Day 23: Rest Day

Distance: nil

Song of the Day: Talking Heads — Don’t Worry About the Government

This post was written hastily in a cheap motel rool with poor internet, I capped myself to write it in under 30 minutes. Unfortunately the whole post was lost, I’m now reconstructing as best I can. Blog will catch up with the last few days of the adventure soon, I promise, hopefully later today. — Kyle

Evening backroads journey dropped us into the Farley-Hill farmstead on Edgar Road at 6PM. We find immediate affinity with Eleanor and Jeff Hill, and we review the contours of our expedition to date as we unpack bags and snack on pita chips and goat cheese.

We tour Eleanor’s gardens, sample refreshing earthy asparagus (why even cook it?), lemon balm, ramps, red lettuce; later crunch on a spicy radish salad. Dinner, which is puctuated by THANK YOU’s and THIS IS INCREDIBLE’s, consists of a frittata and a radish green soup blended & heated in Vitamix — make note to try making my own soups this way. Affter dinner we sip a Belgian IPA, hear Eleanor’s efforts to conquer #1 spots on local Strava road racing segments and Jeff’s recountings of life in Germany where he lived for four years.

Lizzie remarked that the ramps tasted like brown buttered sage, so Eleanor added brown-buttered sage to the top of her fresh egg frittata.

Eleanor is the dominant biker in the family, rides a dreamy titanium Litespeed Arenburg, as well as a trim steel Centurion she picked up to replace her Fuji she’d purchased but left in Japan where she lived and taught for four years. Jeff is a man-o-wheels himself, rides a Utah Top End Force 2 Handcycle, and true to his physics and engineering backgrounds knows a thing or two about the inner workings of these simple machines we’ve chosen to construct our lives around.

Eleanor spotted with her scones before she heads to nursery. Jeff makes us smoothies, offers the tip that an organic lime can be blended rind and all for a good recovery drink.

fL

One beer and it’s off to bed for me, to read Autonomedia book Markets, Not Capitalism spotted earlier in Zoe’s room. Lizzie and Eleanor stay awake past 10 to glare at elevation maps (elevation is not shown on mobile version of Google Maps but warrants our attention in mountainous zones); Lizzie internalizes a profound distrust for next day’s Uharrie Forest travel plans before retiring for shuteye.

Lizzie, who had wrestled with evening unhappiness and tiredness, decided we needed a rest day. Changing travel plans was stressful so we took Jeff & Eleanor’s insanely generous offer to rest up for a day in their house. Here’s how it happened:

Eleanor set off for work at nursery in morning, after baking scones;

Jeff and I spent the morning in pleasant intermittent discourse on espresso; Bernie Sanders; his Trumped up neighbors; how he wound up in this house; my disastrous experience in Washington DC; and Thank You Jesus road signs.

Lizzie slept for seventeen hours. She only woke to eat the scone and smoothie I set aside for her. Finally roused her at 5:45PM when it was time to go out to dinner in Asheboro; she was back in bed before 9 after dinner.

Pet me! Pet me! Soma would get jealous and force nose under my petting hand.

Boss and Soma roamed to and fro as Jeff and I talked. Both animals are adorable rule-breakers, Jeff plays the rule inforcer, not every command is obeyed, and some are skirted (i.e. When Boss “leaves the kitchen” he only retreats a few inches) but Jeff is remarkably successful, considering my utter lack of ability to corral these creatures.

Lizzie spends mere minutes on the ground floor but manages to tee Jeff up with opportunity for dad joke, his specialty:

Jeff, checking meteorology map: “My mother is getting hammered up in the mountains.”

Lizzie: “You mean by the weather?”

Jeff: “No, with alcohol.’

Jeff zip-tied water bottle cages to legs of his chair; stores beer in there. Seems like a great way to steal a pint glass from a bar…

8PM: Finish massive, festive meal in Asheboro surrounded by prom couples, boys stuffed into boxy shirts and suits and looking very uncomfortable, not privy to the far superior dressers at the quinceanera party next door. Jeff shuttles us home just in time for evening sunset ritual that is so profound it almost makes us beg to take another rest day. (One of us, at least…)

Rest day was not part of the plan in a low milage segment of the trip, and I’m expectant about putting up big miles tomorrow, so I set alarm for early. I’m thankful Lizzie has rested up, and grateful to have spent a day and a half with Jeff and Eleanor. We’ll ride two hard days on flatter terrain starting tomorrow — how far will we make it?