleasant, the smoke is just a little sweeter than regular wood smoke, since the dark tabaccoe that hangs above the smoking fires adds or infuses some of its own odor into the smoke that finally emits from around the roof line of the smoker barns. The heavy humidity and cloud cover make the smoke more discernable than on the clear and crisp days I have rode.There are places where you will see four of five barns all smoking in one little valley, and very often they will be located at the deeper corner of a field down against a tree line or a creeks edge. When you roll it all together, the smokie smell, the rolling terrain and the turning leaves it does make for a sort of magical ride.

I stopped in the little town of Adams to do a little mailing duties which I had been a alittle remiss at taking care of and I do apologise for that. I trode on and seen a sign for the Historical Bell Witch Caverns and decided that I had better take that in....................but, alas it was closed for the winter season. So, I rode back to the main road I had been following and pedaled ona little further to an inviting refurbished School building that was now an Antique Mall. It looke very cool, and I still have one person that I am trying to find soething for for the Christmas Season. I head in, and notice that there are tiny little rain droips now hitting me and the sidewalk both. The mall is full of many items, both good and junk, but the one item that I search for has eluded me once again. But while I am in there, I meet a lady whom is also a biker, and she compliments me on my great shape and the journey that I am on. I have come to realize that there are a lot of folks whom would love to make a trip like I ma doing, but for one reason or another have decided that they can't.

I am informed that right next door is a Church LAdies Restaurant, and they make the best Southern Fried Chicken around...........so, I decide I had better try a little a\nd make my way over to the tiny restaurant that is along the side of the old school building. Well I have to say, I don't eat a lot of Fried Chicken, so I do not consider my self a "Connysewer" of such dishes_-----_------_----_ pie is a different story, SO DO NOT FOGET TO SEND YOU BEST VERSION TO MY ADDRESS. Anyways back to the chicken, itt was very good indeed and the ladies that served it were just as sweet. Nobody offered up any real neat morsels that I could share with you here, except for a brief hisorical account of the Bell Witch................sadly, the one whom related the stories would not allow her picture to be taken.

The Bell Witch, got her name from the hauting of one Jonathan Bells tiny farm house and farm in the 1850's in the town of Adams Tennesee. It is written that on many nights she actually beat up Johnaton Bell, and left him bruised and bleeding, she would throw furniture around the house and torrment the dogs and cats, and after raucous nights she would flee to the Cave that she hauted from. It got so bad, and the stories of it grew to such an extent that one Andrew Jackson (prior to his Presidency) was issued an order to procede to the Bell Farm and investigate the occurences. Now it is also said that the Witch really only haunted the owner and seldom ever acted upon other men or women in the area. But on this occassion when Andrew Jackson arrives to proceed with his Investigation, that the said witch was in a rare and foul frame of mind and she created such a horrific wailing and torrmented the horses that drew Mr. Jacksons carriage so badly that Jackson quickly withdrew and retreated clear down to Nashville. The case was never investigated any further, nor was it ever decided if the Witch was real or not.

I rode on further east, what a great ride it was, the terrain was easy in this section, and the traffic rather light. The rain got heavy enough that I decided to tear apart my bag and dig out some rain gear. Once I had that on I carried on east, Stopping in Portland to get something cold to drink, and some Bagels. While in ther, I was literally accosted by 3 young checkers and a bagger.............where ya from..................where ya goin.............why...............how far........ how many States ya seen .....I tried to answer them all, but between signing autographs and answering I may have missed a few. Yes its true, the checker asked for my own autograph right after I had handed her my plastic card.............gosh, I felt so cotton pickin impotent.

I only have 53 miles in, it is quite wet, but decide I want a few more miles on the cranks before I quit riding. I pedal on another 7-8 miles and am looking for a church with a covered picnic area, just in case the rain decided to get real heavy tonight. That never showed up, but a good church building did turn up, and I camped on the lee-ward side of it to get out of the thin slanting rain that fell with a lot of wind.

Pitched my tent right up tight against the back wall of the Church, and then out on the blacktop, and on top of my old license plate that I carry, I built a very small BUM type of fire so I could cook my hot links and make some Cous-Cous for supper. Supper was good, although maybe a little wet sitting in the rain. I climbed into my tent, zipped it up tight, sdaid a few Prayers and rolled into my bag of sleep. It didn't take long for my eye-lids to give in and I was out I guess by 7:45.

Good Night and God Bless

Libraries visited 16, answer NO.

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I was sure that I was leaving on the morning when I awoke, at least it was my plan. But after a waffle and eggs breakfast, Chuck told me to hang around and work on the Blog if i would like. And he headed off to the bike shop to work for the day.

_ MY NEW CYCLING FRIENDS CHUCK WILKINS FORGROUND, AND GREG IN BACKGROUND

So, here I sit, in a not so strange strangers home, working on his laptop and doing up my blog. It is now about 6:45pm, and I have been after it since about 7:45 this morning. When today is over, I am completely caught up, and vow to get each day up as I ride.............come Hell or HIgh Water.

We are all going to supper tonight, my treat to Beth for putting up with a stranger in her basement. I say thanks to both of them, without folks like these these trip would have been very diffucult indeed. Our meetings in life are not by accident, they are by purpose. And from it we should savour each character that we meet, and apply the same caring hospitality to the next stranger that we inturn meet...................the second most important commandement.

Good Night and God Bless

- CHUCKS STEED OF CHOICE WOULD BE THE 3 WHEEL RECUMBENT WITHOUT ANY DOUBT, ADN THIS ONE CERTAINLY HAS EVEN JEREMIAH INTERESTED IN LEARNING MORE ABOUT THEM

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 1:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I have been trying to keep you posted on the travails of the bike as well as for myself. I have told you each time that we need things like tires and tubes etc. And itwas on this morning when I awoke to a NO-DEW greeting, somewhat like Gideon and the Fleece............that as I was packing I noticed 2 very large slices in my rear tire.

Now remeber the rear is the newest of teh tires and has only maybe 600 or so miles on it My front tire is original, and runnng very thin and was my inital concern. The chain, a Wipperman, is running about 400 mile spast its expected life.

So, to my way of thinking, considering jsut where I am headed in the very near future.............maybe a little bike work would be in order I ride the 15 mile ride into Ashland City, and get to the Library to try and do some work on the Blog. The same routine, the same concerns about placing pics on the web site.....blah.......blah......blah Okay, been there done that, I am outt'a here.

But back in I go with my hat in may hand, I need on the interenet to hunt for some bike shops. I make a few calls and find the Cycle Center up in Clarksville..............and Chuck on the otehr end assures me that he has the goods and skills to take care of me.

I go back in and get on the computer to find some back roads to get me the 30 or so miles to Clarksville. The roads are jsut great, very narrow and the country side is changing again, these are hollers around here............which are very deep and steep trough's thru the country side. And there are plenty of exposed Limestone Rock walls that actas fences to the many steep hill sides along the swift clear running streams that fill every valley floor. The colored fall foliage and terrain make it like riding thru a movie set or a psot card. I stop at the Excell BBQ joint to get a little something cold to drink..............and have a flat front tire to top it off. I get that fixed and head on into Clarksville and the fellows at the Cycle Shop.

