Time sure does fly when you go from adventure to adventure.
Last week, I was dropped off in Bethel. Rode my bike up to Grafton Notch via 26. With the wind coming straight at my face from the north, it did not make for a comfortable ride.
By the time I hit the parking lot of Old Speck, my feet were absolutely frozen.
I sat at the picnic tables and changed into my regular shoes and microspikes. This was right before the big snowstorm, so I really wasn't expecting too much snow until the top of the mountain. I hiked my bike up the mountain for awhile, and stashed it just high enough where I figured no one would want to be bothered with taking it down, and then went to work.
It was about 10am when I hid the bike, and I still had about 2.5 miles to go. The sky was cloudless and blue, and there was no wind.
I wanted to hit the peak and have the same conditions, so I flew up the mountain, on occasion going so hard that breakfast would try and escape my gut. The closer I got to the top, the slower I went.
It felt like I just couldn't take enough pictures of the snow on the trees with the perfect scenery in the background. The day, the scenery, the whole experience was just perfect.
There was lots of ice, but never a time where I felt I was making an unsafe move. When I got to the top, I took it all in and ate about 500 brownies. Food always tastes better at the top of a mountain. Especially on a day this clear.
My liquids started to freeze after 20 minutes, so I made short work of the descent. There were times you could get on your butt and slide for 50-100 yards at a time. It had just enough snow that the sliding wasn't too fast or dangerous. I was still wearing bike shorts under all my layers, so roots and rocks didn't really create issues for my behind.
I reconnected with my bike, hiked it down, and changed into my bike gear. It was only 2pm, but the sun was behind the big mountain, and I was COLD.
Quickly changed into bike gear and headed up 26 on my way to East B Hill Road. The rest of 26 was a 10 mile uphill, and my legs were super tired from going so hard up the mountain...the 40 pound pack that contained the week's food and drink on my back didn't make the climb any easier either.
Seeing a coyote let my mind wander for a while... I wondered what he was doing at this time of day, and whether or not he would choose to scavenge me should I die of mental misery.
Turning on East B Hill Road, I knew it was basically all downhill into Andover, where my camp is located, so I figured I was basically done. It was an unpleasant surprise to see that this road had snow on it. A road bike+snow and ice+pavement=severe danger. I stopped riding, started swearing, and changed into regular shoes, and basically walked the whole road....riding where there were patches of pavement.
By the time I hit Andover General Store, it was pitch dark. I got my lights on, bought some food and drink, and rode the last couple of miles into camp. Once I got the fire going, I had some Sam Winter, some food, shot the shit with my Dad, and crashed HARD.
The next couple of days were spent preparing the camp for some great people to join me for the weekend. We hit up Dunn Falls via snowshoe, went cross country skiing up Devil's Den, and visited the canyon...a staple for each camp visit. Extra curricular activities included sledding both downhill and behind car, deca-flipcup, olympic cheese ball eating, bonfire building, and chili enthusiasm.
I love being TentMan.
***topmost photo of canyon is Anneliese Behrman's
No comments:
Post a Comment