Bicycle time-travel

Don't the physicists tell us that time is not constant were you to exceed the speed of light? Well, you don't need to go that fast to turn back the clock. You just need to hop on a bike and ride up a mountain!

Yesterday, my bikeclub left Montreal around 9:15am and drove to Sutton, Quebec. We parked our carpool of vehicles, hopped on our bikes, and rode into Vermont, then up Jay Peak Road. The highlight of the ride was one big climb (and big descent) on Jay Peak. The altitude dipped as low as 440 feet and up to 2,218 feet on Jay Peak.



Anyway, the bit about time-travel was that as I pedalled up Jay Peak, the microclimate changed, so you could kind of see spring going backwards. The apple trees that were in full bloom in the valleys were partially in bloom on the way up, and not in bloom at all (or even absent from the flora) higher up. Ferns that are fully fronded-out in Montreal gardens were fairly advanced at the base of Jay Peak, and just fiddle-heading out of the earth higher up. Erythronium (trout lilies, I think) that would be long finished if they grew here in town, looked about to reach their pinnacle on the mountain. The wildcherries in town finished blooming about two weeks ago but were still in blossom there. And so forth. So as I climbed the mountain, time rolled back, and then as I rolled down hill---a delightful WHEEEEEEEEE of a descent---, time leapt back to where I expected it to be.

We stopped in North Troy, Vermont, at the grocery store for lunch. My fellow riders were astonished when I bought a coke and a huge bag of chips to complement my store-bought sandwich, but they weren't above tucking into the chips, which I'd bought for sharing in any case. Fortunately I have pretty solid digestion. I don't like spending a whole day eating energy bars and energy goo, and for the record, I kept the M&Ms for later.

After we returned to Quebec, the rain started. It wasn't at all nice, but at least it wasn't as intense or as cold as the rain on last year's Jay Peak ride. It always rains for our club's Jay Peak ride.

There was still one smaller climb near the end of the ride, over a flank of Mount Sutton. It may have been shorter (1/3 the altitude gain?) but I think it was steeper, and being toward the end of the ride it came when my legs were not at their freshest. I let 10 of the 12 riders in my group pull ahead, all stronger than me, and hang back with a friend I hadn't seen in months and whose company is always a joy. (Merci Steve de ta présence!). In any case, there were still 2 other groups of riders from my club behind me.

What's nice about climbs are at least two things: first, you can go as slow (or fast) as you like and take as many (or few) breaks as you want, and the mountain will still wait for you; and second, what goes up must come down. Thank you, physics, for these affirming realities. Unfortunately the second half of the descent had a road-surface that was pretty bad, so I couldn't go as fast as I'd like.

On the outskirts of the village of Sutton, I saw the president of the other club I used to ride with, Le Club vélo randonneurs de Montréal/. They were doing their 300km bicycle ride today, which departs from the south shore of Montreal, cycles out to Sutton and environs, and then returns. They take an indirect, scenic route so that it makes 300km. I've done that ride before and it almost makes me feel wimpy to have driven out to Suttong in gas-powered vehicles rather than leaving from Montreal under pedal-power. I did say almost, because while I'm fine for 150km and 200km rides, 250km is tough, and 300km is very tough.

Cyclostravaganza 2007, Day 3: Island Pond VT to Twin Mountain NH

View of the White Mountains, as coming into Twin Mountain NH.

Another late start, but not for failure to get up early; this time,
I blame the weather and mechanical problems.

I arose around 6am, installed myself at my campsite's picnic table overlooking the lake, and enjoyed the quite beauty while I ate breakfast (bought in town at the grocery store yesterday) of muffins, cherries galore, cheese, and espresso. Espresso? Yes, I travel with a portable espresso maker, source of heat, stainless-steel demitasse, and my own ground coffee. Who wouldn't?

I watched a squirrel amuse itself greatly at a neighbouring campsite, where the occupants had left all sorts of foodstuffs out on their picnic table overnight. I guess that wherever you go, squirrels will be squirrels.

As I was packing up, it started to rain. Grr. It's much harder and slower for me to pack up when cramped inside the confines of a tent. Eventually I was ready to load everything onto my bike....

