New England bike trip October 15-16, 1985 - Central Vermont

October 15, 1985 was another rainy day in central Vermont! Guess I was learning why Vermont is so green…. It was pouring right from the start. There was no option of hanging around the hostel either… it was closed during the day, starting at 9:00am. Luckily, there was another hostel 45 miles south, down route 100 in Rochester, Vermont. I had a reservation even. Knowing I'd be dry at night made it not so bad to just go on an ride in it. I was soaked within a few miles, but as long as I was actively riding I was not cold. In fact, I only stopped once. At the Warren General Store (Warren, Vermont) I found 4 day-old rolls/pastries for $1.20. That plus water was lunch! Didn't stop for long, because I started feeling chilled in my wet clothes.

For those wondering, my gear was generally kept pretty dry but lining my panniers (saddle bags) with multiple plastic bags. Also, tent and sleeping bag were inside a massive thick plastic bag and lashed onto the back of the bike above the rear wheel.

When I set off, the rain had let up and I had a stretch of uphill to do. This got me warmed up quickly. But within minutes it was raining even harder than before! So, when I got to Rochester, I went directly to a laundromat. It was warm in there, and washing all my damp stuff was in order. Great way to kill a little time. It was only 1pm and the nearby hostel didn't open 'til 5pm.

While my wash was running I noticed two loaded bikes across the street! I went across and found their owners in a café, eating fries and drinking hot coffee. Their names were Mark and Jim, two 30-ish guys who'd been doing trips together for about 10 years. They were headed for Boston. But first they were headed to the laundromat--for the same reason as me--and then the hostel. As was Luke the red-poncho'd hitchhiker who was also planning to stay at the hostel. Laundromat on a rainy day = precursor to "social media" for travelers… ?

Mark and Jim, stalwart Midwesterners.

October 15, 1985 in Rochester, Vermont.

Sitting on a bag of peat moss, waiting for my dryer-load to finish.

October 15, 1985 in Rochester, Vermont.

Eventually the crowd moved from the laundromat to the Schoolhouse Hostel. All these dudes plus one more, photographer John from L.A., were staying there. We all ate a big dinner of spaghetti and/or mac & cheese. And then went to the Eagle's Nest bar to drink beer and watch baseball.

Schoolhouse Hostel on a less rainy day!

Rochester, Vermont, October 16, 1985

On October 16 did a "day ride." Instead of moving on with a full load, I left most my stuff in the hostel for the day, and rode my unloaded bike on a big relaxing 45-mile loop. Nice to have a "day off" but still get to explore. And a dry, partly-sunny day was a welcome change!

Near Stockbridge, October 16, 1985

Apples & cows near Barnard, October 16, 1985.

Barnard, Vermont. October 16, 1985.

Bethel Mountain Road, October 16, 1985

Jennie from Philadelphia up on Bethel Mtn Rd.

Bethel Mountain trees..... October 16, 1985.

Back at the hostel later on, it was Ramen noodles with poncho man Luke for dinner, and another trip to the bar for baseball and beer.

New England bike trip October 14, 1985

I had a couple plates of excellent blueberry pancakes at the Inn for breakfast. Got all my stuff into Marija's car and headed off. She had traveled and worked all over the place for almost 10 years so had a lot of interesting stories to tell. High up on the pass the leaves were all off the trees. Down on the other side of the mountains we enjoyed some hot apple cider at a roadside stand. Then we crossed the Connecticut River (my second crossing of it this trip!) into Vermont. There we stopped and I loaded up the bike. Marija drove of toward friends of hers; I headed west-northwest toward Montpelier.

Marija at Eaton Center VT. October 14, 1985

In Woodsville, Vermont, ready to ride. October 14, 1985.

It was gray but dry, and I found Vermont to be gorgeous. Rolling mountains covered with colored trees and bare branches, with very pretty farms between them in the valleys. Now and then a quaint town. The word "quaint" really was the most appropriate.

Two views west o' Woodsville, October 14, 1985.

