Riding Day 24 - July 1st, 2019
Start: Summerville, GA
End: Chattanooga, TN
Miles: 49.9
Feet climbing per mile: 51
Record of today’s ride: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/36669760
This is getting a little weird. My intention is to write at the end of each day about the events of the day and whatever thoughts and feelings I’ve had throughout the day. Makes sense, right? The only problem is that at the end of the day I’m often so tired that I have no capacity to write more than a list of items I want to include in the post for the day. I’m writing this on July 2nd, just before 7:00 p.m. What you read below I will have written tonight as if I were writing last night. I think my idea to write about each day at the end of the day is sound, so maybe I need to adjust when the end of the day is so that I’m able to write before going to sleep.
Today I rose at 5:30 in order to get an early start. I had hoped to be on the road at sunrise (about 6:30), but packing up took longer than I expected so I departed at 6:50. In addition to avoiding the worst heat of the day, I wanted to get an early start because I needed to check in by 11:00 at the hostel where I would be staying because after that nobody would be there until 4:00. I managed to arrive at 10:45, having ridden 50 miles in four hours.
Several times I was again chased by Georgia dogs. In all cases except one I outran the dog and the dog went home. But there was one dog so aggressive that I didn’t dare attempt to outrun it. The owner, obviously out of touch with the reality of the situation, from a distance across his lawn told me “Drive (sic) on. He’ll stop.”. I didn’t believe that for a moment. Eventually a car came up from behind me and got between me and the brute of a canine. I took that as my opportunity to get away as fast as I could, but soon I found the dog at my rear wheel. The car was right behind the dog, and the driver, seeing the danger to me, leaned on his horn which seemed to divert the dog from his mission to do me harm. Most dogs chase me the extent of their property, but this one continued one or two lots farther. Too bad I didn’t have the means to put him out of his misery.
The day before I left Marietta, after I revised my routes between there and Carbondale, in several forums I posted messages looking for hosts. Karen Shavin, one of my Feldenkrais colleagues, after asking her friends in Chattanooga whether they would put me up, suggested I stay at the hostel The Crash Pad. What a cool place! A step up from camping but not as luxurious as some motels, it had just the right atmosphere for my trip. An outstanding amenity was access to two late-model iMacs.
After taking a shower I wandered out into the oppressive heat and humidity, eventually crossing to the north side of the river where I put my feet and my face into one of the water jets of the fountain.
On my way back to the Crash Pad I came across Songbirds, a guitar museum. Overwhelmed by the enormity of the collection, I told the person working there I didn’t see a Martin D-35 (I own one from 1972). He told me there are many more guitars in a warehouse, certainly several D-35s among them. When I asked how they acquired so many guitars, he told me there is a billionaire who collects them and puts them on display.
After riding 50 miles in the morning, before the worst heat of the day, I realized that my plan to ride 70 miles (or was it 80?) to Manchester the next day was not going to work. I used one of the iMacs to again revise my routes to Carbondale, this time without adding a day but redistributing the miles. As a result tomorrow I will ride only 39 miles to Foster Falls Campground (It’s weird to write that having just ridden to Foster Falls and knowing that I rode more than 39 miles.)
On my way to dinner I heard bagpipes being played in a fire station. I waved to the fireman while he was playing but I didn’t want to shoot video of him without introducing myself first, so I shot the video from in front of the fire station.
After dinner I returned to the performance space below the guitar museum to check out the blues jam I had seen advertised. I stayed 30 minutes, heard several songs, but not one of them a blues. How do The Dock of the Bay (Otis Redding) or Don’t Know Why (Nora Jones) show up in a blues jam? Do the people running the session know what blues is?
I will set my alarm for 6:30 and be on the road by 8:00. With only 39 miles to ride, I expect to be done before noon, even with the climbing.
End: Chattanooga, TN
Miles: 49.9
Feet climbing per mile: 51
Record of today’s ride: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/36669760
This is getting a little weird. My intention is to write at the end of each day about the events of the day and whatever thoughts and feelings I’ve had throughout the day. Makes sense, right? The only problem is that at the end of the day I’m often so tired that I have no capacity to write more than a list of items I want to include in the post for the day. I’m writing this on July 2nd, just before 7:00 p.m. What you read below I will have written tonight as if I were writing last night. I think my idea to write about each day at the end of the day is sound, so maybe I need to adjust when the end of the day is so that I’m able to write before going to sleep.
Today I rose at 5:30 in order to get an early start. I had hoped to be on the road at sunrise (about 6:30), but packing up took longer than I expected so I departed at 6:50. In addition to avoiding the worst heat of the day, I wanted to get an early start because I needed to check in by 11:00 at the hostel where I would be staying because after that nobody would be there until 4:00. I managed to arrive at 10:45, having ridden 50 miles in four hours.
Several times I was again chased by Georgia dogs. In all cases except one I outran the dog and the dog went home. But there was one dog so aggressive that I didn’t dare attempt to outrun it. The owner, obviously out of touch with the reality of the situation, from a distance across his lawn told me “Drive (sic) on. He’ll stop.”. I didn’t believe that for a moment. Eventually a car came up from behind me and got between me and the brute of a canine. I took that as my opportunity to get away as fast as I could, but soon I found the dog at my rear wheel. The car was right behind the dog, and the driver, seeing the danger to me, leaned on his horn which seemed to divert the dog from his mission to do me harm. Most dogs chase me the extent of their property, but this one continued one or two lots farther. Too bad I didn’t have the means to put him out of his misery.
The day before I left Marietta, after I revised my routes between there and Carbondale, in several forums I posted messages looking for hosts. Karen Shavin, one of my Feldenkrais colleagues, after asking her friends in Chattanooga whether they would put me up, suggested I stay at the hostel The Crash Pad. What a cool place! A step up from camping but not as luxurious as some motels, it had just the right atmosphere for my trip. An outstanding amenity was access to two late-model iMacs.
After taking a shower I wandered out into the oppressive heat and humidity, eventually crossing to the north side of the river where I put my feet and my face into one of the water jets of the fountain.
On my way back to the Crash Pad I came across Songbirds, a guitar museum. Overwhelmed by the enormity of the collection, I told the person working there I didn’t see a Martin D-35 (I own one from 1972). He told me there are many more guitars in a warehouse, certainly several D-35s among them. When I asked how they acquired so many guitars, he told me there is a billionaire who collects them and puts them on display.
After riding 50 miles in the morning, before the worst heat of the day, I realized that my plan to ride 70 miles (or was it 80?) to Manchester the next day was not going to work. I used one of the iMacs to again revise my routes to Carbondale, this time without adding a day but redistributing the miles. As a result tomorrow I will ride only 39 miles to Foster Falls Campground (It’s weird to write that having just ridden to Foster Falls and knowing that I rode more than 39 miles.)
On my way to dinner I heard bagpipes being played in a fire station. I waved to the fireman while he was playing but I didn’t want to shoot video of him without introducing myself first, so I shot the video from in front of the fire station.
After dinner I returned to the performance space below the guitar museum to check out the blues jam I had seen advertised. I stayed 30 minutes, heard several songs, but not one of them a blues. How do The Dock of the Bay (Otis Redding) or Don’t Know Why (Nora Jones) show up in a blues jam? Do the people running the session know what blues is?
I will set my alarm for 6:30 and be on the road by 8:00. With only 39 miles to ride, I expect to be done before noon, even with the climbing.
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