OCS

This weekend’s jaunt took me to Quantico Marine Base, where I hoped to visit the base airfield and the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School (OCS).  As with any trip to the eastern part of the county, this required a successful navigation of heavily trafficked roads.  The springlike weather made the trip very pleasant and may even have had a positive effect on the drivers, some of whom actually stopped to allow me to cross some congested areas.  I didn’t have any close calls with automobiles, which is always a welcome event.

After reaching the base, I made my way to the river and the airfield which sits alongside side it.  There were some great views at this point, but sadly photography of the airfield is prohibited.  Not wanting to spend the rest of my day in the brig, I kept my camera stowed and continued on to the OCS facility, about a mile further down the road.

I found the school to be vacant, probably because there is no class in session at the moment or possibly because the candidates are in the field at the moment.  The first thing I came across was a large “parade deck,” which the candidates no doubt spend many exciting hours on.  As an Army man, I was amused that the Marines would pave over a perfectly good parade field just so they could call it a “deck.”

These were the only occupants in evidence near the barracks.  They were not cooperative subjects and had an annoying tendency to turn their backs whenever I closed to take a picture.

On the opposite side of the barracks was an impressive obstacle course.  When the candidates are not drilling on the parade deck, they are no doubt amusing themselves on this.  Pictured is only a portion of the course, which runs for over a mile.  Good times.

As I left the school, I took the below picture.  I always feel compelled to take a photograph when I cross railroad tracks.  I guess I’m a sucker for the “disappearing into the horizon” image they provide.

My trip home was uneventful.  The entire route was only 27 miles and was happily devoid of the drama which I endured during last weekend’s ride.  I returned home with plenty of fluid and I had increased peace of mind brought about by this handsome addition to the contents of my saddle bag.  I suspect it will be many months before I need my emergency stash of money, so it is folded neatly inside a ziplock bag to protect it from the elements.

2012′s Color Is White

I am excited to present a change to the Trek which will fundamentally alter its handling and performance.  It’s an important new piece of gear that I have placed a great deal of thought into.  Like most cycling equipment, this gear will wear out and I hope to come up with a new version each year.  With a little luck, this announcement will become an annual event eagerly awaited by you, Dear Reader.

I have changed the color of my handlebar tape.

Ta Da!

I thought it would be fun to change the tape color each year, if for no other reason than it will be easier for me to identify when a given picture was taken.  This is not a decision to be taken lightly.  The color of a bike’s handlebar tape says a great deal about its rider.  For example, the original color of black says, “I just want to blend in with everyone else using the stock tape that came with my bike when I bought it.”

The color white looks snappy (to me, at least) but it runs the risk of giving the impression that I am a “poseur.” Poseur is a French word for “poser,” which is an English word for someone who takes on the mannerisms and fashion of serious cyclists without actually having the ability to ride like a serious cyclist.  This is a very serious allegation in the cycling community and I will need to be mindful of this issue as I come into contact with other cyclists – an event which occurs about once per every 500 miles cycled.

I took the tape (along with the rest of the bike) on its maiden voyage yesterday.  Winter remains pleasantly mild, but much of the weekend was shot due to rain and personal errands.  With a few hours of sunlight remaining on Sunday, I shoved off for Quantico Marine Corps Base’s “downrange” reservation.  This is the part of the base west of Route 1 where field training occurs.  I had never ridden these roads and was alerted to their existence by Roger, when we met for a pedal last Fall.

Before reaching these new roads, I had to fight my way through the hazards of Dumfries.  I managed this with nothing untoward other than the elevated frustration levels which are normal for me in that place.  I stopped by one of Quantico MCB’s gates to take a picture of a replica of the Iwo Jima Memorial.  This one is considerably smaller than the original monument, which stands next to Arlington National Cemetery.  For those interested in a detailed account of this battle, I highly recommend Clint Eastwood’s Flags Of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima.

After enduring the swarms of traffic along Route 1, the back roads of Quantico were very refreshing.  The roads were quite hilly.  The first 3.5 miles were at a steady 7-8% grade.  This gave way to a series of rollers which had grades of 7-10%.  I think I’ve found a good place for some mountain training, which I’ll need for the Civil War Century this September and its 7,400 feet of climbing.  Sunday’s 30-mile circuit was 1,600 feet, meaning I’ll need to climb at approximately 1.5 times this rate for the CWC.  That is a humbling prospect.

