The ride to Raleigh was a bit long for our party for this early in the season. Bailing at Durham seemed perfect. The Piedmont train offers bike racks allowing riders to just wheel the bikes to the baggage car without worrying about boxes or assembly.
With nominal discussion three of us agreed and committed. The biggest grievance seemed to be the 5am wake up call to roll at 6 to catch the train at 7:22.
By Friday re-planning was unavoidable. Storms arriving Saturday had already caused tornadoes and deaths as they crossed the country. We adjusted everything to Sunday and even picked up another rider.
On Saturday Rebecca and I squeezed in a 90 minute run between storm fronts. After recovery, lunch, shower, and nap
I flipped on the TV. Local networks were running special coverage of tornadoes in NC. one touched down inside two miles of the homes of several friends. We hurriedly confirmed the safety of friends in the area including two of our train/bike adventure crew. There was some power and cable outage but everyone was safe.
Sunday morning started well enough. Everyone arrived on time. We managed to leave 10 minutes late but we planned a buffer just for that. A few of us are consistently punctuality challenged. That may be why we get along so well.
We were all ablaze with lights. There were a few concerns about visibility in the dark. Everyone seemed well prepared with ample lights both front
And rear
So maybe there were only two of the one watt rear red lights. It was perfect for our group with one in the lead and one in the rear. The sun was up within 20 minutes of setting out for our cycling adventure.
The Durham Amtrak station was very nice. The attendants were very helpful. Everything came together well despite my morning incoherence, the distracting glow of neon vests, tickets in two orders, and the general mayhem associated with group cycling.
Tickets for the bikes and passengers. The whole experience left us feeling reassured and jovial. Our novice excitement showed through some.
At boarding time I think we were the brunt of a joke. Cyclists were supposed to load at platform 5. The train didn't even reach to platform 5. When the train arrived we scurried down to platform 2. It worked out for the best. All other baggage was complete by the time we arrived to handover our bikes.
All aboard and rolling. My green in the ticketing process shined as brightly as my neon jacket. First we didn't sign them. Quick consensus was for me to sign them all. I quickly estimated it would be faster to tear them out and sign them. Rip. Then the ticket lady cautioned against tearing them. Next we all had to show ID. Odd, no one else on the train did. With sufficient shuffling of cycling supplies we eventually located four IDs. We were outsiders to this community or maybe just suspicious looking with our bikes, gear, an neon jackets. Several people inquired but none could fathom riding a bike over the 60 miles from Greensboro to Raleigh.
Finally underway but still under the watchful eye most we almost fell victim to the train lull and nervous energy. I set an alarm for backup before I observed the tricks the ticket agents used to track our arrival and departure stops. This was more unexpected but welcomed personal attention. How did the airlines get it so wrong?
In Greensboro we carefully navigated the steep rail car stairs in bike shoes with cleats. I was amazed no one bit it on the way down. Cycling shoes are not exactly graceful and neither are we. At the baggage car we receive our bikes in pristine condition. The bike racks are really nice.
The train wisked away. The platform was barren and empty. The solitude of our endeavor set in very quickly. The reality was harsh and accompanied by a brisk wind. We bonded for preservation very quickly. Everyone reapplied warm layers. Gear was sorted and stowed, items exchanged, and no bikes, people, or gear hit the ground in the process. We were off. We quickly covered the 50 feet to the escalator and elevator. I was eyeing the escalator while Kenneth and Rebecca figured out the elevator. They won and we stacked 4 people and 4 bikes into one elevator without even triggering a door alarm. Exiting the elevator we found ourselves again in a clean and comfortable train station. Again we received careful stares as we navigated the depot for restrooms, food arrangements, and last minute orientation. It was a sense of cozy awareness. It wasn't the M-16 escort you might find in a modern airport.
There is something different and special about the trains and depots. It's a slower more comfortable and more amenable place. It's a private cul-de-sac contrasted with interstate hostility of airports. It's mass transit but it's different. It was clean. It wasn't frantic or tattered. It wasn't vandalized. It was comfortable in a good way. it might warrant a repeat performance.
Out the door and to the right we hit the road. The escape from Greensboro was peaceful enough. I don't mean anything bad towards Greensboro. Big cities with busy streets just don't tend to be bike friendly. We encountered a couple traffic lights that wild not trigger for bikes and a few boisterous dogs on leashes. All in all very mundane.
Crossing 85 we were headed into the rural and unknown. There were a few hills early on the route that elicited groans. The legs got warm, sun got warm, the hills may have calmed some, and the moods improved.
