We had a hard time leaving the Brown’s home, so great was our time there. After a hearty southern breakfast and great fellowship, we managed to get on our way by 9:00. Our destination would be Glendale, a 72 mile ride which ran north of Richmond and opened up onto many delightful views of open fields and country homes. Thankfully the rain we experienced yesterday had come to an end giving us a nice ride under scattered clouds and a cool breeze all day.
Besides stopping for lunch we rode straight through to Glendale and arrived at Willis United Methodist Church at 3:30 PM. I could see on my map that Glendale was a very small town and that we weren’t going to be getting dinner there. So when we passed through Mechanicsville we made a stop at a gas station and I asked the lady if anybody delivered out to Glendale. She didn’t even know where it was (and she wasn’t the first person I’d asked that had no idea where Glendale was). However, she gave me a menu for a pizza place in a neighboring town and said she’d swear by their food and they’d probably deliver there. So we took the menu and headed on to the church. The church was a nice and clean place with a fridge, wifi, and shower. When we got settled I called the pizza place and asked if he would deliver to our address. “It’s a bit too far out of our delivery area.” “Oh really? That’s too bad. We’re cyclists going across the country and we’re staying the night at this address and we’re just trying to get some dinner.” “Well, I’ll do it this time. What do you want to order?” Thank you Lord.
Before we settled down for the night I cleaned out my handlebar bag and organized my other panniers. It was surreal. I couldn’t get the smile off my face. I kept saying, “I can’t believe it boys! This is our last night on the road, our last night in a church. I can’t believe we’ll be in Yorktown tomorrow!” I couldn’t wait to go to bed. I couldn’t wait to wake up.
Aug 31
My alarm went off at 5:45. I jumped out of bed and immediately started packing up my bedding. I was ready to go. I took a quick shower, grabbed some crackers and granola bars for breakfast, and loaded the bike. By the time the boys got ready we spent some time reading Scripture, giving thanks to God for His unending faithfulness, and asking Him for one more day on the trail. We left around 7:30 and you’d think we were in a race. We took off at a quick pace and set our hearts on Yorktown. It’d be a 62 mile ride but most of it would be on a bike path.
The ride was super nice and we rode quietly by many battlefields and 17th c. plantations. Needless to say we didn’t take the time to stop and take in such sights, we had one thing in mind: the Yorktown Victory Monument, our journey’s end. The path went through Williamsburg and then ended 13 miles later in Yorktown.
The plan was simple: 1) find the Amtrak station in Williamsburg–we were praying it was near the path; 2) buy our tickets for the Friday night train (the Amtrak website told me I couldn’t get on the Thursday night train with the bikes); 3) bike to Yorktown to cross the finish line! 4) spend the night at a really nice bike hostel in Yorktown; 5) bike back to Williamsburg sometime Friday afternoon to catch the train to Providence.
We were biking through Williamsburg around 11:30 as I suddenly thought I’d better stop and find our where the Amtrak station is. I looked on my phone and it was less than 1/2 mile off the trail. Praise the Lord! We turned down a street in that direction and stopped at a cafe for lunch and a coffee. There were only 13 miles left for the day so we took our time and enjoyed a good rest there.
After we were all done Rocky opted to hang out at the cafe while Forrest and I biked over to the station. The lady behind the counter was super nice. “How ya’ll doing?” “We’re doing well. In fact, we’re doing very well. We’ve biked all the way from Oregon and we’re nearly at the end of our journey now. Once we hit Yorktown we’ll be done,” I said with a smile assured of victory. “Wow! That’s really great! Congratulations. So how can I help you?” “I need to buy three tickets for Providence for tomorrow night’s train. I tried to get on tonight’s train but since there’s no baggage car I guess we’ll take tomorrow’s train.” “There’s a baggage car on tonight’s train. All our evening trains have a baggage car.” “Really!?” “Do you wanna get on tonight’s train? It leaves at 5:41.” “Absolutely! That’d get us home a day early! Wait. What time is it? 12:20. We’ve still got to bike to Yorktown, dip our tires into the Atlantic and then bike back. Okay, that’s enough time. Reserve the seats. Thank you. Goodbye!”
