49 Miles

My birthday came this week.  Cycling tradition dictates that I am to ride my age in miles on my birthday.  Unfortunately, I had to work that day and there are other traditions such as the eating of cake that I was compelled to participate in, so the ride did not occur on the exact date.  However, I was able to manage a 49-mile ride on Saturday.

The weather is trying very hard to be Springlike.  It was very sunny and the breeze was mild.  The temperature started in the 40s and struggled to reach 60.  Later in the day, there was a period of about 90 minutes where I could describe it as being “warm.”  But that was later in the day.  On the ride, full cold weather kit was required.

This farm always has plenty of activity.

I fiddled with my seat height for no good reason whatsoever.  I raised it about one centimeter in the hopes that it would somehow help my speed or alleviate the sensation I sometimes get that my legs are too cramped.  Within ten miles I began to feel an uncomfortable ache on the side of my left knee.  Fortunately, it didn’t worsen, but I think I’ll be lowering my seat back down.

As always, the excitement came near Catlett, just a few hundred yards from the Tenerife Incident, an excited Spaniel decided to give chase, mustering the most ferocious bark he could.  He maxed out at 15 mph.  I shall add his information to my dog top speed database.

Other than the seat and the dog, it was a pretty uneventful ride.  Car horns were blowing at higher than normal levels.  TIP TO CAR OWNERS:  you don’t need to tap your horn to let us know you’re behind us.  We can hear you.  We’re not the ones encased in glass and steel with a radio playing.

It being the day before Easter, I thought I would share pictures of some of the churches I happened across.  I hope your holiday is a happy one.

The old Asbury United Methodist Church, near Aden. This building dates from the 1870s.

And the “new” church across the street.

Nokesville Church of the Brethren

Brentsville Presbyterian (now a historical site)

Drizzle

I ran eight miles on Saturday, which is a not insignificant distance for me.  I followed it up with 50 miles on the bike on Sunday.  That was less of a challenge but it still made me grateful to Dr. Stewart Adams (UK), the inventor of Motrin.  There was a steady drizzle on Saturday’s run and Sunday’s ride was no different, at least for the first 30 miles.  Click on the picture below and zoom in on the glasses/helmet to get a better appreciation for the wet.

Slightly damp while on Rte 29

The Store

I pedaled along Bristow Road and passed the rather rustic general store that has always intrigued me.  I’ve never stopped here, but it’s on my “bucket list.”  I generally pass it by because it is closed on Sundays and it is only 11 miles from home so there is little need to reprovision at that point.  Still, when it is open the elderly proprietor can usually be seen sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch with a dog.  A store like that really should be supported.

Along Old Church Road, I saw a large doe cross the road a few hundred feet in front of me.  She had a notion to double back and stood in some tall grass, staring at me.  When I closed within 50 feet, I was worried she might bolt in front of me.  The resulting collision would have been very unpleasant.  Fortunately for both of us (but mainly for me) she turned and bounded into the woodline – an amazing creature that I was not able to photograph due to my slowness in retrieving my camera from my jersey pocket.

Optimistic horses

I was hopeful that the drizzle would soon stop.  I passed some horses on Crockett Road and they were all standing.  Everybody knows that cows and horses lie down when it is about to rain, so this was an encouraging development.  However, my hopes were dashed a half mile later as I passed a dairy farm and noted well over 100 cows were all lying down in a field.  Already completely soaked and much too far along to turn back, I didn’t let such an omen turn me back.  I pressed on and was pleased to see the drizzle eventually lighten and stop completely around Mile 25.

As I neared the turn from Rte 29 onto Bristerburg Road, I had a pleasant surprise.  An approaching cyclist turned out to be my neighbor, Steve.  He also turned onto Bristerburg Road and we struck up a conversation.  He was curious to know who would be seen in public with a Couch Potato Cycling Team jersey and was pleased to see it was Yours Truly.

Steve

Steve is an exceptional athlete who regularly participates in Ironman Triathlons (two miles swimming, 112 miles on the bike, topped off with a marathon).  He had left on his ride an hour before I did and still had a few hours to go.  He’s a good cyclist, is what I am trying to say.  So I didn’t want to slow him down or embarrass myself, and therefore matched his cruising speed of 20 mph.  This is MUCH faster than I normally ride, but I was enjoying the conversation with Steve and resolved to keep going as long as I could.

At this point, a curious thing happened.  Steve asked me, “Is this your normal pace?” to which I sheepishly admitted it was not.  I normally cruise along at 16 mph and up my pace to about 18 mph when I wish to test the Law of Diminishing Returns (see previous post).  When I told Steve I was simply trying to keep up with him, he replied, “I was trying to keep up with you!”  It turns out Steve prefers a more relaxed speed of about 18 mph.  I was happy to oblige.  It’s interesting (to me at least) that we each were going faster than we wanted in an effort not to upset the other guy.

