Can the Weatherman Be Trusted?

A third day is just the thing to make a good weekend for cycling in to a rather good weekend for cycling. That is, unless the weather reboot is all doom and gloom. Take Sunday, for example. It was morning, maybe eleven o'clock or so. I still needed to fulfill my endurance training requirement for the week with another long/easy ride. So I ask my roommate if he wants to come along; he just points at the TV and says no way. It was the weather channel. A county-wide severe storm warning scrolls menacingly across the bottom of the screen, and a green cloud covers the entire seacoast area. Awesome! I say, "Sweet, bring it on," and make sure to grab my rain cape before I head out the door. I love a good, horrible-weather bike ride. I figure training in adverse conditions either prepares you for racing in bad conditions, or makes racing in good conditions a relief.

Fully expecting a watery wrath worth of Poseidon, I make my way across the bridge to Maine, and up Route 103 through Kittery Point. It was sprinkling just a little bit at that point. It wasn't terribly cold, and indeed I was overdressed. See, the thing about rain gear is that it's made of non-breathable fabric, so you get just as wet from your own sweat as you would from the rain anyway, if you're not careful with your heat regulation. So I pulled off my arm warmers and left my the rain jacket open, and kept going.

The funny thing was, the farther I went north and in to the storm, the nicer the weather was. In fact, by the time I reached Oqunquit, The sun was out and I was way too hot. I folded up my rain jacket and put it in my Jersey pocket. A day like that is just too nice to seize, either. I decided since the epicness of the day was not going to come from weather, I better get it from distance and exploration. So I turned my bike north, where I have always turned South, on to Route 1.

First, I must say that Route 1 is not made for bicycles, really. I mean, it's got plenty of shoulder--it's mostly safe. It's just not very scenic. It's made for tourists, with little Maine crap shops and all that sort of thing. It's car-scenic. I believe that when you're on a bike, things like mountains and trees and fresh air are scenic. Natural things. Things you can stop and appreciate quietly. When you're in a car, man-made things are scenic. Old ships, big signs, outlet malls, that sort of thing. Things that you enjoy actively, loudly, and spendingly. I had no money and was already quite occupied with the activity of my cycling, so I kept going.

I was sort of looking for a side-road to the right, eastward, towards the coast. Eventually I came to Route 9. Whatever that means. I'm not lost in the sense that I don't know how to get home, but I am lost in the sense that I am in uncharted territory, and heading in deeper. I came along one of those tiny Maine "rivers" that are actually creeks, and the town sign for Kennebunk. I realized later I was only about 28 miles from home, but I was quite satisfied at being the farthest north I'd ever been on a bicycle, so I took out my camera-phone to get a picture of the town line marker.

It didn't work. My phone just kept flashing on and off and giving error messages in various languages. So I didn't get a picture of it. Google Earth has me covered though: Kennebunk Route 9. I was kind of annoyed at my phone not working, and sufficiently satisfied at my exploration, I turned back.

The day turned out to be about 56 miles, and I couldn't have asked for a nicer day. I wouldn't say that the weather report was totally wrong, though. I suspect that the weather at any point from 500-5000 meters from me at any given moment was a torrential downpour; and was was by luck or fate that I personally managed to avoid it. Some kind of reverse Eeyore effect, I don't know. Either way, another good endurance training ride done.

Frisbee's Market, Kittery Point

Cycling up the Maine coast is ideal. There's just something about any 12 miles of Maine coast that is strikingly better than 12 miles of New Hampshire coast. Route 103 north through Kittery Point to York Beach's Route 1A and then up through Cape Neddick to Oqunquit is just a perfect route for riding a bicycle. Route 103's got the rolling hills to make sure you haven't fallen asleep on the bike, then York Beach's Long Sands has a flat open strip that you can really haul on--except for the summer traffic and pedestrians that lack the common sense to look before stepping out in to the street. Also, there's a mile-and-a-half strip of tourists all trying to parallel park their Windstars at once--if you can imagine. As you can imagine, it's a prime area to be smug as a cyclist. Anyway, it's not that bad just yet--Memorial Day is next week.

