Cold, windy, hilly and dirt roads

 This the second time I have written this blog.  The God damn computer deleted the page.  God damn geeks are running our world and their lack of common sense is non existent. When I seize power there will be military style boot camps for all programmers.  Rigorous  physical condition will be followed by the retraining of their brains to understand and apply common sense to their lives and any future programming they perform.

I departed the Sherwood municipal airport at 9:40.  Having forgotten to bring my cold weather jacket (always always always something gets left behind) I layered up and used my wind breaker, scull cap under my helmet and long fingered gloves.  The Google map bike route was terrible, dirt roads with loose washed stone and hills upon hills, it  eventually took me to a road that was totally over grown.  Enough of this genius bike route and back to a basic car route.  The new route added thirty miles which essentially cancelled out the twenty-five torturous miles I had already ridden.  Thank you Google,  privately I will tell you what I really think of you. Eventually I made it to Richmond which had a decent but funky hotel in stages of renovation. A former railroad station with charm. Vincent, who sold the family dairy farm to his brother, took the proceeds and bought the station.  He showed me the progress and I was able to help him in how he should go about renovating various rooms. He cooked me dinner and showed me around town which included a stop for beer, ice cream and a charging cord.  If I were younger, i could see getting a train station for myself.

The legs are sore but I hope tomorrow I will have a longer ride.

Finish the ride

More than a year and a half have passed since the forest fires forced me to abandon my ride from Manhattan to Quebec City.  After a fun 57th New Hampton Reunion in New Hampton, New Hampshire, it was a easy drive in my Mercedes camper up to Sherbrooke. The trick was to find long term parking for the camper and a truck stop to spend the night. No secure parking in Sherbrooke so I checked online for the existence of a local airport.  Thirteen miles east of Sherbrooke I arrived at very small but nice local airport, just for local folk and no control tower.  Much to my delight I am allowed to do both long term parking and also spend the night, free no less! 

The weather is windy, cold (in the forties), rainy and foggy, not conducive for bicycling. Starting tomorrow, June 2, it will be sunny for the next few days. 130 miles to Quebec City in three days should be doable. This short leg is the first road trip since my back operation January 22, all should go well given that I have been biking an hour a day, five days a week for over a month.  On the road again!

No getting through the smoke

         With the chance of rain 100%, I pulled out the rain gear, packed up and headed for the cafeteria for breakfast.  Wonderful dorm room at Bishop University with an inexpensive place to eat a five minute walk way.  My legs were not feeling tip top but with a few miles of easy riding I would be up to par.  I was greeted at the door by a woman who was running the cafeteria.  Asking where  I was going with all my riding gear on she quickly noted that she had brought her potted plants indoors because of the forest fire fallout of fine particle matter.  She said the smoke was descending from Quebec City and it would be a bad idea for me to continue north.  Using my better judgement I packed it in and rode three miles from Lenoxville to Sherbrooke to catch a bus to Montreal.  With 140 miles to go, I felt cheated out of my goal of reaching Quebec City.  410 miles covered to date but no cigar.  A bus brought me to Montreal and from there I tried to get a bus or train south.  The routes all went to NYC and the schedules were terrible so I booked a car rental, a Toyota 4runner, packed up the bike and  spent the next seven hours driving south through a dim of smoke. The vents were closed the smell still seeped into the car.  Very spokey ride covering 380 miles.  The car and highway lights were a dirty yellow and the visibility at several points along Interstate 87 slowed me down below 60 mph.   At a rest top to fill up the gas tank and get some food the front hood in just fifteen minutes accummated a fine dusting of fire debris. Canterbury, Connecticut at 12:15 am was a very welcome site.  Betsy was awake to great my weary soul.  

Once these fires have subsided I will figure out a way to finish the last 140 miles, perhaps in September.