After eight miles, we parted company.  I was heading for home and Steve was off on another 20 mile loop, which would give him over 80 miles for the day, which is just another day in the saddle (or pool, or running shoes) for Steve.  Someday, I want to grow up to be like Steve.

The last 20 miles home were much drier than the first 30 miles.  An item of interest occurred near Crosby’s Crab Shack, a mere five miles from home, where I happened upon some sort of vulture convention on the roof of a nearby house.  I wouldn’t want to be the owner of that home – it was a very ominous site!

Wilderness Campaign 200K ACP Brevet

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See the fancy title I used for this ride?  I can do this because I am now officially a Randonneur and entitled to use the arcane acronyms of this exclusive club.  Here’s how it happened:

Pre-ride bicycle prep and registration

We gathered at the Caribou Coffee in Bristow to register, pick up our control sheets (more on that later), prep our bikes and grab a bite to eat before setting out.  I do not like coffee – a distinct problem when traveling with the cycling set – but mercifully the store offered juices as well.  I was very pleased to meet so many friendly people who introduced themselves and chatted about the club.  I was pleased to see John pull up with his Surly and I feel it necessary to report to anyone hoping to find him on the street that he is regrowing his beard.  Without his bike, I doubt I would have recognized him.

The Grand Depart

At the appointed hour of 7:00 AM, we gathered in front of the store and were given some pre-race (technically, this was a race) instructions.  There were about forty riders total, which I learned later was a good-sized group.  With the administrative portion dispensed with, we were off into the pre-dawn fog, accompanied by a few shouts of, “Allez!”

I immediately noticed a difference in these cyclists in that they followed the rules of the road.  I was beginning to see the difference between the “open” organized rides I have been on and a club ride.  Firstly, people take an interest in you and welcome you into the group.  Secondly, people are held accountable for following the group’s rules.  Both were positive changes, in my view.

We zipped along on roads I know very well from my weekend jaunts.  We passed through Nokesville and headed southward into Fauquier County.  There was a significant mist to the morning and this was especially troublesome for those who wore glasses.  I chatted with a few riders while the pack moved along at 20 mph.  Eventually, the sun began to peek  through the morning clouds and I could tell it was going to be a very warm day.  For now, though, my vest and arm warmers were very welcome.

Early morning paceline

At Midland Road (Mile 22) I made my first mistake.  Our merry band broke up as a few cyclists peeled off to duck into a convenience store.  I was in a group behind this break and we slowed to make sure nothing unfortunate happened.  Then the four riders I was with decided they didn’t want to try to catch the lead group.  Then I decided to try to bridge the gap by myself.  That was my mistake.

I sprinted very hard and actually closed about half the distance for a brief while, but I never reached the back end of the group.  After two miles of sprinting, the pack had disappeared down the road.  I was now by myself with nothing to show for my rather significant effort.  I learned once again that bad things happen to people at the back of groups and if you really want to stay part of a pack, stick near the front.

After crossing the Rapidan River and entering Culpeper County, I had some hills to climb.  Fortunately, I was aware of this fact in advance and had steeled myself for the chore.  On the whole, this was a very flat ride with “only” 4,400 feet of climbing over 130 miles.  This area was the most challenging of the day and I put my head down and got it over with as best as I could.  Occasionally, I would happen across a rider or get passed by someone, but this 20 mile stretch was largely a solitary affair for me.  My glorious 18.2 mph average pace was now closer to 15 mph.

Puttering south of Rte 3, near the first control

When I reached Route 3 – a busy highway connecting Fredericksburg and Culpeper – the group of four that I left on Midland Road reeled me back in.  One of the riders was a man named Jim, who was riding a recumbent bicycle at a very impressive pace.  I don’t know a great deal about recumbents, but in my experience they don’t zip along for 40 miles at 16+ mph.

At Mile 42, I ate my first bug of the year.

Putting a bag on your carbon is a bit like putting a trailer hitch on your corvette, but it worked for me.

When we pulled into our first “control” at Mile 48, I was ready for a break.  It was warming up and it was time to shed some layers.  I also needed to wipe my sunglasses, which I had stowed on my helmet in the manner of cool roadies everywhere and thus accumulated a great amount of moisture during the morning fog.  At a control, it is also necessary to get the proprietor to sign your “control sheet,” thus proving you actually made it to the designated point within the alloted time.  In return for this favor, it is customary to purchase some items, which I was happy to do.  We took a brief break at some picnic tables, arranging our cue sheets to depict the next leg of the trip, swapped a few stories, and built up some energy.  It was here that I met Ed, the “other half” of Mary’s cycling tandem at Chasing Mailboxes.  Sadly, Mary was not present today and Ed was on a more traditional machine.

