Crossing a Continent

Category: 2016 Northern Tier: The ride

  • Day 81 Moosilauke, NH to Fryeburg, ME 54 miles

    Day 81 Moosilauke, NH to Fryeburg, ME 54 miles

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    Holly Mother!!!!!!! Excitement woke us up early! This was going to be the day we entered our last state! We said our goodbyes to mount Moosilauke as we descended her magnificent, smooth side. We resupplied in Lincoln stocking up on snacks for the day. For the next 30 miles we would be biking through the whites and up our last major climb on the Kangcamagus Highway over Kangcamagus pass at 3698 feet. As we climbed, we stopped frequently at the roadside scenic pull-offs, where the mountains would open up and we could get panaromic views of the mountain side. Feeling strong and full of endurance, this 9% climb seemed mild and the pass came before I even knew it.  As the road arched and dropped out of view, Matt and I switched into gear and began the long descent. I had a smile on my face the whole way down. We pulled over on the Swift River and scrambled down the bank to enjoy the cool water and take our last break before leaving the White Mountains. After drying off and eating a snack we headed back out on the road. We took 112 out of the park and right into Conway. It was an abrupt change leaving beautiful quiet woods and entering a bustling town, but within 5 miles we had made it to the ‘Welcome to Maine’ sign.  We had made it! We had biked into our 15th and last state!!!!!! The guide book advised that the traffic could be heavy through Conway and that we should take a side trail at the visitor center, so we jumped on the newly paved bike trail that will, when finished, connect Portland all the way to Conway, a total of over 50 miles. This trail definitly might be a future trek. We ended the day camping at Canal Bridge Family Campground along the Saco River.

    We had arrived late afternoon and had just enough time to shower, set up camp and eat a quick snack before my sister Jessica and her family pulled into the site. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening playing in the river with my adorable nephews Martin and Arthur and enjoying BBQ at the local restaurant. Thank you so much Neil, Susan, Jess and Chris for making the trip out. You were the best welcoming party to Maine we could have asked for!!!

  • Day 80 South Royalton, VT to Mount Moosilauke, NH 60 miles

    We followed the white river through the fog out of South Royalton. Ten miles of mild roads gradually increased into a  three mile climb up to Whitcomb Hill. This was just enough of a climb that the quick downhill blew us into our 14th state of New Hampshire! We are now officially in the White Mountains! We took a long break midway through the day in North Haverhill under a tree at the police station preparing for the climb up Mount Moosilauke. Mount Moosilauke holds a special place in both Matt and my heart. We hiked up it while on the Appalachian Trail and have returned to the sacred place sharing it with family and friends. Whenever we come up to Maine, we always make sure to make a stop to visit our old friend. The climb was mild, even though it sits at 4817 feet. We made it to the top before dark. We walked our bikes back on the trail and had to portage over the small creek to a flat enough spot to put up the tent.  We set up camp and started a fire to cook dinner. Tonight was the first time since Washington that it was cool enough to make an actual fire to cook on instead of cooking with our stick stove. It was nice to be in the mountains and watch the moon rise. At dusk, a fellow thru hiker passed by the campsite, said hello and set up her tent across the stream.  She was hiking by herself, and I admired her independence and will as I watched her set up and cook food alone. She said nothing and was content in the silence that comes from solo traveling in the mountains. Watching her made me look at Matt and think how lucky I am to be able to share this special spot with him. This mountain has been in the distance of my mind for so long on this trip that I can’t believe I am actually here and that I have just biked up to her peak. She again will imprint her spirt on my soul and I will forever remember her beauty.

  • Day 79 Middlebury to South Royalton, VT 49.5 miles

    We started this morning late. We slept in, had homemade omelets, french toast, and yogurt with fresh berries for breakfast! The woman that runs the B&B with her husband talked with us for  along time about her husband who is as we speak kayaking the coastline of Maine. She was telling us about logistics and how her husband doesn’t quite know when he’ll finish and when she’ll need to go and pick him up. She said that they are already a day behind schedule due to wind and weather conditions. Matt and I told her how hard this summer trip has been trying to meet up with folks and project our finish date. Unless we can literally bike to a house, we usually only know a day or two of where we will end up and even that can change. We thanked her kindly for the room and breakfast, and she wished us well on the last few days of our trip.