Historical Marker Segment!

It’s been awhile since I have been able to bring you one of these.  This marker is close to the Iwo Jima Memorial outside of Quantico MCB’s gate.  Although I often drive by this spot, I’ve never noticed it before.  In it, we learn the ancient and glorious history of Quantico.  The nearby town of Dumfries used to be one of the largest and most important ports in America, due primarily to the huge tobacco crop which was exported from there.   This fact is remarkable to contemplate as the creek is no longer navigable and there is no remnant of the port facility that once existed.

A Worldwide Cycling Snapshot

Note: This photo was not submitted by a reader

On this weekend, December 3rd and 4th, the Earth hurled through space at a speed estimated at over 400,000 mph while rotating on its axis at a speed of 1,042 mph (again estimated).  On Earth’s surface, approximately 6.978 billion people went about their daily business.

Some of them were riding bicycles.

This is their story.

Some people rode alone.  In France, Gerry enjoyed a solo pedal on his Bianchi out of the Gordon Gorge, which is situated on the north side of a little mountain range behind Nîmes, near his home.  The grade was “only” 5-6%, which is precisely how someone who regularly climbs Mount Ventoux and has logged 10,000 kms this year would describe it.  Since the RVs have departed with the summer weather, the road is reportedly quite enjoyable.  It takes a certain kind of person to scale hills on roads like this and describe it as enjoyable, and Gerry is that kind of guy.

Others rode in groups, like Brian and Team MK, who held their weekly club ride near Milton Keynes, about 50 miles Northwest of London.  You can see many of the club riders wearing the team kit of blue, white, and orange.  Brian climbed Ventoux on holiday this summer and laments the lack of an Alpine range in England.  This sort of attitude probably explains why he regularly drops riders 30 years his junior.

Others rode with family, as Clive did with his son near Birmingham, England.  Although he owns a road bike, Clive can most often be found zipping to/from work and elsewhere on his mountain bike.  His son is quickly following in his footsteps, or should I say pedal strokes?  Apart from getting his son hooked on cycling, Clive has made great strides losing weight while pedaling about the West Midlands.  We (and by “we” I mean “I”) could do well to follow his example.

Keeping with the family theme, Lloyd set out to circle the inexplicably named California-in-England in Berkshire.  Originally part of the Royal Estate of Windsor Castle, the property has been subdivided and sold several times.  No one seems to know what the connection is to a western U.S. state.  Lloyd taught his son how to cycle on this route and has a pedal with him here on most weekends.

Others explored the elements, like Tom, who lives near the border of Scotland and England.  Tom took time from his excellent bird photography to enjoy a quick pedal to Wauchope after a sleet storm to take in the scenery.  I highly encourage you to visit his blog for some excellent photography of this part of the world.

Not everyone was recreating and not everyone was experiencing winter.  Valentine used his bike to ride into town to buy a chicken.  Since he lives in the Southern Hemisphere (Brazil, specifically), he ran his errand on one of the longest days of summer.  Valentine did not mention how he secures his chickens to his bike, so that shall remain left to our imaginations.

In North America, things were chillier than in Brazil.  Chris made a regular trek to Gathland State Park in western Maryland to enjoy one of his favorite views.  The park is named after a Civil War correspondent who owned this land and wrote under the pseudonym, “Gath.”  His name was George Alfred Townsend (care to guess how he picked his nom-de-guerre?) and he erected the monument in the picture’s background to war correspondents.  Chris will soon make this journey on new wheels for his 1999 Marin San Rafael hybrid bike.  The wheels are due to arrive on Monday.

In New Jersey, it was very chilly (25 degrees, in fact) as Iron Rider headed out with the Pennsylvania Randonneurs on a 200 km brevet up the Delaware River.  The group started just after sunrise and pulled into their final stop with their lights on as the sun was setting.  This was hardly a novel event as Mr. Rider has already earned the coveted R12 Award, meaning he has ridden a 200 km event every month for 12 consecutive months.  He is also a Super Randonneur, with rides of 200k, 300k, 40ok, and 600k in one season.  Yikes.