Saunders Field - "The regiment melted away like snow. Men disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them."
- Captain Porter Parley, 140th NY Infantry

It was only a few miles from the control to our first battlefield – The Wilderness.  Fought in May, 1864, this was a particularly brutal affair fought mostly in close quarters due to the difficult wooded terrain.  To get to the battle, the Federal Army marched over the old Chancellorsville Battlefield and discovered many skulls and other bones that had been dug up by animals or exposed by erosion.  During the battle, the brush was accidentally set on fire and hundreds of wounded who could not escape were burned alive.  It was nasty stuff, and I felt compelled to stop at several of the markers to learn more.  This did not help my overall time but it did make the ride more enjoyable for me.

Where Longstreet fell

After The Wilderness, it was off to Spotsylvania and the second battlefield of the day.  This battle was fought about a week after the Wilderness, as the Federals tried once again to get between the Confederate Army and Richmond.  Before reaching the battlefield, I stopped at a site commemorating the accidental wounding of James Longstreet by his own men, which occurred at the end of the The Wilderness and almost exactly one year to the day from when Stonewall Jackson was killed by his own troops about 1o miles from this location.

Sedgwick's Monument

While puttering about a monument to the mortal wounding of Union General Sedgwick (Commander, 6th Corps) at Spotsylvania, a rider named Chris pulled up to ask if I was ok.  Chris and I had chatted earlier in the ride and seemed interested in the history I had to relate (or at least he was very polite about my ramblings).  We rode together to the “information control,” a place on the battlefield where we had to answer a question to prove we were there.  Jim joined us on his recumbent and we eventually came across the site – a question about the Mule Shoe Salient which the Federals attacked.  I already knew the answer to the question, but dutifully waited until arriving at the marker in question before filling out my control sheet.

Riding behind Jim into Spotsylvania

Jim, Chris, and I pulled into Spotsylvania a little before noon.  We had covered 69 miles in less than five hours.  Suddenly, finishing the ride in under ten hours seemed very possible.  The day was fantastic  and it felt like summer was in full swing despite it still being officially winter.  Spotsylvania was an “open control,” meaning we could pull in to any store in town and get our sheet signed.  We just needed to keep our receipt to prove we were there.  I carefully placed my receipt in the ziplock bag I was using to store my control sheet and credit card, then sat down to enjoy my convenience store lunch of a chicken sandwich and Gatorade.

The road to Chancellorsville

After lunch, we moved to the third and final battlefield of the day, Chancellorsville.  This was chronologically out of sequence from the first two, but there was nothing to be done about it.  Chancellorsville was fought a year before the other two battles and was the site of Robert E. Lee’s greatest victory.  I rode through the battlefield last September and you can learn more about it here.  We just dipped our figurative toes into this field in order to answer another information control question which I already knew the answer to “Question: What was the battlefield named after?  Answer: The Chancellor family home.”).  Since lunch was only forty minutes ago, this was a short stop and we were once again on the road, heading back to Kelly’s Ford over the Rapidan.

Chancellorsville information control

Hunting Run Reservoir

It was about here, at Mile 80, that things began to lose their luster for me.  I knew this would be the case; the battlefield tours were over and all that remained was getting back to the finish line.  And that was 50 miles away.  I also knew that the road we were on was hilly for the next seven or eight miles with little to catch the eye apart from a lovely drive past Hunting Run Reservoir.  There were five of us at the Chancellorsville Control, but shortly after restarting three of them were off in the distance.  I was left with the companionship of Chris, who happily discussed anything I was interested in talking about as we took on the hills in the increasingly hot day.  I am in Chris’ debt.

Chris at the Rapidan

We stopped for a rest break at the Rapidan Bridge, where I ate some Clif Shot Blocks.  These babies were absolutely key for me.  I ate a packet faithfully every hour – except for when I had already eaten at a control.  Every time I downed a packet, I felt much better for several miles.  It may be psychosomatic, but I don’t care.  It worked.

The Madone at the Rapidan

The final control - Mile 111

Shortly after leaving the bridge, Chris realized he hadn’t flipped his cue sheet and he stopped to do so.  I was going to stop with him, but he insisted I continue, saying he would catch up.  I didn’t like leaving him after he had faithfully stayed with me but he was insistent.  I was fairly certain he would be right back with me in a few miles.  I didn’t see Chris again until the final control at Mile 111 – the Handymart where I regularly stop on weekend rides.

