Day 16 - No sleep for the weary

On tour there are always stories of the unusual, the difficult, the bizarre and the dramatic. Settling into Fracktown presented all of these packaged into one of the most frustrating nights of my life.

Around 9pm, after a shower I started to note an unfamiliar set of three quick beeps coming from my equipment. I thought I had heard the same beeping on the trail on the way up the mountain. Part of my setup is a power meter between my battery and my bike that lets me know approximately how much energy is left in the battery. It also throws out an audible beeping when certain conditions are met. For example I set it to alert me when there are more than 25 amps of current flowing, or when the voltage goes above 55v, or if the heat inside the battery compartment gets too high. So hearing a beeping on the way up the mountain wasn't directly concerning, as I had heard it ping once or twice before on particularly hard climbs, momentarily hitting the current ceiling I'd set.

However the bike was at rest and charging. My charger is only capable of 12 amps and so it shouldn't trigger any issues. So Just to be sure I removed the power meter while charging. A few minutes later beep beep beep. Ok... Is the charger trying to tell me something? I figured I would let it fully charge the battery before I disconnected it. 

So in around an hour the battery was charged and the beep beep beep continued unabated through the duration. Finally I pulled the charger off, expecting relief, but none came. Minutes later beep beep beep.

It sounded like it was coming from where the bike and trailer were, so I racked my brain as to what other things could cause this sound.  I opened the battery case and felt that one of the batteries was warmer than the other but not hot enough in my mind to indicate problems. Even so I went online to see if my particular battery had any audible error codes. Everything I read indicated it might and that error codes could indicate poor balancing between the cells, or a serious battery health issue.

So I pulled the hot battery from the case and put it in the bathroom, because at this point I simply couldn't tell which might be making the sound. As I placed it down beep beep beep sounded from behind me. Could it be the other battery? So now I pulled that battery into the bathroom and waited.

It was probably 11pm at this point and I had gone as far to time the interval between beeps. It was roughly a pattern of 5 mins then 12 mins between beeps. Not exact, but near enough to be somewhat predictable.

So after puting the other battery in the bathroom I set a timer for 15 mins and waited to see if the sound would be muffled. Eleven minutes into my timer beep beep beep, but loud and clearly in the room with me.

My mind raced -- what other things could it be? An air tag, an electronic pump, my camera, a small battery bank. It was imperative I figure this out because it indicated a piece of my equipment was failing. So over the course of perhaps two more hours I slowly isolated each piece of equipment by placing them outside my room one by one and waiting for the beep beep beep. Each time the sound remained.

It was perhaps 3am at this point and I was genuinely wondering if I was going insane. I tore down my entire set of equipment. As I sat on the floor amidst the frantic pile I had created beep beep beep from my left. I stood in the corner where I thought it might be coming from for fifteen minutes, sleep deprived, slowly going insane, angry beyond words at the situation. Beep beep beep from behind me. 

At around 4:30am, after sequestering any electronic device I could think of not just outside, but down the walkway, a brainwave hit me. I have a sensor for my speed that's attached to my wheel. Perhaps this was a low battery chime. The internet indicated lights, but at this point It was my last hope. Triumphantly I disconnected the battery. I had won. I collapsed into a heap in the bed.

Beep beep beep. By 5am I had hunted and hunted to no end. I had confidently ruled out any piece of my equipment and so the only logical conclusion was that it was something in the room. 

I took the battery out of the door. I took down the smoke detector. I unplugged the air conditioner, the fridge, the TV, the microwave. Each time after a short period beep beep beep.

My grasp on reality was breaking. This felt like I was literally being tortured or pranked. I simply could not identify the source. 

I had resolved at 6am to go to the desk and demand a refund. I had done everything I could to find the source, but this room... 113... Was apparently the antechamber to some lovecraftian hell, slowly whittling away my sanity until I could no longer resist it and I would be consumed, pulled into a permanent state of psychosis.

At exactly 6am I went to the lobby, but it was shuttered. I used the bell to no answer. I even went back to my room and called the operator to no response.

My only recourse was to contact expedia and try to claw back something. After a chat with some person they gave me a credit to use elsewhere. It was only half the cost of the room, but at least it was something.

I reassembled my kit and literally shook the dust off my shoes at the place and decided I would be best to try to make around 40 miles and crash at some other cheap offering down the road. So I stopped and ate a healthy breakfast at the local diner. I may not have slept, but I was certainly not going to leave without a heap of calories in me.

The woman who served me was interested in my trip, so I gave her the elevator pitch on what I'm doing and why. She was pleasant, and I thanked her as I left. I hopped back up on the bike and left out.

My brain was clouded by coffee sitting on top of a layer of swirling and incomplete thoughts. The wind in my ears, headphone in I was at least putting down power. My body could still work even if my brain could not.

Beep beep beep or so I heard. A distant hallucination, room 113 calling me back into its clutches to be devoured by madness. No! I refused the thought. I had left that damnable beeping behind. It was something poking up out of the swirling muck in my head.

Weakened as I was I was still able to begin the summit of the first of three ridges. I had looked at the elevation profile, they boasted the sorts of grades that I had become accustomed to in Appalachia. Starting at 2%, giving over to 6% through most of the bulk and then near the top suddenly shooting up to 9, 10, 12% before finally cresting and doing the reverse on the opposite face.