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    After packing everything up, we headed south toward our first great climb into Moosalamoo National Recreation Area. Bread loaf sitting at 3800 feet was just what we needed to start the day. Saddling up into granny gear we cranked up toward the top where I was all too excited to see the 12% downhill grade sign. The morning was overcast and windy and at the top of the mountain, Matt and I quickly put every layer we had on for the descent.  A wonderful winding glide down protected on both sides by thick forests. We quickly rode through the towns Rochester and and Stockbridge and then headed east into Bethel. We decided to push on a few more miles and resupply at the local co-op in South Royalton. I had tried to contact the campground that was listed to make a reservation for that evening, but there was no number or online presences. Rumor from the girls who worked at the co-op told us that hurricane Irene flooded the entire area and that the campground was completely underwater. With the sad news, we decided to head over to the Crossroads bar and grill for $.50 wings. We asked the waitress if she new of any place to throw a tent for the night and she told us that people were still camping at that campground, but that if we went down there and it wasn’t okay, that she had land that we could camp on.

    We quickly finished dinner, packed up and headed toward the campsite. On our way Matt got a photo of the waterline from hurricane Irene. The road we were on was at least 8 feet under water. We found an old camping sign and followed the dirt road down toward the White River. There were a few abandoned cars and some RVs, and so we pitched the tent and settled in. One of the men in the RVs called us over to see otters playing on the banks of the river. Using his binoculars we were able to spot three cute little fury ones. This camping spot right along the river was beautiful and I only hope that this campground will flourish again.

  • Day 78 Newcomb, NY to Middlebury, VT 60 miles

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    Riding Ferry over Lake Champlain, NY

    The sky darkened as the sun should have been starting to rise over the mountains. Without saying a word, Matt and I got busy doing our morning ritual. Pack up clothes, sleeping bag, sleeping pad. Take down tent. Mix carnation instant breakfast packet with two spoonfuls of instant coffee. Eat something. Anything. This morning, it was left over olive and sausage pizza from the night before. There was no resupply spot yesterday, so we had to save a few slices to get us through the morning. I am eating everything and anything. The pains of hunger tug at me throughout the day. Within the last week, my ability to devour huge quantities of food, without ever feeling full is impressive. My adrenaline and metabolism know the mountains are here.

    We shifted tiredly onto our bikes before 7am. We followed a beautiful Blue Ridge road up and down the sides of Sand Point and Hoffman Mountains. Quiet held us both for most of the morning as the sky shifted from lighter grays to darker grays. 100% chance of rain was in the forecast. We had 60 miles to do, and both of us we drawn to make it to Middlebury.

    Today the road led us past a bison farm and store filled with jerky and filets. Of course being Sunday, everything was closed. I stopped briefly to watch and say a silent hello to these animals. We rode highway 74 through North Hudson and Paradox, only stopping briefly to fill up water and snap a few photos at the lake crossings. Realizing our elevation, I started to see two downhill truck signs that warned trucks to use caution and switch to a lower gear. The Adirondacks had shown many of those signs, prompting a false hope and expectation that would end too abruptly and leave me with a feeling of wanting and needing more. The switch to a high gear would only last a few seconds, before the start of a new climb. As soon as I noticed the sign, I saw two bikers pedaling westward fully loaded and I gave them the wave. Quick enough, I noticed the mountain ranges toward the east open up and the road quickly drop downward. Three miles of intense downhill was enough of a farewell into the last city of New York. For all of the beautiful campgrounds, lakes and small hills of New York, this impressive descent into Ticonderoga was enough for me to leave with a memory of admiration for the Adirondacks.

