2010 Tour Blog
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Back to where we started
May 25, 2010
Pushing through to New Market, aka Riding on the Rims
May 24, 2010
A cookout with new friends
May 23, 2010
Leaving Harpers Ferry, we found a beautiful view!
A late start to a dark and omnious city
May 22, 2010
Eleven days deep into the Petrol-Free Gypsy Carnival Tour landed us at the household of the lovely Coates family in Leesburg. It had been our norm thus far to operate on something we call “slow time,” which, in short, is a departure from the rush-and-bustle pace of the petrol world: instead of cramming in a full day of money-centric activities—say rushing back and forth between work and the suburbs via congested freeways—us PFCGT folks were interested in going about our daily activities in a more freely-structured, leisurely-paced manor. So, instead of micro-planning every little thing out, we voluntarily tackled tasks at hand as they arose.
Functioning on slow time when on a bicycle-powered music tour is not always possible, but our ride from Leesburg to Harpers Ferry was essentially recreational, so we were able to indulge our inclination towards slow time more than usual. This meant that our morning started off pretty slow—we woke up when we woke up, and eventually those who were awake would get hungry and go about the business of foraging for breakfast. Foraging, especially urban foraging, generally includes the investigation of nearby dumpsters and/or food going to waste in the fridges of our hosts. Luckily, our search for breakfast ended with the Coates family graciously offering up a seemingly unlimited quantity of pancake mix. Between us nine bicyclists, give or take, there were at least another five or six that had joined up with us temporarily, as well as the entire Coates family. All in all, the amount of food that we had to generate to adequately satiate all of us was a considerable heap and took some time to prepare, especially given that we were functioning under the slow-time philosophy.
One may think that it would have been advantageous for us to plan ahead of time enough to get a reasonably early start on the day's ride, but this provided to be a much more challenging feat than one would expect. To an outsider, it may seem inconceivable that a group of nine people could literally spend the better part of a day preparing for departure—but there are a lot of factors that go in to the the daily ritual of sending off.
After breakfast, a few of us needed parts from a bike shop, so a small group split up to pick up the necessary parts. Meanwhile, the rest of us set to work cleaning the house. As a token of our appreciation for the abundant hospitality the Coates family had shown us, it was our unspoken rule that we at least leave their house as impeccably clean and orderly as it was when we found it, which when considering the extraordinarily shabby sweat-mud-and-rain-covered state of our joyous clan, was much easier said then done. Once the house was back in order, riders set to work fixing and adjusting whatever damage the previous days' ride had wrought on their bikes. Before long, it was well past lunch time, which meant undergoing another lengthy rigmarole of mealtime activities. Once all the food for lunch was prepared, consumed, and the ensuing mess again returned to its original condition, it was typically ripe time of afternoon when we were finally ready to hit the road.
To further fuel our deliberation, there had been a bit of a debate as to whether or not we should even go to Harpers Ferry, seeing as—I was quick to point out—we had neither a concrete show to play or a place to stay. These two factors combined were fairly conclusive reasons in my mind not to ride twenty plus miles in the rain at this late hour of the day, but my kill-joy logic was quickly trumped by the group's thirst for adventure.
Finally, once the route was decided upon and the directions were written down and distributed throughout the group, we mounted our bikes, which, after the events of the day thus far (or lack there of) felt like a particularly momentous activity.
Crossing the Potomac!
Our enthusiasm waned slightly when, no longer than 5 minutes into ride, it started to rain. A good deal of the ride thus far had been in the rain, with many of our belongings still soggy from they day before; regardless, we tried our best not be disheartened by the thought of enduring yet another day of rain. In fact, at this point riding in the rain was becoming such a norm that it had become an ongoing joke that we had a strict no-riding-unless-it's-raining policy.
We got to the part of our ride where google maps had indicated we were to connect with the much-anticipated historical Chesapeake and Ohio Canal (C&O) bike trail—a welcome departure from riding on narrow shoulder-less highways—but much to our chagrin, this route didn't seem to exist. We rode the stretch of highway where we were supposed to connect with the C&O several times, eventually being spat onto a full-blown interstate with cars flying by at 75 miles an hour, which when on a bicycle is bound to strike terror into the hearts of even the most courageous.
