Taylor's Ride: "It doesn't look that deep."

Those were Simon's last words before turning his bottom bracket into a fish tank, followed immediately by, "It's that deep!" 

Not quite that deep

On Friday afternoon, I rode down to Middlefield, CT to camp and start Saturday morning within a short pedal of Taylor's meeting location in Wallingford.  I woke to light drizzle, but enjoyed a dry breakfast repast under the shelter of a nearby covered bridge before starting the last leg of my commute to the ride start.  The rain came and went to varying degrees, but the general trend pointed to clearing, and upon arrival, the sun was starting to show.  Nap time!

Breakfast shelter

Overnight ultralight

Drizzly morning commute

Then Taylor arrived, bringing the rain with him.  Luckily, Simon and I found warmth in his sunny disposition, and the three of us rolled out, immediately enjoying the forest of Tyler Mill Preserve, away from any vehicular traffic bearing down on us.  Then the rain picked up.  We got wet, but you know, it was OK.  It wasn't that cold, the route was a hoot, and the company was fantastic, and if that isn't worth a little trench foot, what is?

Two thirds of the soggy, but merry band

The sun did finally break through the clouds, and the experience lost any hint of unpleasantness, with tours of the Rockland Preserve and a variety of roads in all states of repair, replete with the beauty of my favorite triangle of riding in Connecticut, boxed by routes 1 & 91, and the CT River.  But all wonderful things must come to pass, and with a 75 mile return ride home on my horizon, I said my farewells only three quarters of the way around Taylor's tour, to start wending my way north.  Twice, a little more rain found me, foreshadowed by increased wind and a drop in temperature, but these quick rinses were always followed by sun, allowing me to arrive home at dusk comfortably dry, if a wee bit tired.

A wee bit tired?  I don't track the numbers related to riding, with the possible exception of time (I'd say about 10 hours ride time for the day), but I can make a reasonable guess of the mileage for my 30 hour outing: roughly a double century.  So yeah, a wee bit tired, but really, just a wee bit!  In addition to all the good times had, I entered this adventure seeing it as an opportunity to test my preparations for the first race at the end of this month.  Secret Squirrel is a hundred miles away in Taunton, MA, and I've been thinking of covering that distance over two days, and after this weekend, that seems about right, likely with a shorter first day, followed by a little longer on the day before the race.  But who knows?  And I guess that's why I'm doing this, to challenge myself, to find out, and maybe, just possibly, challenge other people's notion that life without a car is limiting.  I'd argue the opposite.  

You see, I've discovered a great indicator of how good a day I've had: the amount of charge left on my phone when I shut it down at night.  There's a pretty strong inverse relationship between the pleasant thrill I have in the real world around me, and the time spent looking at a device.  On a good day, the phone is superfluous to the life I'm living, and I would be a little surprised if this wasn't actually true for a great many people.  Living is doing, not looking.  So, two days since its last charge, when I lay down to sleep last night, how full was my phone battery?  61%  Good times.

Life on the road