I was pretty well spent at this point, but the level terrain and the fact I knew every nook and cranny of this part of the course greatly aided me.  I knew when to conserve my energy and when I could push things a bit.  I managed 16.2 mph pace on the last 19 miles, which was quite satisfying to me.  In Nokesville, I came across Barry, another cyclist completing his first-ever Brevet.  Barry’s from Frederick, MD, and I’ll most likely be heading up his way for the club’s Gettysburg 200K brevet this September.  Barry informs me that there are many more hills in his neck of the woods, a statement which I now have six months to ruminate on.

After Party

Barry and I pulled into the Caribou Coffee finish together with a finishing time of 9:40.  I never thought I would be able to go so quickly, especially given my dalliances at the battlefields, but the weather was fantastic and the fact I knew many of the roads was very helpful to me.  I signed and turned in my control sheet and enjoyed the nice after party, which consisted of pizza, sodas, cookies, fruit and other goodies.  It was a nice way to finish a great day.

I don’t think I’m ready to take on some of the more ambitious events of the DC Randonneurs, but I do know that I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the group and hope to join them again this September when they take on South Mountain and the battles of Gettysburg and Antietam.  Until then, Bon Route!

The Last Day Of Winter

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We’re setting the clocks forward tonight and the weather forecast for tomorrow and the next week is fantastic.  I have therefore officially declared today to be the last day of winter.  To commemorate the event, I set off for Fauquier County in the hopes of finding a route connecting Catlett to Nokesville without using the very busy Route 28.

After last weekend’s ride in DC and Thursday’s ride on the congested W&OD Trail, it was a joy to be out amongst the livestock.  The 40 degree temperature and a stiff headwind were less enjoyable, but the sun was shining and I knew this was the end of Winter.  “Do your worst!” I said to no one in particular, and fortunately no one heard me.  That would have been embarrassing.

The major industry of Catlett, VA

After 23 miles, I pedaled through the town of Catlett (population: 296) and crossed the infamous Route 28.  This is a major road which connects many of the southerly routes I like to take with Nokesville.  I was hoping to find a bypass to avoid cars traveling at 60 mph on a road with no shoulder and the map indicated Bruwell Road should suffice.

Bruwell Road

Bruwell Road did quite well.  It was lined with farms and almost no traffic to speak of.  A border collie gave me a pleasant chase (Fun Fact: border collies can run 17 mph over brief stretches) and the ride was enjoyable.  At least it was nice until the asphalt gave way to yet another dirt/gravel road.

Fortunately, this stretch was only about 1/2 mile long.  I apologized in advance to my tires and they came through brilliantly for me.  After that, it was a simple matter of turning my back to the wind and sailing home to complete a 50-mile circuit.

Good bye, Winter of 2011-2012.  You were exceptionally mild with almost no snow.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity.

Just in case you haven't seen enough farm pictures, here is one which shows one of the more grand farms I passed today.

Chancellorsville

I got ambitious yesterday.  Aided by my wife, who transported me and my bike 30 miles to Fredericksburg, I headed out to the Chancellorsville Battlefield for a look-see and then a 55-mile return trip, the first 20 miles I had never traversed before.  I had been wanting to do this trip for several months and finally had the opportunity to give it a shot.  Although there was frost on the ground at sunrise, the forecast was for sunny weather and temperatures reaching the mid-50s.  It seemed like a good day for the attempt.

We pulled into the Spotsylvania Mall and my wife said her goodbyes, immediately after which I noticed I had forgotten my cell phone.  I always ride with my cell phone – always.  It’s my security blanket which lets me cycle with the certain knowledge that if I get into difficulty I can call my wife and hear, “You got yourself into this mess.  Now get yourself out of it.”  Now I was about to strike out into The Great Unknown (aka Spotsylvania County) with no communications device.  I believe Thomas Stevens would have been proud of me.

Obligatory Battle Map

A quick note on the battle.  Chancellorsville was fought May 2nd and 3rd, 1863, between Confederate General Robert E. Lee and the unfortunately named Union General Joseph Hooker (although the etymology of the modern-day use of “hooker” is unclear, many experts trace its use to the camp followers of Hooker’s Army of the Potomac).  With both armies staring at each other across the Rappahannock River near Fredericksburg, Hooker moved a large force westward, forded the river and sought to attack Lee from the West.  Lee recognized the Federal move and broke off a portion of his army to meet the threat.  The armies collided at the Chancellor Family home, located at a crossroads about fifteen miles west of Fredericksburg.  The result was Lee’s greatest victory.

I cleared out of the retail district and made my way to the battlefield on River Road, which existed during the Civil War.  This is the lesser of two roads heading toward Chancellorsville from Fredericksburg and no doubt some Confederates used it as they moved to the battlefield.  Given the road’s name, I was disappointed to glimpse only one short view of the Rappahannock River.  After ten miles, I reached the intersection of Route 3 and Elys Ford Road – the epicenter of the battle.  It was here that the Union Army collapsed upon itself after Robert E. Lee divided his smaller force (a MAJOR tactical faux pas born of necessity) and executed a surprise attack on two fronts.  17,500 men were killed on and around this field – a rate of one man per second for five hours.