    We continued on 74 which dropped us right on the ferry that would take us across Lake Champlain. We paid our $4 and enjoyed the strong southeast wind as we floated the 7 minutes across the lake. The clouds continued to build to the west and we quickly hopped off the ferry, took a brief photo at the Welcome to Vermont sign and quickly pedaled up the hill entering our 13th state. The green mountains were all around us, and it was such a sigh of relief to enter into a state that only 9 years ago, I had hiked through on the Appalachian Trail. ‘Welcome back’ I could hear the wind whispering through the corn fields.

    At around 3pm we arrived into the town of Middlebury. That night we were going to tent for free outside of the Swiss House Inn B&B that was mentioned in the guide book. We pulled up to this amazing old Victorian House with full wrap around porch with rocking chairs and checked in. It turns out that the owner is an avid kayaker and cyclist and gives bikers free rooms when they stop through. Completely without words, I was struck by shear excitement as the girl at the desk handed over keys and showed us to a suite and told us to be sure to come down for breakfast in the morning. A few days past my birthday, but this was the perfect gift. I looked at Matt hardly able to contain my joy. After taking our panniers to the room, we quickly went to the local co-op to resupply and get dinner. On our way back, the sky opened up and the rain began to fall. After a long hot bath, I sit by the fireplace, enjoying the A.C. and sipping a chilled Vermont Hard Cider.  I gaze out the window at the flooded streets, in a warm white robe, and day dream about the few days left of this journey.

  • Day 77 Singing Waters Campground to Newcomb, NY 66.5 miles

    My alarm went off at 5:30am. Alarm? I know most of you think this trip that Matt and I are on is somewhere between a hardcore adventure and glorified vacation, but yes, this is the first time I’ve set an alarm all summer. I did wake up exactly 10 minutes before it went off, a behavior that I have dealt with my entire life, but that I still don’t fully trust enough to not set the alarm. But anyhow, today we would need to bike into Blue Mountain Lake, a mere 40 miles away to make it to their post office before they close at noon. I also have no podcasts to listen to for the morning ride, something which I have solely come to rely on. The morning air was crisp and we turned on our reflector lights and headed out. We had the roads to ourselves until the sun started to peak over the mountains. We biked quickly before dawn up and down past the Fulton Chain of Lakes and quickly past Raquette Lake. The first 18 miles were a breeze, hilly but manageable. The wind was light and the reflection of blues off of the lakes were bouncing off the roadside marshes creating a sort of Fantasia. We made it to town by 10:30am, picked up my package (THANKS KATHY!) and stopped at the local convenience store for snacks and huge subs for lunch.

    A local came up as we were eating at a picnic table, saw our bikes and started the old ten questions around where were from, where were headed and everything in between. After our rehearsed, tired explanation of our journey, he quickly gave us some road advise for the days to come. He said that there’s a two mile section of trail on Blue Ridge road that they are repaving and that it is fresh gravel at this point. He looked at our tires and said it was manageable. He also said the climb out of Blue Mountain is a tough one. Thus far the Adirondacks have been very mild, compared to the stuff we’ve already come through, so Matt and I both glanced at each other with a bit of confidence. We thanked the guy for his info and headed out. Sure enough, less than a mile from where we had just eaten, the road went straight up. I was so thankful I had eaten that big sub, as I could feel it start to kick in, as I lowered to granny gear and slowly struggled up the climb. At the top, I was impressed with Blue Mountain, sitting at 3750 feet. It was a nice climb, one that will surely help prepare us for the whites in New Hampshire.

    We arrived in Newcomb, where we were going to resupply and camp for the night, but the store had a closed for the winter sign. I had tried calling a few times early and it just went to voice mail, so this was why I couldn’t make a reservation. We ended up spending the afternoon playing in Harris Lake, and got a pizza at the local bar that was still open. At around 6:30, we headed east, hoping to find some level ground somewhere along Blue Ridge Road to stealth camp. After we crossed the railroad tracks, there was nothing that looked flat enough for us to put the tent on. The forest was thick with pine and spruce and we pushed on. After about 4 miles, there was a small clearing hidden behind a rock wall and young pines and we quickly walked the bikes back off the road. We put up the tent and settled in, just as the sun began to set.