So Keith and I were going on a one of those long-easy rides I was talking about on Monday, and took the afore-mentioned route. We decided to cut Mount Agamenticus out of the loop by the time we got there--we weren't looking to do force training, just endurance. The sort of training where you just see how long you can go before you start to hurt, not how hard you can go. Pushing back the fatigue barrier is the key element to base training for cycling, and thereby has the greatest training value.

Anyway, I hit the wall somewhere on Route 103 south, after we had about 50 miles or so, and still another five or ten ahead of us to get home. The wall of hunger is a pretty serious thing. It's that line where you are suddenly taken with a knot in the stomach, and every turn of the pedals just makes you more and more sleepy. You might even feel a little bit drunk--the carbohydrates that your brain regularly uses for things like thinking and being awake are in short order in the blood stream, having been used by your legs. You feel kind of like a zombie. Replenishing carbohydrates at this point is becoming paramount.

Fortunately, there just happens to be a convenience store here--Frisbee's Market. It's a family store that has been there for over 180 years, but it very nearly went out of business entirely before being bought by an investor and is now managed by the previously owning family. The significance of this little store [to me] is that it is the only place in the entire United States that I have ever seen Coca-cola in glass bottles. And not just regular glass bottles--small eight-ounce glass bottles. Here:

I've never seen it anywhere else. Twelve ounces [one can] of cola is more than health/carbohydrate-conscious cyclists like us need, and a twenty-ounce bottle is just gross. These bottles are just enough to wash down a made-fresh-daily spring roll and get you rolling again.

So if you happen to be in the area of Kittery Point / Route 103, I highly recommend Frisbee's Market, and 8oz glass-bottled Coca-Cola. Check it out.

Get Lost? Gladly!

I'd have to say that the thing I've always enjoyed most about cycling is that you can just go, ride, and explore. I guess you could do that in a car, too. Cycling's more fun though. And you're not in a big metal box when you're doing it. You're really out there.

Finally with temperatures above 60, it's been nice enough outside to go out and ride in normal clothes--and by that I mean spandex but not arm warmers. Over the last couple years of riding, I've known it's serious in spring when I drag my lazily-wintered derrière out and up the great hill that is Mount Agamenticus. It's a pretty brutal climb, one that always redlines me, and it's particularly tough as the first real ride in the spring.

So after bicycling about 15-20 miles of Maine's charming coastal and rural roads, I come up to the great mountain. The auto road to the summit is only one kilometer, including the switchbacks, but it's a fairly steep grade, averaging eight percent. You're saying to yourself "doesn't that just mean it's a four degree angle from a flat plane?" You're saying "That doesn't sound so bad, I think you're a sissy." ... Well I heartily encourage you to take your little bubble measure and go out there then ride up it and come talk to me after. You will find yourself gasping for breath, if you can make it up the mountain at all. The air is rarified up in the clouds around Mount Agamenticus, at an altitude of nearly 22,000 centimeters!

Anyway, so I go up there, and I'm heading back and I see a little sign for Clay Hill Farm Restaurant. I figured, that sounds nice, so I head down that direction. Whatever direction that is. A couple miles down is this charming little farm restaurant. I somehow forgot to get a picture of it. There's some on that link there. Oh, I guess they did a wedding give-away thing for some friends-of-friends. Anyway, I checked it out, looked at their menu, and headed on my way.

Instead of heading back though, I decided to take the road the other way. That's the nice thing about riding on nice days. Just take any random road and navigate by the sun. If you get lost, just keep the sun at your right until you get to an ocean. If you're in Maine, take a right. If you're in Massachusettes or New Hampshire, take a left. Eventually you'll get home. Riding the back roads in Maine is great. Everything is all, you know, New England-y. Riding through the back roads' woods and little wooden cottages gives me a strong sensation of nostalgia. So I kept going.

