Trans Am 2017 Day 18: Booneville, KY to Meadowview, VA —198 Miles, +16,212 ft

20 min readNov 9, 2017

Despite Ken and Sofiane getting into town probably 30 minutes before me, and I was set on getting out before them. I can’t remember exactly how early I left and my tracker was acting up so can’t quite tell, but I think I slept tops 4 hours and was on the road between 6 and 7. I grabbed breakfast at a gas station in town where some very friendly local lumber workers were hanging out, so I chatted with them a bit while I ate.

I knew the day would be a series of spikey climbs into Virginia, and I was looking forward to seeing what they would be like. The first is a few miles out of Booneville after a slow meander up a river, and it gets steep real quick but is only like a mile long, so not bad. I was out of the saddle and grinding the whole way, and it was evident that this is what the rest of the day would look like.

I saw towards the top of the climb what looked like a bike and possibly someone walking along next to it. I didn’t recognize the set up as another racer and didn’t think anyone was in front of me, so I figured it was a touring cyclist. I reached the top just after him, and watched as this casual tourer ripped down the steep hill.

When I caught the tourist at the bottom, I saw that he was more of a “vagabond” rider — my kinda dude. He had an ancient bike and plastic water bottles taped all over the place, along with some overflowing panniers and a backpack. I wasn’t sure how he drank from the water bottles, but I was impressed with his ingenuity and carrying capacity. I pulled up next to him and we starting chatting. He was maybe in his mid 40s and said he’d come from the west coast. He gave two answers when I asked how long he’d been on the road: 3 months and 15 years. I figured that he meant he’d been biking from the west coast for 3 months but had more generally been on the road for 15 years. He told me that he was originally from that area of Kentucky, and had gone home to visit a family that was alway beckoning him back. He said couldn’t stand to be there long, though, because almost everyone in his family was addicted to drugs, so he had left a few days before and was relieved to be back on the road.

I remembered a worry that Amy had before the race about going through this area of Kentucky where there was currently a vicious heroin epidemic, so I wasn’t surprised to hear what this guy told me. Kentucky thus far had been a relatively standard rural stretch, and I hadn’t remotely run into the level of poverty that I would coming through this part of Appalachia. I’d come into the region the night before in the dark, and this guy’s stories about his family gave me a preview of what I would see that day.

We reached the next climb and he again hopped off his bike to walk up and said bye, as if I was going to zip by him. I honestly didn’t know if I would actually bike any faster than his walking, but I was pleasantly surprised when I did. This climb had a super steep initial kicker, and the road tucked right against the rock it was cut out of, so you could see just how steep it was. Yikes! It mellowed out and I was able to get into the saddle for much of it.

I felt like I was going strong and knew it would be a slower day because of all the climbing, but couldn’t believe just how long it was taking me to get to towns I knew were only 20 and 30 miles or so ahead. I finally passed by Buckhorn, then Chaves, climbing all the way, and had my eyes set of Combs.

A couple miles before Combs you join up with Highway 15, which is one of the worst stretches of road in the whole Trans Am. It is super busy, trucks are ripping by, and you have minimal shoulder. There are also two hills, so you have to deal with the chaos of passing lanes on your way up. There was construction throughout, and the sun was getting really hot. I kept having to stop in the construction sections to make sure no trucks were trying to squeeze through when I did. All this resulted in me being pretty ready for lunch in Combs.

I reached what looked like an interstate called Highway 80 and I passed under it, ready to eat in Combs which I had written down on my cue sheet as a stop. All of the sudden my phone beeps at me that I’m off course and I realize that that I’m supposed to get on this divided highway that I’d just passed under. Fuck. At least there were some stores a mile up ahead after the turn. I got on 80 and pedaled past some construction workers who looked at me like I was insane, and I waited for one of them to tell me to get the fuck off the highway. They didn’t, and moments later I was turning into the Walmart parking lot.

