Mile 165.
Mile 169.
Mile 173, could someone please leave me a clam basket on route 2 in New Hampshire? Thanks.
Mile 176, Jim says he’s feeling “chipper.” I imagine bludgeoning him with his frame pump.
Mile 181.
Yeah, it would be pretty boring. So instead I’m writing it here, which isn’t boring at all! Ha. So anyways, after rolling out of the bike shop at 12:00 am sharp, the five of us did a quick loop through Old Town, to make sure that in the event that we did make it to Burlington, it would be an even 300 miles. In the early years of RATS they didn’t do this, always planning on riding a little extra in Vermont. However, when you have ridden 292 miles and you see the hotel you’re staying in, no amount of persuasion or threatening is going to motivate you to ride 4 miles past it on your bike and turn around to come back. So we rode away from, then back in to, Orono, having a close encounter with some deer along the way and seeing hardly any cars other than an apparently lost ambulance, which passed us 3 times.
Cam
Me
Justin
Matt aka Grundle
Jim
The early miles fell easily. In the dark it was impossible to see your speedometer, but it felt like going incredibly fast, as all the obstacles in the road were harder to see and seemed to come at you much faster than in the daylight. It was a cool night, but not cold, with a clear sky and no wind. Very quickly we were out in the country, far away from any streetlights. The moon illuminated the landscape around us and gave it an otherworldly feel, I almost felt as if I didn’t need the lights on my handlebars. The hours in the dark blend together in my mind, it seemed almost like a dream. Quickly the adrenaline rush of finally starting our trip faded and left me in a nearly hypnotized state, staring at the road in front of me, watching the stripes slide past in the dark. On a back road next to a field there was suddenly a thumping noise to our left. In the field, three horses were running alongside us. Gray in the moonlight, they made hardly any sound as they ran at our exact pace. Once they reached the end of their fence they stopped and stared as we rode away. It was surreal.
In Newport I got the first flat tire of the trip, a pinch flat. I have no idea how it happened, but I changed it quickly enough and we were on our way shortly. Soon the sun started to rise, making an incredible sunset at our backs. Before I knew it we were switching our lights off. I looked at my computer and to my surprise saw that we had ridden about 80 miles. I felt like we had just started, and already a significant chunk of the ride was out of the way.
Just before Farmington, at about 100 miles Matt passed us in the first support car. We made a quick stop to ditch our camelbacks and were shortly on our way again. With the sun up and the air still cool, it was perfect riding weather. Once we reached Farmington we met up with Matt again and stopped for a little while longer. Literally as we were pulling into the parking lot where we had agreed to meet Cam’s tire exploded. Matt fixed the flat while the rest of us grabbed food. I remember thinking, “Man, we’re over 100 miles in and I feel great, if the next 100 are like this then I’ll have no problem!” As we pedaled away from Farmington spirits were mostly high, except for Grundle’s. Having ridden 100 miles with his enormous backpack and without gloves had taken a toll on him. His back was hurting, he said he felt slightly dizzy, and he had resorted to wrapping his hands in duct tape. But he still managed to be cheerful and press on. About 120 miles in to the ride I realized that he was still wearing his (very not- aerodynamic) pack because he had no water bottle cages on his bike, and he was using it as a camelback. I offered to let him use mine, to which he replied with a tired but enthusiastic “YES. Thank you!”
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