Day 9 Mount Rogers campsite to Council, 70 miles

We left a little later than intended - as the mountain around us was shrouded in cloud and it was raining lightly.  From the campsite, we rolled down some rather toe-curling hair-pin turns! The wind in our face; mountain views blurring on either side of us and the sound of the river tumbling over rocks. Switchback and back again - by the time the road lead us into Damascus, we'd barely peddalled. We stopped for coffee and web usage (the two being inseperable aside from in libraries, which we're yet to enter... To be fair, we enjoy the coffee.) 


Caffeinated, we were able to take the inevitable uphills in our stride. The winding road which leads up from the apltly named Hayters Gap is relentless. Luckily, we had a secret weapon for this type of gruelling climb: the radio series of the Mighty Boosh (Thanks, Steve and Lou!) Being Saturday there was little traffic, so we were able to ignore the steep road which greeted us at every corner and instead 'journey through time and space'. We were grinding up the hill at about 7mph, laughing out loud at the odd absurdity (such as 'I look like a Camden Pleasure Pirate'). We reached the gas station of Rosedale in high spirits, putting away the headphones in exchange for buckets of Coke the size of our heads.
Shortly after Rosedale, we had our second mechanical issue... As we cycled up a slow-burning hill in scorching afternoon heat, Matt noticed two spokes of his rear wheel had snapped. The reality is his racing bike with its' snazzy, streamlined spoke-economy is out of its' depth with the trailer in tow. After some swearing followed by fast thinking, Matt pulled some roadside mechanic-ry and swapped our rear wheels. Its' about 200 miles to the nearest town on our route that we know has a bike store, so we hope thsi interim measure keeps us pedalling that far. In the meantime, we are taking it easy.

We stopped at Dollar Value - a franchise we have frequented several times for its' impressive array of cheap carby sugary stuff. Loaded with all the ingredients for canned burritos (sadly, Dollar Value don't do fresh stuff)-we were on our way to the Recreation Centre of Council. According to our map, the Rec Centre permits cyclists to camp on their grounds; asking only for a warning phonecall in exchange. We arrived, then phoned up (!) and luckily were directed straight up to the office and shown the facilities. A private pool party was in full-swing, while across the lawn a large group of people were grilling hotdogs and playing 'Corn Hole' (the throwing game we came across at a previous campsite). We stood by our bikes a tad awkwardly, wondering where to lock up and pitch our tent without getting in the way. However little time passed before Rhonda and her family invited us to cool off in the pool. It turned out that all the people we could see in the park were enjoying an annual family reunion -  a really big family reunion! Which they hold the third Saturday of July, annually.

We gladly accepted the offer to cool off 70 miles of sweat in the pool, and got chatting with Rhonda, Delilah, Cody, Tim and most of the huge clan (further names and introductions came far swifter than we could take them in!) The amazing thing is just how welcome everyone made us feel. Rhondas' husband Marty, escorted us from the pool to the picnic tables, brought us beers and urged us to fill some plates. He was originally from New Orleans, and explained that this compelled him to see us have a good time. The entire family were very interested in our trip and we fell into chatting with them all as easily as we would with our own relatives. Some of the family there had come from as far as Michigin to see their cousins in Virginia, so it was a humbling experience for the whole clan to extend a hearty welcome to us strangers on bikes!
The Corn-hole championship concluded in a rematch from last years' finalists, with the victors awarded a home-made trophy as digital flashes popped all over. After 9pm, the long-goodbyes I know from our own family get togethers were underway. Some of the guys took our blog down, while others pressed cold beers and soads in our hands. Everyone came and wished us good luck and said good-bye; we even got a hug from one of the sweet little girls!
Matt and I were both so humbled by the welcome and hospitality we were shown all evening from such lovely folk; we really felt like part of the family! Marty was keen to emphasize that this was the real America- and we agreed that no country should be judged by its' foreign policy or what you see on tv! We hope to stay in touch with the guys, who said they will follow our blog to 'Frisco.
This was our last day in Virginia, as Kentucky is just 30 miles down the road. So this was an appropriately warm send-off from a consistently friendly State. We strolled across the grounds feeling overcome with gratitude, pitched our tents and almost slept soundly (spare the odd paranoia about bears, and some very loud ciccadas!)