04.05 Tuesday 16th March 2010

Awake early, partly due to jet lag, partly due to the air conditioning which sounds like a plane taking off when it comes on, every 20 minutes or so. Still, when it does, it drowns out Mike's snoring.

A successful first day. Awake very early (watching Snakes on a Plane the night before flying hadn't helped) Picked up at 6.30 by Paul and driven to Mike's where we load the bikes. I am wedged in the back with the boxes on the way to the airport. This is uncomfortable enough but made worse by having to sit there, all circulation in my legs gone, while Mike and Paul take photos of me which, they assure me, are hilarious.

I'd been dreading the check-in process with the bikes but it turned out to be a doddle. Terminal 5 is very slick and we were checked in and through security in 15 minutes.

On our trip, we are following the the Adventure Cycling Association's Transam Route for which there is a detailed set of maps. One snag for us is that we are joining the route a few hundred miles in, at Charlottesville. A couple of days ago I had posted a note about our trip on an American Cycling website Crazyguyonabike, asking for any tips or advice people might have to offer on the route from Washington to Charlottesville. Lots of people replied and one, Linda, said that she lived near Dulles airport and offered to pick us up and drop us at our hotel. This would be great as it would save us having to assemble the bikes at the airport. We accepted the generous offer gratefully but there was a lingering doubt that Linda might turn out to be the nom de plume of some psychopath who had designs on one or both of us. If this were the case, the gift pack of Twinings English Breakfast tea and tin of Shortbread biscuits we bought in the duty-free shop were unlikely to be an acceptable substitute.

We took off at 11.30. The flight was comfortable and trouble-free. I adjusted my watch as soon as we took off and was pleased to notice that I had drunk about half a bottle of wine by 11.00am US time. This made watching Angels and Demons marginally more bearable. The Guardian reports that the BA strike is still set to go ahead. We may have had a lucky escape.

We arrived half an hour early at 15.00 and, again, getting through immigration and security was a piece of cake. The customs guys who interviewed each of us clearly thought we were insane but harmless. One said he wouldn't drive the trip we are doing let alone cycle.

Linda was just pulling up in her van as we emerged from the airport. She turned out to be an absolutely delightful person. A mother of two who is also looking after two elderly parents, she doesn't get as much cycling done as she would like and says that Crazyguyonabike is a way of keeping in touch with other cyclists. Not only does she take us to the hotel but she sits down with us and goes through the maps she has brought with her. The main snag is that whichever route you take to Charlottesville you will have to use one of the two main roads 28 and 29 for at least some of it . Neither is really suitable for cyclists. Linda confirms her sainthood by offering to pick us up the next day drive us to Culpeper about 45 miles away. The road to Charlottesville is quieter from there and, at about 50 miles we can still do it in a day. Is this cheating? I can live with it. (I'd happily go by van the whole way; we could still say we crossed the US with our bikes)

After Linda left, we assembled the bikes outside the hotel. Or rather, Mike assembled them while I stood around holding a wheel or a pedal and making appropriate sounds of sympathy and encouragement. It was ever thus.

By now it was 6.30pm. 10.30 in London. Time for something to eat. The Hampton Inn is a typical airport hotel on the outskirts of a Virginian Hounslow. We are on a dual carriageway and the only restaurants are a small cluster of fast food places a couple of hundred yards away.
We eat minced steak wraps and fries at Max's Grill and Deli. The only alcohol available is bottles of Bud or Rolling Rock. We have two of the latter , the second of which is free because they forgot the fries. A huge plate of them arrives later but we only eat a handful, The rest are thrown in the bin along with all the rubbish, including the empty beer bottles.

When we ordered the beer we were asked to produce ID. The man serving ,who was the owner, said that it was ABC rules. I had my passport but Mike had nothing. He laughed and said he'd take the risk of serving us. "You're not ABC men are you? See a friend of mine told me once that if you're talking to a prostitute and you thinks she's a cop, if you say 'are you a police officer?', she has to tell you if she is. Not that I'm saying that's the sort of thing you gentlemen would know anything about. Nor me, of course, nor me. I used to work in computers before I lost my mind and opened this place. So you have told me that you're not ABC men, so we're ok."

Back at the hotel we half-heartedly unpack some of our gear for the next day. I get out my net-book and send an e-mail to Lesley before crashing out at 8.30.