I rode through the Groton State Forest on an excellent road with few cars and fabulous trees. There were 10 miles of gentle climbing and then a great 5-mile plunge through farmland to the town of Marshfield. There a bunch of dogs along this last stretch. You'd see 'em hop off the front porch of their houses and start running down toward the road (toward ME!). But with the downhill and a flip of the gearshifter I was able to accelerate and leave each one dissatisfied in the driveway. Ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaa! This was a terrific riding day, the kind I still crave today.

Groton State Forest, Vermont. October 14, 1985.

East of Marshfield, Vermont. October 14, 1985.

It got better. Better is spelled B-A-K-E-R-Y, in case you did not know. The Rainbow Sweets Bakery and Café satisfied sweet and savory needs both. I had some kind of corn bread thing with a layer of butter, spinach and spices. And then a big piece of chocolate cake. Yes! Perfect fuel for the 17 miles into Montpelier and beyond to the youth hostel at Waterbury Center.

Rainbow Sweets Bakery, Marshfield, Vermont. October 14, 1985.

Montpelier struck me as very small for a state capitol… no wonder, because even currently the population is estimated at less than 8,000!

Montpelier, Vermont. October 14, 1985.

As always, the hostel stay was a great chance to meet other travelers. Kim from New Jersey was there, a recent high school graduate who'd spent the summer and fall doing volunteer trail-building in the nearby Green Mountains. Arriving later was Grant from Australia, who was hitching and busing around the U.S. looking at graduate schools. Good folks with whom to share spaghetti dinner and swap stories.

New England bike trip October 13, 1985

Rain rain rain. It kept me in my tent til noon. It stopped for a bit and allowed me to cook up a little hot food, but looked like it could start again any time. I was not feeling to motivated to ride a mountain road under the circumstances, 'specially not late in the day and 'specially having to camp again that night! I stood around indecisive and frustrated. Tried hitchin' again. Nooooo luck this time. Instead I rode back downhill to Conway in hopes of a dry place to sleep. Amazingly I found out about a place 4 miles away with dorm-style accommodations. It was called the Palmer House Inn, and it cost $13 for a night. Deal! They had space, luckily, else I had spied a picnic shelter in a park that I woulda crashed under…

The bunk room also offered a chance to hang up damp stuff to dry. I met a woman from Texas named Marija who was doing the exact same thing. She had been backpacking and also had come running to this dry place! She was headed over the Kanc by car the next day and was happy to carry me and my bike along. I was trying to keep on a bit of a timetable and was a day behind now, so I was happy about this.

No photos taken this soggy day!

New England bike trip October 12, 1985

The morning started out cold, but it was dry--and I had plenty of warm clothes. I went downhill back to Gorham, then south down the east side of the Presidential Range. Great day of riding with lots of sunshine. Some moderate climbs (e.g. Pinkham Notch) and fun downhills. I bought some maple syrup and mailed it home to Colorado, to be used for Xmas gifts!

'Bout ready to start the day's ride.

Bowman Base Camp near Randolph, NH. October 12, 1985.

Presidential Range in full fall colors!

The sliver of white at right top center is Mt. Washington. October 12, 1985.

North of Conway, New Hampshire. October 12, 1985.

At Conway, New Hampshire I picked up some supplies, then headed off on a back road toward the Kancamagus Highway to find a campsite. Found one at Covered Bridge Campground and cooked me up a buncha chili and ate it w/ dinner rolls. The next day my plan was to ride "the Kanc," a 26-mile road over the White Mountains. That would put me over near Vermont...

Covered Bridge Campground, October 12, 1985.

General retrospective note: I am amused when re-reading my journal from '85 that things keep coming up like "pay phone" and "traveler's cheques". Weird little tidbits that definitely put a date-stamp on the stories. Oh, and the cars that appear in the pictures too…

New England bike trip 1985, part 3

John and Nellie sent me off in style. I helped Nellie make waffles and we ate them with pure maple syrup. Yum! And John gave me a book of his poetry. I headed off toward New Hampshire, even turning onto an unknown road that wasn't on my map, following my instinct that it would take me the right direction. Eventually it led to a road that was on my map, allowing me to reorient.