We quickly retreated to safer spot to regroup and discuss our options. Based on what we gathered from the map, the trail we were trying to get to was nestled in between the C&O railroad tracks and the Potomac river. We reasoned that in order to connect with the trail we merely needed to cross the railroad tracks and head towards the river till we intersected it. Matt, one of the more limber and physically conditioned members of the group, volunteered to scout it out for us. A few minutes later he came back triumphantly, bearing good news of the trail just a few hundred feet in. We were all relieved to hear this, but with all our bikes, buckets full of belongings, dogs, and trailers laden with instruments—including my heavy accordion—it soon became apparent that this was going to be a bit of an ordeal. This railroad crossing was also a bit more intense than the average one, containing (at least) four separate railroad tracks, narrow slopes on both sides, and lots of jagged, loose rocks in between.
After waiting for a lengthy train to go by (which, as you can imagine, did nothing to console our nervous anticipation), we all begun the crossing. Trailers and buckets were detached from bikes to make the crossing more feasible, and piece by piece we slowly trickled our way over. Once we made it across, we were on a barely existent deer path that went deeper into the heart of the West Virginian forest, which we proceeded on warily. Our misgivings of the trail worsened as we noted that it seemed to be leading directly into a rushing stream. We looked questioningly at Matt, who chuckled softly and soothed our worries by pointing to the now-visible C&O trail, just beyond the creek. Trailers and buckets were again hauled across separately and we begun to ford the creek, the feat of crossing the railroads quickly paling in comparison to the wobbly and slippery rocks that we used as footholds. Despite the seemingly frustrating day thus far, we were still able to maintain an optimistic outlook and joked about how fording a stream would now be added to the list of interesting and unforeseen elements of the bike tour. Once we all safely made it across, we emitted triumphant cheers of celebration, hugs, and high fives.
Eager to finally get going again, we all mounted our bikes and started moving. Alas, not 20 feet further, a yell bemoaning a flat tire brought us to a halt once again. At this point, our bad luck was just plain humorous, and we passed the time it took to fix the flat joking, singing, sharing snacks, and sharing wild conjectures about the how our homelessness for the night would unfold. We had come to terms with sleeping pretty much anywhere—a park awning, business porches, under some trees in the forest—we really didn't care. Any concerns that we may have formerly harbored had dissipated, leaving in its place the giddy resignation to the array of potential worse-case-scenarios that may lay ahead.
Twenty minutes later and we were on our way once again. Soon the highway that initially ran parallel to the trail had split ways at the base of a mountain, leaving us shrouded in the serene quiet of the forest.
I was so engrossed in the surrounding beauty that me and a few other ambitious riders whizzed right past an inconspicuous sign post and accompanying rail-road bridge. Thankfully, it wasn't long till our misgivings as to the whereabouts of the rest of the group prompted us to turn back. Retracing our steps, we found the rest of the group gathered around the base of the aforementioned towering rail-road bridge: Vicente, trusty bearer of the only i-phone of the group, had recently checked our directions and reported back to the group that evidence supporting the railroad bridge as our sole feasible route into Harpers Ferry was conclusive. The bridge appeared to connect the craggy peaks of two mountains, and the only way to reach its soaring, rickety heights was to scale a spiraling set of slick metal stairs, which extended upwards at least several flights. I was extremely skeptical that this beast-of-a bridge was truly the correct route, but a closer investigation of the faded sign post to its side revealed that this was apparently the “foot bridge” into Harpers Ferry. Trailers and buckets once again came off our bikes, and we started the process of hauling all our equipment, bikes, belongings, and selves up the stairs.
Once at the top, we lined the bridge railing and took in the breath-taking view before us: towering, jagged mountains punctuated the forest, their shadows deepening with the approaching night; verdant vegetation replete with rain spilled over the banks of the river; mist lingered over the steely surface of the river and rose in feathery pools to the tops of trees. We sighed contentedly, filling our lungs with crisp, rain-filtered air. The view was a feast for our eyes; the adventure and solidarity of the group nourishment for our souls. After savoring the moment for as long as the near approaching dark and our growling stomachs allowed, we continued on our way.