Into Canada, heading northwest

     Off at 8:20 from Newport on the rail/trail headed north.  Five and a half miles later I arrived at the border crossing, answered all the questions correctly, packed my passport and pedalled into Canada.  The trail continued for two hours with me free of roaring trucks, cars and lousy shoulders.  The trails can get monotonous but it is nice to cruise along surrounded by nature. The trail ended in Ayer’s Cliff where also I was able to get some food.  Moving on what I thought was a continuation of trail brought me to a dead end.  I back tracked and spent the next hour figuring out which road to take. Finally, the local library pointed the way out of town in the right direction. The remainder of the ride consisted of the same old lousy shoulders, loud vehicles, moderate hills (two walkers) and a stiff headwind.  Upon reaching the outskirts of Sherbrook/Lenoxville I miraculously found a bike trail.  There may be a national rail/trail made up of many local trails but the signs are non existent.  Velo verte 3 is what I want to be on but without proper signage what is the use. In France I went through the same drill with their velo routes.  Is it the French culture which is lacking a bit of common sense?   Once in Lenoxville I was told the local Bishop University put up riders like me.   After consulting the police I found the institution and checked in minutes before the rain began. Nice digs and a cafeteria in the next building.  The girl who checked me in hopefully has correctly laid out the route tomorrow, rail/trails the whole way to Quebec.  I know the route will no doubt be laden with wrong turns do to poor signage.   Rain is forecast so the rain gear is ready. I can hardly wait.

Off north to the Canadian border

    Once up and squared away, Jan cooked a delicious breakfast making sure I was topped off for my ride north. Rick and I loaded up my bike and gear and we shoved off for a twenty minute ride to the rails to trails I would take ten miles before merging onto route 100 north. Once there I assembled the bike and Rick snapped some good parting photos.  What a terrific time I had with him.  I didn’t hang with him during our school years but since then we have become good friends. I settled in for the ten mike teail ride and through Johnson, Vermont before I merged onto Rte 100.  After three and a half hours, a general store came into view, twenty-five miles behind me and it was time for lunch and a break.  The road shoulders were like rte 9J and 22 in New York State. The cars thinned out as I progressed north but the speed of the vehicles and the lousy shoulders made for a somewhat stressful ride.  There were reasonably flat roads along the way but the hills were there to test my endurance. Three hill walkers over Forty-seven miles wore on me but I prevailed.  My goal was to reach Prouty Beach and campsite for the night.  Once there I set up camp in the primitive tent area, showered and pedalled downtown to Newport.  Being Monday all the restaurants were closed. Wendy’s had to suffice.  Turns out the campsite adjoins a rail trail to the Canadian border and once in Canada, a trail goes straight to Quebec City.  There appears to be some road to cover before trail begins but the terrain flattens out, praise Jesus!  No matter how experience a rider is, hills are not a good time. In fact, they suck!

Great reunion, on the road again

       Off to the reunion across Vermont and New Hampshire, over two and a half hours by highway.  Once we settled in at the B&B in Bristol, we headed for campus  where for the next four days we eat too much, hung out, attended numerous events, caught up with each other (eighteen of us from the class of ‘68), slept and pledged money for the thirty million dollar fund drive. The school’s tuition is now $69,000 which gives urgency to raise the endowment to help support the on going operation and provide students with financial aid.  The school has change so much in fifty-five years. What an attractive place to send your child.

Anyways, Rick and I headed out Sunday morning.  Rick went to back way taking me through the numerous and charming towns and countrysides along the way.  Once back at  his place I went to work getting everything ready for my ride north to the Canadian border.   Jan cooked a delicious Salmon dinner to finished up the day.

        

        

Enough of the Empire State trail

   Not twenty miles to Essex rather a grueling twenty-five,  walked five hills and the shoulders were barely navigable. New York State needs to get real and delete this road section from Albany North from their Empire State trail. I have ridden over 16,000 miles and my nerves were severely tested. with great relief I rolled into Essex, a very charming town, but the ferry was unloading and I had to make a beeline to make it on time.  Fifteen minutes on the ferry and I was on the other side. I chatted with the crew who were retirees just filling in. Once on the other side I chilled out under a small roofed in tourist pamphlet area until Rick Peyser arrived. Great to see him.  Some how after removing my front and rear wheels we shoehorned my bike into his Honda Fit. The rear seats fold back enabling a bike to be slid in the rear side doors. Off we went to Underhill, Vermont where after seven days on the road, well over three hundred  miles, I could garage the bike and take a break.  Rick and his wife Jan treated me like loyalty and took me out for a delicious dinner.  Such a charming area of Vermont with small hamlets dotted with farms and rural settings.  Rick and Jan’s house is up a dirt road with a spectacular view of a mountain from their back porch. Tomorrow, Rick and I head for New Hampton School for our fifty-fifth reunion. How can that be?