More Mountain Madness

I'm still moving in the mountains, on the back roads, spotting deer, a kind of mountain-marmot, saving a turtle once in a while and fixing myself up with nocturnal camp spots (cemetery-view, yes please!). Very peaceful. Till I get to college-town Radford, VA and stay with college-kid Nick (great guy!) in his very all-guys-college-place. I randomly met his dad (big Nick) in Richmond. Big Nick started conversation and insisted on staying with his son since he is based on my route. All is well, I meet Nick and his friends on a very beautiful Saturday afternoon, 2pm, digesting last night's hangover with a fresh load of beer. It has a name: Quadfest, and it goes on for 3 days. Think beer, pizza, badminton, basement parties, people, a lot of people, and more beer. I guess I'll take Eastern off than. Great guys, great weekend.

And then, sort of refreshed, I move again. These following days involve some good-old-cheating and a lot of unconditional kindness. It all started on a very windy and rainy day, wisely ensuing local advice and skipping the next monstrous mountain ridge by taking a more accessible two digit speedway. Again faith delivered me in the very kind hands of Roy, a super sweet elder man, who insisted on helping me out with a place to sleep. In between two breakfasts (one in- and one outdoors) I all of a sudden see my bike getting strapped to the back of his car! Euhh ...? "I'm gonna take you over this next hill, it's just very steep". I protested (really I did) at first, but let it all go and received the kindness with a smile.

The next night I, again, land in a next-to-nothing town in the lawn of another very sweet elderly-couple whose granddaughter, husband and hyper dog live across the street. Same story: dinner, breakfast, shower, lost a game of checkers and laundry if I wanted too AND the next morning another drive up to another BIG steep mountain. Ah well, since I abandoned my all-inch-policy long ago, back in Florida, I hardly feel bad about the cheating and just go with the very-kind-offer-flow.

These days I barely get the chance to pitch my tent or eat my own food, which I just keep hauling up the mountains. And when I do (think I) see the chance to eat some of my own food, I just end up eating double breakfast or dinner. All these luxury problems I have ...

Tell me this is not the greatest way of travelling and to actually see a country? Staying with the locals, and by that I mean all of them, all the social class-, age-, and family-composition-layers. I go from elderly couples, to a young Steiner-family of six, to college-kids to middle-age singles. And they all have their little backpack full of talents and tales. And I just sponge it all up, lavishly.