...when I discovered that two of the four bolts that hold my rear bike rack in place were missing, and the third was quite loose. Although vandalism was my first thought, I quickly ruled that one out. I can only suppose that the bolts had rattled themselves loose, and am grateful that the rack (and my bags) stayed put. I was pretty distraught over the question of how to transport my bags without a functional rack, and with nary a bike shop in the vicinity. I left my bags at the campground reception, biked back into town to the hardware store, and came across a very helpful clerk in the store. How lucky am I! I could have spent hours trying to figure out what size bolt I needed, but she eyeballed it and soon I was re-fitted of rack, back to the campground to retrieve my bags, and on my way.

I was hoping for a bike shop to check my rack, but there was very little of anything other than forest as I passed through East Brighton, Bloomfield, and Maidstone (where I'd hoped to camp). Past Bloomfield, I edged along the Connecticut River valley, which was very beautiful. Alas, there was plenty of rain along this stretch, and a surprising (given that I was shadowing a rail-line) abundance of hills. The combination of hilly terrain, heavy loads, and wetness meant I ate through my brake pads front and rear... making finding a bike shop even more important, but not much less elusive.

I left Vermont and crossed into New Hampshire at Stratford. The rain stopped (for a while at least) and the terrain seemed less hilly. In Groveton aka Northumberland I discovered that muncipal mergers and correspondingly confusing roadsign are not just a Canadian phenomenon. More importantly, I stopped at an outdoor (hunting) store, and found out that the nearest bike shops were not so near - one in Lancaster, the next in Littleton - far and farther, respectively.

I arrived in Lancaster around 2pm, anxious to replace my brakes, only to find out from a shopkeeper that the bike shop's owner had died just three weeks before. He suggested I look into taking the tourist-trolley-service to Littleton, and referred me to the tourism office down the street for more information... where I discovered that I had just missed the last trolley of the day by a few minutes. Grrr!

When in doubt, or in foul spirits, eat; so I headed to Lancaster's local American/Chinese restaurant. The sign indicated "no Chinese food today" so I had non-Chinese eggs, toast, ham, and surprisingly good coffee. I called the bike shop in Littleton, got directions , and discovered that they would be closing at 5:30pm. It was now about 3:00pm, and Littleton was about 30 hilly kilometres away, and I wanted them to have time to fix my bike before closing... so off I sprinted.

To get to Littleton, I had the choice of a route that went inland (routes 3, 142, and 116), or a route that hugged the Connecticut River (route 135), so I chose the latter expecting fewer hills. It's hard to imagine that the other route could have been hillier! There was a very long climb into Dalton, where I decided not to take a detour up "Mount Misery Road", followed by a long descent (which could have been more enjoyable if I weren't so worried about my brakes) followed by more up-down-up-down.

Around 4:45pm, I arrived in Littleton, a very very pretty town, and after stopping at a garage to ask the outrageously attractive cashier for directions, I soon found the bike shop. The mechanics were very friendly and helpful, and they checked my wheel alignments, replaced my brake pads, and such. When they lifted my bike and bags and realised how heavy it was, they weren't at all surprised I'd gone through my brake pads so quickly, so I bought spare pads to take with me.

I contemplated staying in Littleton, but decided I had some daylight ahead of me and a long day tomorrow, so I pushed on. In Bethlehem NH I saw a surprising number of Jewish signs, many in Hebrew. On my way out of Bethlehem, I had a magnificent view of the White Mountains, probably Mount Washington.

My happily repaired bike soon carried me into Twin Mountain NH, my destination, on the north-western edge of White Mountain National Forest. I was a bit concerned at first, because although the scenery was stunning, the town along route 302 looked like it had been abandoned 40 years ago - then I turned onto Route 3 and found the real town. I decided to spring for a hotel so I could let my tent dry, and so I would be able to get an earlier start the next morning. Istopped at the general store (in a grand old building that looked like an erstwhile hotel or railway station or railway hotel) to ask advice on where to stay, and got a recommendation for Lyons Hospitality (I think that's what it was called) which turned out to be a hostel. Since there was no one else there that night, for $20US, which was cheaper than any campsite I'd stayed at, I had the room to myself. I walked across the street to the appealingly-named Shakespeare Inn. The proprietor, one Mr Shakespeare, is a man of Caribbean origin, and for supper, I had Jamaican chicken soup, bread, roast jerk pork, rice, mashed potatoes, orange juice, and apple pie. (Hello, carb-loading!) The pie was okay, but everything else was wonderful. I retired to my hostel room, happy to have a private shower and a real bed to sleep upon.

