Off the Beaten Path

What do thirty-three miles, eight wheels, and four medical students equal?
One great adventure.

As a well-deserved reward for completing our first year of medical school, some of my classmates and I decided to bike the Virginia Creeper Trail today. The day started early with a motly group of exam-wearied students: Hannah, who spent most of her life in Ethiopia; Chris, the thirty year old Memphian; Kyoo, the judo fighter, and myself. We met our shuttle at Abingdon, loaded our bikes, and rode up to the top of the trail. The drive was nice and reminded me of the convoluted highways of Honduras, minus the tropical foilage and "loco" bus drivers trying to pass two-abreast on blind curves. We knew we were entering a rural section of Virginia when we started noticing town names such as "Mouth of Wilson" and "Voldey" on the road signs. When we reached an old railroad station between the middle-of-nowhere and a Christmas tree farm, our guide stopped the van and unloaded our bikes, leaving us on our own to pedal the thirty-three miles back to Abingdon.

Wondering what we had gotten ourselves into, having never ridden for thirty-three miles, we started down the trail. The first seventeen miles were all downhill, literally. There's something about being in God's creation that's good for the ones He created. As we rode, the stress of constantly studying since January blew away like the gentle Virginia mountain breeze around me. Rhodedendron lined the path, and bright crimson, yellow, and lavender-colored flowers were on the ground beneath. On one side of the trail, Laurel Creek quietly gurgled and poured over limestone rocks while stands of hemlock and oak and cut-out rock walls defined the other side of the trail and the Mt.Rogers Wilderness Area. Occasionally, we would ride through fields and be greeted by an elderly lady sitting on the front porch of her farmhouse or by a man, knee deep in water, intent on improving his fly-fishing abilities.


Just in time, we rode into Damascus and stopped at a local mom and pop restuarant that sold sandwiches, baked-goods, and other sundries. It was a welcome relief. We spent time enjoyng each others' company and refraining from mentioning anything about the past four months of our lives (well, there were a few comments like, "My insulin and glucagon are working at the same time," made by Kyoo as she tried to ride her bicycle and eat her ice cream cone at the same time) Remember, we are medical school nerds.

I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. The temperature was a pleasant seventy-five degrees and the cerulean sky was painted with only a few flecks of clouds. The trail, fairly level, led us through Damascus and then narrowed to a single track surrounded by fields of cattle and the occasional trailer or small frame house. When we reached a field of horses, we considered borrowing one of its inhabitants to assist us in our journey. After brief contemplation, we decided we'd better stay on our bikes.

The trail continued to wind its way toward our destination, leading us over wooden trestles like the one that hovered high over the Holston River. The last seven miles, the trail began a gradual ascent toward Abingdon, and we soon reached the end. We couldn't believe it. we had just ridden thirty-three miles! Tired but thrilled at having just spent a day doing something completely unrelated to the medical field, we paused for a moment and savored our accomplishment. I have to say that we probably felt the same way at having just completed our first year of medical school.

I'll probably be sore tomorrow and remembering the names of all the muscles I've already forgotten exist, but the journey down the Creeper Trail was well worth the effort. So was my first year of medical school. I'm glad summer has finally come.