Back to the Blog

Now that we are less than one month from leaving home, I thought I ought to go back to my abandoned blog. I disliked North Carolina (the area where we were, that is) so much that I was just whining and moaning and decided that it wasn't worth writing about. What got missed in the time between is how much we loved riding in Franklin County, Massachusetts when we stopped there on our way home. I had really begun to wonder if I really liked cycling after all-- I was bored and my hands were sore-- the thrill was gone. It came back within a mile of beginning a ride in Greenfield-- beautiful area, lovely roads, welcome hills, curves, twists and turns. I felt like a bird freed from a cage-- swooping up into Vermont, down along the river and forty happy miles later back to Greenfield. One of the roads early in the trip was called "Eunice Williams Road" and although it sounded familiar to me, I didn't know why until we plunged steeply down, down, down to a covered bridge across the Green River where there was a plaque commemorating the death of Eunice Williams, wife of the Rev. John Williams, captured in the 1704 Indian raid on Deerfield, Eunice Williams had only lately given birth. Her infant was killed almost immediately but she started on the march north. Weakened as she was, she fell crossing the river and her captor killed her with the blow of a hatchet. Other colonists, following the trail of the captives a day or two later, buried Eunice there by the river and marked the spot. Much later when John Williams was returned to Deerfield, a commemorative stone was placed.

The next day, fate guided our wheels, in a manner almost spooky. Planning a shorter ride, we completely failed to follow directions and ended up in Leverett, the town where my mother was teaching elementary school in 1971 when she died. Marshall and I had gone to the school when they planted a tree in memory of Lois but in 39 years I had never been back and wasn't sure how to find the place. Amazingly enough, and with no intention to do so, we rode right to it. There was a tree where I remembered it planted but no plaque. So whether it was the same tree or not, I cannot be sure. I was happy to see it, however, particularly since our ride took place on 21 March, exactly the day that she died. we were unable to figure out how to cut down to Sunderland and ended up in Amherst but another forty miles later (and two flat tires for John!) we were back in Greenfield again.

Since then we have been riding in Maine, that is to say, riding, riding and more riding. I have put exactly 1199 miles on the bike since we left here for North Carolina on the first of March. Today we parked in Thomaston and rode north to Warren, then circled around to Friendship and Cushing and back to Thomaston. About 35 miles on beautiful country roads with very acceptable traffic level. Maine is lovely as soon as you leave the main roads. I did note, however, that Knox and Lincoln counties are more affluent than Waldo. Far less rural poverty and substandard housing. Riding in lilac time rewards with frequent bursts of lovely scent as we ride by the old houses and farms of early Maine. Almost no roadside trash and no roadkill!

Up and Down the Emerald Isle (again)

This time we decided to start from the bottom and ride up to Atlantic Beach-- we whizzed along feeling like champs and made a 14.7 mph average. Turns out, however, that our great riding was thanks to a tailwind. One of the strange things about wind is that you can barely feel it when it is behind you-- then it feels like a gale when you are riding into it. So we plowed along the length of the return trip and our average suffered a two mile per hour drop. We stopped at the "Crab Shack" for lunch and had a very good one-- not a healthy one, however. One of the standards down here is hushpuppies-- a basket of them was placed on the table when we first arrived and we were offered a refill that we declined. The meal also included two large full glasses of sweetened iced tea and a whole pitcher for refills. No problem staying hydrated!

Day Five Ride - Not much to speak of

Our plan was to find and ride in the Croatan National Forest but forest is a pretty fluid concept in this case and the CNF looks much like not the CNF. We started in Holly Springs, rode 12 miles in rain that started light but picked up speed, turned around and rode back to the car in a drenching downpour. So much for bike riding for the rest of the day. It was a long cozy afternoon and evening in the cabin where it turns out that the television does NOT work. No matter.

Only two dead possums...

Yesterday, rather than riding from the cabin, we drove over to Atlantic Beach, parked and rode on Route 58, the main road that runs the length of Emerald Isle. What a difference-- no trash and only two dead possums in 36 miles of riding through commercial beach enterprises and densely packed vacation homes. We saw high rise condos with manicured grounds ("available from the $600's), towering over desolate treeless and grassless acres of mobile homes. In other places there were long stretches of single family homes, modest and far from modest, many of which were for sale ("short sale, make an offer!) and most available for rent. In any case, a good shoulder to ride on, light traffic and lots to gawk at made for a nicer ride than we have been having.

Another forty miles on the odo...

Forty miles-- a distance both too short and too long. When one thinks of driving forty miles-- to get to a store, say, it seems like quite a trek. Belfast to Ellsworth or Bangor. When one thinks it is only half the average distance of a day's ride on the x-c trip, it seems paltry. To me, yesterday, it was a long ride. Our plan was to have a shorter day, ride to Beaufort, have lunch and return. We thought that a side road would keep us off 101 for longer than it did, however, and by the time we finished the gauntlet-- NO shoulder, rough road surface, high traffic-- we decided to go home the long way around, repeating our Sunday ride in reverse. This we did, far more elegantly than the first time because we knew the way and because fate gave us a tiny reward in the form of a really nice three mile bike path that took the sting out of some of the miles. Even route 70, a four lane highway, was better than 101, however, because it had a shoulder and we whizzed along quite nicely. In Newport I was sad to see an owl sitting by the side of the road. While I was watching it a man came out of a shop and told me that the owl had been there all day. A wildlife person had tried to catch it in a net but the bird could still fly a bit and had evaded capture.

Day Two Ride - Whining Alert

A certain truth is being forcefully brought home to me. Where there are no ups there are no downs. No hills to grind up, no hills to coast down. No break from pedaling. Yesterday's ride was just the training we need for the cross country trip. Featureless long straight roads, trash strewn, roadkill lined, both sides with fetid ditches. We rode to mile 20, turned around and rode home with an average of 12.2 miles per hour. I don't know why our average is so low because we whip along at 14 to 16 mph in general. I did see two beautiful, and alive, snowy egrets and there was another on our dock when we got home. And, on the plus side, we did figure out how to stay off Route 101 so we could ride on dull roads with less traffic instead of dull roads with heavy traffic. Each house around here has a well head in the front yard-- most are covered with tiny little buildings, but some have fake rocks and I am beginning to recognize the three different varieties of fake rocks available. Each house also has a dog or two, many fenced, others tied and a few free to rush out at us as we ride by. So far all bark and no bite.

Our first real training ride - 7 March

Arrived Saturday afternoon at our rental in South Carolina. The place reminds me of Birchcrest before Paul Nyren started gentrifying it. Point Road is a little spur off that heads toward the water in an area of scrubby pine and sandy soil. Not very scenic actually except for the view over the water. The place we are in is clearly the replacement for an older building-- all of the places around us are far more modest. John searched the web for a local bike ride and bought a PDF for $2.00 and off we headed, about 11 am. The map quickly proved to be full of misinformation but we blundered along with a general sense of the direction we wanted to go in and ultimately made a 44 mile circuit and arrived safely back at the "Crystal Coast Cabin". This area is flat! Except for bridges, built high to permit the passage of large boats, there were truly no hills. Sounds easy but there is a different challenge to endless flat where one must pedal endlessly. Our average, or my average, was 12.4. John's must have been the same since we stayed together for the whole ride. An indication of what the ride was like? I took only one picture and that was of a roadside shrine. A very humdrum area. The developed parts consist of urban sprawl and high traffic, the rural parts are essentially featureless. Am I doing this place an injustice? Someone must love it.