The gas station didn’t have any convenience store, presumably so people have to go inside Walmart, so that’s what I did, hoping it wouldn’t end up as a massive time suck. The Subway is right by the entrance, fortunately, and I ordered up a couple things, then took down a footlong and a salty, buttery pretzel with cheese. I had been feeling shitty the past couple miles, baking in the sun, and needed to sit for a few. I was putting good miles into Sofiane and Ken, but shouldn’t have been focusing on them. If I’d felt like I was falling behind or had focused on getting my maximum mileage for the day, I would have hustled out of there. But, as it was, my main metric was staying out front of them and I wasn’t in a huge rush as long as their dots weren’t on top of mine.

The Walmart was insane. It was one of those Supercenters that has a hairdresser and dentist and just goes on for days. From the looks of the past 30 miles, it was clearly one of the only places to get a lot of the things people needed, and it was packed. But oddly enough, it was very quiet. People seemed not to talk much, and I mostly heard the sounds of beeping, carts rolling, and cashiers working. Combined with the harsh fluorescent glow, it gave the whole place a very dystopian feel. I kept forgetting that I was shirtless. Sorry people of Walmart.

I finally rolled out and was rocking some sunscreen to go with my reflective vest. You stick on 80 for a couple miles of hills before pulling off onto a side road, but the GPS was no help in getting me onto the right road. I looked for a road off to my right, but all the sudden I was on the highway going over it. I’d needed to take a left exist maybe half a mile earlier and follow the frontage road to get where I needed to be. I kicked myself for another time waster, one of many in these last few days.

I finally got onto the right road and was very pleasantly surprised at the mellow, winding road following a beautiful, full river. After a mile or so, I turned off onto a smaller road, but still cruising along a river. It was a nice meander, reminiscent of flatter areas. I got a flat after a couple miles, and felt like I was going nowhere. Shite! So much time wasting, so many friggin stops.

I fixed it pretty quickly and was rolling again, up the long meander before dropping into Pippa Passes. We passed through a town called Hindman that had the most picturesque Little League field I’d ever seen. It was a surprisingly large town, and the biggest one I went through in that part of Kentucky. The road was busy in town, and there was construction, so I was happy when we turned off onto a smaller road to Pippa Passes.

I’d been thinking for a while about what my strategy was for the now legendary pit bull that had bitten Evan, Janie, and Jon after Pippa Passes, and my mom kept telling me I needed to get some pepper spray or something. As with most “self defense” instruments, pepper spray, in my experience, does more damage to the defender than the thing its pointed at. Amy and I had got some going through Yellowstone last year, and one night at a campground I decided I needed to test it out so I knew how to use it. One quick pull on the plastic trigger and I was eating dinner with my eyes shut, tears running down my face. So, I figured pepper spray from the bike, under duress, could just as easily do more damage to myself and leave me covered in pepper and pitbull.

I opted instead for a stick, and I picked up a big branch that I tucked into a strap on my saddle bag. I practiced pulling it out and was ready for whatever jumped out. I had to get snacks in Pippa Passes, though, so I stopped into a convenience store to drink a Coke, cool down, and get some goodies. They didn’t have a bathroom, which I really needed, so I kicked myself for again needed to make an extra stop. The double stop was a bad habit of mine from back in the early days of training rides, but I had done well to kick it during the race. Sometimes you gotta, though. The woman didn’t really know anything about the road past her shop where I could find a bathroom, but I found a pawn shop with some nice guys hanging around playing pool who let me go in and crush their toilet. I came out after a while, feeling guilty, and the guys started asking me some questions about the race.

They had seemed very quiet at first, but as soon as the head guy asked me where I was headed in a very quiet but friendly voice, some of the other guys started chiming in. We chatted for a few moments and I asked them about the pitbull, and one of the guys eagerly announced that it had been run over by a car a while ago. I told him that this one was alive only a day before, and he didn’t know anything about this new pitbull. They told me to be safe and I told them they had an awesome shop with some seriously cool things (they really did), and I thanked them for letting me come in. I rolled out of the pawn shop looking for the pitbull, but reached the top of the next pass without being chased.

Of all the places on the route, I was most surprised at the people I met in Kentucky. Almost everyone along the route that we meet is friendly (though I recognize that this has something to do with me being a tall white dude), and the Kentucky people — in particular the ones in the east and in spite of a different reputation — were no exception. It seemed that they were just friendly in a different way. If I passed someone and waved, instead of lifting an arm and waving back, they gave the slightest flick of a finger, or maybe a tiny head nod. Sorry for the massive generalization, but it was my experience in these couple days.

