Caboteers Part One: Is Portland Is Not Portland

 

Boylston, MA

16 August 2024

It's 9:33 p.m. Glen and Martin are on their way to asleep in the bed by the window. I'm sitting on the floor by the hallway light, blogging next to my bed. Janice is to my left. Glen's bike is to my right. Martin's is by the window.

We're in Portland, but we're not really in Portland. We're at a Hampton Inn off I-95.  Somehwere else in the hotel, Heddy and Ginger are sharing a room. Our Jeff and Lonnie are on the third floor.

I packed more than way too much into Jack's suitcase (it's bigger than mine) to accommodate a week of biking and clothes for after. I also brought this heavy laptop, two cases of protein bars (because I'm a vegetarian and I don't know what kind of nutrition I'm going to find on Cape Breton), my own shampoo (fragrance allergies), and a hardcover book of Micmac legends written in 1895. It's a lot, and there's a second suitcase full of random stuff for the Bar Harbor half of the trip. And the backpack full of biking gear. Somehow, we got it all into Glen's little Jeep when he and Martin picked me up this morning. 

The bikes go on a rack off the back of the car, with Janice nested in the middle.

Smoke from the Canadian wildfires has reached the east coast. It's high up this time, but it was enough to turn the air over Newark and Manhattan a milky white*.  

Waze told us that, if we didn't stop, we'd be in Portland before 3:00. We did stop, and we hit traffic more than a few times. It didn't help that, engrossed in coversation about land use in Hamilton, we missed a turn that cost us another half hour of traffic. When we finally pulled into the hotel, it was 6:00, and the rest of the group was already here.

Glen and I wanted to go to the Allagash brewery, but the group consensus was to walk a few blocks to a strip mall for pho. Nobody wanted to drive anywhere, even though downtown Portland, what I think of as the real Portland, is ten minutes away. I promised Glen we'd visit Allagash on our way home from Bar Harbor.

The sun was pale orange from the smoke. My phone made the sky look more hazy than it was.

The moon rose orange too as we left the restaurant. My phone did a lousy job capturing it, so I didn't take a picture.

There was a search for ice cream after dinner. Downtown Portland has many good choices. Where we are has a McDonald's. Being a fat girl with food issues, I long ago convinced myself that McDonald's does not sell food. Several of our number did buy what is supposed to be ice cream there. I ate the second half of a protein bar when I got back to the room. I've had one bar today, and I'm already tired of the taste.

Tomorrow, we all plan to leave here at 8:00. The drive to the Bar Harbor ferry terminal should only take three hours, but, after today, none of us wants to trust traffic. We want to get there early enough to check in, but not so early that we stand around our cars with nothing to do for hours until we can board the CAT ferry bound for Yarmouth.

Martin has already checked out the hotel's breakfast situation: "Waffles!"

Now he's asleep. It's 9:58. I should pack it in too. 

(*"The sun has charred the other side of the world and come back to us, and painted the smoke over our heads an imperial violet" -- Soul Coughing, "Screenwriter's Blues")

Kinda

 

Holy Kickstand by Tom Hammell

15 August 2024

I led a hilly ride from Pennington to Sergeantsville on Saturday. I had my camera with me, but I didn't take any pictures. 

We took a counterclockwise route and avoided roads that I knew we'd be traveling the next day. I didn't put any beastly hills in. I could tell by the way my body was aching that it was time to dial things down.

Our rest stop was at the Covered Bridge Cafe and Market in Sergeantsville. The general store up the street isn't even a thought anymore. 

As we were getting ready to saddle up again, I was informed that Heddy had a visitor on her saddle. She took a couple of pictures.

not bad for a cell phone and a quickly-moving spider

"Ooh! A little jumper!" I said, and coaxed the spider onto my right hand. I moved toward the wooden bike rack to set the critter down. It jumped onto my left hand first. When I got it onto the wood, it went straight for my left shifter. "No, no, no," I told the spider, and directed it back to the bike rack. There's not enough focus nor detail for iNaturalist to give me a definitive identification, but it got down to the subtribe level of Dendryphantina jumping spiders.

