Connecticut to Boston
I have to thank Ken Kifer, (Rest In Peace) for introducing me to bike camping. I’d been riding for years, and always enjoyed camping, then I came across his website. Bike-camping. The questions, Where would I stay? and, It must be dangerous, right?, were answered. 'Stay outside', he said, 'anywhere you want. Stay in the wooded areas off the road, parks, wherever. Danger? Could be, but not innately.' I thought, "Sold". And, also a guy I met while working in Manhattan. He was selling a book he wrote, near Grand Central Terminal, about biking around Cuba, which is apparently illegal for foreigners to do. I bought the book, although never read it--it’s on my to-do list.
I began riding again, now conscious of the fact that I didn't have any spare tires or patches. I knew I didn’t have any tires or patches when I left, “I’ll pick some up on the way”, I told myself. I haven’t passed a bike shop yet, and this bike has given me tire trouble in the past. Fuckit!
I reached New London, CT around 12:30 p.m., no flats. Oh Yeah!
I should find a bike shop and buy some tires, that would be the smart move. Maybe, later.
Now, how am I going to get over the Thames River, bikes aren’t allowed on the highway?
I switch to Route 32, that will take me to Route 2; from Route 2 I’ll take Route 165 to 138 (Volutown), to Route 49 Pachaug State Forest (Mt. Misery), finished for the day. I should reach Mt. Misery around 3 o’ clock.
What did that sign say? I got to get a picture of this.
Heiner's Auto Body & Sales | Uncasville, Connecticut
There’s something to be said for being outside of your normal element--seeing things for yourself--seeing things solo. There's something to be said for going it alone. If someone was to describe this to me I would undoubtedly feel one way; if I’d passed this with someone else, I’d feel another way. But seeing this for myself, solo it appears somewhat odd, yes, but I also feel a sense of privilege. Why? I don’t know. Or, maybe that’s what travelling slowly is to me a chance to see things--the in between. Driving in a car, so many things go unnoticed, towns are blurs, people are impediments, what happens in between your point of origin and destination seem to matter less, seem less real, unless they impede your trajectory. Speed and time. Bike camping is anathema to everyday life because it gives the in between context, a voice.
(Imagine not rushing, having enough time to get lost, find your way, and no matter when you arrive your on time.) That being said...I arrived in Voluntown around 6:30 p.m., instead of my projected 3:30 p.m. and didn’t reach Mt. Misery until about 7 p.m.. Right on time.
I immediately went to bed
Mount Misery | Pachaug State Forest | Voluntown, Connecticut
I awoke around 5 a.m., but didn’t exit my sleeping bag until around 6 a.m. because it was freezing outside. “I got plenty time”, I thought to myself. At 6 o’ clock I packed up my gear, loaded my bike and headed towards the gas station I saw on the way here for a cup of coffee.
For instance, the bicycle is the most efficient machine ever created: Converting calories into gas, a bicycle gets the equivalent of three thousand miles per gallon.
~Bill Strickland, The Quotable Cyclist
I pinched my tires as I drank my coffee, still strong, and, I, agian, promised myself I'd buy some spares along the way. I lit another cigarette and fielded a few questions from customers as to my destination. “Boston”, I’d reply, and they’d smile and offer me good luck. In retrospect I must have look peculiar standing outside beside a my bike and gear, smoking a cigarette, in shorts, with what can only be construed as man-tights jutting from beneath them. (Choose Your Own Path)
I hopped on Route 165 and headed toward Rhode Island. The first hill I reached I walked up then coasted down the otherside. The next hill I did the same. I followed this regimen up to the Connecticut-Rhode Island border.
(picture here)
Welcome To Rhode Island, the sign read. The sun peaked from behind the trees in the distance, steam rose from the pond, I stopped, and indeed felt welcomed.
Nature has a way of untangling even the most conflicted soul. And the first thing it makes you do is stop. Stop, to appreciate a sunrise, beauty makes you pause, and for a moment do nothing.
Connecticut-Rhode Island Border
Sunrise over Beach Pond | Rhose Island
I’m reminded of a scene from the Thomas Toivonen's, documentary, Dead Society. A voice states, “Nature's default mode is healing, and really what we need to do to end a lot of the difficult destructive tendencies that are perpetuated against the natural environment by industrialized nations, is just to simply stop.” I get it, now.
I stayed on Route 165 until I reached Exeter, Rhode Island. I stopped at a convenience store, LC Mart, for some juice, a bag of chips, and some directions.
John | LC Mart | Exeter, R. I.
After giving me directions John admitted a witch lived in the cemetery beside his home. Interesting. Apparently, the tale goes, the woman was a witch the towns people killed her, buried her (face-up); dug her up, found her face-down. And, now the kids hang around the property on Halloween. Cool story, it being so close to Halloween. I thank him for the directions and conversation then hit the road, and soon came across, The Middle Of Nowhere Diner. I thought about grabbing some breakfast, but decided to wait a little while longer.
Middle Of Nowhere Diner | Exeter, R. I.
I reached Providence, R.I. around 12:30 p.m. I hung around Kennedy Transportation Plaza, then Burnside Park across the street for about an hour There was a Farmer’s Market outside the Park, and people appeared to be taken advantage the sunny Fall afternoon.
Providence, Rhode Island
I sat on one of the monuments for a while and people watched, then decided to get back on the road. I had to ride into Atteborro, M.A. to pick up Route 1. I asked a young man at the transportation center in Providence for directions to Route 1 and he asked, “Where you headed?”
“Boston”, I replied
He looked at my bike and gear, then at me and uttered, “Do you know how far that is?”
I smiled then answered, “Yeah”, then added “Do you know where I can pickup Route 1?”
“Sorry. No” I hate these types of exchanges. I thanked him and went to find a fuckin’ adult.
I stopped to get something to eat and drink in Atteboro, Massachussetts, then continued north on Route 1. US 1 from Atteboro to Boston is not a very bike friendly route; it’s narrow, too many highway entrance and exit ramps, and is not very scenic.
I reached Boston around 7:30 p.m. bought a cup of coffee and a juice, lit a cigarrette then waited for my friend to picked me up. No Flats! Fuck Yeah!
Trip Totals
1.5 days (Right On Time)
$35
1 popped spoke (Popped it before trip (note to self: fix spoke)
No Flats