As luck would have it, the fellow on the other end knows all about a long journey on a bike. Chuck, a retired Army Officer, has crossed America twice and wants to go again for a third. He has also done several cross Europe and cross Germany trips that he has organized with friends. SO, I get two brand new tires put on, also two new tubes and re wrap the bars since I had cut the bar tape failry badly in some of my falls etc. Then there is the issue of the badly worn brake pads, which I have replaced while I am at it. Then we move onto the chain and how much it has stretched and go ahead and repalce it while we have it in the shop................becasue they asure me that the really big hills are yet ahead of me in my travels.

All this time, Chuck is quizzing me on my trip, my bikes peformance and what i have seen,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,and are you enjoying it seems to be an underlying theme. It si yes to all, and the performance has been good to better for everything I have taken so far.Where are you staying tonight he asks me.? To which I told the truth, I am not really sure, I guess just get out of town far enough to throw down safely is all. Well says Chuck, why don't you come home with me and stay with my wife Beth and I, you can wash some clothes, take a a shower and eat a home cooked meal with us...........now how does that sound? Well I says, consider me there and with that he gives me a map to find his house and sends me on the way even before he gets there.

Beth, is Chucks wonderful wife, and she greets me like I am family ( bad smelling) but family. She shows me to a room in the basement where I can have privacy and a shower to myself. And that is when I realize I am the lair of a serious biker.............there are without doubt 10-12 bikes doen in the room, they take up the fllor, they hang on the walls and they fill all the corners...............folks, there are bikes. And says Beth, its really only Chuck that rides, i juast ride occassionaly for fun.....................HE RIDES.

Chuck is in love with the recumbents, and they make up the bulk of his velo-arsenal. He has evey style and type that has been made.

I shower up which by the way feels great after almost 8 days of no proper bathing, it was getting so bad even the flies where going avoiding me. I took liberty with the hot water offered, and the soap which actually removed dirt and I could wash it out of my hair for a change. Then I loaded a load of sweatty and grimy road clothes into the MAytag for a litle Tide MAgic.

Chuck arrived at home after shutting down the cycle shop at 6pm.We talked, and that is whe n it all becaem very clear just how much time Chuck had spent on the road ona a bike and in the ditch just as I am making his way in the usual biker fashion. It was intersting, and informative, to learn somethings from someone whom had made the same trip an many others in the same sort of circumstances.

Beth had fixed a grea tsupper of rice and chicken ina vegitable casserole type recipe, along with some buns of a german type and a salad. It all went down easy with plenty of time for visitng, and finding out what every one was made of. We had a great desert of Ice Cream and Strawberries and al turned in. LAst thig Chuck brought down his Wireless lap-top and told me help myself and I won't have to work froma Library.

I worked till 2:30am and finally had to tun in and get some sleep. But I have got to tell you about thesmoking barns as I have tried to phoyograph for you. The barns are full of the dark leaf type chewing tobacco, and the tabaccoe is hun on racks in the barn and then left to dry. But while it is curing, the growers also light smudge type fires on the floor of the barn and that emits a dense smoke up thru the hanging leaves of the tobaccoe above it. The growers do this smoking process for some 4 solid weeks during the early fall. I will take a big chaw just for my web followers and let ya all now how good raw plug tastes.........................well maybe not. I chewed heavy 2 cans a day for some 6-8 years so I don't really want to get started all over again. But I do admit, it all smells really great when you are standing in the door of the barn as I was.

Good NIght and God bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 1:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I had only maybe 15 miles to ride to arrive in the town of Dickson, and My intent was to work at the Library. I made it to Dickson by about9:30,as I had to wait for some of the fog to lift. The road was very busy, and I had camped in maybe my worst camp setting thus far on the trip. But, I rode on a little late and left myself no time to lookfor a good camp place. A night with very heqvy dew................and I got run by 3 dogs just gettig to Dickson.

I entered into the town Library, under the viel of a Prayer. Its not lie I hate Librarians, it is just that there is this general overpwoereing attiude that seems to stand in the way of actually doinf something versus jsut downloading music or spending your time looking at plain old stupid stuf on the internet. Not sure hoe else to say it folks, but that is what and where my frustration come from. Second to this, since I am getting my Library thing off my chest, is that for several yeqars we have been told that these small town Libraries NEED computer access to bring our RURAL children up to speed on the technology age.
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And that may well be the case, and the whole thought concept may be exactly what the doctor ordered....................but somebody needs to bring the sweet as home made pie little old grey hair Matron who over sees the Library UP TOO SPEED. There, I have my conscience cleared, now you know the source of my frustrations.

I am assigned a compyuter, and go directly to work on the photos for the blog since they take the most time for me to get ready. I get some place around 60 pics ready and tery to upload the pics to the blog and I get the warning from Hell. That by executive order this cannot be done, and to see staff for access to this area.

SO I wander out and get the TECHIE, and have her sit down and in one foul key stroke she erases every thing I had done for the last 2 plus hours. And all of that is following a brief conversation elling her that if she agrees with the screen prompt, that all of my work would be thus lost....................Uh huh, she says and clicks away.......................now lets go see if it stored.......................well, you know the rest of the story.

I decide its time to take my leave, and head for some groceries to make a sandwich out of. I pull all my stuff out and aly it in the sun to dry completely. Its great, the sun is warm, I eat and lay back to take a nap and let the sun do its magic on wet gear.

Yes, I leave just a little peeved. BUt, the ride north out of Dickson, and on towards the next small town Library is just beautiful. I am on avery small back woods road, very little traffic, huge rolling hills and great looking farms and forests. Its hard to stay upset, when the riding is this pretty. I head for the little town of Charlotte, some 15 mile north of Dickson. I find the Library firt, and ask about my downloading of pictures to the internet for my blog........and the last ladies sister..............just tells me NO. Fine I say, I just go and do my bike thing.

I ride the town square and it is a classic to be sure. I notice a fine arts Gallery at one end of the Sqaure that resides in the shade of the huge trees that line this fine example of what a town Square should look like. I head on in, to meet the artist as I walk through the door............he being H.R. Lovell.

And he is working on a acommision piece as I talk to him. He is noted as only the second artist in residence for the State of Tenneessee and his work is just superb. Are you a fine art student I ask, meaning a school Graduate. No he says, just have always loved to paint. They can teach how to paint in schol, but they can't teach PASSION, thats a apart of your inner most character............it just has to be there to make a good painter.

HR, is quite the histiorian, and he brings me up to speed on just howe important and note worthy this litle town of Charlotte is. Why heck, he says, that there Courthouse is the second oldest in the State of Tennesee. And this is the only town in America to be able to say that they have had 2 sitting Presidents reside inthe same town to practise Law. So, who would that be, realizing I was also being asked. Well, that would be James Polk and also Andrew Jackson..................matter of fact they both occupied the tiny offices ion that building over yonder with the green shutters.

NOt only nthat, but you notice there is a lot of things named "MOntogomery Bell: around this town. Montgomey, made Charlotte the largest steel producer west of the Alleganies back about 1790. As a fact he had over 300 wood fired furnaces working in this town alone, that helped produce enough cannon barrels and balls to have us win the War of 1812.