Speaking of orienting: I came within 25 miles of Sweden, 37 miles of Mexico, and 94 miles of China that morning. Guess that's what a little lobster protein will do for ya! Actually, these were names of towns in Maine--I dunno why. But it made for an interesting road sign!

Intersection of Maine highways 118, 5, and 35. October 10, 1985.

Road-grade and wind allowed me to ride some semi-large gears (always a pleasure) north up to Bethel, Maine. It was an enjoyable morning, except for another broken spoke. Hoped to find another bike shop in Bethel, but there wasn't one. Hmmmm, now what? Lunch, of course. Over muenster on English muffins and apples, I mulled over the wheel. Decided fixing it was futile, so I rode on westward on the bad wheel, 22 miles to Gorham, New Hampshire.

Maine-New Hampshire state line, on U.S. Highway 2. October 10, 1985.

In Gorham there was a bike shop, a brand new one at that! But the owner said he knew very little about wheels. I suppose he didn't have any new ones, either -- don't remember now. But I sure didn't buy one. I decided to forge on riding the wobbly wheel. I only had about 6 or 7 miles 'til I reached my first youth hostel of the trip, Bowman Base Camp near the tiny town of Randolph, New Hampshire. It was uphill, a modest 400 feet of elevation gain… but the weather was starting to look threatening. Luckily I got to the hostel dry; less than 45 minutes later it was pouring rain. There was a possibility of snow in the forecast. I was only 40 miles or so from Canada (for real!) so I suppose that was no surprise.

Friday October 11th was supposed to be my day to hike up Mt. Washington or one of the other ~6,000 foot mountains of the Presidential Range. It didn't happen though, as all the summits were hidden in clouds. There was no snow at the hostel, around elevation 1,200 feet. But up higher there definitely was. So I elected to deal with my wheel problem.

There was a decent bike shop 40 miles west in Littleton, New Hampshire. I set out hitchhiking again, carrying my busted wheel in hopes of attracting sympathetic rides more easily. First car to come along picked me up! It took me three separate rides to get there, but it didn't take long. The bike shop rebuilt my wheel for a good price. While they were doing it I wrote some postcards on the sunny steps of the post office, bought some groceries, and got a hamburger at a small café. Two more quick rides and I was back at the hostel before 2:00pm.

There was still daylight a'plenty… so I got to hike after all. I sort of alternated between running and walking, up the trail toward the summit of Mt. Adams.

Lower section of the Mt. Adams trail. October 11, 1985.

It was 4.5 miles to the top. I never consider going all the way up, since it was late and there were still clouds covering the summit. I went about 3 miles up, high enough to get some good views (and photos!).

About 2 miles up the trail...

Three views from high on the trail...

New England bike trip 1985, part 2

On Tues October 8, 1985 I awoke to a dew-soaked tent, unlike anything I'd ever seen in the arid country of my upbringing. I left the docks and rocks and lobster cages of the Maine coast behind. My plan was to go north off Bailey Island to Brunswick, then north and west, beyond the town of Auburn.

While in Brunswick, I had to get to a bike shop because I'd been having trouble with spokes breaking on my rear wheel. One broke back in Connecticut, and two more the day before on Bailey Island. I knew how to replace them, and had done so, the previous day borrowing a huge wrench from a Goodyear place to get my freewheel off. But a fourth spoke broke as I set off for the day. I was frustrated (that's an understatement) and uttered a few words of disgust (!). Decided it would be best to hitchhike the 15 miles up to Brunswick, rather than risk destroying my wheel further. A dude with a pickup truck kindly hauled me into town to the Yankee Pedaler bike shop. I learned a lot from the proprietor, Lorraine, about wheels and spokes. Re-reading my journal, I clearly didn't know some basic stuff… She offered the options of fixing/true-ing the existing wheel best she could vs. buying a whole new wheel. I went the cheap route (fix it), figuring I'd find other bike shops later if needed.

North of Brunswick, Maine. October 8, 1985.

(By the way: All these photos can be viewed in bigger size Right Here )

Near Auburn, Maine. October 8, 1985.

