As the start date grew closer, the weather forecast for the Boston 600 kilometer (~380 miles) ride steadily deteriorated. The likelihood of rain increased, while the predicted temperatures crept lower. On the way up to Boston , I quickly stopped at the shop to pick up a new pair of knee warmers, but they were out. I'd just have to rely on healthy doses of embrocation to keep the knees and legs warm. I told the guys at the shop about the ride, and got a "that's awful". I was a bit more enthused, delusion, or both. Regardless, I found myself at the 4am Saturday start. It was still June, how cold and rainy could it really get? My new lightweight long sleeve wool base layer was stashed in my drop bag in case of steady rain, and I had a new rain jacket. This was also the last qualifying ride for
Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP), which I plan to do in August.
The group of 22 started out with some random raindrops falling. My goal was to finish in roughly 24 hours, subject to revision. As we pulled into the first and second checkpoints, we had most of the group together. The pesky light rain continued. As we progressed toward the third checkpoint at Deerfield , the heavens opened. At the Deerfield checkpoint, I put on my wool base layer and wrung out my gloves. We climbed up to Ashfield in the rain and then onto Pittsfield for some Price Chopper pizza. It was just Brad and I now. We climbed up and over the Jiminy Peak road race finish line. We turned off the race course, and then started the Petersburg Pass climb. It was windy, foggy, wet, and cold up at the top. We rode past the
Battenkill-Roubaix start line and into Vermont . Cyclo-crossed up the driveway to the Sandgate control, hoping I keep on the bike and moving, because if I fall off I'm walking, and if a bear jumps out, I'm in trouble. Hear the dinner bell ringing, sprint to the end of the driveway, sit down and chug a Coke. We are at mile 220. While dining on nice pasta dinner, our host John googled the
triangular purple boxes we had seen hanging about 15 feet up in various trees along the road. Brad and I leave, seeing the five who were behind us just pulling in, about 50min behind.
We start a long climb up out of Manchester . It is getting colder, wetter, foggier, and nastier as we ascend. I'm dreading the descent. Brad, a three time PBP 'ancien', responds to my query that this weather is worse than the '07 PBP weather, which everyone says was miserable. Not sure if that makes me feel better, or just stupid. The descents are brutally cold. We slog along in the wet cold and can only keep moving to stay warm. We make a turn over a covered bridge to cut over to Brattleboro. Brad has a flat on a steep climb. Have to fix it twice as we forgot to pull out the rock in the tire that caused the flat. We pull into Brattleboro at mile 285, and are greeted by picture snapping Bill, documenting our rough condition, and his frisky grey standard poodle. The only way I'm going to finish this ride is to stop and get warm. Hopefully it will be a little less apocalyptic at daybreak. I let my loved ones back home know the ETA has shifted to roughly noon, take a hot shower, and nap for three warm, dry hours. During the night, the other five riders who were after us arrive and leave.
We depart at daybreak, 53 degrees, and lightly raining. We have 90 miles to the finish. We enter NH, and pass three fireworks shops right next to each other, all closed at this early hour. It is taking a while for my creaking legs and knees to warm up on these large looming rollers next to a clear brown, fast running mountain stream. We then turn south away from the valley. The cue sheet calls out a 'steep ascent' and for a few minutes, I'm hopeful Bruce slipped on keyboard when typing up the cue sheet; 'ascent' instead of 'descent'. Nope. This is a killer. As I weave back and forth up this cable car worthy monstrosity, near the top there is a small clear plastic Ziploc bag of GORP splayed forlornly in the middle of the road. I can only wonder if it was dropped knowingly or not, and by whom. I comment on the nastiness of that climb (Jacob's Hill) and Brad says 'that's not right'.
Right before we get into the Gardner checkpoint, we have to make a stop to pull a chunk of brown Budweiser glass out of my rear tire. While pumping up the tube, I proceed to shear off the valve stem. Patch up the old tube. Lucky I brought that patch kit, as that was the last spare tube between us. We stop at Dunkin Donuts for a breakfast sandwich and coffee. We then notice the 'real' checkpoint across the street and sign in. We have one more section to go, which turns out to be, mercifully, relatively flat. We finish a little after 1pm. The hardier bunch of five who leap-frogged us at Brattleboro, finished a little before 11am.
Overall this was a brutal, tough ride. Many thanks for the great help along the way. Can't wait to go to the shop and get those knee warmers. When I tell them about finishing the ride, I expect to get the same response.
Cheers