Without his methodical processing, and modern for there time Mills, many histirians feel that America would have run short on most items made of metal if it hadn't been for ol'Montgomery. Charlotte remained on the steel producing maps till well into 1860's when gradually ran out of ore and local wood to cut. And thus came the slow demise of this once fair town.

I rode on into a beautiful evening of golden light on turning fall foliage, the winding roqds like a soother to a day frustration. I had spent over 3 hours of the day trying to get my blog thi ng caught up, had only made some 35 miles of actual ridiing in doing so. I was starting to thin k that I may not make it home for the first spring flowers. I rode in to a great camp sight out behind a small country church and had a very meagure supper..........just not hungry tonight.

LOve ya Mom, and KIDS
GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD BLESS

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

-MY LITTLE CHURCH IN A GROVE, AND THANKS TO THE FOLKS WHO MAKE IT SO FRIENDLY

Not all days are created equal, and the Lord set that in motion some 2500 hundred years ago. Its a SUnday, October the 1st, and I have been oin the cranks since August the 14th. Yes, there are many folks who could ahve ridden the same ride twice over , of that I am sure. But goal, thanks to my brothers advice was never to ride iot as fast as I could................but to ride and see what I could and savor the memory of it.

It was avery foggy morn, and I was maybe ten miles out from Paris Tenn. I knew that I would have to ride past Paris and onto a smaller town to attend Chruch this day. ANd I had In my mind one of those picturesque little Chirches in the woods to do it. I rode thru Paris, to the east side and had to pull off the road to allow a pending Police Chase go by. I pulled over into a gas station, and had a cup of coffee and a few cookies.

I had a chance to Visit with a great fellow Len, if I remenber correctly. Len and I visitied about the trip, and I mentioned looking for that country Church down the road................he assured me he didn't really know of any headed east and that I should attend Church with him. Well, it all sounded fine, but it was only 8:45 and even Pastor Mike knows that Jeremiah seldom arrives early. SO I was bound and determined to get in a few more miles and also look for a Church that matched my vision.

I thanked Len, and headed further east. The time for Church had come, I was 12 mile sfurther east, and I told the Lord he had better throw a Church down in front of me soon or I would miss it. The sign, no more than 2 foot square looked neon for some reason..............New Hope Baptist Church...............1/4 mile. Now I had worked upo afair sweat in gettin g there, it was a warm morning here in Tennesee, and a bath would be in order but out of the question. I rode down the hill to the Church, to find just the prettiesdt little steepled Church set in amongst a grove of gorgeous trees................halle-lu-yah Lord, and Prasie ya.

Without undressing, and as best I could I washed of out in the parking lot and wiped of with my jersey........entered into the Church just as they finished the first song and a orning Prayer to then break into a short Bible Study. I was of course greeted and then invired to join............I apologised for the dress and maybe the sweaty smell, but nobody seemd to really mind................but then again no buddy hugged me as a greeting iether?

The service was a good one Pastor Larry Paschall gave a good service and closing Prayer. I asked that he Pray for my trip directly, and safety for the remainder of it. I aksed that he Pray that all dogs have false teeth that would fall out when they barked.................he suggested that may be a little over board. I had a great visit with the folks whommake up this tiny congragation, and each wished me well, and each was interested in knowing my age and if I was retired tobe able to do this sort of thing. I assured them, I was 28 , fully retired, and that i had the worlds best wife..........and I mean it Colleen. At the end of it all, one of the ladies of the group asked if I would wait at the Church for a maoment so she could make me a sack lunch. She made it, I waited and Mame, it was the finest meal I have had to date..............many thanks as I sat eating it as I sat in Camden a little further on down the road. Thanks to all, but especially Larry and Horace of the New HOpe greeting commitee.

I rode on to Camden, and this is a town that really shows the short sightedness of a few "decision makers" in years past when you arrive in the downtown square. Camden like many of these towns is build around the town square, and atop a hill. Camden has all of that, with a bevy of buildings that date back into the later 1900's to add charm to a town square. But some place along the line, Camden lost the imposing edifice of every town square and that si the Courthouse of City Offices. I guess due to fire or something there's was gone, and what was put into its place was a low squat 2 story edition of palinold ugly and bad architecture...........clearly the fellow who done this building design had no more imagination than a pre schooler.

The buiding, even though it sat on the highest point, was lower than all the older surrounding buildings...............it really looked odd. ANd then to top of the squatter look, they hard a garden plan from "hobbit-ville" using only small shrubs and low trees.....................the gun slit style windows of this NEW EDIFICE over looking the lower roof lines of surrounding buildings just made the whole town sqaure look ridiculous. Sorry folks, but who ever got paid off to accept a bid like that on a buidling that ugly......must have moved to the Bahama's.

I pulled a part my trailer, and unloaded my clothes so I could do some wash as I sat and ate my bag lunch. I was interrupted by first one, then three total young fellas that just loved my bike. Ford, the youngest and boldest amongst the group, wanted to kow everything about me, my age, my trip, my home, my kids, how old are they, what was my boys name, was he strong, and was my daughter pretty etc. I told him all he wanted to know. Where does they go to school, he asked me.............just like that. Well I said, they are home schooled.............and up unitl now the only boy whom had not said a word was the buggest kid with the red hair known as Shawn Murphy. Woooow Dude, I would love to be home schooled dude, said Shawn.

BIKERS RULE AND BOARDERS DROOL

Well why is that I ask, somewhat surprised by his vocal out burst after nearly 20 minutes of silence. Ah Dude, says Shawn, I have good friend thats home schooled and he only has school on Wednesday Mornings.............thats it. Well, I did get a good chuckle out of this little news flash, and we talked about it for a bit. I assured him that my kids often had a little homework to finsih up on Thursady morning before they were done for the week. This seemd to Satisfy Shawn Murphy, that maybe there was a little equity in the homeschool regime and he didn't have it so bad afer all.

Laundry is done, and I mount up and head east to Waverly. The bike hit 96 today, and a little Gator Aid is in order........and maybe a little Ice-Cream also. The hills are getting MUCH bigger, and I can no longer struggle over the top in my lowest gear on the big ring up front. I am making use of my middle chain ring on every hill I hit. I set up a camp just few mile s past McEwen, and dine on very simple noodles. It was a65.7 mile day and the sky is very clear, and the evening warm............I am a little more tired than usual. At first I think,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,pregnant.................then decide that NO its probably the hills .........that seems to make more sense to me.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 11:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I slept like a log, and didnt even stir till 7:45. I rolled camp, and was thankfull that the dew was gone, and my cam was realtivly dry on this day. The sky was a leaden grey, and it seemed overly warm for this time of year and day. Maybe it spelled rain, who really knows. I was as it turned out , not more than 6 mile s from the ferry crossing at Hickman............and I was run by two Malamutes in order to get there on time. For $2.00, I ride across the river and land on the banks...........in a brand new State................the State of Kentucky.

I ride the couple of miles into the first town of Hickman, and stop at Memaw's Cafe for some toast and coffee.I visit with folks about the roads I will use and get an idea of the traffic. I notice as soon as I hit Kentuck, that is differnt, its very hilly right to the banks and covered up in trees an
d .............."CudZoo".

A vine that covers everything, and some thing that I will talk more about a little later on. I have to ride back down into Tennessee to get back onto my proper route and my next stop is Union City. This is anothe town in which directions out seemd too lead everywhere but out of town, I felt like a circling goose trying to find that obscure little road that would be my path east with the least traffic. After what seeme like too many miles, I was on it and headed for MArtin, then on east to Dresdan.