Back in Maryland but closer to DC, Justin travelled the Anacostia River’s Northwest and Northeast branches up to College Park (so named after the University of Maryland, which is located there).  DC has many miles of pathways and this pic is a fine example of this type of riding.

In DC itself, John took the group project to another level by documenting his entire journey throughout DC.  John is a recent transplant from New England and seems to have taken nicely to the urban cycling environment in his new city.  For several excellent photos of his day, I commend to you his blog.

In Northern Virginia, another person named John was using his bike for yet another purpose – an investigation.  He has been searching for a gold Cadillac which seriously injured some cyclists in October.  He has cycled over 50 miles through the neighborhoods of his home in Mount Vernon without finding the car.  He continues his search and I wish him well.  In the meanwhile, he stopped and posed his bike for a pic in front of this interesting home.

30 miles south of John, Yours Truly was circumnavigating Prince William Forest.  I left at midmorning and the 45 degree temperature made it the coldest ride of the winter for me so far.  I checked in on the US Marine Corps Museum and took a picture.  I finished my ride at 2,923 miles – still short of my 3,000 mile goal for the year.

In central Ohio, Roger found time to squeeze in a quick ride.  His work currently has him in Jacksonville, Florida, and he had flown home on Friday to be with his family.  Sunday night, he was back at the airport to continue his work in Florida.  In the meanwhile, he hopped on his Raleigh and pedaled with friends through some covered bridges with temps in the low 50s.

While the riders in the Mid-Atlantic tended to ride on asphalt, the cyclists of Illinois seemed to prefer dirt.  David certainly did and he took his Gary Fisher Big Sur on a trail near Lake Michigan on a rainy day in the Northeastern corner of his state.  This ride put him over 6,400 miles this year.

Illinoisans were not only riding on dirt, but they were tinkering as well.  Matt had traveled from his home in southern Illinois to Land Between The Lakes, Kentucky, and was bringing his new Gopro camera.  Here we see him before his group ride, making sure he knows how his camera works.  If you’re the sort that is curious about how to make your own modifications to your bike, check out Matt’s blog.

It was raining at Ron’s house as well.  He decided discretion was the better part of valor and opted against cycling in the elements.  His bike remains in his garage, ready for the next adventure.  If Ron’s blog reports are any indication, I do not believe it will have to wait very long.

The rain in America’s Midwest fell in Canada the previous day in the form of snow.  Keith enjoyed a snow-covered trail ride on the way to the Strathcona Farmer’s Market in Edmonton.  That’s right, Keith rides his Iron Horse Commuter bike through the snow to the market.  It takes a special kind of attitude to cycle through a Canadian winter and Keith has more than enough of it!  If Matt’s blog doesn’t satisfy your craving for DIY cycling modifications, then Keith’s certainly will.

Still in Canada, but much further East, James took some time off work (please do not tell his boss) for a quick 30-minute pedal.  His single speed Konia is pictured in front of Lac St. Louis (that’s LAKE SAINT LOUIS for those who don’t speak French) near Montreal.  The Union Flag on the seat post belies his status as a British expatriate.

So there it is – my attempt at capturing cycling around the world on a single weekend.  To everyone who submitted a picture, thank you very much!  Obviously, there were a few areas on the planet that were not properly covered but it is evident from the submissions that cycling around the world can be quite varied yet quite similar regardless of the weather, surface, or type of bike.  I thoroughly enjoyed putting this together and hope you enjoyed perusing it as well.  We may do this again next summer.  Until that time, I suggest we all follow the below example of James and continue to get on our our bikes and pedal!

2010 Wrap Up: Part 2 (The Pics)

As many of you know, I enjoy taking photos during my rides.  Here are some of my favorites from 2010:

Colvin Road, Nokesville

Quantico Wildlife Refuge

Quantico Marina

Prince William Forest Park

Tidal Basin, Washington, DC

 

Lake Burley Griffin, Canberra

Rte 234 Bike Path

Orlando Road

Start Line, Culpeper Metric Century

Widewater Park

Canova Drive

Cromwell Road, Fauquier County

Hastings Drive, Manassas

Lake Terrapin

Reid Road

Quantico National Cemetery

Prince William Forest & Quantico

On Saturday, I traveled around Prince William Forest and did a couple of laps on Quantico Marine Corps Base.  Although the calendar informed me it was Fall, the weather was decidedly summer-like, with temps in the mid 90s.  I’ve traveled all these roads at least once before so there was very little new to report, other than the Modern Day Marine Expo, which I passed on my way by the post HQ. 