The Chancellor House was destroyed during the battle under a withering Confederate artillery bombardment.  Hooker used the building as his command post and was leaning against a column when it was struck by a shell, causing a possible concussion which made it impossible for him to direct the battle for a period.  Today, all that is left is the foundation, which is preserved near the artillery pieces pictured above.

I puttered about the periphery of the battlefield but didn’t see any other monuments worthy of note.  I therefore decided to head to the park’s Visitor Center, where I came across one of the war’s most important sites – the place where Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson was accidentally killed by his own pickets.  This was a stunning loss for the Confederacy which would have implications for the rest of the war.  Upon learning of Jackson’s death, Lee said, “I have lost my right arm.”  The trail is faithfully maintained and is remarkably close to the very busy Route 3.  There is a stone marker at the site, erected in 1881 by Confederate veterans.

I could have wandered some more, but I had quite a distance to go so I made my way back to Elys Ford Road and moved Northwest.  Just as was the case in the Civil War, there are few crossings of the Rappahannock River and I needed to travel 20 miles to Kelly’s Ford.  The road was pleasant, with a very picturesque view of Hunting Run Reservoir.  Oddly, the road name changed from Elys Road to Eleys Road when I crossed from Spotsvylania County to Culpeper County. There is a story there, I am sure of it, but I can’t imagine what it might be.  The air was crisp, but not cold and the leaves were in peak color.  I had nary a care in the world as I pedaled over gently rolling country.  This changed when I reached my first turn at Mile 25 – Fields Mill Road.

It was a gravel road.

I hate gravel roads.  After suffering eleven flats last summer/fall, I remain extremely risk averse when it comes to punctures.  I haven’t had a flat since February – I was due.  And I had no phone with me.  And I was nowhere near anyplace I had ever been before.  And there were no significant buildings to speak of, apart from a light sprinkling of farms.  With little choice, I decided to take it easy on this three-mile stretch of wilderness that would eventually deposit me near Kelly’s Ford and asphalt.

About a mile down the road, I began to hear gunfire.  I wondered if it was hunting season.  Whether it was officially hunting season or not, it was definitely hunting season here.  I was very grateful to be wearing my optic yellow vest.  I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be killed.  That assessment changed when the dogs came.

Let me just say it is extraordinarily difficult to cautiously manuever a gravel road while being chased by three dogs.  The first thing I abandoned was caution.  Since I am typing these words, I realize there is little drama to the outcome – I made it.  About a half mile up the road, I was rewarded with a pleasant view.  I leaned my bike against a sign which read “Warning – Coyote Trapping In Progress” and took the below picture.  I could still hear gunfire coming from the woods behind the farm houses.

I was very happy to reach the end of Fields Mill Road and rejoin Western Civilization.  I crossed Kelly’s Ford (Mile 30) and left Culpeper County for Fauquier County.  I had cycled this road once before during last October’s Great Pumpkin Ride.  I celebrated by pausing on the bridge to enjoy the view and eat a Clif Bar.

The remaining miles were uneventful.  I must say that the country roads of Fauquier County are in better condition than those of Spotsylvania or Culpeper Counties (even the paved ones).  At Mile 48 I pulled into one of my favorite rest stops, the Handymart convenience store near the west end of Quantico Marine Corps Base, and ordered a slice of pizza and a Mountain Dew.

Despite their French name, they worked well

Having refueled on quality convenience store cuisine, I had more than enough energy for the remaining twenty miles.  The sun was getting low in the sky, but I remained warm in my vest, skull cap, leggings, and brand new Garneau shoe covers (which worked MUCH better than the ones I wore last year).  I arrived home after 68 miles tired but pleased to have completed the sort of adventure that makes cycling eminently more enjoyable than any other form of exercise I can think of.

Midland

The Reston Century is in two weeks and today was no day to ease off on the miles.  So I rolled out of my driveway at 9:45 AM into 85 degree temps and 85% humidity.  Good times.  I wanted to stretch my distance a bit and decided to make for the small town of Midland, about 30 miles away.

The road to Midland.

The map indicates there isn’t much to see in Midland and the map was right.  There is a small airport, the view of which is frustratingly blocked by roadside trees.  I had accepted the fact that there would be nothing of interest on this route and this would simply be a pleasant ride through rural Virginia when I came across a small park, built in honor of Supreme Court Justice John Marshall.