The foot bridge ushered us in to the historical region of the city, which consisted of cobblestone streets, a general store (endearing generic 1920's getup), and various other quaint storefronts.
Some combination of the pouring rain and the brisk night had effectively discouraged the usual throng of tourists and bustle of locales, rendering Harpers Ferry a virtual ghost town. Entering the city via bike path into a non-vehicle oriented part of town also gave us the surreal privilege of experiencing it largely car-free, a phenomenon which, as we all know, has sadly become novel. Regardless of the knowledge that the meticulously manicured and refurbished “historical” buildings undoubtedly served the purpose of wooing cushy tourists, experiencing it for the first time free of cars and crowds, in the fresh mountain rain, and during the final moments of dusk, was straight up enthralling.
By this point, we were practically in a torrential downpour, and our idyllic visions of vagrant homelessness was quickly dissipating. Nick, our valiant and spirited leader (though taking credit for this title was something he was philosophically opposed to), decided to ask around to see if we could find a place to stay for the night.
It was a matter of minutes before he came rushing back to where we were waiting, bursting with joyous news. “Let me welcome you to our home for the night!” he said, triumphantly gesturing towards the church behind us. The very first door he knocked on just so happened to be the owners of one of the churches in town, and after a quick look at beaming Christian Nick, drenched, clad from head to toe in biking gear, they were quick to offer up their church as a roof over our heads. It was a doubly delightful coincidence that the very place we were waiting at ended up being the place where we stayed. Soon we were ensconced in the churches' dry, brightly lit interior, rejoicing riotously at our good fortune. The lovely church owners even brought us towels and blankets, as well as a heap of leftovers for us to devour. Once again, despite our original lack of plans, we serendipitously found ourselves taken care of—dry, safe and secure, and with full bellies. We filled the church with sopping gear and music, as was becoming our norm. Just another day in the world of the PFGCT.
W&OD Trail
May 21, 2010
Deer were cooling off near our lunch stop along the W&OD
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Daytime group busking
May 20, 2010
Breakfast & a map
Riding through the DC streets...
Getting ready to busk in Dupont Circle
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Worship Service and Open Mic Night
May 19, 2010
Riding the Metro from Springfield into DC
West Springfield
May 18, 2010
Crossing a river!
On a bridge looking over the Occoquan
We noticed that a lot of the towns we were travelling through still had remnents of their petrol-free foundations. That is to say, these towns were founded in times before highways and motor cars, motor boats and jumbo jets. A city on a river, a busy port, and hope for a sustainable future.
Longest, wettest, coldest
May 17, 2010
Festival at the William Byrd Community House
May 16, 2010
Ride to Richmond
May 15, 2010
Group shot at Little Flower
Little Flower Catholic Worker Farm
On our friends' front porch in Richmond... we made it!
Split up in Lousia
May 14, 2010
Nichole's handing this one.
Up, up, and away!
May 13, 2010
Day two of the Petrol Free Gypsy Carnival Tour started out as a very cloudy and overcast day. Most of us were worried about more torrential downpour like we experienced the day before. However, we all soon found out that the day turned into a beautiful, wonderful, and adventurous day!
Waiting outside the Black Dog Bike Shop
When we were leaving Staunton, we still had over 20 people riding with us. Therefore, for safety and like the day before, we split into three smaller groups for riding. A few of us needed to go to the local bicycle shop in order to pickup a few different parts that we needed. Since most of the riders were ready to tackle the climb over Afton Mountain, all but 8 of us went on ahead. Since I personally needed to change out my bicycle seat, I went to the bicycle shop and traded my (painful) mountain bike seat for a much more comfortable (and slightly wider) touring seat. I was able to trade my saddle in so that I could also afford a pair of cycling shorts. After these two major changes, the tour was bliss in comparrison! At this point I was extremely excited about being able to ride in comfort after thinking the day before that I would need to leave the tour. I am very happy I pushed through! Other upgrades that some other members of the tour obtained included new bicycle seats, handlebar grips and tape, cleats for a clipless pedal system, and other random pieces of gear we needed for the climb ahead of us.
