Rode a couple miles around Yorktown, visited the visitor's center and signed their cross-country log, and ate an awesome breakfast. Around noon, Teri Zodda (from Couchsurfing.org) was kind enough to pick me up in her SUV and drive Demetrii and I to her home 10 miles away (I couldn't say no to her offer, my body did not want to ride anymore). Teri made a fantastic lunch and dinner and I have to say she is a completely amazing cook. We talked and mostly relaxed for the rest of the day. Teri and Marley (her dog) really made me feel comfortable in their home.
Day 64:
Zero miles proudly pedaled. Planned my route to D.C. and ate more of Teri's awesome cooking. Her sisters came over for dinner so I got to eat even more delicious food and converse of my summer cycling travels and experiences with Teri and her family. By nightfall I felt great again and was eager to start the last leg of my journey.
Day 65:
Teri dropped me back off and we said our farewells. I tuned and cleaned Demetrii and was glad to start riding again. While exploring the area some more I immediately realized I left two of my water bottles in Teri's fridge. During my stay with Teri I had become her "newly adopted son" so I couldn't wait to give her a hard time about sending me off without water. What kind of mother sends her child off on an adventure to die of thirst? After I had planned out the joke to myself, 20 miles in I hear this honking from the other side of the freeway and look up with complete surprise to see Teri swinging around with my water bottles (which means she had to drive about 30 miles out of her way and 30 miles back). Teri, you are just too awesome. I guess I really am your newly adopted son. Thanks for taking me into your lovely home on such short notice, letting me clean out your fridge, and treating me like your son.
Well I planned on only riding about 40 miles, but I couldn't get ahold of my Couchsurfing host, so I ended up riding about 80 miles to Hustle, VA and staying with Mr. and Mrs. Rennolds (Warmshowers.org). Peggy Rennolds rode the Transamerica bicycle route in 1976, when the trail was first established to celebrate the U.S. Bikecentennial. She had some amazing stories from her '76 tour, and a more recent tour with her daughter in Europe. She met "The Cookie Lady" before she had started helping cyclists and she showed me pictures of herself on tour in '76 (with her poodle riding lead in her handlebar bag every pedal stroke made). She showed me video of her daughters cross-country tour from the year before. Seeing things in the video that I had seen on tour was really cool. That night we ate stir-fry straight from the garden outside, but only after they gave me a complete tour of their farm, pond, and land via motorized golf cart. Your stories were absolutely delightful, thank you Mr. and Mrs. Rennolds.
Day 66:
After having a scrumptious breakfast straight from the chicken coop, I hit the road again planning to do a short 30 mile ride. Well, I arrived in town too early and decided to just keep going to my next Warmshowers host in La Plata, MD. Along the way I had to cross the Harry W. Nice Memorial Bridge, a 1.7 mile bridge with no shoulder. I called MD Department of Transportation and a transport via truck was three hours out. To save myself some time I waited for 10 minutes on the side of the road near the bridge with my thumb out. A nice woman with a truck stopped so I put my bike in the back and hopped in the cab. She rode me across without any trouble and I finished the 60.7 mile ride at the doorstep of Walter and Zoa (plus their energetic children Miya and Evan). Walt and Zoa collect all their food from organic farmers within 30 miles, so needless to say having dinner, breakfast, and lunch with them was both delicious and healthy. Because of my limited dining options this trip I haven't been able to eat as well as I would have liked. Eating fresh organic food again with my last few hosts has really made my brain feel good. Zoa, I know you work hard to live conservatively and eat healthily, thank you for sharing that with me.
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