Oakes Motel, Rosedale VA 20.30 Tuesday 23^rd March (Day 9)

It wasn’t snowing outside when we got up today and the roads didn’t look icy , so we decided to go on. The weather forecast predicted snow showers. Flicking through the channels, I found one showing Casablanca. Suddenly our warm hotel room seemed a very snug comfy place that only a fool would leave.

Breakfast was three bowls of oat- meal and watery coffee in the hotel. Oatmeal has assumed great psychological importance for me. A couple of bowls of that and I am ready for the day. Out on the road at 08.20. 1 hat, 1 balaclava, three shirts, a waterproof jacket, leggings, waterproof over-trousers, waterproof socks and waterproof gloves. It was still freezing.

We were on a busy road but it was reasonably flat and the rain was still holding off so progress was steady. After about eight miles we turned on to a quieter road and gradually the houses, just shacks in some cases, became more infrequent. We would often go for a mile or so without a car passing us Probably all at home watching Casablanca.

It started to rain as it got a bit hillier but it was still fairly easy going. This is definitely a poorer part of the state. A few cattle and horse here and there. No stores, or amenities of any kind.

Many of the homes let their dogs run free around here. Mike was chased by a couple of Labradors for a while , then it was my turn. The first time another Labrador, the second something smaller and a bit more vicious. I didn’t stop to find out what. Luckily I was bombing down a hill and got away. I think they only run the length of their own home turf anyway. Even so, the first chance I get, I intend to invest in a couple of hand grenades.

The dreaded hill came at Hayters Gap about 20 miles in. First there was a descent of about 2 miles, which , despite all my moans about scenery, really was something. A dark forest of tall pine trees which seemed to close in on you as you descended ever further. At the bottom a fast moving river. A real primeval feel to the place. You knew you were going to have to pay for this but it was well worth it.

There were several false starts to the hill. You would think you had begun the climb only to turn a bend and then the road would flatten out. It felt a bit like waiting to be punished at school. You just wanted it over.

When it came, it was what the guide book said; Three and a half miles rising at 8 to 9%. No problem for Bradley Wiggins but he hasn’t got panniers full of dressing gowns, hair driers and cake. It actually wasn’t that bad. We stopped for several breathers and gulps of Gatorade and it took us about 45 minutes. It would have been murder if it were hot.

We stopped at the top to take a photo and, in the few minutes this took , Mike temporarily lost his sense of direction and started off back down the hill, on the path we had just come up. It was soooo tempting but, reluctantly, I called him back.

The descent from the hill was very rapid and quite scary. It got very cold as you descended and my hands were really painful from keeping both brakes squeezed on.. This wasn’t helped by finding out that my waterproof gloves are rubbish. They keep water out but they also keep it in. Once the lining gets damp from sweat, it rapidly gets cold and very unpleasant. I’ll replace them the first chance I get.

The last ten miles into Rosedale were easy but they were also our introduction to Route 80 which we will be following for the next couple of days. According to the guide book “You’ll find yourself on a busy 2 lane highway on the way to Breaks. Unfortunately it’s the only way to get to the park. There are many trucks and it’s “red-neck” country, Indeed it’s a dangerous road.”

What larks!

Rosedale is two garages, a Rest Home and the Oaks Motel. We arrived earlier than we had said so were not surprised to find the motel closed. Lunch was in the garage across the dual carriageway, the one you could sit down in to eat. We both had the day’s special, a Western Steak Hoagy and chips . This is a baguette with an elongated beefburger in it and a bag of crisps. The thought that we would be coming back here for dinner did not make the heart soar.

The Oaks Motel is for sale The owner, Chester, is 78 and his wife doesn’t look much younger. I was going to ask if they had internet access but when I looked around the disused restaurant which now serves as a sort of office/ workshop, I didn’t bother. Nothing much later than the seventies. We paid cash because Chester, a lovely old man, had some trouble using the touch-phone to get our credit card details registered.

The room was fine, warm and big enough to get the bikes in. All we really wanted. We spent the rest of the afternoon dozing and reading, and headed back, to the garage for dinner.

We both had baked spaghetti in a meat sauce and chicken wings that, for some reason, were boneless. The food always arrives all at once, so you end up having a sort of buffet. No booze of course, so we scuttled back across the dual carriageway with our, now customary, brown paper bag, containing two large bottles of Heineken lager. We will start showing up on traffic reports soon .

.