Like the the guys in the pawn shop, who, after looking at me side eyed and not speaking except to point to the bathroom, then opened up with questions and personal interest, many people in Kentucky were very low key on first interaction, but very friendly.

At this point in Kentucky, I started to come across poverty of a different type than I’d ever seen in the US. The towns and houses along the main roads are pretty straightforward, but when you take the small roads up the passes, you see some really surprising things. Gutted mobile homes, makeshift dwellings, and very visible decay. I’ll never forget descending the last big hill in Kentucky into the town of Ashcamp. The poverty was shocking, and, as cliche as it is, I felt obnoxious sitting there on my bike, intruding on someone else’s space with my frivolity. I was glad to get at least get a glimpse of part of the country that I knew nothing about, though I still know very little.

Elevation profiles are a great thing, and can often help you mentally prepare for what’s ahead of you and get your mind right. The downside is, as it does for people with Hoosier pass, the profile can compress certain features to make them seem massive. I knew these climbs in Kentucky were no more than a mile or two long and not that much elevation, but, looking at them on the profile, they seemed huge. The mental image of each climb from the elevation profile weighed heavier on me than the facts of each climb, and I would hype myself up unreasonably for each one. Anytime I zoomed in on the elevation profile, it would all seem so much simpler. Stupid, but something I would focus on doing my next time through and got better at when I got to Virginia.

One of the problems with these hills, BTW, is that they are so steep but have tiny roads, so you often can’t go very fast on the way down because they are winding, have bad pavement, or have dirt all over them.

I’d been moving well since my flat and felt like I was making good progress when I came off this last, very steep hill. I came into Elkhorn City feeling strong and excited to hit the final state: Virginia. I was hungry but wanted a pretty quick stop. I ran into a pizza parlor before a gas station, though, and went in there and ordered two sandwiches and filled up my snack stores with some other stuff in there. I scarfed one sandwich and headed out. I felt incredibly stoked and was pushing watts. I was almost in Virginia! This was it!

I chatted with Hannah and cruised through the couple miles to the border, and, for the first time since Kansas, took a picture of the welcome sign. I coasted up the first climb into Virginia, and was having a blast on my way into Haysi. There is a series of three climbs into town, and in the middle of the last one I was hit with a sudden wave of hunger and tiredness as the sun went down. Again, since I was shirtless and only had the food I could stuff into my feedbag at easy access, I wasn’t eating as consistently as usual and had to stop to pull out food from my bag. I scarfed it down and rolled over the top, then dropped into town.

I underestimated the length of Virginia. Taking the pic, I almost felt like I was done.

There is a great 24 hour gas station there, and I drank chocolate milk and coffee while I loaded up with food for the night. The next service that would be open late was the 24 hour truck stop in the interstate-side Meadowview, so I stashed up for the 55 mile run with the possibility of spending the night before then. I had an eye for Damascus if things went well, but that was a long way off. Sofiane and Ken came in while I was stopped, having made up time when I was sitting in Elkhorn, which I now realized was a dumb stop. I wanted to stay ahead, though, and set out before they did. As I packed up my bike, a souped up truck pulled out of the gas station with a horribly loud engine. A guy sitting in a beater of a car near me with a couple people sitting inside leaned out the window and hollered at me, “Around here, the louder the truck, the smaller the penis!” I laughed and said I think that’s the case everywhere, and I was happy to have met a friendly face in this new state.

I couldn’t really see what the terrain was like, but it seemed pretty similar to what we’d just gone through in Kentucky, just a little less steep. We had a long, low grade, uphill approach to the first sustained climb in Virginia, and I was running hot on caffeine and ambition when I came out of Haysi. I was ready for this last state and felt like I could keep this mental edge all the way to Yorktown. For the first time, I had my eyes on the finish and was starting to race for it.