Eventually I was on the road again, enjoying the sunshine while cruising along beside the Androscoggin River. Bought some apples at a roadside stand, and had my picture taken beside a huge pile of pumpkins.

Auburn, Maine. October 8, 1985.

Worry-free wheel for now?

West of Auburn, I turned off Highway 121 and pedaled through the town of Oxford. Soon after, I turned left and labored my way up Scribner Hill Road. There I found my kind and lovely hosts for the next two nights, John and Nellie -- the grandparents of a college friend & teammate. I found John in front of their farmhouse, in the bushes picking grapes. "Hello, hello! We know about you!" said Nellie.

Their granddaughter had written them a letter asking if could stay with them, and it had arrived only a day before! How 22 of us to leave it all to the last minute and just expect it to work out! Yet they welcomed me with open arms, happy to have me -- as I'd been assured they would. As a parent of an almost-college-age daughter myself now, I have already seen friends' kids go off to college. And I'll tell ya what, I'd love to have them over any time. I aspire to the John and Nellie attitude of genuine welcoming, and hope I'll be able to pull it off even on short notice :)

Scribner Hill Road, near Otisfield, Maine. October 8, 1985.

John and Nellie, my hosts at Scribner Hill Farm. October 8, 1985.

John, a retired English professor, toured me around the house and helped lug my stuff up to "my room." We put my bike out in the barn, behind big sliding wooden doors. They sat me down for "a little luncheon," and afterwards took me on a walk higher up the road. There we had a view of Mt. Washington, barely visible in hazy clouds, 60 or so miles away in New Hampshire. A nephew came by, out on an afternoon run (I think that's him in the picture above).

Nellie later cooked an amazing dinner of roast beef, potatoes, and mixed zucchini and tomatoes. We watched baseball playoffs on TV, Toronto Blues Jays vs. Kansas City Royals.

I spent Wednesday October 9 with John and Nellie. They wanted me to stay, and I thought maybe I could help out around the house.

John cooked up eggs and bacon in the morning. Being 22 and the engine for my bicycle, I ate cereal as well. (It amazes me how much I used eat in those days, especially on a bike trip. My buddy Dave & I once polished off an entire loaf of bread with peanut butter and jelly, all in one sitting, fueling our travels across Nebraska. I believe we drank a quart of milk each, too.)

Nellie went to their church to work on some projects, while John and I ran errands. We went to a hardware store to pick up some weather stripping to winterize their windows. And having explained my lobster strike-out the day before, we went to a market that sold live lobsters. We picked out three, and they boiled 'em up right there. We refrigerated them 'til dinner time. I helped John haul their woodburning stove from the stove to the house, in pieces because it was iron and big and heavy! We installed it for the coming winter's heating. I was glad to be able to assist with this, given their generosity.

We picked up Nellie and went to have a look at their "camp," a cabin on nearby Thompson Lake. We watched loons, skipped rocks on the placid water, and sat in the rocking chairs on the porch. Nice.

Thompson Lake, Maine. October 9, 1985.

For dinner we had cold lobster, along with a cabbage-apple-walnut-mayo salad. I learned all about the techniques of getting at the meat. Nellie's great apple crisp was a fine dessert, and more baseball followed that.

A shot of me and John and three dinner guests. October 9, 1985.

Tomorrow: Bienvenue au New Hampshire!

Bikin' along, getting to know myself, age 22... October 1985

25 years ago today at this hour I was camping in a droopy old tent, near the coast of Maine. I was traveling on a bicycle, loaded down with everything I'd need for 6 weeks or so, including the possibility of snowy weather. I was no stranger to travel by bicycle. But never before had I traveled alone, and I wasn't yet sure I would like it. I believed I would… but at that point I was basically a little freaked out.

Day-to-day uncertainties, primary among them "Where am I going to sleep tonight?" was part of it. And just sheer alone-ness, something I was not at all used to, having all my life been surrounded by schoolmates, teammates, etc. Just what in the hell was I doing, anyway?