As luck would have it, I rode right into town and right to the locati
on of a customer of our sfor the JWP product line that we make. I know that I surpirsed the fellow, and I came bearing good news for him about a opendig order that he was waiting for. The visit was a good one, but Ineed some more miles before the day was done, and so I took my leave from the Fairview Saddle Shop of Dresdan Tennesee and it wonderful owner.

Tenneessee is covered up with hills, and they are getting steeper as I ride to the east. SO, if you in search of easy pedaling, then maybe try Canvas or maybe North Dakota.............but not here. The rollinf country is heavliy wooded and the streams are clear and fast moving. The Cud-ZOO,hangs like a viel from every thing that is above the ground, and like a carpet on every area of flat ground.........................and in its wake it leaves death and destruction of ALL that it lays upon. It starts as a vine from the ground, brought over here years ago to help control errosion I am told.

It will grow more than 1 foot per day,and will climb a glass wall, nothing stops it. It hangs out on phone lines, power poles and trees, and in short order leaves the trees as dead, and then the vine also dies as a result. To me, not knowing much about it, nor of any eradication plans that may be put in place............it looks like the death-nell for our temperate hardwood forests here in USA. I will try to learn more as I go.

I ride to alittle place called Como,and build camp. I am quite excited about camp tonight, becasue I have apackage of 6 wieners to cook. A little break from things that sliter and look like noodles. I had found an old license plate while riding, and i use this to light a very small fire on. The 6 hotdogs without any buns nor bagels go down like steak after all the noodles....................yes, I know. I thought I had a few bagels left, but alas, I had none.

It was only a two dog day, and 55 mile closer to hugging my kids neck whenthe ride is over. I admit that I am at that point where I know I am nearing the last leg and look forward to reuniting with my family. Its not any form of regret in making the ride, nor any wish that it could just end and I am at home. The trip is still fun and adventourous, but I do find my self thinking more and more of my kids and wife as I ride. SOmetimes to the point of being sort of pre-occupied with it, and I have to literally stop and get my mind on the real matters of the day........like the traffic frombehind and the proper roads.

- SOMEDAY A ASIGN SHALL READ- HOME LESS BUM COOKED HOT DOGS ON THIS SITE IN 2006
Good NIght and God Bless

THIS IS A BIRDEYE VIEW OF WHAT YOUR HUSBAND LOOKS LIKE AFTER A TWO BOTTLE BATH AND CANNOT GET THE SOAP WASHED OUT OF HIS HAIR.............ITS THE PORKY-PINE LOOK.........hope i'am still the apple of yer eye.

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

The dew is amazingly heavy as I rool out of my nights retreat, the camp is soaked like I had just finished the car wash routine all over again. Its 6 am, and a light fog is down against the ground. The temp is a cool 41 degrees, and it looks to be a sunny day once the fog lifts off.

I don't dare get out on the road with the fog and all, so I go over and get somne coffee. i visit with a few fellas who are out to harvest Rice that day, and they tell me of a few roads that will be covered up in water, and few that are clear sailing. A couple of cups of coffee later, and the fog has lifted enough toallow me departure fromthe little berg known as Naylor.

This turned out to be the worst dog day that I had so far, and I am not sure if I would have made it at all if it had not been for it being fairly flat country. I had a total of 18 dogs give me a run and some looked like they could really do some harm if they caught up to you. I think that the super sprinters like Robbie McEwen and Ale-Jet Pettachi must use this dog process to train there powerful sprinting legs. But the worst of all the dog incidents on this day would come right in the middle, as I rode an extreme back road headed towards Malden. As I rode I could see quite a large group of dogs on the left side of the road...........and as I got closer I counted 9 dogs total. It looked like "Mongrel Run",dogs of every size and age and not to mentin no clearly visible bloodline..............just dogs.

It all seemed that I would pass without problems, untiloff to my far right I caught sight of one lone white dog that looked like a white Irish Setter, and he was making a bee line for a small road out in front of me some 200 yards. The dog was soaked inwater as he ran through the edges of the deep Rice field, and I was putting on the gas trying to get past all of the cainine critters before he crossed the road to his buddies. We raced neck and neck, but in the end he crossed just a breath in front of me, and I had to hit the brakes jsut ever so slightly to miss a collision.

At this point I have a total of 10 dogs in one pack on my left side, I am on anarrow rough but paved road, and I am right up alongside of the house from which I think all of these dogs originate............and I can clealry see a lady sitting in an old chair out on the front stoop. The last dog, the white dog that crossed in front of me gave a sharp yelp when he scootched past my front tire, as if he had been hit with a hot branding iron. Of course he hadn't.

RICE HARVEST IS UNDER WAY FOR ALL, BUT THIS HARVESTOR IS BROKE DOWN

He took a look at me and it was if he had finally figured out what I was ........."Lunch on a Titanium Skewer", he groweled deep and bared his teeth and gave chase.............and as soon as he done this why thena ll his cohorts done the same..............some with the zeal of one hungry and other s gave chase like it was a game. I in the meantime put legs to the cranks like my life and not too mention legs counted on it............which they did. All the time that this was taking place, as you know it all rolls together into mere seconds as it transpires..........was wondering when the women out on the front porch would play into this scene. I finally did out run all of that pack, but only just in front of the snapping teeth of the white dog from hell.........and I can't say that I ever heard anything from the women who sat and watched.

COTTON FIELDS ABOUND IN THE SHORE REGION OF THE MISSISSIPPI

I rode into Malden, quite tired and very glad to be away from the dogs, but I was not done for the day with riding nor sprinting nor dogs. I stopped at Little JOhnnies Road side BBQ, I bought a cup of coffee and a doughnut. It was while I was here, that a very elderly fellow, neqar 80's, stopped and talked to me about the bike and trip etc. I relate to him the incedent of the dogs, and he says to me......"ya wanna see somne dogs"...............and he pulls his pant leg up to show me a very fresh and very alerge patch of tore up hide on his leg. Walden, thats his name, used to ride a bike to try and stay in better shape, that was up intil about a month ago.............he was drug completely off his bike by a pit bull dog. And this was a dog not so very far from his house, and a neighbour to boot.

SO Walden says to me, that after I got out the Hospital I told a rice hauling friend of mine about it all................and it weren't more than a week later that my friend stopped by and told me to go back to riding, the dog ahd been taken care of. That same dog was now 2" thick, and his dorsal strip had been replaced by a set of dually tracks for its entire length.

While I was at this stop, I met a trucker who informed me that the ferry I had intended to use to cross the Miss, had been clsoed down. SO I spent a good couple of hours sorting all of that out. My wife made few calls, and in the meantime, I rode on towards the town of New Madrid, to which I made good time. From Malden on east and right up to the levees that surround the river itself, it is all cotton growing country. And any place without cotton, has "yellabeens"onit. They say it so fast down here, that it sounds like one word and not two.............and there is no "W" in the word YELLA. In New Madrid, I get many different directions as to how to find the levee road that is marked as WW, and I think that i ride maybe 10 extra miles in finding my eventual way to it. In doing so I pass a Historical Home Site, made famous during the Civil War. it is known as the hUnter Dawson Home. The tours are shut down by the time that i came by, so I had to just take pics from the outside.