The road eventually ended in Ogunquit, Maine. You can say what you want about Ogunquit, in particular exactly what do to if you accidentally drop your wallet while in Ogunquit, but it is a very pretty beach town with a good coastal road and fun to explore. It is very Maine. Eventually I start heading south, until, just north of Perkin's Cove, I saw this:

If you're a racing cyclist your will know the signficance of a giant sign by the side of hte road that says "Prime" but I'll explain it briefly for everyone else. A prime (pronounced 'preem') is a intermediary sprint point along a course, particularly in criteriums. And on some group rides, some road signs (most often town line markers) are sprinted for. This is fairly ubiquitous, even up to professional team group rides. So, a giant sign that says "Prime" right on it is just sort of thing that might make an amatuer racer's cockles tingle. Unfortunately I was alone so I stopped to take a picture instead.

The rest of the ride was more of that. Pretty Maine coastal roads, until York Beach and their pre-summer pre-hubbub. York and Kittery Point's back roads (Route 1A, Route 103) are pretty too but I've seen them a million times so whatever. At that point I've got 40 miles in me and have already ridden them once today and am hungry and not excited about sluggin my way over Kittery Point's rolling hills.

Home, recovery food, nap.

Autumn in New England

Everyone already knows about autumn in New England. It's about the leaves. See it by bike!

(click for full-size)

Granite State Wheelmen Seacoast Century

Quarter-till-seven in the morning is pretty late for me. That is to say, it's pretty late at night. It's pretty early to be waking up on a Saturday morning, and I'd be disinclined to do so without major prompting. Twenty minutes later I was out the door and pounding the pedals in a solo effort to bang out the southern section of the ride and make it back to registration by eight o'clock to meet up with Chris Adams of the Suitcase of Courage blog. A 20-mile time trial at seven in the morning is not a cool way to start a day of nine hours of cycling. Also it was below 40 degrees, which I was not prepared for.

After meeting up with Chris and his friend Larry at the Hampton Beach State Park, we headed out on the north section. It's was still freezing so we set a pace that was a bit fast, so we could warm up. By the time we made it up to the greater Portsmouth area, it had warmed up. The first rest stop was in Kittery, Maine at Fort McClary, which was a military base from the Revolutionary War. We resupplied there. One thing they had was Powerbar Gel Blasts which was like a big chug of Coke in a little gummy bear thing. They were good.

Anyway, we headed on. I took several wrong turns, because I wasn't watching for the road markers. I mean, I live here. I grew up in Kittery, and I've lived in Portsmouth for eight years. I know how to get to Cape Neddick. One of the other guys behind me would yell "yo, this way," but I'd keep going and meet up with them a mile down the road, when the paths converged again. Once we reached Nubble Light in York Beach, I (and absolutely everyone else) took a picture of the lighthouse:

We continued around the rest of the way to Cape Neddick and back south. About this time, Mile 70 or so, I started to crack. I was really hungry, and really tired. I immediately ate and drank most of the carbohydrates I had on me, in a bit of a panic. It was just enough--we made it back to Fort rest area without bonking.

After a refuel, we made our way south, back over the Memorial Bridge (we walked our bikes on the sidewalk) and through New Castle and Rye and Route 1A. Somewhere in Rye, Chris and Larry pulled over to use a construction site's port-a-john, for the 3rd or 4th time on the trip. I hadn't had to use one yet, and I didn't at this point either. I must have a whale of a bladder or something.

As I waited by the side of the road, a guy going the other way rolled to a stop a ways up the road, apparently with a flat tire. Boredom and convenience, as much as Samaritanism compelled me to help him out. We changed his flat using my spare tube and Larry's CO₂ and sent him on his way. He was prepared to walk his bike back home to Portsmouth, about seven miles away, which would have sucked. As it turns out, he just moved to the area, and previously lived in the same area of Connecticut as Larry and Chris. Small world.

We took a short detour through North Hampton (okay, I turned the wrong way again, but this time they followed) and ended up going to Gus' Bike. It so happens that that was their last day of business, so the few remaining things on the shelves were 70% off. Not including bikes, which would have been awesome. Not that I could have ridden two bikes. But for 70% off, I would have tried.