I'd been saving my energy on Saturday's ride, staying towards the back, so that I'd have enough left to climb hills again on Sunday. Dave S doesn't put a 10-person cap on attendees like I do. When I checked on Sunday morning, he was up to 21, although I'm not sure they all showed up.

The first thing he asked when I arrived was if I'd take some of the group to an alternate coffee shop in Lambertville. None that we frequent can handle so many people at once. My group would to go Luminary and the rest to LTC. 

Dave had also circumvented the nasty hills. I felt better than the day before (I think I'd been a bit dehydrated) and kept my place in the middle of the pack.

Our final descent was on Fairview, a hill we've climbed a few times this season. It's short and steep. I'm not sure I'd ever ridden down this hill. The view from the top made the road look precarious. 

Heddy was next to me as we descended. I reflected on all the climbing we've done this year.

"Y'know," I said, "It's all relative, but we're kinda badass."

*****

Last night was the final Wednesday Premed ride before we leave for Nova Scotia. Our Jeff put three annoying hills in. I had fresh legs for a change, having stayed off my bike for two days. Over dinner at It's Nutts, we discussed logistics. Our Jeff hatched this plan in December 2022. Now people are saying, "See you Friday" and "See you Sunday" and it sounds so strange.

I took today off to finish packing, and to be home for the crew tearing up our front yard to put a new sewer line in. Last night was the first time all week that I haven't woken up in the wee hours panicking about the trip.

Tom has blessed us online with the Holy Kickstand.

Tomorrow morning, Glen and Martin will arrive to load in my luggage, my bike, and me. Next stop, Portland, Maine.

Varying Levels of Humidity

 

Washington Crossing, PA

4 August 2024

I: Wednesday

"I feel that at this point either I’m ready for the Cabot Trail or I’m not," Our Jeff wrote to Dave S when he proposed repeating the Revolutionary Ramble course over the weekend. I agreed. 

I see Our Jeff's Wednesday Premed rides as training for Nova Scotia. Last year, each ride made me nervous. This year I seem to be over that. Still, each Wednesday I'm not really wanting to be there, but thinking I need to be. It takes the first hill or two for that feeling to dissipate. By the end, as I hammer mostly downhill for seven miles, I'm having fun. Then it starts all over again a week later.

This Wednesday, I really, really, really did not want to ride. Our Jeff had three big hills planned. As he described each one, I felt nervous. I gave myself an eye roll. My left cleat got stuck in melting tar in the parking lot for the second time this year. 

We were delayed a few minutes because a rider who lived nearby had forgotten her shoes. 

We set out north along the river. Our Jeff, who always starts at a fast pace, was in front, with Heddy behind him. I was a few bike lengths back. I never start out at full speed. I save my energy for the hills.

As we passed a field on the left, Our Jeff pointed. I thought he was signaling deer, but there weren't any. What I did see, in the distance, was one of those low, gunmetal gray clouds that seems to be touching the ground: definitely rain.

We went under a canopy of trees. For 5:45 p.m., it was very dark.

Then I felt a drop of rain. And another. I looked ahead to see if Our Jeff would motion to turn us around. Instead, on the other side of the canopy, I saw a wall of rain. We went from dry to wet in an instant.

Our Jeff signaled to turn onto Taylorsville Road. It must have been a safer option than doubling back on River during a torrent. When we reached the intersection of Taylorsville and Washington Crossing, the rain let up a little. 

"I told you it would pass," Heddy said to Our Jeff. But we were thoroughly soaked, with waterlogged shoes, and the roads were shiny wet.

As we turned left towards the park, the rain picked up again. "I'm glad you forgot your shoes," I told the rider who forgot her shoes. "Or we would've been at the top of Pineville or something."

Fortunatlely, my camera was still in the car, because I never take it on Premed rides. When we reached the lot, I snapped a quick picture and put it back before it got wet.

Jackie came walking through with her phone, taking pictures. I posed, relieved that the ride had ended with 5 flat miles and that it was, finally, after so many dry weeks, raining hard. 

