After parting with the praying mantis, I headed straight south and wound up camping at the John Kerr Reservoir near the NC border. Before I got there, I stopped at Pino's Italian Restaurant where the Italian chef made a cheese calzone for me for three dollars--a nice discount cuz I was riding so far to Brazil. I camped out that night--a first for the trip--woke at 6:45, packed, and set out at 7:45.
From 8am to 9am, I biked the Liberty Nature Trail on the south side of the reservoir, on the low side of the dam. It tested the "mountain" aptitude of my World Traveller. When I reached the water, so far below, the water was so still, it acted like a perfect mirror of the trees and sky on the other side of the river. I heard a nearly prehistoric screech of a raptor, and as I looked under a low tree limb I could see the reflection of the great white bird flying down river over the tree tops.
After I made it back to the road, I set out to make some miles. Upon crossing into NC, I stopped at a mom and pop gas station where I entered and said to the pop, "I am biking to Brazil to pass the Climate Stewardship Act." "You are biking where?" "To Brazil. I started in DC, I am here now, and I will head through Mexico and Central Americal to South America and Brazil." "And you are doing this for what?" "To pass a bill in the Senate dealing with global warming." "Oh. What's the Act?" "It's sponsored by John McCain and Joe Lieberman, The Climate Stewardship Act, and it would cap US greenhouse gas emissions in 2010 at 2000 levels and create a market to make the reductions as cost-effective and flexible as possible." "I know what he is talking about," said the lady behind the counter. "I'll sign the petition, and can I sign it for my son? He studies this in Middle School and he talks about it all the time." "Sure."
The mom pulled up the pump outside and I told her all about it. She was thrilled. She signed the petition, and then told the folks inside to get me something to eat. I had a bottle of orange juice and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Another lady pulled up in a Prius. I told her and a young black gentleman about what I am doing. Both very impressed, both signed.
I was on my way. By 1pm, I had logged 45 miles. I asked how much further to Raleigh. "Thirty five to forty miles." Oh, dear, I thought. This will be my longest day, but I started the earliest, so perhaps I'll make it.
After 55 miles and a long hill ahead of me, my legs were giving out. I sat down by the side of the road and rehydrated and refueled. Next stop with some cheap food I am going to rest a while, I told myself. I finally got back on my steed and pedaled up the hill.
God had placed a corner grocery store right there at the top of the hill for me, and I parked my bike and went inside. "I'm biking from DC to Brazil to pass the Climate Stewardship Act," I told the lady behind the counter. "You are doing what?" Her face dropped, and she looked intently. I explained what I was doing, and she said, "I'll sign this even though I didn't understand a word of what you just said. Is that okay?" "Well, you know it is for a good cause." She signed it and told her teenage employee that I was biking to Brazil and she should hear me explain why. The young lady was very impressed and signed the petition.
Many others came through the store that afternoon as I sat outside under the pavilion, resting. Nearly all of them signed the petition.
One bloke, they told me, was Mr. Greenpants. He could fix any machine on a farm. He loved to talk about what he did here and there. He said that morning he was trying to chase a fox or a coyote out of the chicken coup. Yes, a fox about ye tall, he said.
Two young black boys strolled up with their fishing poles. "You like fishing?" he asked them. "Yes'r," they replied. "You been to the big pond down that way?" he asked. "Not yet," they replied. "That pond has fish'll pull you right in the water. Those fish will pull you right in the water," he repeated. The boys listened.
Mr. Greenpants talked about a time when he was sitting watching the river. Up came a cat fish swiming up the river, fliping and flopping this way and that, making his way upstream. He said the catfish's mouth was so big it could fit your head right inside its mouth. Maybe only your shoulders would stop you from slipping all the way right down this catfish's mouth.
Greenpants asked me where I was heading. "Well, I going to Atlanta, then New Orleans and then Houston." A bright look of suprise came over his face. "Aw, you fixin to go south down there?" "Yes'r." "When I was down South there once the people asked me where I was from. I said, Raleigh, North Carolina. They said, 'Oh, you're from up NORTH!'" I thought I was in the South, so I got a good kick out of that.
Greenpants said the longest he ever drove was for 24 hours straight. He drove from Oklahoma, all the way back to Wake County, NC. All night he drove the mountains, and at 5am when the sun was startin to come up he had reached the other side of the mountains. When he got home, he just went to sleep.
Another guy at the stop, Mike--"people call me 'Sanchez'", was from Pennsylvania. He used to work in Alexandria, he said. He wanted to help in any way he could. He offered to take me the rest of the way to Raleigh, throwing my bike in the back of the truck. He offered to take me out to dinner. I told him he could help me by getting me internet access. "I'll be right back. I got female friend just up the road and I'll see if she's home. Good-looking, too, she is," he said as he nudge my knee with his newspaper.
She wasn't home. He signed my petition, and bought me a powerade, red bull and a banana (anything I wanted).
After resting up and bidding farewell to all those at the store, I was on my way. It was rush hour, and soon I had a dump truck behind me that couldn't pass since the other lane was full. Someone in the other lane shouted, "Get off the road!" It was a bike route, so I paid him little heed. Soon the traffic subsided and found harmony with me again.
I reached the outskirts of Raleigh and asked for directions to the address of Marcia Timmel, where I was to stay. Nobody knew because it was a small street in a suburb on the other side of town. I told the folks at the roadside antique shop what I was doing, and they found the address in a city map book, showed me where it was--30 miles South. I knew I would not make it there that night on bike as I already logged over 70 miles, it was getting dark, and I did not even know for sure if we had identified the correct location of the address.
I continued into town and ran across the REI of Raleigh. This is the chain at which I had purchased most of my gear, and it being a cooperative is a nice place to chat with the staff about outdoor adventures.
They welcomed me in, talked about the trip and even let me update my blog there. Once they closed, I was picked up by my Raleigh host, Marcia Timmel.