I head out on the WW road, and find it is very slow going, with bad road surface and huge potholes. The road degraded severly the further that I rode. Bt about this time, I also know that I need to find camp a litle early so I can let my tent and bag of sleep dry out some. I made very good time all thing s considered, I made 91.8 mile s that day, and was pulled over to camp by 5PM.

I knew that i could have made my final Ferry Crossing that niht by ^, but I also knew I would have a very wet camp in the dark on the Kentucky side of the river. SO, I opted to camp just shy of the crossing by maybe 5 miles, camp in relative seclussion and let thig s dry. It turned out to be the best choice, the sky is clearing, but the wind is warm anough to do some drying. Camp is rolled out, the tent is laid out to dry, the bag is unzipped and laid in a nearby fallen Oak, and my camp mat laid out as well. Any clothes that were wet lay spread on tree limbs etc. It truly looked like a group of Gypsies had moved in on the banks of the Mississippi.

I built a fire, since there was planty of wood available with the fallen tree. The fire felt good to sit by, as I waited fro the pending darkness, and the supper that i had cooked up. think that the Earl Grey Tea, tasted its best on that night, with the cool breaze that came on with the setting sun. Overall, I was not very impressed with the whole bootheel expeirience of Missouri, it smelled bad, and was to flat for me...................don't get me wrong, the folks was nice..........its the country side.

The sun is down now for several hours, and from off to my right I can hear the constant drone of very slow loving river barges as they traverse frieght on through the night. Every once in a while the stillness of the night sky is broken by the sound of a sreech owl from the trees that offer it santuary just over yonder................and when I hear it's call I half expect Huck Finn or maybe his nemisis Indian Joe to step out of the curtain of darkness and into the light of my camp fire. The night passes by without incident, and I Pray that for all of you it does the same.

Good Night and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 9:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wow, what a night it turned out to be. There was so much thunder that I hadn't even heard the 8-10" dia tree fall just 20 feet from my little abode upon the wooded banks of Clear River. I am even mre thankful as I take in the situation beyond just my tent area, there is plenty of new washes down to the river and many large branches down as well.

It makes the totally soaked sleeping bag and 2" of water that seem to be able to stand at the lower end of my tent seem completely uniportant in hind sigh. A little advice that I can impart to you whom may choose to adventure out on such a adventure as this. I had placed my tent on a fair slope of a bank, and my head was at the lower end of the slope. All night long I kept sliding/slipping towards the watery end of my tent, so my bag got wettest at the head end and just chilled more as the night wore on. And my head was so congested from being at the lowest end all night that I could hardly function in the morning it seemed.............just extra groggy would be the best description.

I packed up my water soaked camp, with the understanding that I would let thigs dry later in the afternoon if the sun come out. It was my sleeping bag that worried me the most. In the meantim it was time to make my way form down on the river bank back up to the highway above me................which as it turne dout was the larger portion of the pain for the night. What had been very hard roads and trails just the night before, where now mirey red clay glue lines. This part of the State at least has a red clay soil, add water in the smallest quantities and you can glue down the groundseat in a saddle.................back home in Manitoba Canada we would have called it "gumbo".

I had a good 5-600 yards to make it from my tent location back to the hard paved road, and the last 200 yards would be up a very steep sloped bank..................it was just a grunt and shove route to the pavement. I was never really sure if it would ahve been better to just unhook the trailer and make it in two trips or suffer thru with one hard trip. In any case by the time I got to the top in one long trip, my feet where 6" inches larger and so were my tires and the traileer tires etc. Matter of fact non of my wheels would even roll by the time I topped out at the road. And I was faced witha good mile ride back into town to boot. So, I done the best I could, using a stick to scrap off all the mud I could, then I started in with the water bottles that i had and washed the chain etc................but this mud is so sticky, it didn't come off very easy at all. Once I done all I could with sticks and what water I had, I decided to just ride and see how much would fall off as I went.

I rode the mostly downhill or level ride into Doniphan, and by good fortune rode into town at the same place that there was a car wash.............now how opportune I thought.............thankyou Lord for the good idea that I just had!! I completely took every thing apart and mostly undressed and began washing every thing that was now covered in mud............everything. Since I was already soaked from the nights gail, it didn't bother me to get my shoes wet a little more. I spent a good hour at the washer, the mud ws very tough to get out of the chain, and out from between the gears etc and derailuers. But after a lot of washing I was finally clean...........now to dry things. The sun was coming up of course, as has been its habit since the third day of creation, and I laid my tent and such out to catch a slight breeze and some sun. I had my first vistor for the day, a fellow whom had been an Army Ranger Special Forces in Vietnam, and he had watched the most washing process and wanted to know where I had spent the night to get so muddy, so I explained it all to him. He thought it quite a humourous way to start the day. He informed me that he had got over 3 inches of rain through the night, while other areas had gotten as high as 3.5 inches. We had a good visit, and I packed up my stuff and headed to theLibrabry for the opening at 9am.

Before it openend, I helped the gals who run it, unload some books that had been donated and just doinf that I think put me in good stead with the staff. This was different group of gals though, much more inclined to help and try to figure out a way to get each person taken care of. SO maybe it was the small town mentality that came into play, not sure. I really think that it came down to the great attitude of the lady whom was in charge of it all, I want to say a special thanks to her. Without her help, I would be many days behind yet.

I met one young fella inparticular whom seemmed quite interested in my trip and especially my bike. Lj, and I visited more than most of the kids at the Library. I worked on the blog steady until about 4pm, and decided that I had better hit the road. My darling wife had suggested I get Motel room for the night and let things dry out, but I wanted to get some miles in. The sky did have a dark cast to it over Doniphan, but as I rode to the east and out towards what is known as the bootheel of Missouri it cleared. There is a place where you ride off of the escarpemnt that all of western Missouri resides upon, and you hit the flats of the bootheel, and this point is quitenoticeable. From clear creeks and thick trees, you ride out into the flats that drain into the mighty Mississippi and all of that slow moving MUD!

MY YOUNG FRIEND LJ,
One thing that is really noticeable is the palpable smel of decay, it is made up of rotting vegetal matter and the occasional Coon, Muskrat and Possum for good measure...............but it is ever present as a reminder that things are different here......................they are water logged and you can see it. Each tire track, ech footprint is filled with water. I stop in a little town called Naylor. And ride around looking for some HIGH place to set my tent and let it dry just alittle before eveneing sets in for good. I finally find a little place near the southern edge of a 300 person town and set camp up and let what drying I can get begin with the setti ng of the sun.
Supper is very simple tonight, I had made an extra sandwich that day, and so I had the same for supper along with some water. Right across the street from where I had camped, there was a quick stop type gas station and groceries............so I ambled over to have some coffe at about 8pm. Ther was a group of farmers doing the same so I sat amongst them and had a visit. I found out that they had 4inches of rain that night, and a total of 13" of rain during one night last week..............thus the water logged look the country had taken on when I arrived. These folks raise alot of Rice, and the harvesting of Rice was being hampered by the excess water. It was during the visit, that i had recounted to me the funniest cycling storythat have ever heard. It seems that one day about a month before my arrival, one of the farmers in the group had just pulled up to the highway from one of the side roads and when he looked left he noticed the arms of a man as they flailed in the air............and then it all came into view. It was man riding a "UNI-CYCLE". The rider stopped to talk to this waiting farmer, and the cyclist was wanting to find gravel roads that would take him on west to Doniphan. His cycle was equipped witha solitary pole that extended north over the riders head, and onto that was tied all his worldly goods, a tent and a bag of sleep, also wtarer bottles etc. To hear that farmer describe it was really funny , and after the visit about roads the cyclist kicked off on his trip further east in that hurty gurty fashion that a single wheeler has.............and the farmer in his 60,s stood amongst us all and done his best impression of what it looked like to watch the rider as he left. He truly missed his calling as a Thespian, and may also have made a great mime artist. The cyclist had ridden from the furthest end of the Smokies in Tennessee and was moving evything that he owned in one trip.............to some place in Kansans wher it wasn't so crowded.