The storm was gradually moving east, away from the parking lot. Over our heads, the sky was clearing. This was a perfect rainbow setup. I waited. When it showed, it was a double, the top one barely visible.

"It goes all the way to the grass!" I told Our Jeff and Heddy. There was no pot of gold on the lawn. This is the first time I've been in a position to see the end of a rainbow. Our eyes could see it better than my camera could. I had to punch up the saturation and contrast.

Everyone but me, Heddy, and Our Jeff had left. "Wanna go to dinner?" he asked. 

"Sure."

Over Mexican food, we talked about driving logistics for the Nova Scotia trip. Jeff dreamed of grilling fish at Party House in Bar Harbor. "Am I the only vegetarian going?" I asked.

"Yep."

I'm the odd one out in so many ways. 

After my shoes dried, I replaced the tar-laden cleat. 

II: Saturday

It was air soup, as promised, when Tom's Insane Bike Posse met at the Yardley Park and Ride at 8:00 a.m. I hadn't gotten quite enough sleep. The plan was to get 45 moderately hilly miles in before more rain arrived. The biggest hills and most of those miles would be in New Jersey. We started by riding over the I-95 bridge. 

I took note of the magnificent orb webs along the railing. I need to go back after sunset with my camera. With the drought and intense heat, my back yard hasn't been the diverse spider zoo of years past.

On the New Jersey side, we found ourselves chained off from the road. Child's play.

JackH lifts the chain for Plain Jim to pass through, while

Tom and Rickety wait on the other side

When we reached the first little hill, I could tell I was going to have a bad day. I don't do well in high humidity under any circumstances. Now, I think I might have been on the training downslope, doing worse than before after pushing myself for so many months. It was time to dial back the effort and let myself recover.

I stayed in slow mode all the way to Lambertville, where I ordered a tall cup of cold brew at Luminary.

In any other year, the Pennsylvania side would have given me the heebie-jeebies. This time, I knew we were going into Premed territory and that we only had 15 miles left.

The sun was out and the heat index was reaching into the 90s. I got my second wind in time for the gradual, annoying climb on Stoney Hill. 

Our final handful of miles were along River Road, passing Washington Crossing on the way to Yardley. I was trying to do my usual Premed macho-mile sprint with what little oomph I had left. Whatever Our Jeff ate at the rest stop propelled him so far in front of me and Heddy that it wasn't worth trying to chase him.

As I was getting Janice ready to be put in the car, I lifted her by the saddle. I'd been hearing a carbon-on-carbon squeak all ride long, which meant that either the seat post or the saddle needed tightening. I decided to swing by Harts for a quick fix. At least I'd stopped dripping by the time I got there. 

Later in the afternoon, I checked the forecast.

"Uncomfortably humid?" Is there a "comfortably humid" that I'm unaware of? The "real feel" of 105 wasn't as bad as the 108 on Friday morning as I walked from my car to the lab. As for "rain may form," bring it on!

We did get a heavy storm around 6:30. 

Tom posted in his blog, "Some felt worse than others and wished they had passed on the ride but again they are the insane posse so we do things that are hard then complain about it." He's got our number!

III: Sunday

Plain Jim listed a flat ride from Montgomery Veterans Park to the Italian Bakery in Raritan. I'd considered bringing Beaker, but I wanted to make sure Janice's seat post was okay. 

The sky was heavily overcast. The temperature was down, even if the humidity wasn't. At least I could breathe. 

I didn't expect to have any energy. The ride was short, though: only 30 miles. I decided to push myself a little. I felt much better than I had the day before. The iced cappucino at the halfway point helped considerably. 

A handful of us hammered on the way back, with one eye on the gunmetal-gray sky and one on the potholes. Not that it would have mattered if it had rained. I was soaked anyway.

IV: Next Week

On Wednesday, Our Jeff is repeating the route we had to abandon, so that's going to be work. Dave S wants to lead one more hilly ride next Sunday before we take off for Canada. He promises it will be mellow, only 50 feet of elevation gain per mile. 

After that, we pack up and drive. Whatever training I've done will have to be enough.