From the outside, there wasn’t much to see other than a bunch of white “beer tents.”  I’m sure it is very nice and the Marines are very proud of it, but I had finished only 20 of my 45 miles and couldn’t be bothered to stop.  Instead, I took my break on a bench at the Quantico Elementary School playground.  It was in the shade and nobody was there.  Much better than a tent full of Marine stuff.

Here is this ride’s installment of “Virginia Historical Marker Picture.”  This marker is on Rte 234, near the entrance to my subdivision, Montclair:

And this is what it looks like in its natural setting:

I finished the ride in good shape and in a better-than-average pace of almost 15 mph.  There was only a small issue, namely that when I got off the bike I had no feeling in the ring and pinky fingers of my left hand.  This continued for most of the day, which was a tad disconcerting.  Some one-handed google searches informed me that I was suffering from handlebar palsy, an overuse injury caused by excessive compression of the ulnar nerve which runs down the arm and (most importantly for this story) the outer portion of the hand, ending in (you guessed it!) the ring and pinky fingers.  It is also responsible for hand strength, which explains why I had a tough time using my left hand to properly operate a clothes pin later that evening.

The treatment for this condition is rest, usually 2-4 weeks.  I’ll give it six days.  Various websites also recommend frequently changing hand positions  (something I already do) and additional padding in riding gloves (something I will definitely look into).  The hand is already doing much better and I am even using it to type this post – yippee!

Today, I took the Trek back to Revolution Cycles to give it a tune up prior to next weekend’s ride in Culpeper.  The cables, derailleurs, brakes, and whatnot on new bikes have a break-in period.  Small adjustments are usually necessary after the first couple hundred miles.  Such was the case with my bike.  After a few small tweaks and a chain lube, the Trek was right as rain.  I briefly loitered at the glove section, hoping to find a pair of full-fingered gloves for my winter riding.  I found several, but none for less than the cost of dinner at a fine restaurant.  I think I’ll shop around a bit!

Quantico Wildlife Area

I haven’t missed a weekend ride in over three months, but my streak was in jeopardy this afternoon.  Parenting and social obligations kept me off the roads on Saturday and early morning rains and the promise of afternoon thunderstorms put Sunday at risk.  So when the skies cleared and the roads were dry at 2:00, I made my move. 

The weather radar showed a band of thunderstorms moving through the area.  My house was on the southern end of this band.  I hoped I could travel further south to Quantico MCB and miss the storm.  Unlike so many of my plans, this one actually worked.  My wife reported that it rained pretty hard about 15 minutes after I left.  I didn’t feel a drop.

My goal was the wildlife refuge on Quantico Marine Base.  I’ve seen signs for this area on my previous trips but I have never ventured down the path which leads to it.  With the assistance of the wind associated with the storms, I reached Quantico at a pace of 19.5 mph, eclipsing my previous best time by 2.5 mph. Despite the wind, I will take full credit for that mark!  I took the long way around the base to add some miles to my ride and hit the North Branch Trail (so-named because it is on the north bank of Quantico Creek) ready to see something new.  This is what I saw:

I was very surprised by the coolness of this place.  There are several viewing areas along the trail, with wooden viewing platforms complete with helpful signs describing the wildlife you may see in the area.  I ate my Clif Bar while sitting on a bench and thought of my friend, Joel, who prefers traveling by kayak to other land-based forms of locomotion.  He would enjoy this place, I think.  I took a self-portrait and hit the trail.

Quantico MCB has a mountain biking club and is host to a race in the Cranky Monkey series.  I don’t know much about this event, other than it repeatedly dashes my hopes when I look for organized rides in the area, only to see this one.  The reason why this is important to today’s story is because Quantico is home to a gazillion mountain bike trails, or so it would seem by looking at the maps posted along the trail routes.  The North Bank Trail is one of these routes and I traveled it for about two miles. 