THE FLATTER PORTION OF MISSOURI, OUT INTO THE BOOT HEEL DUE SOUTH

Great stories, and a little information oin what the bootheel had to offer for the next day. I had been chased by 6 dogs on this day and a short ride it was from Doniphan. I was warned that many roads would be closed due to flooding so be sure I checked with locals before I headed doen them.
Man that sleeping bag feels cool whenI get in............sure miss my wife tonight.

Good NIght and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 8:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I am finding it very difficult to deal with the blog and Library thing,and there are times when i think that I should jsut quit and get on riding. I barely get time to get my blog pages done up,and seldom have any time to read the commentsthat you folks take time to sendme. For that I do apologize, and only wish that time allowed me to read and respond to each, but I am so slow at typing etcthat time does not allow it. My wife assures me the posts are favorable, and that folks are enjoying it..............so i shall press on as my good friend RANDY so often says.
Don't give up on me, and I will read all of them when I am done with this trip.
Please remember there is a NAtional Pie Tasting to bedone when I get home and also the bike pants are now up for graps between several folks my darling wife tells me.

Boy howdy is it late, and I am sitting in a strangers basement doing this and I feel somewhat strage doing it, but I have come to realize there is that same unwritten code amongst bikers as there is amongst the grub-line cowboy crew. No questions asked, there will always be a bed and a meal for any hat that shows up at the door.
GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS

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

It is 52 degrees and a very wet dew shrouds every thing that I own. I pack up, thinking that I will dry things out later on, becasue I am headed to the Doniphan Library to work on the blog. It is so easy to get behind on the blog, because of the Library situation

Its a quick 27 mile pedal thru the hills of "Mizourah", correct pronuniciation there for the folks from "forren" contries. While I am engaged in the ardous task of climbing yet another hjill on my journey to the berg of Doniphan, and bunk bed logging truck passes me and gives me a honk. He tops out the hill, and turns off the highway and onto a gravel side road..........so sharp is the bend that he has to back up twice and then go ahead to finally negotiate the bend. By that time I am once again coming up beside him, he leans out the window and hollers at me............Hey buddy, how ya like the country? Well, that seems like a good a reason as ever to stop and take a drink and get in a visit.

The fellows name is Buster Hancock, he served in Korea, and wanted to know right off if I had served. I told him no I had not, and that I came to USA from Canada. My ears is bad son, ya better speak up a little, says Buster. That danged ol VA, it don;t do a thing except take care of the folks who work in the office he says. I ain't been hearing good since I came home from Korea, I's in the Artillery over yonder says Buster. I know real well, that's where my hearing went to heck, but they want me to bring em proof......................so what the heck am I to do..........set a Howitzer off in her Office. Bring proof, sometimes I wonder if these folks know just how silly they sound when they come up with the rules.

So what do you haul with the truck I ask Buster, I recognise it as a wood hauler but what sort. Well, I haul amost anything, but I try to stick with private lot hardwood, cause it pays the best. You see all that clear cut come up this way from West Plains? Yes I tell him that I did, but not sure I understand the reason behind it all. Well it's simple says Buster, some is rich folks that want a view..........so they bulldoze it off an burn it. The other is folks who have bought into the latest Gov program to clear all the hardwood for fast mature Pine trees. SO, what do you think of that BUster, I ask him. Well shoot, it's crazy, for one it chages our creeks and the I think it will deplete this thin soil over time. This has not been a Pine growing area, ever, and all the leaves and decay that go on with the hardwoods has kep the hills in good shape..............God is no fool, he knows what to grow here.


But the worst part of all is the Gov and there poisoning of mature trees. Well now I have heard of that BUster few dasy ago, but I don't understand the logic of it. Oh, it simple enough says Buster. Having a logger go in and selectively cut out the mature would leave the State forests looking less pristine, so they send forestry students out with "PuntPoles., loaded with poison. They simply stab the trunk in 4-5 places and it injects a small seed that over time takes its effectr on the tree. The tree just dies away from the outer branches down to the trunk, and no logger will ever get to put his saw into the tree and no marks will be made on the soil............and no local will be able to earn any money from the cutting of age select trees...................and this area will be poor forever.

_HEY DARREN MY YOUNG FRIEND, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, I MADE IT HERE !

Buster never mentioned any political party, nor an affection nor affiliation for one..............he simply seen it as a waste of good renewable resources in and area that could use a little financial up lift. Its pretty simple folks, and I do not pretend to know enough about the workings of any States Forestry to know who is telling the whole truth here. I am simply relating to you what folks whom live her think is going on.

I arrived in Doniphan about 1pm. Doniphan is build on a hill side and all roads seem to lead UP to the towns center. Had to pick up my photo card from a special delivery to the Post Office, that way I could get my photo portion caught back up. The bigger problem, was that of 13 computers located at the Library, only one ahd any ability to handle a photo at all. I had to wait my chance to get on that Computer. I have to say the Librarians here were good to woirk with, and got me onto a computer as soon as I could. I got 1 hour of quality time and at 5:15 I headed out of Library.

The sky was very ominous looking, and I make a quick ride down the hill to check out the RV park..............$22.50 to stay and have a bath. Then onto the Motel and found out it was $39.95 and I could bath twice or three times if I wanted......but still too much. SO I got a few grioceries and skipped out of town to the west, back unde5 a bridge that I had crossed in arriving into town that afternoon. My thought was to just pitch camp under the actual bridge, but upon looking I could see that when I rained it washed out under the bridge very heavliy..........................BOOM.........................BOOM and a crack of lightinig fill the sky.

I conclude that this storm is not going to stand around and wait for me to have a debate on where to pitch camp. SO I head out from the protection of the bridge, and head up the bank of Current River a ways, under some heavy old oaks that line the bank. I find aspot with ample slope to allow good drainage..........................BOOM..................and I unload the trailer.........................BOOM and resounding ear splitting crack.............................I dig out the tent that is still soaked from last night. I chuck the little poles into thier slots, and pull the back pegs down tight, then move around...........................BOOM and a huge flash of white light fill the darkend sky about me. The wind is just ripping thru the tree tops, and BOOM goes the thunder once again.

