A year older and still pedaling.

Trying to recover some of the horsepower that I've lost over the 9 months I barely rode a bike following my faceplant on the Memorial Bridge, I peeled nearly 48 miles off today. NOT, I should ad, on the fixed gear bike. Today I took out the Daccordi. It felt pretty good to revisit some familiar roads around Mt. Agamenticus. But the roads are trashed over in that part of the county. I do not exaggerate that the roads would be smoother were there no asphalt at all. At a decent clip it's a bit treacherous when plowing through a pile of destroyed road under the shade of trees. There are some deep pits to avoid. Makes it sort of hard to advocate cycling when the best riding is over destroyed roads the county can't afford to repair. Beautiful perfect day for a ride. Click HERE for a link to the route.

Epic Redefined, 83 Miles into the Unknown

It was 60 miles into this ride that I thought to myself, I really need to plan my attacks better with regard to the high-mile rides. My brother Andrew, also a bicycle mechanic, was performing in Cambridge later that night. So embarking on this ride that took me off the edge of the map I had with me, continuing to turn left, ever outward, further, ever seeking more, may have not been the best choice. But it was a blast. This route was pretty random. Three stretches of dirt starting with Belle Marsh Rd, McGovern, and Josiah Norton. When back on Tatnic Rd again in York, I thought about how most of those dirt roads were smoother than the frost heaves I was enduring heading east. Damn frost heaves.
37 graveyards total. Number 19 was just a lone grave in the forest, soon to be surrounded by rural suburban sprawl. I had to stop and consult the map at one point when the road forked at the Massabesic Experimental Forest near Alfred. "Massawhussa where the hell am I?" I thought. When I left the driveway, I had no inclination I would end up in National Forest land.
I got home around dusk. I stuffed my face with pasta, took a shower, and as soon as we were able, Eli and I were headed to Cambridge to see Andrew. Needless to say, we missed his performance. We had dinner, a few beers, and said our goodbyes as he and the band headed out for an all night drive.
Check the route here at my new Map My Ride account..

I Bought A One Way Ticket to Epic, 75+ Miles

Oh Google Maps, where will you take me next?
Eli was working near Biddeford this morning. So I loaded the bike into the back of her pick up and hitched a ride to the Biddeford Park And Ride. It was c-c-cold at 9:15 this morning at the parking lot. I stuffed the directions and map I printed down my jersey to cut the wind, which was a life saver. It wouldn't be until over two hours later that I decided to do the same for my cold toes; wrapped them in directions for the roads behind me.
Lots of riding 3 miles to a dead end like when I decided to check out University of New England University and Hills Beach Road. Two miles down the beach road to the end of the Pavement. No way to continue without a boat. I u-turned and cut a left down supposedly "closed" road Old Pool Rd. The work crew let me pass. Then down Mile Stretch Rd. only 20 minutes later. Another down and back road on the other side of "The Pool".
Lots of stopping and looking at the map and directions fer sure. I had accidentally printed the backwards, from KP to Biddeford. So every time I had to figure out the next step, I'd have to stand on my head to read the directions in the right order.
This ride included three awesome dirt road sections, two of them unexpected! Apparently Cheney Woods is dirt for about a mile of climb and dissent. It really was awesome: dirt, rocks, pits and all. I ran into a mountain biker stopped and tinkering on his IPhone. He was decked in SAFETY ORANGE, which I thought was smart, given we were standing there on Cheney Road at the beginning of hunting season. The next dirt came along on Josiah Norton Rd. which I had been curious aboout while studying the maps. Turns out it goes to dirt about 1/2 mile in from either direction. Pretty well groomed, clay, with just a bit of washboard.
What a haul. It was Freakin sweet.
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Lost And Delerious, Going Clockwise 57 miles

I had to beat the rain predicted to arrive by 3pm. So I figured only 3 hours this time out. To mix it up a bit on the same old roads here in Southern Vacationland, I opted to go the same route I posted below, only backwards. That seemed fine. Until I entered the obscure suburban maze off 238 that is The Old Mill suburban community. Suburbs are like vortexes, mind fucks of modern living. I was looping around the same "Lanes" and "Drives" over and over until I began to curse the inhabitants. Who would choose to live like this? In a manicured system of oversized hampster habitrails that go nowhere? And what sick mind would continue to design them?
Once I made it out, I was again in familiar territory, Agamenticus Road. Easy, right? Just go right, take another right at Emery Bridge Rd. and you're homeward bound. Unless you happen to take a left at the Meeting House church instead of continuing straight. If you take a left, you end up on a 45 minute loop that finds us back at the entrance to, you guessed it, the same suburban hell. Now I'm an hour off schedule. On that dreadful loop I was challenged by a bull dog who had not been tethered to the trailer he guarded. The fella got across the yellow doubles toward me as I picked up the pace. I yelled Fuck You, which in these moments, sounds more like "Fugeuh". But he slowed down as he found out I barked louder. He also was a pretty slow fucker and couldn't top 28 miles an hour.
The rain never really materialized. But I was out of water and food about an hour and a half from home. The last 45 minutes were a bit delirious.
Another observation about clockwise, was the frost heaves. They were way worse on the side of the roads going clockwise! I have no idea why. Every time I entered the astroid field of frost heaves, I'd take a look across the double yellow stripes at pristine pavement. So I guess it's counter clockwise from here on out. In some places, the pavement had cracked and split into chunks of squares, loose but still held in place. Riding through these sections creates a popping, crackling sound as each chunk shifts beneath the weight of the bicycle's wheels. Sort of strange, sort of eerie. 57 miles, a few less than Monday given that I didnt' end up on Tatnic Rd. this time around. That's ok too.