About JT Hine

A translator and writer who carries his office and his world in the panniers of his bicycle.

Rivanna Station

Starbucks HollymeadMonday morning, summer came back. Jack rode the bike lanes up Rio Hill and the bike path on US-29 north of Charlottesville under a cloudless sky. He appreciated not having headwinds, but a breeze would have been welcome. His bicycle kit was soaked by the time he reached the Starbucks at Hollymead Town Center. He stopped there to change into street clothes, glad that he had brought a pack of hospital bathing cloths from Hilda’s stash. Continue reading

Fifth Street

Hamilton Beach coffeemaker.jpgFriday morning, Hilda heard the coffeemaker gurgling and spitting in the kitchen. She opened her eyes and smiled. Jack’s hard body fit her back like a glove.

She could not think of a better way to start her day. Continue reading

Riding home

2018-antebellum mansionEmily dragged Mark’s father over to the van. “I believe you two already know each other.”

“Jumping Jack Rathburn!” Jim Dempsey gave Jack a warm handshake and a pat on the arm. “You’re none the worse for wear.” Continue reading

Montréal, encore

Emily paused to look at the crowd on the platform of the Central Station in Montréal. She saw Hilda making her way through the relatives and hurried commuters to the tall blonde standing behind the crowd, keeping her bicycle from hitting anyone. Continue reading

Lighthouses, Parks and Beaches

Emily woke up. First, she noticed the smell, then the fact that it did not seem completely dark. She felt grubby from the sweat that had dried on her clothes leaving white salt-marks on her shorts and jersey. She eased up carefully. Her head felt tight, but her stomach was not queasy. She unzipped her tent, gathered fresh clothes and her toilet kit, and eased out of the tent. Continue reading

The Gaspé Peninsula

“Will I ever wear my black dress again?” Emily asked as she crammed her panniers the next morning.

“Good question, Em.” Hilda was grunting over her panniers, too. “It may be time to ship some things home, if we’re planning to return from Campbellton.”  Continue reading

The Saint Lawrence River

Mont-Tremblant-view1The ride from the Langlais cottage at 700 m of elevation to the Saint Lawrence River (elevation almost zero) was a blistering series of terrifying downhills and challenging climbs. Jack, Hilda and Emily were paying for the three weeks spent without their loaded panniers. Still, they stopped at particularly breathtaking overlooks to admire the view (and to slow down their heart rates).  Continue reading