When I made my reservation to camp at Jordan Lake, I had no idea that the weather forecast would be a very hot 86 degrees on the first of May, followed by a night of gusty wind and thunderstorms. And so I almost bailed out of my trip, but could not reach anyone at the reservation office at 5:30 pm the night before to cancel.
And so I made a few concessions. I decided to leave my furry golden retriever pup at home for fear she would get too hot at my non electric campsite. And I also decided to pump up the tires on my bike and bring it along for a nice ride.
The site I chose is surrounded by water, and perched just above it so that with the wind blowing across the lake, I feel like I am on a boat. It is glorious!
I arrived on a Sunday and the lake was still buzzing with boats all afternoon until dusk began to filter the sky.
I decided to hop on my bike and ride through the emptying park, seeing the traces of a busy camping weekend left behind. Heaps of garbage filled the trash cans along the way, and registration tags still hung from campsite posts, though almost no one was around.
A few huge turkey vultures were congregating at a site filled with debris from the rising lake, now nine feet higher due to recent flooding rain.
I pedaled past pools of water collected at lower level places throughout the park and confirmed my suspicions of snakes being disturbed when I saw a 3 foot long black one recently hit and partially squashed in the road. I wasn't sure if it was dead, but hoped it wasn't suffering as I veered around it and continued on my way.
Soon I was passing a camp Host site, and I waved to the man there as I flew down the hill toward the waterfront. Suddenly I saw a line of construction cones and hit my brakes as I realized the road was flooded and closed. I turned around and shifted my gears to begin to climb the hill when the chain fell off and became so wedged that I could not remove it.
What to do now? I thought as the darkness was collecting around me. I was about two miles from "home", I had that squashed snake to renavigate around, and after flipping my bike upside down to try to release the chain, was certain that my bike would not even roll.
So I lifted the rear tire off the ground and began to walk back, wondering how I would ever make it. After a while, I passed the camp Host who came out to ask what was the matter.
"I raised nine boys and so I know a thing or two about bikes," the friendly man said as he helped me to get the bike, if not riding, then at least rolling.
Gratefully, I said my goodbyes, protesting that I couldn't chat, but needed to get back before dark. And so I walked in the heavy evening air, through the darkening woods, past empty campsites, around the squashed snake, down the long road to my little campsite perched at the edge of the lake. And having missed the sunset, was more than grateful to be home in the gathering dark.
Location:Parkers Creek Recreation Rd,Chapel Hill,United States