The trail was a lot of fun to ride.  I’m not really into mountain biking but I can now at least appreciate what the attraction is.  The twists and turns were fun and you definitely need to have your wits about you.  I was forced to dismount a few times to go over logs or extremely rutted portions that I didn’t trust my tires on.  If you zoom in on my Garmin page, you’ll see portions of the ride where I am apparently traveling in the creek.  Fortunately, that is not the case.  I was either at the viewing stand or traveling over a bridge like this one:

In places, the trail leads you down to the water’s edge, offering nice views.

Eventually, the trail brought me back to Russell Road and I began my journey home.  I felt surprisingly strong at this point, probably because I hadn’t done much riding in the previous week and I was not trying to push a bike with a broken wheel.  It was a refreshing change.  I pedaled through Dumfries and eventually met up with my nemesis, Van Buren Road – three quarters of a mile at an 11% grade.  As is always the case when we meet, I had the distinct impression that the hill was laughing at me.  This was the first serious hill I ever attempted (way back in April). Back then it took me to my lowest gear and nearly broke me.  Today, I kept it in the middle sprocket, stood up on my pedals, and attacked.  It was still pretty tough but I believe the hill now has a grudging respect for me.  I was feeling so good that I took the long way home, adding a couple of miles to my route via Spriggs Road. 

I suspect I’ll be back to the wildlife area again, both by bicycle and other times when I bring my wife via the family car.  It’s a nice place to relax for a bit and enjoy the scenery!

Fredericksburg Battlefield Ride

  

I tried something different today.  Rather than set out from home my wife drove me to Fredericksburg and deposited me at the National Military Park, where I began heading home on a 34-mile route.  I’ve pretty much exhausted the “loop rides” that can be accomplished from my neighborhood and this gave me an opportunity to see some different terrain and visit a battlefield I had not yet seen.

Fluid levels at 100% and ready to shove off

On the way through the park, my wife was concerned about my future.  She saw some of the hills I would traverse and said, “I believe you may have bitten off more than you can chew.”  These hills were actually fairly tame.  Had she seen the hills I would be riding on 15 miles down the road, she would have had me admitted for psychiatric treatment.  Despite these foreboding words, she was most helpful in getting my gear ready to go at the far end of the park.  She took this pic, gave me a kiss and a good luck wish, then struck out for the local mall. 

For those who may not be familiar with the battle, Fredericksburg was fought on Dec 13, 1863.  Union forces under the command of Ambrose Burnside attacked Confederate forces under the command of Robert E. Lee.   The Confederates were strung out on a ridgeline that overlooked the town, located next to the Rappahannock River.  The park follows this ridgeline and ends (or begins, depending on your perspective) at a Visitor’s Center located in the town.  The battle was one of the most one-sided of the war, with Union forces suffering horrific casualties in a series of frontal assaults against this ridgeline.

Now, on with the ride.

This is a great park.  If we lived nearby, my wife and I would be walking/running/riding on this road regularly.  Many others were doing just that.  Initially, my path was downhill as I was leaving Prospect Hill, occupied by Stonewall Jackson’s corps during the battle.  At the bottom of the hill I found a large stone pyramid next to some train tracks.  This is actually a marker erected for 19th Century train passengers, letting them know they were passing through the battlefield.  The pyramid is known as Meade’s Pyramid, named after MG George Meade, whose division of Pennsylvanians breached the Confederate lines at this location.  It was the only Union unit to manage this feat and was quickly beaten back by a Confederate counterattack organized by Jackson.

The view from Lee Hill

My pace was extremely slow as I stopped to read all the markers along the way.  Not good for cardiovascular conditioning, but I figured that aspect of the ride would come soon enough.  I climbed Lee Hill, so named because GEN Lee set his headquarters on this spot.  At the time, he could view the entire battle.  Now, the site is overgrown with trees (as are many Civil War battlefields today), so it is difficult to get a sense of how it looked at the time.  Lee and LTG James Longstreet were both nearly killed twice on this hill – once when a Confederate artillery piece exploded due to a faulty barrel and a second time when a Union artillery shell landed within yards of them and failed to detonate.   It was here that Lee said, “It is well that war is so terrible – otherwise we would grow too fond of it.”

