Traveling without Moving

Circumstance has been an uninvited guest to the cross-country tour and has set out to systematically disrupt our progress towards the West coast.  In this case I'm referring to the situation with Geoff's knee, which is slightly 'tweaked' and has forced us to set up a temporary base camp in Roanoke, VA for a time until said knee heals.  Left with the choice to either wither away in slothful grace or iron our slacks and head forth to conquer our new temporary home, we opted to embrace this pollen-ridden valley and have some fun. music

I believe some background of Roanoke is due.  The area evolved due to its geographic location, which made it a major hub of transportation and travel starting in colonial times.  

When rail shipping picked up, the town was firmly established and took its name from the nearby Roanoke River.  From an outsider's perspective, the railroad history that built this town is not immediately apparent.  There are no monuments of trains, hokey banners, or rail museums that catch the eye.  Instead when you arrive downtown, you are struck by how strangely cosmopolitan Roanoke feels.  Head slightly away from the dense downtown and you will run straight into the rail yard, located on the periphery of the city, just across the river, but quite well out of view from downtown.  However you're just as likely to find yourself in one of a series of old, neighborhoods or - sigh - the usual suburban sprawl you'll encounter in most towns in this country.

Our hostess, Fleda, lives in an old historic neighborhood no more than a mile from downtown.  More importantly, her house is at the foot of Mill Mountain, a mountain so steep that its roads are used for cycling time trials.  Mill Mountain is backed by Roanoke Mountain, which is part of the Blue Ridge Mountain chain, and frankly broke me when I tried to follow Fleda on a casual ride to the top.  This mixture of culture and a geography makes Roanoke unique.  Considering Geoff and I randomly chose to reconnect in Roanoke and that Fleda was randomly contacted through warmshowers.com, I'd say we couldn't have landed ourselves in a better place to spend a week.

Mill Mountain Coffee holds a special place in my heart.  Might be that I am addicted to coffee, or maybe it's that I spent 5 hours here hoping someone I contacted through the web would come and take me into their home... The hours were not spent idly and I had the opportunity to meet several locals, two who invited me to crash at their homes if I couldn't meet up with my intended host.  Virginian hospitality is in no way exaggerated.



The Roanoke Star recalls fond memories of hikes up South Mountain to the Bethlehem Star.  It is not the only aspect of Roanoke that reminds me of Bethlehem, but certainly it is the most vivid.


Geoff, traveling bard, and purveyor of whimsy has been resting his knee, but that only limits his ability to ride. Thanks to our hostess' connections to all that is happening in Roanoke, we have both been able to enjoy events around town. This photo shows Geoff outside the Kirk Ave Music Hall where we saw the Filmed by Bike screening.

The local bike club has a Tuesday night ride, 20 miles of guys vying for first place in a mock race taken as seriously as any real one. Amusingly, I found myself among these athletes on my steel steed equipped with pannier racks, bandanna and two-toned horn.  My "competitors'" bikes looked like the product of a child's overactive imagination, with swooping curves and flashy paint jobs.  Whereas their precision machines aimed to shed ounces, mine stood obstinately proud of its hard lines and obesity.  As the ride progressed, all of the illusion of being a strong cyclist, built up from days riding through the mountains, dissolved like mist.  I recall a moment when a band of cyclists passed me at what must have been double my speed as I struggled up a hill at 7 mph, feeling proud that I wasn't going 6.  I found solace later in the ride. Several descents had allowed me to slow my heart's hammering beat to a manageable rhythm.  The leading group had stopped to regroup and so with the huge ascents behind us, I found that I was now keeping pace with all these folks and their shimmering bikes.  I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, especially when one of the riders said to me later, "for a steel tank, that bike can really move." I'd like to believe it had something to do with the rider.  In conclusion, as always, there was beer at the local bar...