Blogger's note: I wrote this a month or so ago, and with the business of life catching up with me, never posted it. Please forgive me, but better late than never.
In early September I realized that Fall was creeping up on us, and that I had only a few more opportunities left to get up to the north country. When it is in the 50's in Manchester, it could be in the 30's north of the notches, particularly in the mornings and evenings, which makes it a challenge to do the 100+ mile rides required to get up that way. That is a long way of saying that Sunday, September 11th was my last opportunity to get up to Berlin this year. Fran Gardner-Smith, the rector at St. Barnabas, and my friend and compatriot on the MRC, offered to have me stay at her house Saturday night, avoiding any crazy overnight riding like I did when I went to Whitefield. So, the plan was to ride up Saturday, stay with her, go to church at St. B's on Sunday, then head home. That was the plan anyway.
The ride should have taken around 10 hours, so if I left at 10 AM I could get there buy 8 PM. I was hoping to squeeze it down to 9 hours so that I didn't keep Fran and her husband David waiting for dinner. We had some work that needed to be done around the house, so I didn't hit the road until 10:40. About a 1/2 mile from my house I went through my mental checklist to make sure I didn't forget anything. I remembered that I had taken my tool pouch off the bike after the hurricane ride to dry it out. Did I remember to put it back on? I reach down beneath the seat. Nope, not there. Damn. I Turn around, go back home, dash in, grab the tools, say goodbye to Sarah again, and get back on the road. The new departure time: 10:50. It was not a good omen.
The first few hours seemed to go just fine, although on several occasions I looked at my heart rate and it was in the 150's, not the 130's like usual. Strange, it was more hilly than I expected, and a light headwind was building up, but still, the heart rate didn't seemed to match my perceived exertion. After about 4 hours I started to feel the effects of pushing this hard. I felt really drained and a bit nauseous. But, I was making decent time, and I didn't want to slow down because I didn't want to get to Fran's too late. She and David already offered to pick me up in Berlin to save me the additional 10 miles and 500 feet of climbing up to their house in Milan. So, in the interest of time, I made a few quick rest stops, got a reload of water in my camelback, and plodded on. But, as I went each hill was getting harder and harder to climb and i was pedaling slower and slower. Finally, about 3 miles outside of North Conway I had to stop on a small embankment by the side of the road, barely covered in scraggly grass. Not a great resting place, but it would have to do. About 15 minutes lying flat on my back gave me enough recovery so I could fight my way into town. I figured I'd find a place to get a bite to eat and take the time to cool down and rest. I had been eating carbohydrate gels and some other "performance" food as I rode, but now I was craving some real food. Back on the bike, I was cruising down a small hill that led down to all of the strip malls on the south side of North Conway; another mile or two to go. I reached up to adjust my sunglasses, except there was one problem: they weren't there. Damn; left them on the embankment. Deja Vu all over again. These were really nice sunglasses that Sarah had given me as a gift, so I had no choice but to turn around and go back and get them, which involved several small hill climbs, no mean feat given my state of fatigue. Thankfully the glasses were still there, I grabbed them, and turned once again to the north. The problem was the trip back had really knocked the stuffing out of me. I felt horrible, and was getting more nauseous with each pedal stroke. I'll spare you all the gory details, but the next few hours were spent dealing with what turned out to be some pretty serious dehydration and low blood sugar.
I called Fran and explained my predicament. Luckily she and David were gracious enough to drive an hour down to Jackson and pick me up, where I was alternately walking and riding my bike slowly northward through the darkness. The winding roads from the backseat of a car weren't much better than struggling on the bike, but eventually we made it to Fran's place in Milan. Once there I got a shower, got into dry clothes, and began to re-hydrate. I felt a ton better. In fact I was better enough to eat a really nice locally sourced steak dinner (including tomatoes from
Fran's garden) followed by some really good chocolate (that I need to get the online source from David). All that was combined with great conversation about St. Barnabas, the Episcopal Church, and life in general. It was a terrific end to what had been one of my roughest days on the bike. Fran and David were true saviors that day. I can't imagine what I would have done if I would have had to struggle up over Pinkham Notch in my state. On top of that they were such great hosts; I am so very thankful for their hospitality.
The next day I felt much better, and had a great breakfast with the Gardner-Smiths before I enjoyed a beautiful downhill pedal back to Berlin. It was a cool crisp morning, about 45 degrees, with fog yielding to bright sunshine as I rode south alongside the Androscoggin River. Very nice. I got to St. Barnabas in time for their bible study before service, which was an opportunity to preview the lessons for the day and meet a few members of the congregation. At the service, David gave the sermon. He is also a minister, retired from another Protestant denomination (I'm forgetting exactly which one). He has a dramatic style of speaking, which is somewhat unusual in an Episcopal Church, and refreshing to listen to. The folks at St. Barnabas were very welcoming. At coffee hour I spent some time talking with their organist, Susan Ferré, who showed me at least 4 different organs they have in the building, including two small portable cabinet instruments with two stops, and a pedal pumped attachment to their Bedient organ. I got a chance to try pumping as she played; fun! The people of St. Barnbas do real work in their community, serving food, hosting a teen center, and being a source of hope in a community that has drawn the economic short straw for a number of years as the lumber industry has declined in northern New Hampshire. It was uplifting to spend time with them, and a reminder of what we are called to do as the church.
After coffee hour I got back on the road and continued my way back South. Wanting to be sure to avoid the maladies of the previous day I kept my heart rate low and was mindful of my level of exertion. But, I was determined to get myself up and over Pinkham Notch, a 2000 ft climb that I had to do the day before in the back seat of Fran's car. I took it easy, and made several stops on my way up the climb, then enjoyed a good stretch at the Pinkham Notch visitor's center. After that it was a deliciously long zoom down the hill into Jackson and North Conway. Downhill is really fun when you've earned it. So far, so good. The day ended with pounding out what I call "gratuitous hills", up and downs that don't significantly change your elevation, but instead wear you down with their never ending and seemingly random pitches. Given the previous day's debacle, I was pretty well cooked by the time I got to Wolfboro, so I called Sarah and she kindly drove nearly an hour to pick me up. It also got me home in time so I could eat Sunday dinner with my family. It ended up being only 190 miles instead of 250, but I made it home in one piece.
The experience of that weekend had made me reflect on the many people who have helped me and supported me on this journey. Some, like Fran, David, and Sarah have provided direct support: feeding me, providing a bed to sleep in, picking me up when I can't ride any more, rearranging schedules so my riding can fit into family life, blog editing, and of course supplying an endless stream of encouragement. But I also have to note the many strangers that I have met that have helped me on my way, like the group of ATV'ers north of Franklin who let me fill up my camelback from their hose, or the guy in the store in Plymouth who got me a bunch of ice on a hot day, or Keith Owen, the priest in Whitefield who welcomed me in and invited me to have pancakes with his family and friends. So many people have buoyed me on this journey. This adventure has taken on a life of its own; it is a substantially bigger commitment than I thought it ever would be. But, with the gracious support of family, friends, and total strangers, I know I will make it to all 56 congregations, and I am very grateful for all of the support.
The stats:
Distance: 188.3 miles
Average speed: 14.4 mph
Average heart rate: 131bpm
Total climb: 8,300 ft