John Marshal Park

Marshal was the longest-serving Supreme Court Chief Justice and fundamentally shaped the role of the court and therefore the US government.  He was born in this area in 1755.  His home is gone but there is a stone pyramid which marks the site, one half a mile down a nature trail which starts at the park.  The park itself is rather simple, with a parking lot for five cars and a couple of markers describing the site and Marshal’s contributions to the republic.  I didn’t travel down the path as it didn’t seem conducive to 23mm tires.  I was quickly on my way again to the heavily traveled Route 28 and a favorable tailwind for the next 12 miles.

In short order, I found myself back in Nokesville, then Bristow, then back home.  I focused on keeping my heart rate down early in the ride and eating something every 30 minutes.  This paid off as I had plenty of energy towards the end of the trip, even with temps well over 100 degrees.    I wish I placed equal emphasis on applying sunscreen.  Inexplicably, I neglected to use any on this trip and as I type these words I am regretting that decision.

Historical Marker Segment!

I was hopeful that I would find markers on Route 28, which is an older (pre-Civil War) road with ample opportunities for something historical on its path.  I wasn’t disappointed.  The first marker can be found outside Calverton, the first town north of Midland.  In keeping with the decidedly Southern perspective on these markers, the Confederates are mentioned in a positive light, even when they lose, as Mosby did at this place in 1863.  As a New Yorker, I was happy to learn the 5th NY Cavalry played a role in his demise on that day.  Since the sign won’t tell you, I am pleased to inform you that the 5th NY was commanded by Colonel John Hammond of Crown Point, NY.

The next town northward is Catlett and it is here we can find another Civil War marker.  This time, Mosby is the victor.  As a raider, he tended to run away when things got too hot, but that was his job so we won’t fault him for that.

The final marker was an interesting design.  Normally, these markers have the same writing on both sides.  However the marker at the county line has a different version on each side – one for Fauquier County and one for Prince William County.  As you can see, the Prince William side is in need of some gardening.  This is the first time I’ve come across a marker that couldn’t be read.

A New Departure Point, MapMyRide, and Lost Cyclists

I tried something new today.  I wanted to head further west than my legs would comfortably take me, so I simply shifted my starting point.  Rather than begin in my driveway, I loaded the bike onto the truck rack and drove six miles to a parking lot on Independent Hill and set out toward Lake Brittle.

Hay Bales on Fitzwater Road, on the way to Lake Brittle

Lake Brittle is a man-made lake near Warrenton.  I was hoping to catch some nice views of the lake and pass some lovely pics to you, Dear Reader.  Sadly, the roads offered only an occasional glimpse of the lake through forests and back yards.  After circumnavigating the lake, I gave up my search for a quality picture and started my return journey.

It was at this point that I became lost.

Once again, I was undone by MapMyRide.  This program’s map data confidently informed me that Lake Drive would get me back on the route I came in on.  Apparently, the cartographer at MapMyRide didn’t get the word that a massive new housing development has shot up in this area and Lake Drive is now cut in half.  I wandered suburbia for several minutes before I came across a nice lady walking her dog, who told me how to find my way out of the maze I was in.  I am in her debt as there was no telling how much longer it would have taken me!

Almost ready for harvesting

I was not the only lost cyclist on the roads of Fauquier County today.  On my way back, I came across a female cyclist who was standing next to her bike at a crossroads.  She had a brand new carbon-framed Felt and was quite tired.  She was looking for Alden Road, a place I have never heard of.  After a few minutes of questioning, I was able to figure out she wanted to find ADEN Road, which was only three miles away.  I asked her if she would like me to ride with her and she declined.  She then sat on the road in the shade and said she would be on her way shortly.  This troubled me, but it also occurred to me that a lost woman on a lonely country road may not like the company of an unknown man (no matter how witty he may be).  She wasn’t exhibiting signs of heat stroke and she had plenty of fluids, so I bid her good day and set off.

About a mile down the road, I came across another female cyclist and learned she was looking for the first one.  I told her where she was and she sped off in that direction.  That made me feel much better.

As I arrived at my truck, the temperature was approaching 90 degrees.  The sun had stayed behind clouds for most of the ride and it was much more tolerable than yesterday’s jaunt in 100+ temps.  After computing my mileage totals for the year, I see that I am one mile short of 2,000.  Bummer!

Somerville

My ride today was tougher than today’s Tour de France stage.  It was twice as long in brutal heat.  I am therefore a tougher cyclist than the pros on the Tour.

Some of you may point out that today’s stage was a short 26-mile time trial which comes at the end of 2,100 miles of cycling in 19 stages over some incredibly tall mountains with only two rest days.  Thus, comparing my single ride to this one stage is a logical flaw on the scale of Icarus.  Those people would be right.  They would also be kill joys, so lets speak no more of them and move on, shall we?