I flew through Davenport and up the valley to the base of the climb and knew that I was putting in a gap between myself and the guys behind. I was greedy and wanted to know how big the gap was, so I pulled up the tracker and, to my surprise, saw that Richard was not even a mile up on the climb! Oh helllllll yeah, I’m coming for you Richie. I took the first switchback and was pushing hard up the hill. Not enough to be out of breath, but just strong. I could tell we were getting amazing views over the valley behind, but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. Oh well, up the hill we go.

A mile or so from the top, I saw a red light blinking in front of me and I closed the gap quickly. I passed Richard and he looked at me shaking his head. Long day, he said. So much climbing, so steep. I knew his tricks at this point and didn’t slow down to engage. He looked worse than when I’d passed him on Hoosier, and again he could hardly get the words out his voice was so raspy. He picked up his pace to stay with me and I told him at the top that we had a couple more climbs to go and that I would be going for a while more. Trying to psych him out, you know.

We descended hard, too hard for nighttime, and I had to stop to pee and pull out more food when we came to downtown Honaker. I pulled off behind a building in case somehow Sofiane and Ken came by, not wanting them to know I was close. They had told me in Haysi that they planned to go to the hostel in Elk Garden since there wasn’t much else ahead. I neither confirmed nor denied that I was headed there too, not wanting to give away any plans. So, I knew that I’d be past them in not too much time as long as I stayed strong, even if they passed me here. But, they were a ways back at this point, and I got back on the road without being passed. In no time I saw an open gas station ahead, and to my excitement, saw Richard’s bike outfront. I was stocked up for Meadowview so didn’t need to stop.

There was a climb right out of town, and I intended to put it between me and Richard. I didn’t know how far he meant to go that night, but it seemed like he might not make it out of town, and I could hardly imagine him going past Elk Garden.

I pulled hard up the next hill, having a blast and excited to see no lights approaching behind me on a long straightaway. I dropped down into Rosedale and was struck with an immediate need for a bathroom break. Fuuuck. I pulled off again behind a closed gas station to hide and did my business, getting back on the road pretty quickly. I was nervous to be on a divided road like that, two lanes in both directions, but it was a short, fast section and I turned to Elk Garden quickly.

It was late but I didn’t even think twice about stopping. I zipped through town (which I don’t think was really a town but who knows, it was dark) and onto the base of the next climb. This climb looked to be a tad shorter than the last, if a bit steeper. We were following a tiny road with no middle line, and I was pretty stoked at the nighttime attack, sure that Richard would be stopping in Elk Garden.

I was feeling so good that I couldn’t imagine feeling shitty until I reached Yorktown. I was certainly tired and not totally there, but I was putting out strong watts and had the Spotify Rap Caviar playlist blasting in both ears. The road stays narrow up the climb, and there seemed to be a massive drop off down the side of the hill. I needed to be careful given how tired I was, especially on the descent. I hit the top and felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. There was a tiny little national forest sign and hardly any indication of humans. I pulled out a jacket and some food, and let gravity do its work. The corners were tight, pavement not so great, and I was worried about steep drop off so kept it pretty slow going down. I’m sure the guys going over the next morning in the light would rip down, so this was another reason not to do this type of thing in a lucid, 3 AM state. But I was excited to be feeling strong that night and was determined to take advantage of it, especially because I’d climbed quickly.

Cruising through the few miles of rollers at the base of the climb, I got a view of the valley in front of me and saw scattered lights among deep fog and dark silhouettes of mountains. It was fucking gorgeous, and I wished I could take a photo. My light was running low, and I couldn’t see the pavement well, but I knew it couldn’t get much lower in the ten miles to Meadowview. One car came past me and waited for a moment to pass, and I luxuriated in the now illuminated road. Look, a stick! It passed, and I was again left in stark darkness. Keep pushing, hope you don’t hit a rock. I got to a short climb that woke me up a bit, but started to fade hard when it flattened out. There were only a couple miles to Meadowview, and I expected to see its lights or hear the interstate at any moment. In the early days of the race, my mind would race in tired moments like this, but now I think I was just blank. Maybe I was thinking about things, but I can’t remember anything except occasionally worrying about my mileage for that day and the next, and wondering about the guys behind me. No way Richard made the push over that hill, it was big, he was tired!