We got back on track, back on 1A, and in to the last few miles of the ride. At this point I thought to myself, wow--what am I running on? we're on mile 95 and I'm not about to die or starve or fall asleep. I have no idea what my energy source was, this was by far the longest mileage I've ever done in one day. But I'm all about "go big or go home" (I often go home) so I hit it hard for the last three miles, just to punish myself. When it comes to how much energy you have left versus how much distance you have left, I think it makes sense to do it so you have zero energy when you have zero distance. So I hammered it out. It was cool.

Then I biked back home to Portsmouth, another 12 miles. That was kind of lame but I was so delirious by that point that it didn't matter. I got home about 4:30 in the afternoon, nine hours after I left in the morning. Total distance: 112 miles. After a brief nap I went to work till 1:30am which totally sucked. I was not in the mood for it at all.

Whatever, it was a great ride. I'm glad I can add that to my cycling resume. When I began cycling this year, one of my goals was to complete a century, so I consider it as a personal victory. That is to say: in simply finishing, I won the Tri-State Seacoast Century.

Central New Hampshire Road Race

By the time you read this, the race will be over and te results will be in already. I'm taking a pass on this one though, because it conflicts with my work schedule. Also it involves waking up before noon and also has hills. Hills and waking up before noon are my two weakest areas.

However, I did check out the course in Bow last Friday with a couple of my teammates. 'The Central New Hampshire Road Race in Bow NH [...] features a challenging 11.05 mi circuit with one major climb,' reads the event flyer. Yea, well, my ass it does. The whole thing is uphill, somehow. That was the most horrendous 11 miles I've ever ridden.

I seriously, seriously, have no idea how to climb. There just aren't ANY hills within 20 miles of my house that I can't just big-ring and sprint up. When we came to the first climb on the course, which is, by my reckoning, really long, I just went Big Ring and dropped Tim and Keith, but popped about 2/3 of the way up, and limped the rest of the way, hyperventilating. I mean, it's not as bad as Mount Agamenticus or anything, but it wasn't pleasant at all.

And that wasn't even the "one major climb." I don't even remember what the big climb was like, my brain was no longer recording information after the first climb.

I know that the only way to get stronger at hills is to ride hills, however I do think that there is something essential to the technique that I don't understand. I just don't understand how the PROs do it. I can watch them but I don't see what they are doing. Also, I don't know how I compare to other guys in my category, since I haven't had much experience racing in the hills.

A Decent Descent
To be honest, the Central New Hampshire Road Race isn't entirely uphill--there are some fun, screamingly-fast downhills as well. There aren't any switchbacks or unexpected turns, either, so you can really open it up. I still haven't attached the little sensor thing for the computer on my new bike, so I don't have any speed records. I do feel like I've got a great aero position on descents, though (elbows tucked in to my hips and chin pretty much resting on the stem) so I'd guess over 45 mph. I'd just not super-excited about speedometers on the bike, because I feel like they are mostly for self-gratification.

The fun of descent is the reward for the pain of the climb, but in my expert opinion, the climbs outweighed the downhills. Pain is cool too though.

Any reactions from anyone that raced yesterday?

Portsmouth Bikes: New Castle

Having a bike is great, especially around seacoast New Hampshire. There are a lot places to go in and around Portsmouth that can make for a fun excursion with family or friends. The New Castle Loop is a popular one for runners, at only 10K, but it is great for people that don't like to bike too far, or as a family outing, or maybe just a quick bike ride on your lunch break.

A. Prescott Park is a great place to start a bicycle adventure, but parking might be a problem during peak hours or if an event is happening in the park. Prescott Park isn't bad as a destination, either. It has a couple fields and some piers out in to the water, and the flower gardens, but I like the tree garden with the fountains, here:

Once you leave Prescott Park, you want to head towards Route 1B, and New Castle. To be honest, the narrow width of the roads' shoulders in New Castle leave something to be desired, but motorists will know you are there:

Just be aware that New Castle town ordinance dictates that cyclists must be single file, so make sure to keep vigilant behind you and get single-file if a car is approaching from behind, if you're cycling in a group.