Soon we were rolling through rural countryside enjoying views of rolling fields. We frequently rode two across chatting about the surroundings. There was no traffic. It felt like home on a bike. I was lulled into familiar comfort. It reminded me of the multi-day silver comet and new river railtrail rides from last year. We stopped at mile 16 for the last chance gas station for 40 mikes. It was a proper country store that carried a little of *everything*. These stores are amazing to me. In some ways they are well oiled machines from a different time. They are ready to provide what is needed. Needs first, wants second. Everything has a value that was proven over time. Time is real here, it is not 10,000 simulated iterations in lintel.
We also learned at the country store that our fourth ride and latest addition may not have had the time in the saddle we all assumed. The original plan called for 61 miles of cycling. Add in 6 more miles for the morning ride TI the train station. Add in 10 more miles for lower traffic roads. 76 miles becomes a bug jump from 50. 50 was last year's longest ride. It was going to be a long day. We re- committed to steady hydration/nutrition and a moderate pace.
Further down the road we topped one particularly nice climb when Rebecca called for a stop. It was time to shed the warm gear. Off with pants, leg warmers, sleeves, and ear covers. On with the sunscreen. With food refreshed and panniers repacked we started down the next hill. Spirits, sun, and temperature high it was time fir some high quality cycling on the backroads of NC. Life was good.
I led most of the time following GPS directions and pointing out obstacles. We enjoyed one bumpy ride over Griffin road. Definitely less used and less maintained asphalt. We turned onto Major Hill road with caution. Rebecca audibly hoped for Mr. Major Hill over major hill elevation.
Major Hill was rolling along fine with no major elevations to fret. Suddenly two large black dogs approached from a home on the left. They looked like well groomed lab mixes. They were just large and black and a little too close and loud for comfort. Their direction changed to parallel ours as they approached the road. The situation was starting to improve when 3 equally large equally black but slightly louder dogs from the next house joined in. They didn't stop at the road side. I grabbed for a water bottle. I've had good success with a sudden squirt to the face and loud yell in providing sufficient shock value to thwart chase enough for me to pedal away. I couldn't get my bottle open before the first dog passed me. If it had been just me I would have been ok. This time my friends were along too.
The three dogs entered the road and emboldened the other two. There wasn't vicious growling but there didn't need to be. It was just a bad mixture - cyclists and big strange dogs - kind of like matches and gasoline.
It may have been a yelp, it may have been a scream, or it may just be what burned into my memory. Over my left shoulder I saw a bike t-bone a dog and a cyclist in mid air over the handle bars.
After the yelp the dogs darted away back to the left side of the road and their associated properties. There was impact on the hard surface, scraping on the abrasive asphalt, and blood.
Three of us dropped our bikes in the ditch and rushed to our fallen friend. Quick assessment - skinned knee, skinned hip, skinned knuckles, head impact, and an immediate knot on the right hand about the size of a walnut. Mental inventory told me the first aid kit was at home in the drawer labeled emergency/rescue. I brought spare links for all chains but no first aid kit. Chain breaks are so much more common than dog encounters.
By this time the home owners came out to check on the barking. We negotiated first aid and they eventually offered a ride to a store down the road. Our cyclist was brave but her hand was in no condition to ride. She inquired of the status of her bike. She was getting serious about riding away and it felt like a really bad idea. We reassembled around the two ladies with their bikes catching a ride with the wife homeowner to the next store. Kenneth and I would hammer the ride to Durham, pickup cars, and come back.
The next while is a bit of blur. I rode hard. I tried to keep Kenneth in my draft zone with intermittent success. I really need to learn the arts of group riding. Entering Chapel Hill Rebecca indicated they had caught a ride with a friend. They were headed to Durham. At this point we sat up and relaxed a bit. Chapel Hill really is on a hill coming from the west.
We arrived by bike shortly before they arrived by car. The timing was really pretty good as we quickly divided gear and they set off for the hospital. Several hours later we got the news - broken hand.
Best wishes on a painless, speedy, and thorough recovery to our last minute 4th cyclist. We expected a tough day of adventure just not this direction or extent.
This ride and riding in general are tarnished. This is my second close brush with injury during a ride. The last time a friend snapped his collarbone and had to walk 20 minutes out of the woods to a 1 hour drive to the hospital. After that I stopped biking for quite a while. Only time will tell with this one.
There were a few minutes of beauty in an otherwise rough weekend. Thoughts out to all those who lost this weekend be it tornadoes or tumbles.
Rebecca's perspective on the day: Greensboro to Durham: This One's for Mariana.
Stats:
Touring Greensboro to Snowcamp
Hammering Snowcamp to Durham
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