We rushed out of there as quickly as we could. Forrest texted Rocky, “We’re leaving tonight. Get on your bike, get your helmet on, and get ready to go!” Rocky filed in as we rode by the cafe and got back onto the Colonial Parkway heading to Yorktown. The quick pace we had in the morning was nothing compared to the quick pace we had leaving Williamsburg. We were on a mission. I remember the very place when we rounded a corner and I could smell saltwater. “Do you smell it boys!? Do you smell the ocean? We’re almost there.” Forrest was in the lead at first but as we rode up one of the hills I determinedly rode on ahead of him. Besides the fact that I usually lead since I have the map and the GPS, I was itching to reach that monument as fast as I could pedal. I looked on my map and could see that it was at our end of the bridge that stretched across the York River. Boy was I excited when I saw that bridge! I never let it out of my sight.
By 1:00 we’d reached the historic town of Yorktown and were racing through the streets past tourists and tour buses. As I followed the GPS we turned down this street and that. I kept looking up over the trees and buildings around me trying to catch the slightest glimpse of the monument. Suddenly, there it was. In the distance. I could see the tip of it. “There it is boys! Do you see it? There’s the monument!” I pedaled as fast as my tired legs could go and made a bee line over sidewalk and grass to reach it. And then, I was there; we were there. Standing in front of it with the very bikes that had carried us across the country, over hills and mountains, through valleys and deserts, across lands and rivers, through 10 states, from Astoria, OR on June 14 to Yorktown, VA on Aug 31. “We made it! We did it!” I gave the boys each a big sweaty hug and took the selfie we’d been waiting over 11 weeks to take. Hallelujah! What an amazing trip! 4228 miles. I can’t believe we actually did it. And I can’t believe it’s over. I’m not going to know what do if I don’t wake up in the morning and get on the bike…
Within a few minutes a car arrived and I asked them to take our picture. They were full of wows and congrats when I explained what we’d done and why we wanted our picture taken. It was wierd after we’d taken all the pictures we needed and were ready to go. I sorta felt badly leaving the monument. I felt like we shoulda stayed a while… and maybe we should’ve. But two things were pressing on us: 1) get to the water so we could dip our tires; 2) get back to Williamsburg so we could catch that train!
The water was just below us and we were there in a moment. We quickly took off our shoes and panniers and each of us posed with the front tire of our bike in the water. The deed was done. One more picture to go. We asked a guy nearby to man the camera while we stood in the water and raised our bikes overhead gesturing our victorious conquest. I’m sure he and his friends thought we were wierd for the pictures we took and then for the picture I asked him to take. So as I lowered the bike back to the ground I said, “We’ve ridden these bikes all the way from OR, all the way from the Pacific Ocean and now we’ve reached the Atlantic. That’s why we needed these pictures.” “Really? Wow! That’s great! Congratulations!” Again, it was surreal. We were going through the expected motions and taking all the right pictures but do we really realize what just happened? We’re all smiles and all happy, but I don’t know if it’s even hit us yet just what we’ve done, that we’ve actually done it, and that we’re actually done. There’ll be no biking tomorrow. No map. No GPS. No spandex. No helmet. No gloves. No cycling shoes. Do we even realize that yet?
Next stop: Williamsburg. I really didn’t want to bike the 13 miles back to it. We’d finished the TransAm and one rule of such a long tour is simple: never go backwards. And here we were going backwards! Plan A? Hitch a ride. Plan B? I didn’t have one. So I prayed hard for Plan A. “Lord send a pick-up.” We rode back up the hill to the Yorktown Revolutionary War Museum and Visitor Center and parked by the side of the road looking for an answer to prayer. Within 30 secs a truck came up the hill with an extended cab and an empty bed. Perfect! We waved him down. He stopped and rolled down the window. Dennis was a young senior in high school and a little apprehensive about giving us a lift. “Where’s Williamsburg? I don’t know where that is.” “Can I show you? It’s only 13 miles up the Parkway. Are you willing to give us a lift?” “Uh…” “I’ll show you where it is on my phone and I’ll give you $20 for gas.” “Well, okay. Thanks.” By the time he agreed to take us the boys already had the bikes loaded. Dennis relaxed as I kept a nice conversation going about odds and ends. He talked a good bit and within 20 mins we were being dropped off a block from the Amtrak station. Awesome!