A pretty picture to cleanse the palette

My goal was the town of Somerville, which is southwest of the Quantico Marine Corps Base reservation and about 25 miles from my house.  When I left at 7:30 AM, the temperature was already above 80.  I had frozen water and Gatorade in my water bottles.  After one hour, these blocks of ice were cool beverages.  After two hours, the temperature was into the 90s and what was left of my Gatorade was tepid, bordering on warm.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  All I’m trying to say is that it was hot outside.

The ride out on Aden Road was enjoyable.  The corn stalks are quite high in the fields and we should have some locally grown produce in the markets any day, I would think.  Despite the heat, there were still cyclists on the road.  I passed a large number of people on aerobars today.  Triathalon season must be upon us.

Despite my ride being tougher than the TdF, I had far fewer fans. These were the only folks interested in me. The cow word for "Allez" is "Moo."

With the temperature rising and my fluid supplies dwindling, I reached Somerville.  It was as advertised: a single building which serves as the post office, convenience store, and a house.  The town’s Wikipedia page states that there are no other mailboxes in this zip code.  I believe it.  It was definitely a lonely place.  I thought the sign announcing the location as “Downtown Somerville” was a nice touch.

Somerville

Having taken in all the sights, I began my return trip.  A key stop for me would be the Handymart convenience store about five miles away.  I needed a resupply of cold beverages to make it home and this was where I planned on getting them.  Imagine my dismay when I learned their cooler was broken.  I bought a room-temperature Gatorade and a cold Mountain Dew from a still-working soda cooler.  I downed the Dew (very nice!) and poured the Gatorade into my bottle.  It wasn’t great, but it was wet and that counted for something.

There was one more convenience store on my route – the Aden Country Store, nine miles away.  I pulled in and happily discovered they had ice-cold Gatorade for sale.  I drank a bottle, remounted my trusty steed, and made it the final 12 miles with only a little difficulty.  It was hot as blazes and I could see salt forming on my shorts.  As I pulled into my driveway at 11:30, the thermometer read 102 degrees.  That’s enough for one day, I think.

Post Cards From Warrenton

Happy Easter, everybody!  Today’s weather was textbook Easter – blue skies, sunny, and warm.  It was the sort of day one finds on post cards.  I decided to take advantage by pedaling over to Warrenton and taking a few (hopefully) post card-worthy pictures.

Oh yeah – my route was 70 miles long, farther than I’ve ever gone before.  With my first-ever century now 13 days away, I thought I should press the envelope a bit to get ready.  I’m glad I did as I learned a few lessons about riding these sorts of distances, namely take your time and have a good nutrition strategy.  I’ve done plenty of reading but it is always nice to see what works for you.

                                         The Road West Of Nokesville

After passing through Nokesville I was into unfamiliar territory, The Land West of Route 28.  The terrain is rolling and dotted with horse farms and “regular farms.”  After crossing the Dumfries Road, I came across three historical markers near Cedar Run, two of which feature a gentleman named George Neavil, who lived in the area in the 1700s.  Mr. Neavil operated a mill and something called an “ordinary.”  The mill survives and was operational until 1932.  It is now an historic site.  I had no idea what an “ordinary” was and the marker was unhelpful in explaining it, although it did mention that George Washington stopped by one day in 1748.  I thus had 40+ miles to ponder its meaning.  A quick check upon my return home informed me that it is a British term for a hotel.  That’s not exactly common knowledge in Virginia, and I’m surprised the marker’s authors couldn’t be bothered to explain it.

                                                              Neavil’s Mill

 

Onward I went into Warrenton, which you may be interested to know sits on elevation approximately 400 feet higher than that of my house.  You can see the hill clearly in my Garmin data.  Fortunately, I was taking my time and the wind was at my back, so the hill was no bother at all.  The last bit of the route is the Warrenton Green Branch Trail, a paved-over railroad bed that last year’s Great Pumpkin Ride started and finished on.

 

                            The Terminus of the Trail, Complete With Caboose

Once off the trail, I was in downtown Warrenton, such as it is.  It’s a small town and a highway bypass has driven many of the local shops out of business.   Still, the original county seat is there as is the Warren Green Hotel, whose claim to fame seems to be that General George McClellan said goodbye to his officers from the location in 1862, having been recently fired by Abraham Lincoln.

              The Former Warren Green Hotel (Now An Office Building)

                                                  The Original Court House

After 34 miles, it was time for my mid-ride break.  Now, a proper cyclist would take his break at an outdoor cafe, enjoying a cup of espresso.  Sadly, there were no outdoor cafes in sight and I don’t like coffee.  The Subway sandwich shop was my goal and I was disconcerted to learn it was closed for Easter.  I made my way to the highway bypass and quickly spotted a McDonalds.  Perfect.

