Travel and Dish

Albert Einstein offered this advice to his son Eduard in 1930: “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.” Those words stuck in my head as I climbed onto a mountain bike at the top of the Virginia Creeper Trail. I wasn’t in the best shape, and I rarely gone mountain biking in the last 15 years. But the outfitters assured me this trail was easy, “It’s all down hill.” 

One of the most famous biking trails on the East Coast is the Virginia Creeper Trail in Southwest Virginia. It’s a 34-miles of gentle downhill terrain for much of the ride. The rails-to-trails path begins on Whitetop Mountain and ends in the town of Abingdon. The trail is surrounded by thick forest making most of the ride shady and cool even on the hottest day.  

The trail is easy to follow and there are multiple bypasses, such as crossing the Appalachian Trail and random visitor stations, perfect for resting or a picnic. A beautiful scene I encountered was the fly fisherman in the river. I stopped for the first time to watch them as they gracefully cast their long fishing lines into the rocky fast-moving river. They told me they had caught trout and catfish. 

I was still only 3 miles into the process when I already felt tired. I saw a few of my fellow riders who had jumped off their bikes and took a swim in the fast-moving streams. They had stripped down and looked like joyous puppies playing in the river. I knew this was a good time for me to get going, so I did not stop. I begin peddling furiously and using all my strength to continue down the path; passing people occasionally, knocking into rocks that jolted my neck, but persisting. 

I survived this ride — at the end slightly battered, bee-stung and completely exhausted. In the process I could feel myself passing through five stages of grief—denial (this is not so bad); anger (everyone is passing me by; why did I think I could do this?); bargaining (if I finish, I promise to go straight to the brewery); depression (will his ever end, and will I hurt everywhere) with of course, acceptance (eventually I’ll get to the end if I just keep pedaling). It was a moment of sheer jubilation when I made it to the bottom.

Eureka, I saw it! There was the end-point, the red caboose in the town of Damascus! It was just a half mile from the Mexican restaurant. I was the first one to arrive! I jumped off the bike, found some shade, and gulped down all my water. Sure it was hard, but that’s what made it one of my most memorable days ever.