Overnight, a thick fog had crept into the valley. Strangely, everything, including my tent, was completely dry. I had breakfast at the Rhododendron Lodge, and then headed out into the fog. There was light rain on and off all morning.

Although I did have trouble falling asleep, i remember being quite comfortable on the ground. my body had fully adjusted.

I rode all over Honaker, Virginia, looking for the sole bathroom in town (at the Shamrock restaurant).

I began to notice some local characteristics which would later hold true for Virginia in general:

• Cigarettes were cheap. Less than $7 a carton. Lots of people smoked or chewed.
• People smoked in the supermarkets.
• Women called me “honey,” even the young and cute women. Could it be that I had suddenly turned Buff during the ride?
• Custard meant soft-serve ice cream.

After lunch, it continued to rain on and off. The passes that I rode through were like South American rain forest. Trees, cliffs, vines growing all over everything, fog and mist — I expected to see monkeys chattering in the trees.

Damascus was the stop for the night, where the women also called me “honey.” I quickly found a hostel known as “The Place,” a rest stop for Appalachian Trail hikers and TransAmerica Riders. Unfortunately, there was nobody else there. Not even house parents. But that was normal; there were no house parents. The local church ran the place, and they just trusted people to respect the property. There was no charge, but I left a donation in the slotted box.

The Place had a hot shower, which I appreciated. Most of the rooms were empty, except for some pieces of foam to sleep on. I had fun reading the register that had been signed by previous visitors.