Having dined on some of the finest fast food in Warrenton, I began the return journey, which would take me on a different route home through the village of Catlett.  The breeze was now against me but I was enjoying the downhill route for eight miles.  Then the downhill stopped, but the wind continued.  Life was less fun at this point.  Still, the views were great and I was enjoying the heat that was building up – the thermometer informed me it was well above 80 at this point.

                                               The View West of Catlett

At Catlett, I crossed over Rte 28 and once again entered what I consider to be my “neck of the woods,” so to speak.  At this point, I had covered almost 50 miles, the last 15 of which were against the wind.  I had been pushing myself too hard – I guess I was acting like one of the horses I had been passing all day and was “smelling the barn” as I drew closer to home.  I used up the last of my Gatorade and was left with luke warm water.  At Mile 58 I pulled into a country store and bought some cold Gatorade.  This was a wise decision and it made the rest of my trip tolerable. 

I made it home in fair shape, though it must be said another 30 miles would have been challenging for me.  I did a decent job at pacing and nutrition, but I’ll have to do even better in two weeks.  Something to contemplate as the Cap2Cap Century draws near.

Finally, I will leave you with one last post card, in commemoration of Easter:

                                           Cedar Run Episcopal Church

 

Historical Marker Segment!

There were a great many markers today, including two dedicated to Mr. Neavil’s ordinary and mill.

                                                                  The Ordinary

                                                                      The Mill

Nearby, we learn that Confederate General Jeb Stuart found himself in a predicament at this location in October, 1863.  He cleverly attacked the Federals as they made their morning coffee (is nothing off-limits anymore?) and successfully escaped their clutches.

                                                      The Battle of Coffee Hill

And, of course, the location of Stuart’s bivouac the night prior is worthy of remembrance as well.

                            Stuart’s Bivouac – About 1/2 Mile From Coffee Hill

In Warrenton, the “Historic District” has several markers, including this one near the Warren Green Hotel.

                                                                The Warren Green

And finally, there is this marker, located next to Warrenton’s original Court House.

Shenandoah Path

Rocking my new Garneau Nimbus gloves

After the deluge on Saturday, the sun came out today and I set out toward Fauquier County against a stiff head wind.    I wanted to check out some streets I hadn’t yet been on.  This often leads to adventure and today was no exception.  I had on my brand new cycling gloves (pictured at right) and a new pair of Bellwether cycling shorts (not pictured in order to maintain viewership).

The humble sign announcing the county line

The wind was a challenge, but I’m learning to accept the slower pace required by fighting a steady breeze.  By the way, if there is a stiff wind to be dealt with, I highly recommend taking it on at the beginning of the ride if at all possible.  It makes the return trip much more tolerable.  The first 21 miles were a long slog into Fauquier County.  Eventually, I made it to Bristersburg Road and found the wind on my back while riding a straight level road.   I pedaled past nice homes and (to put it politely) “rural” homes.  It was a nice road to cycle on and it’s easy to see why so many cyclists gravitate to this county to ride – lots of nice roads with little traffic.  Perfect! 

At the corner of Bristersburg Road and Shenandoah Path, the Crossings Baptist Church can be found.  In honor of Palm Sunday, I include a picture of this interesting building below.

Turning onto Shenandoah Path, I looked forward to riding another 2-3 miles on a road I had not yet traveled.  After half a mile, the asphalt gave way to gravel.  Once again, I was trapped on a gravel road. 

Not the worst road I have been on

I know that Fauquier County is named after Francis Fauquier, Lieutenant Governor of Virginia, who allegedly won the land in a poker game in 1759 (which is itself a fascinating story which I do not have time to delve into in this space).  Had I not known this, I would have guessed “Fauquier” was Algonquin for “Land With Too Many Dirt Roads.”  A great many of the roads in the area are gravel and a great many of these have the nasty habit of starting out paved and turning to gravel only after you have traveled quite a distance and are not inclined to turn around.  Such was the case on Shenandoah Path.

Faced with a decision of turning around and adding miles to my route or pressing onward, I thought of my blog friend, Gerry, who recently cycled upon the famous (and bone-jarring) cobble stones of the Paris-Roubaix route.  If he could endure those rides, surely I could handle this minor inconvenience?  While Gerry’s rides were impressive, it must be noted that he did not need to risk his own bike whereas I was riding my personal property in a land where help was a significant distance away.  I pressed on.  Menacing dogs in cages barked menacingly.  Several stray dogs (including a German Shepherd) trotted up to me but they were all friendly.  There was no gunfire – a refreshing change from my last adventure near Catlett.  Eventually, I popped out onto Elks Head Road and began the trip home having survived unscathed.

Spring is coming to Northern Virginia, although Spring-like temperatures are a little late.  I’ll leave you with a few pictures of Spring in rural Virginia.  When you’re not being chased by dogs and/or gunfire, it is a very nice place.