B. After a couple of bridges, you'll be in New Castle. As you come up the little hill at the end of the bridge, keep your eyes peeled on the right hand side for the now-famous New Castle flower-bike:

C. Then you have Fort Constitution. Don't let the "Homeland Security" thing scare you--there are no agents in this historical fort. Once you go up to the fort there's a portcullis and stuff, it's kind of like a medieval castle. Kids love that sort of thing. Heck, I love that sort of thing. Also that's where the Portsmouth Harbor Lighthouse is.

D. Up the road a ways is the Great Island Common. This is a perfect picnic or cook-out place. There is a lot of open grassy area, and a jetty, and picnic benches. There's also a great view across the mouth of the Piscataqua. The town of New Castle has made subtle hints that this might be a good place for painters as well:

E. It is a very short bike ride to the next spot, historical Fort Stark. There is a little beach, but it's the pebbled sort of beach, not sand. And the fort is all smashed up and grafitti'd. It's more of a local beach, not an ideal family spot. On the up side, it's more of a local beach, and there aren't often kids running around.

F. If you're like me, you're hungry by now. The Ice House is a little restaurant just up the road. They have a window where you can order ice cream outside, and a couple picnic tables. It's kind of perfect.

G. The last section of the ride is the so-called 'singing bridge' back to Portsmouth. This thing can be dangerous, especially when wet. Give it a shot riding over it, if you really want, but you might want to walk your bicycle.

Just over the bridge is the only real hill on this loop; you can kind of see it in the above picture. Although it might be hard on a 40-pound single-speed while towing a couple of kids in a wagon, if you can't make it up without getting off your bike--ultimate humiliation!

Sunday Afternoon Bike Ride (SABR)
I'm thinking that with gasoline prices as high as they are, people will be skipping the "Sunday afternoon drive" and hopefully instead go for a Sunday Afternoon Bike Ride (SABR). With Memorial Day Weekend beginning today, now is a great time to start. The New Castle route is great because it has a lot of great destinations that can appeal to almost anyone. It's perfect for a Sunday bike ride, or you can skip the destinations and just bike it for the view. If you bike for health, it's a nice, relatively short ride that you can feel good about. For racers, at 10K it's a decent loop for a couple of intervals, just do it three or four times.

Bike Adventure! Long Ride

Wednesday when I left the house, I didn't even put on my jersey or anything--I wasn't planning on going on a particularly long ride, in fact I was just running some errands. I wore a jacket and brought a bag with a pair of street shoes in it, just in case. As I left, though, I thought, I better bring a patch kit, just in case. No, wait.. I'll just bring a whole tube.

I did my errands--some part-time bike courier stuff for work--and then decided to head off on a short cruise down those bike paths I'd found before. I took a slightly different route on the recommendation of one of my teammates, which went through the beautiful wildlife refuge on Pease, and popped me out in the middle of Newington--the part of it that's not dominated by the mall, which in turn comes out at Great Bay, and the bridge to Dover.

I figured if I was that close to Dover, I might as well take a ride to visit my mother who lives there. By then the sun was getting pretty hot, and I was wearing this stupid motorcycle jacket, which I took off (while riding, PRO-style) and stuffed into my messenger bag. So I'm carrying this stupid over-stuffed heavy messenger bag on my shoulder.

I get there, and I'm parched. I realized I didn't even bring any water bottles. So I'm lugging this cumbersome, unwieldy bag, I'm not carrying any bottles, and I'm wearing some super-ratty pants that I once got covered in unwashable mud, so I don't even bother washing them at all any more. I am generally looking neither PRO nor chic, unless you count homeless-chic.