Finally I came into town and was disappointed to see that the post office in town was a mile or so before the 24 hour Love’s Truck Stop next to the interstate. I’d have to find somewhere else to sleep unless I wanted to backtrack into town. I came around the corner and saw the Love’s glowing in that dark night, a beacon of good things for this weary biker. I even took a picture of it I was so excited.

Trucks were on the move everywhere, some pulling off for a sleep and others getting back onto the highway. It was 330 or so when I came into town and I planned to get a lot of food and potentially shower at the truck stop, but I still didn’t know where I would sleep.

I downed a chocolate milk while waiting in line at Subway and looked up somewhere to sleep. Somehow, at that late hour, there was a line for Subway and the lone woman working wasn’t moving particularly fast. I felt bad but almost left the line to eat something else, but it got to a point where I’d waited so long that there was no way I’d leave without a hot sandwich. I got two, one for that night and one for the morning, then went to purchase some snacks. I asked about a shower when I paid, and the nice guy directed me to the back. He was a biker himself and asked me about my bike. We chatted a bit while I waited for a shower to be ready, and he told me to bring my bike inside so I wouldn’t worry about it. I was grateful and did so, then went to take a shower.

I wanted to wash my shorts and did so as well as my jersey, and hoped no one noticed when I came outside in briefs and a reflective bib. I felt good when I left the stop but wasn’t sure where to go. I rolled down the road, less tired than I’d been before and considering continuing my push, but I was wearing briefs and didn’t want to put on the wet shorts. Since I didn’t want to backtrack the mile into town for a post office, I planned to stop somewhere in the next two miles before a big junction, so kept an eye out for a church that I’d looked up, but didn’t see it. I passed an elementary school and thought that was a great spot, but realized that I would be waking up as the first teachers came in, and figured my half naked self was not what they wanted to see. So I kept going, and came to the intersection. I came across a gas station and anxiously decided to sleep somewhere there. I remembered seeing Michel on a table out front a gas station in Illinois, but there were no tables or anywhere good to sleep, and I briefly considered sleeping in the DIY car wash.

It was over an hour since I’d come into town and I was super impatient to sleep, so I just pulled around the back and figured I’d sleep in the grass. The grass was soaking, though, so I laid down on the dirt and rock covered pavement next to it, hopefully out of the way of any cars that might pull through. What a fucking bad spot, and I wondered if I would regret this decision. I didn’t want to get back up though, and had been sleeping on hard floors for the past 18 days so figured I’d do fine. I downed my sandwich and set my alarm, looking to sleep for no more than 2.5 hours to keep my advantage. I’d seen that Richard had also made it to Meadowview and wanted to stay ahead of him, figuring that I’d gapped the other guys enough to never see them again. Bye bye, Sofiane. Bye bye, Ken. I still felt strong going to bed, and was excited for the days ahead.

I had in mind finishing under the 20 day mark, which would require getting to Yorktown before 9 AM on day 21, and knew what I needed to do to accomplish that. I had worried that it was out of reach after the short first day in Kentucky, but now knew that I could make it. I’d pushed it as hard as I could that night and I was satisfied that I didn’t take my foot off the gas. Go go go. I was wrecked, proud, and stoked for the FINAL days ahead. I had a bit of trepidation as I lay there, though, that I would wake after my short sleep feeling like shit.

Trans Am 2017 Intro

Trans Am Day 1: Astoria, OR to McKenzie Bridge, OR

Trans Am Day 2: McKenzie Bridge, OR to Prairie City, OR

Trans Am Day 3: Prairie City, OR to Council, ID

Trans Am Day 4: Council, ID to Lochsa Lodge, ID

Trans Am Day 5: Lochsa Lodge, ID to Bannack State Park, MT

Trans Am Day 6: Bannack State Park, MT to Cameron, MT

Trans Am Day 7: Cameron, MT to Lander, WY

Trans Am Day 8: Lander, WY to Cowdrey, CO

Trans Am Day 9: Cowdrey, CO to Alma, CO

Trans Am Day 10: Alma, CO to Haswell, CO

Trans Am Day 11: Haswell, CO to Ness City, KS