Setting out - The Impermanence Tour

The visual theme of this tour became impermanence.  I'll get into it later, but it became so striking a thing, to ride out of Washington’s suburbs into the ever-more-rural-feeling almost-wilderness that is America’s inland east coast.  The flight was inconvenient - landing at night - forcing me into an airport hotel.  

Always a relief to find you have all the bits and pieces -  Blue under the Eiffel Tower - in Dulles Airport

Onto dirt well outside Washington DC

It was harder than expected to escape the city’s reach.  Last time I rode here I went north-west.  It turns out – though one never thinks of it at the time – that the airport is on the north-western side of the city.  So you have escaped it already, as it were, while you roll towards Leesburg.  This time proved different, I was traveling in an SSE direction – with all the city’s suburbs to negotiate.  Like trying to ride across Pretoria.  It took two hours, in what was for me uncomfortable cold – an icy wind chewing away at my right flank.  I’d got up in the morning, put on sunscreen, and left just after sunrise.  It was 2 degrees  (and warmed up to a stingy 11 eventually, the sunscreen proved pointless in the fullness of time – I rode in long kit with long gloves the whole day). Once out of the city limits the suburban quickly gave way to unpaved roads and rural bridges across rivers; fantastic American eye-candy.  Tyre technology is an interesting thing.  The difference between a low rolling reistance and higher resistance tyre is 100%.  Literally.  Most of this tech is in the side-wall of the tyre.  I've been riding Schwalbe Marathons - German tech at its very best.  Super slippery side-walls with a kevlar strip under the tread.  I've not had a puncture in almost 3 years of cycling - including two fully loaded tours (touch wood, touch wood - India next).  They chowed the gravel - literally no difference to cycling on tar - though it helped that the roads themself were without corrugation - that surface satan of the gravel bike tour.  By lunch-time I had made it to the town of Remington - population 598 (according to the 2010 Census - and I think likely to have been depleted in the years since).  The American civil war happened all around this area, specifically in the case of Remington, the first and second Battles of Rappahannock Station.  The town itself was delightful - and unusually had a fantastic little diner.

Missing now from much of small town America -  Remington's delightful diner The Corner Deli

In retrospect I made a mess of the first day.  I was posessed with the scale of the whole, inclement weather, distance, uncertainty, ambiguous winds... and so pounded it out of the gates.  I've not ridden 150ish km with a loaded bike since the early 90s.  So why do it now?  Behaving like a newbee.  As it turns out, paying the newbee price.  The allure?  A big start to calm the nerves and the goal of Lake Anna in mind.

Out on the backroads which in this case was surprisingly tarred.  No lines, signs that some oke did a burnout at some point.
Further down this road I'd have my first proper get chased by a dog moment - bastard was quick, fortunately the slope was
in my favour and I managed to put on enough speed.

I've never been a huge fan of big dogs.  Granted, I loved our Labarador when I was growing up - but that was a well trained labarador.  It seems odd to have a pretty robust carnivore cohabiting - even if generally they prefer to bite people other than their owners.  Historically I have been one of those other people.  This trip did not disappoint.  Somewhere out in the hills, literally not having seen a house or a car for a decent length of time, and cruelly, just after I'd been taking pictures of the beautiful forest with it's dappled afternoon light - I heard a vicious snarling bark and teeth bared, from absolutely no-where, a German Shephard came bulleting out of the undergrowth onto the road, followed by another.  There was no-where to go.  I jumped off the bike, positioned it between myself and bloody Cujo and his mate.  It kept coming.  I grabbed out a water bottle and squirted a jet of water out in it's direction - which was surprisingly (and delightfully) effective.  Cujo backed off a few steps - still barking like a nutter - and gave me that fraction of space to start walking my bike slowly off the road.  There were a lot of fallen branches on the ground, so I managed to bend down and pick up a hefty one that I could wave around a bit.  At this point Cujo's chommie started circling around the other side of me, and I really thought that I was in a spot of bother.  Alone in America - a country where everyone has guns - why do I not have a gun?!  I really want a gun.  I kept walking the bike off the road, and then - DELIGHT - some nice hefty rocks.  Party time.  In no time I'd got busier than a Protea doing outfield practice - and was raining down projectiles on the now retreating fiends.  Keeping my trusty branch in hand I headed off - amazingly the knee was no problem - belted it up the hill - but noticed that Cujo's chommie kept trotting along the road in the distance behind me.

There be demons out in those woods; demons unbeknown

Not my photo- obviously - but it's a serious piece of water - and you have to be smart about where you end up on it.

Off the beaten track on a bike, the options narrow as the shadows lengthen - so the Lake Anna Lodge it was.  And I think they understand the equation.  U$70 got one a very nasty smelling room, a chewed up stained towel, and no soap (rectified by marching to the office and demanding some) but plenty of hot water and the best feeling shower I've had in absolute ages.

Doesn't look too bad if you cant smell it :-)   One light.  One pilow.  A suspect towel. No soap.

 And while the motel's isolation made it the only choice around, so too did it's attached bar - which was absolutely rocking with a festive group of Friday night locals by 7pm.  The burger was great.  The Devil's Backbone beer cold, and after a few hours the Motel started looking like the Mandarin Oriental.

Getting down in Chelsea Jo's Restaurant-Sports Bar,  Spotsylvania County.
I loved the bikey jacket - assault rifles arranged in a cross around a skull - this is America

Day 1 Washington DC to Lake Anna Lodge - 147km