I labored up this first incline. My legs in full revolt. My bike is particularly bad at providing power at low speed, and so most of this climb was on me. I labored for what seemed like hours in the lowest gear, sweat cascading off of me. Finally though I did crest this first rise only to be greeted by a goliath rising out of the morning mist.

I watched this hulking sentinel as I caught my breath and let my heart slow back down to a normal rate. I had seen these from afar when I started my ride for the day, but I didn't expect to see them up close like this.

I knew I was in for a bit of a rest stop ahead as I was approaching what looked like a small town on the map nestled between the first two ridges. My efforts had proven it was time to swap out some equipment. I have been carrying a backup "bail out" gear for my front gears. It has 30 teeth as opposed to the 44 tooth lowest gear option I had up front. Basically the lower the number the more torque you can throw out the back of the bike at the same cadence. So instead of slowly grinding my legs up a hill I could spin them at a normal pace, and while going slowly, go more comfortably.

Finally I arrived at the crossroads of the town. Yet there was no town. The grid was present. There were sidewalks, but everywhere you looked there were ghosts of missing structures. Overgrown patches between larger trees. As if years prior some alien fleet had come in and sucked away the entire town. It was eerie and if there wasn't the occasional car or truck coming to the main intersection, I genuinely would have been freaked out. Perhaps whatever force could eat a whole town was what was hectoring me?

Then from deep back in my memory something bubbled up. That name. Centralia. I know that name.

I was sitting in the middle of a town that absolutely had been stolen away by greater forces. It just so happened that those forces were neither supernatural or alien. Centralia was the town that was slowly being devoured by an unchecked coal fire in the mines beneath it. Deemed unsafe for habitation in the 1980s the residents were forced to leave their homes, all the structures were demolished and  the only remaining remants were the roads, which were also slowly being devoured.

This was somewhat of a weird attraction for people. The old route 61 that passed through town became a broken, graffitied stripe until it was eventually covered over by the mine corporation that owned the rights to this slow moving disaster. The hope was to prevent people from going to see this painted highway and being swallowed themselves.

I would have liked to have seen the painted highway, but it was, indeed, gone. So instead I sat in the shade of what used to be the maple in front of some long forgotten house and pulled out my tools to effect the gear swap.

The story of Centralia is really fit for an HBO miniseries like Chernobyl because there are so many points of failure and poor judgement. This fire has been burning since at least 1962, and perhaps longer, likely caused by the town council breaking state laws and burning trash in an abandoned pit mine.

BEEP BEEP BEEP. Clear. In front of me. I was not hallucinating. Room 113 could finally be absolved of all my previous hatred because what I saw in front of me at once provided a near tear jerking wave of relief mixed with anger and amusement all at once.

I immediately pulled out my phone and texted Beth.

Ok, enough beating around the bush:

Adam had placed a noise making device under the rear rack of my bike. I only chanced to be directly in front of it when it went off as I was doing the swap. I can imagine if I hadn't been in that position It may have taken far longer to find it.

Until that moment I wasn't sure if I had overstayed my welcome. If I had been a burden or a blessing. In a weird way this prank was a sign to me of belonging, of genuinely being seen as friend. And I still to this moment find it very touching to the point of tearing up.

What ran through my head in that moment was something Adam and I discussed regarding our personal spiritual practice, and that in times of personal discomfort it's often our choice to feel a particular way when in fact the moment lacks nothing but our acknowledgement. I could choose to have been annoyed, but it produced in me a very different feeling. Yes I lost sleep, I was teetering on the edge of sanity, but I also gained a true challenge to my comfort and still not just be "okay", but genuinely be content. I chose contentedness by repeating something Adam stole from Pete Holmes (yes the comedian) that when discomfort or disappointment come it is an opportunity to just sit in agreement with the divine and simply say "Yes. Thank you."

And so as I slowly--but more comfortably--muscled up the next ridge I found myself laughing. I may not control my circumstance, but I absolutely choose my response.

The ride was not without its own events. Going down these ridges was initially terrifying because my speed would gradually edge up into the low 50s if I didn't try to control it through braking or standing. I had to take control of the lane. I could not reasonably ride the shoulder at this speed. Any jolt would certainly send me sprawling at high speed.

However it was apparent that these roads were designed with large trucks in mind, and so while the grade was poor, the turns were gradual and slow. I could bleed some speed going and and then just sail through. I did not need to use nearly as much braking as I initially feared.

Finally I was over these ridges and out into the rolling countryside populated by small communities and mennonite farms. 

I made it to Danville, PA in good time and stopped there to have lunch, and made an assessment as to how I felt about continuing. The fog of that morning had burnt off from all the exertion and my body was clearly telling me it was ready for another push.

So I used my unwarranted credits to book a room outside of Williamsport, nearly 40 miles ahead. I would need to do 80ish miles in total that day, but I felt capable.

So I rode over the hilly countryside, but having taken on a long charge I did it at a higher assist. The miles scrolled by and eventually I did indeed make it to Williamsport where I collapsed and slept from around 4pm to 9pm before waking and eating some dinner and then going back to sleep.

The next day was slated to be a 110 mile ride to corning over a very lengthy stretch of rail trails. I knew this wasn't probable, so I targeted Ansonia about 76 miles from where I was as my stopping point.

And that's day 16 — 160 miles without sleep.