I don't even have the front pegs in place and the rain comes in buckets. I quickly pound/push the remaining pegs into the ground and just throw my stuff into the little one man tent that I have called home fore too many days now. I wrap up what ever else is left out side the tent in my yellow waterproof sack and bail into my tent. I drag in sand and mud just becasue of the hurried entrance. The tent is so low, you need to be a Yoga instructor to get your muddy shoes off with out spreading mud every where else including the walls. I am in, now to get the bed down and something to eat......................oh yeah, eat.............dang what am I going to eat? The bed is down, and I am laying in about 2 inches of water at the head end of the tent. I am knoshing on Cherry Licorice Twists for supper and the thunder is rattling the screens in my tent. The rain seems to be coming in pails full not drops, so I Pray not for a dry night, cause I ani't that stupid, I am already quite wet and know I will be getting wetter. I simply Pray for the folks back home, I Pray for my Mom who is in the Hospital back in Canada, I Pray for the volunteers at Awana's back in Coalinga, and I Pray for all those folks who do not as of yet know Jesus................because I know that in the morning I will be wet but alive, and if not I know where I will be gone too. Do you?

Good Night and Good Bless..........................BOOM, CRACK....................BOOM goes the night.

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

6:15 and I am up, ready to hit the road into West Plains. Its not very far into town, maybe 15-20 miles and it doesn't take me long to get there. I ride right doentown, and take in the ususal town sqaure. I stop at a coffe shop and buy some JOe. It turns out that owner of this shop is also from California, and he moved here some 6 years ago. He retired out of California, under a messy divorce scenario, and arrived with nothing. Today hje has the coffee shop and a great wife.........none of which would have been possible in Califonia he says.

The coffee is good and more folks are coming in. I get to visit with a medically retired truck driver who has now turned Photographer. The area has treated him well also. Good strong ag community they tell me, the best type, casue folks care for one anotehr.
Then the town square bike shop owner shows up drawn by my restless stead which is parked right outfront against the curb of the Coffee Shop. Mike, has had the bike shop now for 3 years, and it just keeps getting busier as he goes. The most of the bikes are youth mountain bikes, but slowly the road thing is catching on he says.

Headed into downtown West Plains, to work on the blog at the Library. I got most of one section done and then got kicked off. SO, I was alittle ticked at the whole process and decided I would do it at another town someplace else. Rode on east on a very narrow road #160. Plenty of hills here to test the old legs and the hills are very sharp. So sharpo that long cars get stuck at both ends in the bottoms and high centerd in the middle at the tops. Thats a little over board, but I want you to know they are very pointy topped around these parts, they didn't knock so much as 1 foot of the top of the hill in building these roads.

I can hear a bussing noise from down in the trees, and it seems like maybe the sound of a saw mill. SO I park my bike and walk the short way doen over the hill and can then see the ruff hewn buildings that make up this back woods saw-mill. I am walking rather carefully, half expecting a pack of dogs to come a running form some covert hiding place......................I am safe as it runs out.

I walk close to the sawyers end of the cutting operation, and give the sawyer internationally recognized handsignals that let him know I am just an ignorant tourist with a camera....................he mouths something that must have been french. I find a safe place and commence shooting the various ends and operations at this 3 man sawmill.

They are cutting Oak, and its not real large stuff. Finally the operator shuts the mill down, and walks over my way. HIs name if Glen, and he is a bear for stout sort of fellow, the sort of thisckness that comes from all day hard work, a smile breaks over his face with ease and I feel somewhat assured that my pic's are okay with him. We visit, about me for awile and my ride, the wheres and whyfore's of it. Then I get Glenn started on the sawmill business, and the forests around these parts. He mentions the clear cutters and that mind set, it is very evident in the West Plains area. A vast majority of it is simply bulldozed and no one is given time nor permission to log it. They just puch it in a pile and burn it in the late fall says Glen. But the real shame is what our State Forestry Service is doing with trees, they refuse commercial loggers unless they will clear cut areas and go back in with a replant of Pine. Thats foolishness says Glen, becasue this area can produce some beautiful hardwoods if managed correctly. BUt once the Gov has ita mind made up, there ain't notyhing going to chan ge it.................and surely not common sense. ANd when it comes to State owned patches of timber, they would sooner poison it that have it logged. Now come on Glen I says, you mean they will kill off mature trees rather than go in and allow them to be harvested? Absolutely.

I rode on feeling somewhot more compatible with what Sam had been trying to tell me just the day before, only he was choosing to blame it all on one adminsitration at one time, and according to Glen at least this has been going on for sereral sessions for sure.
The bike hit 94 degrees on this day and I stop in the town of Alton for some Gator and an Ice Cream bar. From there I rode on out into an area that is know for its twisting roads and wilderness. It delivered both, and was a beautiful ride. I passed over 11 Point creek, and was thinking of camping on the banks, but it was a mosquito heaven. Once I figured that out, I headed a little further down the road..................I should say up the road, becasue the east side is all hill. It is about a 3 mile climb up from the shores of the blue strip of heaven amongst the hardwoods. And once I topped out, I took the first flat spot I could find and set camp up on that.

Good camp, good supper, and a great sunset to lull you to sleep.

Good NIght and God Bless

A GOOD BEFORE SHOT OF JEREMIAH

AND A GOOD AFTER SHOT OF JEREMIAH

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:47 AM | Permalink

I am now some 70 miles south of Springfield Missouri, and headed south by southeast and about to make a sharp turn to the left onto a new road and out towards the boot heel of the State. Its a cool brezzy morning when I roll up my camp here at the little Fairview Country Church. The distance is all sorta smokey looking with the dew rising off of the countryside. The road is gorgeous this morning, with its winding path lined in trees slowly getting ready to turn color.

I have no water on the bike as I ride east, but not real worried, I know that something will come up along this route. I round the bend and come to a juction in the road for me, right at the lone building which as it turns out is a Post Office. Well great I think, I have stuff to mail, and I will ask for water at the same time. Turns out that brother Mo, short for Maurice is the postmaster of Reuter's Missouri. Mo, a retired employee of McDonalds up in Illinois, moved down here into the upper Ozarks to enjoy the pretty country with his wife. MO is aserious Christian fellow, and we share a few stories and then Mo Prays with me for a safe journey.

Now, I will briefly mention here that these folks own dogs............most houses have 4 humans and 8 dogs of all sizes and types. SO I am finding out what a Canine Sprint looks like..................yes, thats me that is getting the constant practise at working my sprinting legs.

Its warming up on the bike, and I am looking for a place to take my long sleeve jersey off when I spot a sale barn. This country has a lot of cattle in it, and I stop to take awalk thru the sale barn and see if we can gte in a visit with any cattle rasiers. I didn't even got the bike parked and had a first visitor, he as it turns out is a Pharmasist, who runs about 150 head of cows ion his 200 acre outfit down in Arkansas to the south of here.

Yes sir, this country if taken care of can handle about a cow/calf per 1.5 acres in a lot of the area and some of the poorer country may take up to 2.25 acres per cow/calf pair. And he informs me that almost everyone hasa few cows, maybe 8 or so on there acreage just to keep the grass down and make a few bucks on the side. I walked the sale barn area, and looked at some fine looking calves. NIOt that I am a judge of cattle mind you, but I can tell when cattle are in good flesh at least.