Shelter and displays at Lee Hill

After leaving Lee Hill, I left the park and headed into town to swing by the Visitor’s Center.  It was only half a mile away, but I needed to get through a busy intersection at Rte 3.  The Visitor’s Center is a small but very park-like location situated next to a military cemetary.  The Center is near perhaps the battle’s most famous feature, “The Sunken Road.”  Confederate soldiers behind a stone wall repelled 16 separate assaults which resulted in over 9,000 Union casualties.  Eye witnesses described the Union soldiers falling like snow flakes landing on a warm road.  The pic at the top of the post is from this point.

Military cemetary and memorial to the Union Army's 5th Corps.

I left the Visitor’s Center and headed north toward the river.  For 10:30 on a weekday morning, there was surprisingly little traffic in Old Town Fredericksburg.  The town was destroyed during the battle during the artillery duel and subsequent looting by Federal soldiers.  After the battle, Confederates reoccupied the town and were shocked at the damage.  When a soldier asked Stonewall Jackson what should be done with people who could do such a thing, Jackson replied, “Kill ‘em.  Kill all of ‘em.” 

Memorial to a South Carolinian soldier who brought water to wounded from both armies.

I then swung onto a bridge over the Rappahannock River.  Union troops needed to cross this river to begin their attack.  When their army arrived, the Confederates were not ready to defend the area but the Federals needed to wait 17 days for the arrival of boats to ferry the men across.  This time was invaluable to the Confederates, who were able to prepare proper defensive positions.  The failure to bring up the boats was either an engineer, transportation, or supply failure.  Since I have friends in all three fields, I will happily blame all of them for the mistake!

The Rappahannock River.

On the north side of the Rappahannock, the park begins again with the Chatham House – a home where Robert E. Lee courted his eventual wife and used by the Union as a headquarters during the fight.  I had spent over an hour traveling only eight miles and felt that another delay would be one too many.  I pressed on, traveling along the river and treated to an occasional pretty view.

At mile 10, I reached Rte 1.  There is no prettiness or pleasantries about this road.  Just a gazillion cars and almost no shoulder.  In places there truly is no shoulder, just a 2-3 foot drop to a ditch, beginning about two inches from the white lane paint.  And there were lots and lots of hills.  I was traveling through Stafford County, which must mean “Land of Too Many Hills” in Algonquin.  On my Garmin elevation data, I counted ten distinct hills on this 19-mile stretch of road.  On each one, I was treated to numerous near-misses by local traffic.  As I climbed each hill, I waited for the seemingly inevitable idiot on a cell phone who would give me the opportunity to visit Stafford County Hospital.  Fortunately, that didn’t occur.  The closest miss was about six inches.

And here’s a tip: when you’re going to have your wife drop you off far from home, check the prevailing winds.  I was moving north the entire trip in precisely the opposite direction of a constant 10 mph breeze.  It wasn’t enough to become a major problem, but it was a bother to travel the ENTIRE way against the wind.

I pedaled over Aquia Creek, past Quantico Marine Base, and through Dumfries, the traffic increasing as I moved northward (no surprise there).  Back on Rte 234, my wife passed by on her way home from shopping.  She shouted some words of encouragement, which was quite nice to hear (another first for me – words of encouragement while on a ride).  My bike and I made it home in fine shape.

Oh yeah – I avoided that Dunkin Donuts parking lot in Dumfries.  Those people are crazy.

 

Prince William Forest and Quantico MCB

  

Today’s ride included a circumnavigation of Prince William Forest Park.  The park, like the county in which it resides, is named after Prince William, Duke of Cumberland, the third son of George I.   He was a popular royal and played a key part in putting down a Jacobite Rebellion in 1746.  He also fought in the Seven Years War and the War of Austrian Succession.  His political rivals gave him the nickname “Butcher Cumberland” due to his harsh discipline while leading his armies.  The Prince had at least one significant flaw - obesity - which led to a premature death in 1765 at the age of 44 – a cautionary tale worth reflecting on as I attempted to burn a few calories.

Having read the above paragraph, you now know more about Prince William County’s namesake than 99.99% of its residents.  And a fat lot of good that will do you!