Then we hit road! Or so we thought… Throughout the tour, each on of us took turns having our bicycle headache days. This was Nichole's day for bicycle headaches. We ended up having to tie her buckets onto her rack because they kept trying to come off! Then later down the road, she had a flat tire! Despite all of the mechanical headaches that we all had, we were all very patient with each other as we all learned how to do things on our bikes. One of the most important lesson that we learned this day was that sticking together as a group builds the community, and helps tremendously in gaining respect from drivers. As we left Staunton, we noticed that as a large group of eight people, cars would roll past us by changing lanes, giving us plenty of space, and never tried to squeeze past all of us as a group! However, as we started encountering some foothills, our group started to seperate because of our different riding speeds (I was slow and steady!). Nick and I both noticed that as soon as we started to seperate, cars started to try and squeeze past each one of us. We ended up noticing that as an individual rider you are very vulnerable to drivers who aren't comfortable around bicycles. We also noticed that as a larger group, those same drivers wouldn't try the dangerous squeeze method to try and get past us! After we stopped to take a quick breather, and talked about what we were seeing, we made the decision to stick together as a group and control our speed as a group so no one person is riding by thselves. This ended up working amazingly well for the rest of the tour!
Group shot along the route
When we hit Waynesboro, Nichole got a flat. As we all waited around and fixed things on our bikes, we also picked up some food to eat. I can't say for sure, but I think this is where we started our habit of eating in the grass circled together. We kept this habit through the entire tour, and I know that many of us miss our grass circle meals (I sure do!)! We were able to get on the road once again fairly easy, but were all starting to get a little worried about time. So we decided to push it to the top of the mountain! As soon as we reached the bottom of the mountain on US-250, I had a wonderful realization. I realized that I had spent more time over the past few years thinking about long distance riding than I had actually ridden, but most importantly, I realized that I was doing what I wanted to do my entire life! Not only was I riding from town to town, but I had other folks to keep me company, with my dog and faithful companion right beside me to keep me company!!!! This realization kept me pushing all the way to the top of the mountain and beyond!
When we got near the top of the mountain, it was completely covered with thick fog. We also were happy to see Flux at the top of the mountain with the bus! We stopped for a short period of time to get an update about everything, and Flux was able to inform us that we were abot two hours behind the rest of the group. Hearing that our bicycle shop stop and the flat fix stop put us so far behind, we decided to push forward to get to Charlottesville. Thus, amid the thick fog with limited visibility, we rolled onto a well traveled road to descend the mountain we had just climbed.
Ominous gas station at the top of Afton
Mountain
The descent down Afton Mountain was very enjoyable. Thankfully we had pulled out before a tractor trailer and were able to descend the mountain without too many cars interfering with our fast descent! Our descent took a fraction of the time that it to us to get over the mountain! At the base of the mountain, we stopped at a locally owned store carrying mostly locally produced items. The owner was amazingly kind and very supportive of our cause. He ended up giving us some bottles of Virginia wine and some locally produced beer. After spending a little time chatting with the owner and his daughters, we invited them to the show, and left a few pounds heavier on the way to Charlottesville.
Then guess what happened? Yup! We rode and rode and rode. Then we rode some more! We wanted to make up for the time we lost earlier in the day and get to Charlottesville before dark. So we pushed as hard as we could. As we got closer to Charlottesville, the hills seemed to get steeper and steeper… then again, maybe we were just getting more and more tired! I found it rather funny that Nick got a call wondering where we were. From that conversation, we established that we run on Gypsy Time. Gypsy Time = things will happen when we get there, never any earlier, and will most likely happen later!
Now guess what happened when we got to Charlottesville? Things didn't get started until we got there, they definitely didn't start any earlier, and they definitely happened later after we all ate!!!!!!!!! The second day of the tour was the most inspiring day of the tour for me, and helped to push me through the rest of the tour!!
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 Ralph drumming |
- Vicente
Suprise storm en route to Staunton
May 12, 2010
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 En route to Staunton |
Kick-off show
May 11, 2010
