May 21, 2001. Williamsburg to near
Charles City, Virginia. (42 mi.) Mile 68
Colonial
day, stormy night
First order of the day was a trip to Bike
Beat bike shop where we received excellent service in adjusting the bent
chain ring and a few other things on Mike's bike.
In Colonial
Williamsburg, a reconstructed village from the 1600-1700s, it seemed we
attracted as much attention
from the bus loads of tour groups as the "Colonists" in period
costumes, especially before we thought to
take off our high visibility vests. After the first two most common questions
we get ("Where are you heading?" and "How long will it
take?"), we are asked, "Are you school teachers?".
1) 
2) 
3) 
1) Tidewater Virginia and a rainy start to the trip
2) A Williamsburg colonist is impressed by my bicycle
3) Williamsburg garden
We've been experiencing
"unstable" weather; warm, sticky, with scattered thundershowers.
However, rain did not dampen our appreciation for the beauty of tidewater
Virginia, the bird song and scent of honeysuckle as we rode the Colonial Parkway
to Jamestown, first British settlement in
America, 1607.
Colonial Parkway
between Williamsburg and Jamestown
The history lessons gave
us a late start, so we found ourselves running out of time and energy miles from
services north of Jamestown. It was starting to look like dinner would be
Skippy's peanut butter straight from the jar, when we happened onto Indian Field
Tavern, noted for gourmet Southern cuisine. We were glad our grimy appearance
didn't dissuade them from serving us. The chef's specialty for the evening was
ahi ahi, with chocolate crepes in raspberry sauce for dessert. We barely managed
to resist the temptation to lick our plates.
Indian Field Tavern
The folks at the Tavern
let us pitch our tent on the grass in a quiet spot behind one of their
outbuildings. In the middle of the night, we were awakened to one of the
scattered thunderstorms directly overhead, with lightening, thunder, and rain
pounding on the tent so loudly that we had to shout to be heard above it, things
like, "WHY DON'T YOU GET UP AND GO GET OUR WEATHER RADIO?" [in the
bike pannier]. and "NO WAY! WHY DON'T YOU?" Once the storm was
over, and peace had settled overhead, we programmed our NOAA weather radio to
standby alarm mode to alert us of any violent weather. As the radio intermittently
blinked its little LED light to tell us it was on alert, we noticed a firefly on
the outside of our tent's bug netting, flashing back at the radio its romantic
interest.
