Today was another lovely day for cycling. I have yet to experience anything else. More blossom, more empty roads, more ice cream to revive me in the warm afternoon, more bottles of cold lemonade from gas stations.
I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so quiet today, because I spent most of the afternoon on Historic Route 1, which runs the length of the east coast. Previous encounters have been a mixed bag, with some busy stretches. But not here in Southside Virginia. Interstate 85 runs in parallel and takes almost all the traffic. There are very few small towns in these parts and I found myself alone on the broadest of highways.
One of the few towns, Alberta, was practically a ghost town. I turned off to see what was there. Once it had a bank, a coin laundromat and a small row of stores on its wide Main Street. Now there is a US post office, which every tiny community seems to posses, and nothing else. There was a lovely little square with a gazebo next to an old railroad engine and some swings. It was rather a sweet little place to sit and enjoy my sandwiches. But I saw not a soul the whole time I was there. Not even a car moved. I just had two huge, black bees for company.
The next town, another hour away, was McKenney. It had a bit more life, especially around a little ice cream cafe with a window to place your order and outside tables. I had a cherry sundae, which consisted of ice cream, walnuts and lots of maraschino cherries, which made me happy, and gave me enough energy to finish the day’s ride to the large town of Petersburg.
Traffic finally began to appear from the town of Dinwiddie onwards. This was an important battle site during the civil war. On March 31st 1865, the battle of Dinwiddie Courthouse was one of a series of encounters near Petersburg that, 2 days later, left the north victorious, cutting southern supply lines to under siege Petersburg by road (the very one I was riding along) and rail. Petersburg was evacuated on 2nd April and the Confederate army was pursued heading west. General Lee surrendered at the battle of Appomattox Courthouse a week later.
Petersburg has a historic centre, with cobbled streets and old brick buildings by the railway, including a handsome passenger train station. There were many notable church towers and spires and it had enough interest to make you glad you bothered to look. The areas leading in and away, however, seem very run down, including where I am staying. It’s very cheap, and it does the job, but you really do get what you pay for. I wouldn’t recommend this motel, except for the shower, which was excellent. I crossed the street to a nearby restaurant tonight and had a very pleasant pasta dish and a bottle of Guinness in the most bizarre surroundings. The music was not to my usual taste (I recognised Shaggy, but it all sounded similar) and was being played by a DJ in the corner of an otherwise empty room at ear splitting volume. It was so loud that I couldn’t speak to the lady who took my order from across the counter a foot away. Everyone was very nice to me, but I saw no-one else remotely like me inside all the time I was there. Big screens silently showed US college basketball games while I ate. I got there and back just fine; but to get inside the very friendly bouncer on the door first checked my ID and then frisked me for weapons. I offered to let him frisk me again when I left, which he found very amusing.
