For my first two or three centuries, half our training rides were out on the Virginia piedmont. We only rode either there or Poolesville, Maryland. We've since expanded our range, and while the variety is nice, I sometimes miss being out in horse country every other week. Northern Fauquier county is the prettiest area in which we ride. After about forty miles last Saturday, my riding buddy for most of this season (who comes down hard in the Maryland camp in the Virginia v. Maryland debate) opined that we were in "paradise." It was difficult to disagree.
I started out leading a group of our third-fastest riders this week, who began forty-five minutes before the rest of the group so they would finish at about the same time. We rolled out of the parking lot at a quarter to seven. It sucked getting up an hour earlier than I would have otherwise, but it was nice to have the roads completely to ourselves for a bit.
The big climb starts earlier than most people expect. We ride through a little town called Bluemont, and though it's challenging, it's just a prelude for what's to come.
The worst part about Mount Weather is that the highest point is just before the big descent. So even when you think you're done, you still have to climb. There's a good ten miles of gradual uphill after the steep uphill. And there's a government facility about halfway to the peak that's a Cold War relic of our government's attempt to close the mine shaft gap.
Seriously.
The descent from Mount Weather is a little too winding to be completely satisfying, but there's an opportunity to really open things up once you get into the gap below. It's almost all downhill to the pit stop at Sky Meadows State Park (which was hopping because of the annual
Delaplane Strawberry Festival). I was relieved here of my duties with the third-fastest group, so I was able to take advantage of a nice false flat on which one can really haul ass.
This is where the [scene missing] card belongs. I don't have many pictures from the middle part of the ride, because I was mostly focused on just keeping going. The few shots I did get are marred by a nice smudge across my camera lens. The remnants of that smudge are occasionally visible in these pictures of the end of the ride, when I was feeling much better.
We don't normally ride on Memorial Day weekend. This is the first time, actually, I ever have. So I missed out on my annual ritual of
being annoyed by Rolling Thunder from the comfort of my apartment. I was pleased, however, to see the many Harleys lining Main Street in white-bread Middleburg as we rolled back into town, where the post-ride picnic was already in progress.
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