Prince William Forest Park was established in 1936 and is 19,000 acres in size.  It is the largest region of protected forest in the mid-Atlantic and provides a glimpse as to what the entire Eastern Seaboard once looked like.  In addition to a gold mine, the park once hosted a training ground for the U.S Army’s Office of Strategic Services (OSS) spies and radio operators in WWII.  The cabins where they stayed were built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s and are still standing and available for rent.

The forest is bordered on its north side by Rte 234, which I find myself on in virtually every route I take.  It was the southern border defined by Joplin Road that I had not yet ridden.  I headed west on 234 and reached the County Landfill, a lovely spot which (for the life of me) I can’t imagine why I didn’t stop to photograph.  I turned onto to Joplin Road and found myself on a hilly country road of questionable quality.  There was virtually no traffic and the forest provided excellent shade.  I did need to keep my wits about me as there were numerous pot holes which would have ruined my day had I strayed into them.  I took several pics along the route, but this should give you the gist – there was about eight miles of pleasant roadway just like this photo.

Eventually, I passed Quantico National Cemetary and the main entrance to the park.  After pedaling under I-95, I found myself at the entrance to Quantico Marine Corps Base.  I had just finished taking a picture of a replica of the Iwo Jima Memorial when, suddenly, it happened: another cyclist pulled up alongside me and spoke to me.

This may seem like a small event (and it is), but it is worth noting that this is the first time it has happened in over 550 miles of cycling.  That’s a long time to be on a bike, not speaking.  Especially for me.  This guy was a “roadie,” and was fully-tricked out from head to toe.  He was on some sort of awesome road bike, painted yellow.  I should have made a note of the model, but I was too caught up in the moment to remember all the details.  “Getting warm out, isn’t it?”  he said with a smile.  “Yes, but it’s not as bad as last week when I nearly died,” I replied.  And with that, the light turned green and we both pedaled to the entrance gate where we came upon ANOTHER CYCLIST.  This guy was also uber-cool and therefore my friend for the last 100 yards quickly picked up a conversation with him and politely ignored me.  We biked together for about a quarter-mile until Cyclist #2 decided to pull off at one of the many water points dotting Quantico MCB.  Cyclist #1 decided to pull off with him.  I carry may own fluids, so I pressed on up a large 8% grade on Purvis Road, hoping like hell they wouldn’t catch me on the hill.  The embarrassment would be too much to take. 

Fortunately for my ego, they didn’t overtake me.  I never saw Cyclist #1 again – he probably lives in the base housing on Purvis Road.  Cyclist #2 didn’t catch me until I was down the hill and waiting at a traffic light.  He turned right to leave the base, which is odd since he just came on the base.  I suspect he was doing training laps, the highlite of which was the hill on Purvis Road.  Lord only knows how many times he climbed that hill today.  As for me, one time was enough.  I turned southward to the end of the base and checked in on Turner Airfield.  Things seemed quiet, despite the presence of a lone aircraft.

At this point, it was time to head home.  I stopped ever-s0-briefly at the base headquarters to take this pic and dig my Clif Bar out of my Camelbak.  I wanted to try eating while riding (a recommendation from one of my new cycling books).  The experiment went well, although the Clif Bar is tough to swallow when your mouth is a tad parched.  It requires plenty of water to wash down, which I had courtesy of my Camelbak.  My only problem was finding some place to put the wrapper.  Fortunately, Marines are very clean people and there were plenty of trash cans to deposit my rubbish.  I’m not sure what I would have done with it on a country road.  I considered shoving it in my pant leg, which I’m glad I was not forced to do.  The other option would have been stopping and putting it in my Cambelbak, which kind of defeats of the purpose of eating while riding, in my opinion.

On the way back, I climbed a small hill just to the north of the base which I distinctly remember being much more challenging about two months ago.  I then braced myself for the 11% grade waiting for me on Van Buren Road.  This is a brutal hill which almost caused me to dismount when I first tried it in April.  It still was quite painful, but I managed to keep my bike in the middle sprocket and had some energy left when I reached the top.  I am forced to conclude that I might be getting in shape.

That’s about it for this trip, other than to provide one last piece of advice: avoid Dunkin Donuts parking lots.  I tried to cut through one in order to avoid a very busy intersection in Dumfries and immediately found myself dodging multiple vehicles, none of which seemed to notice I was there.  When you’re trying to get donuts on a Sunday morning, you get pretty focused I guess!