2 Riding Days to Go, July 20, 80 miles, Brattleboro, VT, Day 50

It felt like coming home as I crossed the Vermont border in the cool misty morning air. Not that I’ve ever lived in Vermont, but I’ve lived in New England and would go back to Boston in a minute. My graduate student days at MIT afforded lots of opportunities to vacation in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. I love New England. My CharityTrek rides of ’07 and ’05 meandered along some of these same roads and saw some of the same sights as I have on this ride. Those are good memories too.

I enjoyed the reactions of my fellow riders who came from out West. The New England scenery was as foreign and beautiful to them as the Nevada desert or Utah salt flats were for me. They were very concerned about the hills in New England, despite my assurances that they are nothing like the Rockies. By the end of the day, they agreed. But Gerard had a different theory; the four weeks of cycling we’ve done since the Rockies have made us much stronger. It’s probably a combination of both.

The day started off in light rain, which stopped by SAG stop 1. The sky and forests remained misty, creating the muted palette of greens and gray-green as the hills rolled into the distance. That’s not something a camera can catch. The route was only 75 miles, so we had time to stop and be tourists. The little town of Bennington seemed to have no reason to exist except as a tourist trap, a very chic tourist trap with $10 sandwiches and cute attractions like a huge bed filled with flowers. It was, you guessed it, a “flower bed.” Near it stood a ten foot chair- a “lawn chair.” I’d never seen environmental puns before. Most of us shared those $10 sandwiched to get two five dollar half-sandwiches. I bought a three dollar maple walnut ice cream cone and still came out two dollars ahead of the game. My mom would be proud. Bennington occupied a mile stretch of Vt Route 9, where the traffic came from, or where it went is a mystery, the rest of Rt 9 was little trafficked. I wasn’t thrill when a gazillion foot long motor home lopped over the bicycle lane line. My guess is that the driver wasn’t too thrilled that someone was using the bicycle lane. I stood my ground. Between Bennington and Brattleboro was a covered bridge, allegedly from 1890, but it was probably “modernized.” I’ve never seen an authentic covered bridge with a fully separated pedestrian walkway.

Brattleboro was also full of craft shops, clothing stores with cute names and cafes, but there are enough real people living here to support three bicycle shops. Ok, there must be a lot of real people who are in good shape and have a lot of money. (They were high end bike shops.) I stopped in one of those artsy “walk down” coffee shops and ordered a medium cup of the strongest stuff they had. The barista respected me for that and gave me a cup of Joe that dried my socks. After going around one of New England’s trade mark rotaries (an advanced cycling skill), it was into the Red Roof Inn. There were some issues getting my room, but they had a big tub of chilled powered drinks, so it was ok. It takes so little to make things right for me.

In addition to the pictures already mentioned, I’m posting a picture of “the board” by which we live and breathe, and the map posted below the board. Every day, the black line has moved a little bit. (Double click to read its message.)

How rapidly the ride will be over is just starting to hit me. Tomorrow night, we’ll have a special dinner and some festivities to mark the end of the ride. The day after, we’ll ride out early in the morning, hit the beach between 12 and 12:30, and it will be all over. I’m looking forward to having my birth family and some friends at the finish. Despite my repeated incantations of, “When I’m done, I’m done.” I’ll probably take the post-ride ride into Maine. It’s only another three miles, and “California to Maine” has a better ring to it than “California to New Hampshire.”