DAILY CYCLING STATS
MXS   47.4
AVS   21.0
DST  127.00

Cyclostravaganza 2007, Day 2: Frelighsburg QC to Island Pond VT

On the way from my campground back to Frelighsburg, I passed by a federal government installation for the Frelighsburg Experimental Farm, with barbed wire to keep out unwelcome visitors - squirrels? I wondered what they might experiment here, up in the hills abutting the US border. Organic apples? Or genetically modified goldenrod that can spy on your neighbour?


I cycled over Mount Pinnacle which was a surprisingly challenging climb, as in not impossible but harder than expected. It was worth the climb, as it offered magnificent views of Vermont's Green Mountains and New York's Adirondacks.

I stopped at the, er, pinnacle of my climb at the Pinnacle cider works for some refreshments (fudge, juice) before heading on...

...to Abercorn, Quebec. Part of the segment was, if memory serves correctly, unpaved, but not a problem. In Abercorn I was really looking forward to the bakery my former neighbours so raved about. To my dismay it was closed, but I did find a bike shop where I pumped my tires and chatted with a very friendly proprietor about my planned cycling itinerary. I'm glad to have met him - he gave me some good advice for cycling through the White Mountains (New Hampshire), steering me away from the busy hilly road I'd planned for, to a more gentle, quiet road I could take. He said that would be the best part of my entire trip.

After Abercorn came another more-than-respectable climb over one side of Mount Sutton past Glen Sutton into the Missisquoi Valley. This was the where I'd hoped to camp on my first night, but hadn't "quite" made it what with my late departure and heavy load. This valley is a very beautiful ride though the road is a bit bumpy.

After Glen Sutton, the rest of the day's ride ran mostly parallel to rail-lines, either Northern Vermont or the historic St. Lawrence & Atlantic, so there were no more serious mountains, though there were plenty of smaller hills.

I missed taking a picutre of the ridiculously attractive former train station in Highwater, Quebec, and then I crossed the border at North Troy, Vermont. I was really concerned I might have to unpack all my bags, not because I had anything to hide, but because everything just (barely) fit when packed just so. Fortunately the American border guard was extremely kind; in fact, we spent a lot of time chatting about McGill University, where he'd hoped his child would study. Said child chose Columbia, or some other expensive university in New York City.

My cell phone was supposed to work only in Canada, but I was able to send a few last text messages to Gillian C. while in northern Vermont. Isn't northern Vermont an honorary part of Canada anyway?

I kept seeing very lovely yellow lilies:


...growing wild in the ditch in Northern Vermont.

The road through Newport Center, Newport, Derby Center, Charleston, East Charleston, to Island Pond was very scenic in that typical New England way, mixing farms, villages, forest, and clapboard houses.

I'd hoped to make it to Maidstone State Park that night, but I wasn't going to make it that far, what with my shortfall on day 1 and a late departure on this my second day, so I camped instead at Island Pond. I wanted to camp in the state park, but it seemed to have closed before I arrived, so instead I camped at a private park on another part of the lake. It was very nice but a tad louder than I'd hoped for. All I can say is that jet-skis are the bane of modern civilization.

I left my campground in Frelighsburg around 11:30am (it's hard to get going in the mornings, between having breakfast and packing up your travelling domus) and arrived around 6:45pm in Island Pond, Vermont. My cyclometer tells me I was actually pedalling for 5 hours, 18 minutes, but I really didn't stop much more than to have lunch, cross the border, pump tires, and take a few pictures. Those stops do add up fast though.

DAILY CYCLING STATS
MXS   58.7
AVS   21.7
DST  115.23
TIM 5:18:16