Hoping for a Tail Wind

Day 11 is an off day. I wake up. Make some coffee, and dig in on planning the next week. I really didn’t plan anything for the section of my ride from Nashville to Cincinnati, and now I’m eyes deep in paper map and google map work, figuring how to best get out of Tennessee and through Kentucky without getting lost or coming upon an unclimbable hill. Three hours later I’ve got a plan to take 31E to 62 to 25 over 6 days and I’ve got 3 offers of hospitality along the way and I’m out the door to grab some dried goods for the next week and then meet some Nashville friends. Actual life now feels so luxurious compared to just a couple days ago.

Several hours and several beers later, I now find myself in the living room of a talented artist named Chelsea who has started wading into the tattooing waters. A fun fact about indie tattooing: you can fart in someone’s house while they traumatize you and still be friends. The night goes til 1am and I couldn’t be happier. Super thanks to Lareisa, JayVe, Ben, Rachel, Rob, Marisa, Caitlin and of course Chelsea.

Day 12 is not an off day. Having day 11 off wZ nice but it’s means all of my gear is split up and moved around and now I have to repack. Luckily my super cool Nashville hosts Rachel and Rob have this awesome back sun porch and a friendly cat for me to enjoy the morning and get packed.

It takes me a few hours but by 10am, I’m finally on the road – destination: Westmoreland, where a man named Charlie and his English bulldog named CeCe are putting me up for the night. It’s a mostly uphill climb out of Nashville with a serious headwind – the kind that will make you have to seriously pedal just to go downhill. It’s a cool, sunny day otherwise so I take my time and stop quite a few times. There’s so many gas stations and ways to spend my money! I stick to electrolyte drinks (it’s what plants crave!) and munch on the snack I have. I take a nap nice little park.

After an uphill climb that seemed to go on forever, I get into Westmoreland and meet Charlie and CeCe. They are great. Charlie is already the most generous person I’ve met on a trip that has been pouring generosity and hospitality over me nonstop. His pup CeCe is a gorgeous 4 year old rescue originally from New Jersey – her and I got it off once I start scratching her.

Charlie and I go for a ride in his truck and he shows me the town. He tells me about the work he does with the food pantry and the almost-finished homeless shelter that he helped to build. Charlie’s a minister, so he tells me about some of the issues facing the town and it’s residents. He treats me to dinner at the local home cooked food spot and it’s clear everyone knows and loves Charlie. It’s also clear what a positive impact he is having on the community, a fact he downplays, but that I can see clearly in just an hour. I’m inspired to be a better person just listening to him talk over dinner. I’m glad to have met him. The best part is that by the end of the night we’re watching Slow Roll clips on YouTube and I’m sipping strawberries and cream Tennessee moonshine distilled by the retired local police chief.

One thing about using a bathroom blower to dry your still rain-soaked socks is that it proliferates the smell of your feet into the entire space, and one is now free to discern which foot stinks worse than the other. I’m looking at you, left foot. I learned through my professional life that the key with smells like this is to only smell them once. If you leave the room, don’t come back in. The second time may cost you your lunch, tough guy.

After the morning packup, I empty my bike and flip it over to see what’s not working. I’ve got a slow leak and my little hand pump won’t put the last 15-20 lbs or pressure into my tube. That and half of my top ring’s gears are rubbing. These issues are making life harder but touring is not about perfect conditions, it about whether your bike can keep going or not. I speak to a couple cyclists (the carbon fiber, kitted-out, day-riding variety) that come speeding down from the north and stop to use the restrooms. Nice guys and they give me bike shop and spicy fried chicken advice 🌶. They don’t know if the bike shop at the Trace terminus is open Sunday – why is this a recurring theme? After some map research, I get moving even later than the day before.

Hills. Hills. Hills. Apparently the northern terminus (which some history-denying Tennesseans hate to be advised) is the end, not the start, of the Trace – but most Nashville cyclists prefer to bike it southbound, probably because of yesterday’s dumb steep hill. (My two new friends from earlier told me, “yeah we don’t go down that one, that’s where we turnaround”. I was hoping it was the last of the variety and that’s a good sign. Either way, the half full back tire makes for a bouncy ride and my gear issues make for a bit more middle ring time than I’d like. So it’s much easier. Lots of 5mph minutes. As I get closer to Nashville, the parkway comes alive with people walking on it, hanging out in the middle of the road, taking selfies, being people in people places. Olmsted would approve. It’s what a parkway should be: cars can utilize it at a safe speed, but its a space for people to leisurely enjoy, so they take precedence over motor vehicle traffic. It’s not a highway to zip cars in and away as fast as they want. NYSDOT, can you hear me now?

My exit from the Natchez Trace is unceremonious. No signs of “end of the trace” or even “parkway” ending. Just a sign I haven’t seen in days that tells me I can get food and gas by turning right. So I do. I stop at the famous tourist trap of Loveless Cafe. Cool spot, seems like a lot of Larkinville in Buffalo was patterned after it. I was so ready to buy something for the first time in a while, but forgot to dig out myself, so instead I get some complimentary lemonade and push to the bike shop.

That’s when magic new friend time kicks in. I get my bike back in order. I meet Ben working at the shop. He’s originally from Syracuse and his tax returns identify his occupation as “boat thrower”. He offers a ride into the city to avoid what is undoubtedly the standard suburban style ring of traffic and strip malls. I take him up on it and soon we’re both meeting Rachel and Rob, a really cool couple living in Nashville who have put me up in their home for a couple days here. They also hook up the most amazing meal and the four of run out mouths over steak and beers.

I have plans of hanging with Ben and some other friends living in Nashville but by sunset, tour life is setting in and I’m sleepy. I do not delay in hopping into bed. Clean and comfortable are feelings I have missed. Every little thing feels like a luxury, from conversation to clean clothes to a full belly. I remember that I’m actually on paid vacation. Welcome to Nashville. It’s now time to figure out the next ten days of riding.