We had over three hours before the train left so we found a place on the side of the road where we could condense our panniers. We could carry two on board the train, but the rest would have to be checked at $20 a pop, on top of a $20 charge for each bike. We had 16 bags when we started and ended up with 14. Only two down. But hey, that’s $40. Once we had that all set, we grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom in the cafe so we could change into something more comfortable for the long train ride home. Then we went next door to the ice cream shop and celebrated our victory with sugar. With full bellies we went back to the cafe and ordered sandwiches for dinner to take on the train. Only one thing left to do: buy the tickets and get in line!
We rode around the corner to the Amtrak station. The lady I’d met earlier was off but Harry was working, just as she told me he would be. He was expecting 3 cyclists and there we were. I came up to the window with a big smile and shared with him what we’d done and where we were headed. He was amazed and congratulated us. In fact, he.was so happy for us and so happy to see us get home that he started pulling what punches he could to get us on the train as cheaply as possible. I probably shouldn’t tell you just how much money he saved us, but it was no small change. He told me I should write about our journey and I said, “I did! Check out our blog at labellesonwheels.com. I’ve kept a log all the way across the country.” I came back inside later and he’d already looked at it! He asked a few quiestions about our travels and said he wanted to keep in touch. I hope he does. He said he used to do a lot of cycling but never did any touring. Wouldn’t it be great if he traced our steps one day 🙂
Oh! One little detail remains to be told. I haven’t yet told my wife that we’re on the train home. As far as she knows we’ll chilling in Yorktown for a day and catching tomorrow night’s train. I will tell her of course. If I don’t we’ll be biking from Providence to Cape Cod–and that ain’t happening. But how should I tell her? I thought of calling her and saying, “Hey babe! What are you doing at 6:45 tomorrow morning?” And I also thought of just publishing this post to the blog and waiting for her to see it. But will she see it soon enough? Well, with all the devices in my home someone’s bound to see it before bed time 🙂
So here we are… on the train to Providence, RI. I should pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming. The boys are on their phones in the same row and I’m chillin in a row by myself. I think I need the quiet. The sun has set now but a few clouds still bear its orange hue. Soon we’ll go to sleep and we’ll wake up in RI. Will it feel like it was all an awesome dream? Maybe. Maybe not. But when the train stops and our bikes and panniers are being handed down out of the baggage car to us I’ll know that it really did happen, that we really did bike all the way across the county and that we really are going home now.
I wish I could thank all the people who helped make this journey for me and my sons possible… I would thank all those who prayed for us everyday, holding us up to the Lord, asking Him for safety, strength, stamina, hydration, and good weather. I would thank all those who gave us food, water, and lodging, and those who let us use their laundry and shower. I would thank every pastor of all the many churches in which we slept along the way. I would thank every gas station attendant and home owner who let us fill up our water bottles. I would thank every driver who treated us kindly on the roads. I would thank those who opened their home to strangers, like those on warmshowers.org and those we simply met along the way who said, “You can stay at my house tonight.” I would thank those who gave us rides when we needed them. I would thank all the bike mechanics along the way who kept us on the road. I would thank those who gifted us money to help pay for this crazy adventure. I would thank all the many hundreds of Christians across the country who cheered our souls while tending in so many ways to our temporal needs… But how in the world can I thank so many whose names I never got or simply forgot? So many whose names I might remember but whom I have no way of contacting ever again?
For the record, to all of you who helped us along the way in any way whatsoever and who just might be one of the many hundreds of subscribers to this blog, let me say: Thank you. From me, from Forrest, and from Rocky, thank you so much for being so important a part of so great a journey. We will always cherish our memories of you and of all that you did for us on the TransAmericanTrail and thank you for following us on this blog. May God bless you and return your kindness upon your own soul and body a hundredfold… And may all the praise and glory for this trip go entirely to Him alone to whom it belongs: our Lord and God, the Lord Jesus Christ, without whom this trip would have been impossible.
God bless you one and all.
I’ll close with a few great photos of our finish.
