Day Three

Since my second day was foreshortened, I began day three from Ripley, West Virginia, vowing to do better. Nonetheless, a couple of hours down the road, procrastinating once again, I decided to take a short brake for coffee and gas. It soon became apparent, however, that the interstate highway systems of West Virginia were not blessed with the road service exits that usually dot the interstate highway systems.

Every time I departed the interstate, in an effort to get gas, I was met with a sign indicating that the nearest town was 3-5 down the road and not - just off the interstate as expected. At one point, I resigned to follow the signs, but now, there were - no signs! With my fuel resources, ever decreasing, I determined to not give up, and proceeded in the direction - that would surely lead to the promised gasoline. As I turned down the road, driving past businesses with no signs of activity and scores of mobile homes (which at least in this area, out numbered conventional housing two to one), but passing no traffic and no people, I realized that - it was after all "Sunday go to meeting day" in the Bible Belt.

Alas, a real person appeared at the roadside and I stopped to inquired negatively, "isn't there even a restaurant around here?" To which he replied, "not in this little holler." After inquiring further, he offered that, "you go down this road about two miles 'till you come to the Montgomery crossing ... you know where Montgomery is?" He then proceeded to offer that, "he used to drive a school bus out of this hollow. Picked the kids up here and took them over to..." - seeing no end to this conversation, I excused myself, thanked him and proceeded back to the interstate.

Three's a charm, and my persistence paid off. Even though, it was still necessary to search out a gas station, but being ever patient I succeeded at last.

At the service station, I met a fellow biker from Massachusetts, who told me that he left Pittsburg (Massachusetts - Pittsburg? I didn't question him) and drove the Ohio River Valley to as far as Illinois, and now was on his homeward stretch. He advised me that I was now on highway US-52 which would take me all the way to Charleston, South Carolina.

Now, since I'm already about three miles off the interstate, why not - stay the course, and follow "52" the rest of the way to Charleston. Decision made!

Bad decision! As I proceeded down the road, for a few miles, I past frequent sightings, directing me back to I-77; and so, I remained confident that two highways roughly paralleled one-another. After awhile however, the "sightings" became less frequent and then seemed to disappear altogether. My West Virginia map (having gotten soaked in the previous days rains) was rendered unusable. Fearing that I might have received some bad information, I stopped at a service station to acquire another map - none available. Taking this as a sign, I inquired as to how to return to I-77; eventually got back on course and shut down for the night in a small campground in Hillsville, Virginia.