You would think my goal of spending $10 per day would be a stress. But really, that wasn't too hard, though that figure included all the food a 22 year old would want to eat, plus "lodging." Anyhoo, on October 7, 1985, the "where will I sleep" question was answered by the good folks at The Viking Bed and Breakfast, who allowed me to pitch my tent out back of their place. See photo below. Believe it or not I still have that ol' tent!

In retrospect I think that was quite generous of them… they'd probably rather I paid for a room. But at that point in my life was not about to spend that sort of money just to sleep. (What til you read some future posts about this trip!).

So I'm going to re-live the trip a bit, in blog form, complete with pictures. Hope you'll come along for the ride! This first post is playing catch-up, because the riding started September 30, 1985... So let me run through some highlights of the first week on the road. I'll try to post daily or close to daily for the next month, trying to stay pretty much "25 years later to the day," til November 8th.

Above: Bailey Island, Maine. October 7, 1985. The bed and breakfast was a few miles up the road from here. Tried to eat my first-ever lobster at nearby Cook's Lobster House, but they were already closed for the season :(

OK, a weird sleeping spot story already. But this is an example that I hoped would happen but didn't: I was looking for an upside-down old fishing boat behind Cook's Lobster House, intending to sleep under it. It had been recommended, you see... two buddies of mine passed through there on bikes earlier in the year and found it to be a cozy sleep spot!!! But the boat was gone by the time I came around.

Bailey Island, Maine. October 7, 1985.

Bailey Island, Maine. October 7, 1985.

Near Bailey Island, Maine. October 7, 1985.

October 6, 1985 was day I felt most 1) alone, 2) scared, 3) unsure. On that day I took a bus from Worcester, Mass. to Portland, Maine. Sitting there staring out the window of the bus was kinda rough. Somehow I met a jogger as I rode along north of Portland who offered up a backyard for my campsite. Wheeew. Above is a shot of the sunset I took nearby. Falmouth, Maine.

Prior to the bus ride, I'd had the good fortune of staying with friends every night, all the way from Boston to western Connecticut. Above is my college friend Jill, who drove me to the bus. Note the disassembled bike is in a box (which we're leaning on) for the bus trip. Jill, I've lost touch with you for 25 years! If you ever read this please get in touch!

Between Litchfield and Warren, Connecticut. October 4, 1985.

Near Litchfield, Connecticut. October 4, 1985.

It rained all day. I was glad to know I'd be staying with friends that night.

Road food. Wooooo. Check out that filthy water bottle (thanks rain!).

What was I reading? The Monkey Wrench Gang!

Western Connecticut, October 4, 1985.

The above two shots are from the Glastonbury Ferry in central Connecticut. It cost me 25¢ to cross the Connecticut River on it, as a cyclist. Really cool. Oldest continuously operating ferry in the U.S. (since 1655). I was soaking wet (more rain) but having a great time. October 3rd, 1985.

West of Willimantic, Connecticut. Wet, wet, wet. October 3, 1985.

I was amused to learn that liquor stores are called "package stores" in that part of the country. Had never heard that before. Eastern Connecticut, October 2, 1985.

That would be me, standing there in downtown Moosup, Connecticut. October 2, 1985.

Western Rhode Island. October 2, 1985.

Above are two photos from Providence, Rhode Island, October 2, 1985. That's my high school classmate Eric, then a med student at Brown. He is posing behind a pile of branches downed by Hurricane Gloria about five days before. Long Island, Connecticut, and I think Rhode Island took the brunt of that storm.

Day Two of riding. Dighton, Mass., October 1, 1985. No, I didn't wipe out. I think I was fascinated by the sign, as it was unlike any out west where I'd grown up.

Scituate, Mass., morning of October 1, 1985. Had stayed there with another college friend. Hard to believe that this was the first time I'd seen the Atlantic Ocean (that I could remember, anyway).

Loaded up and ready to go! I readied for the trip in Cambridge, Mass., staying with my brother Kirk. That's us outside his dorm room at M.I.T., just before I rode off. September 30, 2010.

Sunrise along the Charles River, Cambridge, Mass. September 30, 2010.

OK, I'm caught up! More blog posts in the coming days with more pics.

Tomorrow: I git me my first lobster!