4/29/01
My trip got off to a late start, as I didn't get on the bike and start pedaling until about noon. I was a bit nervous and concerned about the start, so I opted not to walk across the beach to the water and dip my tire. After I calmed down, I grew to regret that decision.
I was feeling a bit depressed and jittery when I first began the trip, concentrating on little more than controlling my bike and reading my directions. The bike handled fine, which was a relief. Still, steering a 100 pound bicycle is tougher than you would think, and it was a few minutes before I felt completely comfortable. Even then, I would occasionally drift off the road, afraid to overcorrect my steering and risk heading into traffic. In those cases, I always preferred coasting in the grass until traffic passed, then I would return to the roadway. About three miles into the trip, a passing cyclist spotted me struggling along with my saddlebags and shouted "Good Luck!" across the road, which jolted me out of my nervousness and got me into the trip. My spirits rose, and the pedaling got easier. A few miles later I finally managed to properly adjust my sideview mirror, having long since abandoned my eyeglass-mounted one. Seven miles in I remembered to drink from the three water bottles I was carrying. Okay, maybe I was still a little bit nervous.
My trip began on the Colonial Parkway, a wide road that weaves along the coast before turning west into forested hills. The path leads to Colonial Williamsburg, which is a recreated 16th-century village. I didn't stay in Williamsburg for long, as it was completely flooded with tourists. I had a little trouble with my map, but some security personnel gave me directions through the unmarked streets and I was soon on my way, leaving the RV crowd behind.
At this point, it's probably appropriate for me to explain something about my picture-taking strategy. I don't take pictures from the bottom of hills. I don't take pictures from the middle of hills, nor -- honestly -- from anywhere but the very tops of hills. It's too damn hard to get momentum going again.
I quickly learned that downhill runs were not as fun as I had thought, since each downhill is followed by an even longer uphill. And while I can move very, very, very quickly on the downhills, the uphills suck my speed away faster than I could have imagined. About midway through the day's ride I begin to dread downhills, which began to recognize as a sacrifice of climbing that I had already done.
I decided to make my first day a short one, since I was still a bit off balance from actually riding the bike rather than just talking about riding the bike. I was also afraid that I would have trouble reaching the next campground before dark (due to my late start.) After I checked into a campground near Jamestown, I discovered that a store further down the road would have let me camp for free. Oh, well.
I spent a relaxing night near the lake, where I watched the sunset. I was able to recharge my camera by hanging out in the bathroom, though I suspect other campers were talking about the freak that was sitting in the restroom with a digital camera on his lap.