60 miles to Suffolk

A full moon provided ample light for us to pack up and leave "town" before sunrise.

October 24th

We woke about an hour before sunrise today and for the first time since we crossed the Mason-Dixon Line, we were greeted with cold air. At first we were shivering, but once we added extra layers we were all peaches. Neoprene shoe covers are on a cold day what apple pie is to your mouth. It just feels good!

The challenge of where to eat breakfast was also paramount. We didn't have enough fresh water to cook our oatmeal, and the nearest convenience store--heck the nearest business establishment--was 20 miles away. Our only choice was to ride on, and drink our water sparingly.

One of many cotton fields.

These concerns gave way to excitement once we saw our first cotton field. It was the South all right. Hey, where there's cotton fields, we reasoned, there must be business.

Not so, apparently. Mechanized farming has replaced manual labor, and with it, any and all signs of commerce. Multiple times we saw monuments to what was once the town General Store, some of which had been in business since 18th century colonial times, others built from the ground up by grown descendants of freed slaves.

Robert Holmes' General Store opened in the 30s and lasted 50 years.

Once we got to convenience store, we found it a little inconvenient. The hours said the place was open, but the locked door and dim lights indicated otherwise. Not that it would have helped had it been open: The shelves were half empty, even more barren than some of the other roadside convenience stores on our trip so far.

Fortunately they had vending machines out front. We purchased some bottled water and cooked outmeal, saving the rest of the water for the ride. By now it was almost 11 am, and we had no choice but to pedal onward. No sooner did I get back on the bike than did I lament--and fear--how hungry I really was.

But fate soon turned a twist in our favor. On the edge of "town" we saw a rather nondescript building a few hundred feet from the main road. A few feet from us was a sign that said, "Fresh Sandwiches." According to my adventure cycling map, we where in for another 20 miles of nothing but cotton and soybean fields.

"Is this to good to be true?" I asked Nicole.

"I don't know, where do they serve the sandwiches?"

This was eerily disturbing.

It was tough to tell. The building looked like some kind of school or community center that was built in the 1950s or '60s. Unlike most other buildings we had sign, it wasn't falling apart.

We stood by the side of the road, deliberating until somebody finally saw us and waved us towards the building. "Come in and get your sandwiches."

Success!

We parked our bikes outside and walked in.  "Hi," said an older woman behind the counter. "We just opened last week."

Alleluia!

Nicole and I each refueled with some good, homemade sandwiches and were on our way. We rode well for the next 35 miles, but the last five miles proved the hardest. As we approached the outskirts of Suffolk, Virginia, we starting running low on water. We had only a few miles to go before we reached a hotel, and given that we were know on the outskirts of an actual population center with actual businesses, we expected that finding potable water would not prove to be difficult.

Grow-Green Nitrogen Solution plant. Who can resist the taste of Nitrogen!

Of course, that would have been too easy and too uncharacteristic of the day's riding. My mouth was dry, and the cool morning air had long since given way to what folks in Connecticut would consider summer heat. As we reached Route 58, we passed building after building that was open for business--just not on Sunday.

Finally, we reached a gas station. We each drank what felt like a gallon of water before riding another mile and half to the Suffolk Day's Inn, which, coincidentally, shared its parking lot with a supermarket.

Virginia's been a long ride, and North Carolina is within reach . . .