Stopped a little further down the road, and took in aJunk Store, and done a little more of m,y Christmas shopping here. Still have one person, who has proven to be very hard to shop for. No fault of there own, its just that the things of interest to them are not turning up in junk stores. Rode a tlittle further on down the road, and took a turn into the BIG STORE.

This is an old store located at a busy for this area junction in the road, they sell new and old stuff so I have to take a look. While I am getting my bike parked, two elderly fellas stop and start a conversation with me.........................how far ya ride that thing asks Sam? Well I tell him today just from west of Rueter, but I have rode it all the way from California I tell him. "Shoot if that don't beat all says Wilfred, his cohort and driver, you rode all the way from California, why? Thats a hard one to answer I have found, becasue many folks are looking for a deep and meaningfull reason................and becasue I wanted too hardly sufficces. I told him that it was a goal and no special reason was the impetus for deciding to make a ride like this. Well how far ya going says Sam, the fellow with the cane and needing a driver friend like Wilfred. Well I says, I would like to make it to the east coast if possible, but we shall wait and see what the Lord serves up.

So what do you think of this here country asks Wilfred? I tell him the truth, always the best and safest place to start. Looks like alot of trees and no logging, that puzzles me, and I dont se......................... Hell says Sam, its those damn Republicans, they got these woods so screwed up, we should run'em all out on a rail. Well Sam, I says, help me out but why is it just a Republican problem, I do not know much about your States past administrations so tell me the hows and whys. SO I got a sort of one sided appraisal, of what Sam thought the Republicans had done wronf with forestry management since Noah first anchored his boat here sometiem back. I was convinced that Wilfred may have a different opinion judging by the subtle smile on his face. I am trying to remain neutral during this whole discussion so I can get an asnwer with out a generation of voting prejudice thrown into the mix as well. SO, I break off into another discussion about the Melons these boys are picking out. Turns out these here Melons are grown in the bootheel of the State and are the best anyplace. Well I ain't touching that one with a 10 foot pole, it just felt like a loaded answer to me, so I tell him I am sure he's right.

Sam and WIlfred fill me in on what all the BIG STORE has been over the years and why it's still here and why folks local to it just love to stop bu the Big Store. I fill my water bottles, drink some gatore aid and mount my ride further east for the day. I quit about 6"30 that night, have a 1 bottle of water bath and make a pretty fair supper. I am camped just 3 miles east of Caufield that nite.

Good NIght and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's Sunday morning and we are headed to Church with the Brennen's. Its a hectic sort'a morning and reminds me a bnit of my own home on many occassions as there are several rigs headed in different directions all at the same time. David is off to the airport, and to be gone for the week, as he is an Instructor of Languages at the Monterray Naval Academy. SO Allison and him are headed in that direction.

My self and the kids get dropped at the Church that the Brennens attend and sit for service. We met plenty pf folks, and the Pastor on this day is a travelling fellow from up in Kansas City. He does a good job of it, gives us some points to think about and closes out the service with an apt Prayer for all of us.

JEREMIAH IS SHOWING A GROUP FROM MISSOURI HIS NEW SOCKS........................
It's time, no more foot dragging, its time to mount up the Titanium Steed and head East young man..........head East. I am given ample warning, that where I am headed I am going to be pulling some hills, and so I leave with just a little trepidation. Never want to be to sure of oneself, since there are hills out there that will make you hurt by the time you get over them.


Allison and the kids drop me off over on the correct side of town, so that I can hit the back road out into the border lands of the Ozarks and the Mark Twain Wilderness. Its a grey sort of day, cool but not cold.mI stop in the tiny burg of Ozark and add a few groceries to my load and make sure that my water is all topped off. And with that I am off to the east, and the Mark Twain Wilderness greets me in Ozark fashion.

The country is very rolling, and the hills are just steep enough to make you break a sweat, but not hurt by the time you top out. There is a steady diet of rolling terrain, and before long you see some change in vergitaion and stream type. The trees are getting larger and much more of the quality hardwoods, the streams are no longer sluggich, but fast running and very clear with rock strewn bottoms. The creeks around here run on Limestone for the most part and in just the right ligght they have a blue tint to them. Very beautiful indeed.

My Cingular cell phone has failed me once again. I could not get out in Springfield, and cannot get out here. I try from hill tops, and valleys both and nothing works. Cingular sounds alot like Jugular to me, and I feel like getting that skinny necked phone salesman by the neck when I get home. Oh well, I will just keep pedaling. I enter into the tiny village of Bradleyville, and some 10 year old calls out to me " Hey are you a homeless bum, we don't want bums around here". I am sitting and taking a look at the map, to be sure I take the proper back road south and east from here. So, I pack up my map, and take a drink and ride over to that young fella, and strike up a conversation with him, I assure him that I am not homeless and not a bum...............we have a good visit and he says he is sorry for talking to me that way....................so I told him not too worry about it at all, and I let go of his neck........just kidding.

I rode on out of Bradleyville and really enjoyed the ride. This is some of the prettiest country that I had been in, inm some ways it reminded me of Europe with it's winding narrow roads and often times canopied by arching tree tops. The traffic was slight to modest at best, and of thise they were also polite, slowing behind you and waiting to take there pass. Since there is NO shoulder on this road, that takes a little of the worry out of it when drivers are polite as these folks are. The sky was getting full and deep with heavy cloud, so I started looking for someplace to holw up for the night. I spotted an old Church on the top of a ridge, and when I got there I found that it had a covered portico sort of affair over a picnic area. So I made that home for the night, pitched my tent and found an old hub cap in the junk pile out behind the Church. I lit a fire in the hub-cap and had a great supper and some tea. The night breeze was cool, and the fire felt good.

Headlights flashed across my camp site, and I just knew that the worst was coming. But as it turned out, it was a local fellow by the name of Beryl, who has very serious breathing problems, and is on full oxygen all the time. When he gets feeling to hard to breathe he goes for a ride in his truck with the windows down, that way he gets a little extra air to work with. Well anyways, Berle retired form the steel mills up in Ohio, and then he and his now deceased wife moved on down here in the Ozark firnges. Been married 54 years before my wife passed says Berle...............fine women, doubt I will ever find another like her. Yes I assure him,. a good wife is a blessing from God for sure, becasue it sure seems like a bad wife comes from that other place of which we do not speak of often. Heck of a thing says Berle, they ain't no place for amn to work round these parts, no sir none..............my oldest boy is 50 years and has never had a full on job anyplace. Good thing I get a pension, cause he lives with me, if he didn't I don't know what he would do. USed to be a man could cut wood about these parts, but now all of that is shut down. Not sure what the Government thinks us folks live on, air I guess. I mostly listened, Berla had a few things on his mind and was fairly just with his critisism of parties and politicians. There we districts, and pocets within districts that were seeing business d
evelopment, but too many areas were falling backwards or just stagnant.

I was pretty tired, and so I heade to bed when Berle was done. It was good to have a vist with a working man, who sees the plight of the folks in an area that he choose to live in when retired and not needing to work. I ponder on that and a few other things as I say thanks for the safe roads and safe trip so far. I for one can feel the hand of the Lord out there guiding and protecting me as I ride. I find myself calling on him more often, not less as I ride, knowing full well that he is as concerned with me as can be.
Good NIght and God Bless

Posted by Jeremiah Watt at 9:19 AM | Permalink