Skipping the Chit Chat


Today I suffered. It was supposed to rain and I was not very excited to ride in it, because my new Argon 18 is only two days old. But everything new gets dirty at some point, and I am in prime Vermont riding country. There is also a rule about not riding because of rain which states that perhaps you don’t have the proper conviction to be a cyclist if you bail out, and I don’t break that rule. So I rode about 100k with two very nasty climbs in the middle, and it was hot, and humid, and there was no shade. 

It did not rain, but it’s the threat that counts.

I wanted the climb to be over long before it was designed to be. It was the last climb of the day and it felt like the mountain was growing beneath me. My jersey was open and my glasses were filmed with salty sweat and just as I crested, and was about to be rewarded with 4 miles of 10% graded downhill and 40mph winds in my face, I saw the shape of a young woman pushing her touring bike, full of gear, up the opposite face of the climb and then she yelled:  “Are you are at the top?”

Ditch the Travel Guide


If I don’t get to this straightaway, I forget, and then so much happens, and then so much more, until the pile is way too large to properly fold and put down on paper, so it just sits there, getting moldy. But that’s a disservice to myself, and tonight I’m determined to clean up, because if I don’t, it’ll never see light.

I had a long day on my way from Bar Harbor to Cavendish, P.E.I. My very first thought after driving across the island was that I might have made the same mistake I made by going to New Zealand; the only paved roads were the highways, and they had no shoulder, and they had 18-wheelers, and they had 100K speed limits.

Things got a little dimmer when I got close to Cavendish and pulled into the Fodors-recommended lobster shack in New Glasgow and it was full of fanny-packed tourists.

Dinner was great though, and so my spirits were lifted a little bit only to sink back down when I arrived in Cavendish at my accommodation, having passed glow-in-the-dark-mini-golf, a Ripley's Believe It Or Not, a Go-Cart track, and all kinds of uber-touristy shit I had not expected.

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