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Saturday morning was a repeat of Friday morning temperature wise, low thirties. We got off a little earlier since the bikes were already loaded so this meant it was a bit chillier when we started to off load the bikes. Now it was here that a heretofore unmentioned problem with the tandem manifested itself. It seems that in my enthusiasm to lube the chains on the bike I had been a bit over zealous. I had taken the old adage that if a �drop is good then a splash is better� to an unheard of level. I actually had the chains soaked to the point they were almost soggy. Now the problem was that I decided to help the Carolina folks unload the tandem from the roof of the van. This meant I grabbed and held the bike by the drive end. By the time we had it on the ground I looked like I had just overhauled a 1957 International Harvester. Plus the bike frame and every other part had sticky little grease specks slung onto them from the spinning chain, and after a quick glance to Susan�s shoes I noticed they did too. That wasn�t good. All Susan needs is another reason to remind me why she should be the captain of this team and I should be the stoker.
I hurried Susan onto the back of the bike hoping she would not notice the specks on her just washed shoes. Too late. As we rode off Susan was telling me all the ways how not to lube a chain and while fussing at me as we zoomed right by our first turn of the morning. Finally I had a piece of luck. See, the stoker has two jobs; pedal and navigate. Well, Susan was pedaling OK but she had been a little lax with her navigation duties. We had only gone about a half mile out of the way but it might as well been a hundred. I could now take her argument and turn it around and make everything her fault. It�s great to be a guy!
With the �chain lube� argument battled to a draw to be resurrected in the distance future to be fought again like all good arguments, we settled in for what was to be about a 28 mile morning ride to the first winery of the day. The terrain was about the same and the scenery was still rural farmland. It was actually quite pleasant, but there still loomed the specter of those strenuous �but short� climbs. The thought of them being like yesterdays strenuous �but short� climbs had me whimpering to myself. The 10% grade on Bethel Church Road from our previous ride was anything but short. I couldn�t help but think of a quote from wheel builder Peter Jon White about hills. He said,� You can do one or some combination of three things to get up a hill easier. You can get stronger, get lighter, or get a lower gear.� As I pondered which one of these I could do in the next thirty minutes I knew I was in for some pain. Now our tour guides had told us that the upcoming hill was only tough because it was at the end of the ride. It had nothing to do of course with the incline that would challenge Space Mountain, or the length that went on into infinite and beyond. Oh no. Those have nothing to do with it. It was only because it was a finishing hill. I, on the other hand, only saw that as adding to our agony. Finally we reeled in that last hill and rolled into the Ragapple Lassie Vineyard. |
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As we were eating our lunch and I could not help but think about the upcoming wines. Was the Viognier aged in toasted Belgium oak going to standup to the full spicy taste of layers of peach and apricots of the reserve chardonnay from the new French barrels? Or was that the other way around? Maybe it would be the Merlot with its center core of blackberry and cassis that would beat out the Shiraz with its soft tannins and its rich spicy black currant flavors and wild cherry aromas. Actually I was thinking of my cup of instant hot chocolate and wishing I had some of those little marsh mallows to put in it. You know those ones that are a little bigger than a pencil eraser and stick together and turn into a gooey blob as it floats on top of your hot chocolate. Yeah those. I love those. Now those sit nice in the mouth and have no bite. Well, sometimes they will burn the living crap out of your tongue but not if your careful. As I daydreamed about the full flavor of rich dark chocolate, with a hint of creamy milk, smothered in the toasted taste of gummy sugar the wines arrived. |
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As usual Susan turned her nose up at all the dry wines so that left me to do double shooters, again. She waited until they brought out the �dessert wines�. That�s wine talk for, �This stuff is better poured over pancakes�, but everyone has their own taste. I just like my wine to pour out of the bottle faster than ketchup that�s all. After having a shot or ten we climbed on the tandem and wobbled off.
Our next winery was about 28 more miles away and I was beginning to feel the ride. I was still a little sore from yesterday and I was getting one of those wine headaches. At least I think it was from the wine, but it could have been from Susan singing 99 bottles of Sauvignon Blanc on the wall. I wasn�t sure. Finally at about 21 miles we pulled into a sag stop with the van. Since Susan had about 32 bottles still on the wall I decided to call it a riding day. We loaded up one greasy tandem and climbed in the van with most of the other folks already inside. Now sitting in a warm van on a soft seat is not a bad way to go wining.
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a little country store along the way |
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Our last winery, the Westbend Vineyards, is still sort of a blur. I didn�t even want to hear about buttery, fruity, dry, apricoty, oaky, blackberry, sits in your mouth like 7 levels of hell kind of wine. Just fill the glass and let me slam it! Yeah! Unfortunely wine bars are much more sophisticated than that, so I sipped with my pinky sticking out while I swirled the wine and smelled the bouquet and then chugged it when they weren�t looking.
Around 4:00 or 5:00 we made it back to the hotel. We said our goodbyes to friends made over the past two days, and then lugged our wine glasses and bottles of wine to our room. That night we enjoyed a dinner with riding friends we met from Anchorage, Alaska. I enjoyed a nice glass of vintage ice tea. Sweet of course. I mean, what else would you recommend with southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas? A Pinot Noir? I don�t think so.
skip & Susan |
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click to go back |
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HOME James |
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