So I visit my mom, have a sip of water, and head on. I wasn't sure where I was going, but this chick on a bike rode by, wearing a jersey and lycra shorts, so I figured I'd follow her for a while--she was probably going somewhere interesting. But as we started up the hill on Central Ave heading towards Somersworth, she turned her head back over her shoulder and gave me The Look, which not only pierced my soul, but also my tube--I felt that crappy rumpling feeling of a soggy rear wheel within a minute.

I pulled over and changed my flat in someone's front yard. It sucked. It's a good thing I brought a whole fresh tube, though--the valve stem was torn; you can't patch that. Also I don't have a proper frame pump, I have this tiny horrible pocket pump, which takes about 3 pumps per each PSI. I got to 80 PSI (recommended is 120) and gave up, that was good enough. I figured I'd head for the closest bike shop and use their pump, and continue my ride from there.

I made my way towards Durham; there is a bike shop there on campus. I finished pumping up my tire with their floor pump, took a couple of spins around the block to check out the UNH talent (it was good), and then headed off for home. I took the road through Newmarket, though, because I didn't want to just go back over the roads I'd already been on.

Newmarket Road-Rt 108 is a pretty crappy road. It's one of those roads with a soft shoulder, and the pavement drops off in one five-mile-long pothole right at the white line, so you have to bike in the road. Also the speed limit is like 40 or 45 or so. It's not for the squeamish.

So I take that road towards Newmarket downtown, and there is a road closure and a detour. I take this detour down Elm Street, circumventing the downtown area, and as I come over the crest of a bit of a hill, I see, at the bottom, something I find absolutely irresistible: a speed trap. I mean, come on, a speed trap at the bottom of a hill--how awesome is that. The speed limit was 25 there, too. So I bomb down the hill, and I get about 37mph, the sign angrily flashing in red to my delight. I hope it's also the kind that takes your picture so that the cops can mail you a ticket; take that!

So the detour dropped me off on some road on the other side of downtown, and I took a right because that's how you get back to Route 33, and by extension Portsmouth. I was pretty messed up by this point because I hadn't had a drink or anything to eat in quite a while, so maybe that's what allowed me to ignore the fact that I was totally, TOTALLY going the wrong way. The late-afternoon sun was in my eyes--that should have been a clue. I saw a road sign that said "now entering Lee." When you're entering Lee, you're lost--period. Nobody goes to Lee. They just end up there. Going places I've never been before is one of my favorite things about biking, but being lost, as the sun is starting to get low, and you have to work in like two hours . . . that is not good. So, I turned around.

I did find my road--I was supposed to take a left, then a right, after that Newmarket detour. Wow. So I headed back through Stratham, Newfields, Greenland, Route 33, pretty much without incident. I stopped at a gas station on the way and got some water, somewhere in there.

It was a good ride. I did a lot:

• Fixed a flat, roadside, for the first time ever
• Got The Look from some cycle-cutie
• Got fairly lost, far from home
• Hit up 9 towns (Portsmouth, Newington, Dover, Durham, Newmarket, Lee, Newfields, Stratham, Greenland)
• Total Mileage: >50 miles
• All that with a stupid heavy bag on my shoulder

Not bad for a training ride--my legs are kind of killing me now. When I got home, I ate like everything in the house, took a couple vitamins, and kicked back to check the NorEast team forums. Apparently the race schedule changed at the last moment, and my first race ever is Thursday. Yes, this Thursday--the 17th. I wouldn't have gone on my longest ride yet this year if I knew I was going to have my first race the next day!

Anyway--expect a full report on that on Friday.

First Ride, New Bike (Guest Post)

Today, my artist-friend Cassy and I are guest-posting to each other blogs. Call it boredom, call it what you like. Here is my post on her blog, too.

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Yesterday I bought myself a bike. I'm the wrong person to be able to tell you the specifics. It was a craigslist find, it fit me, was decent condition from what I could tell, and it wasn't ridiculously expensive. But still, knowing next to nothing about bicycles, picking one out on my own was bound to be a little risky.

I haven't owned or ridden a bike in ten years. When I was a kid, before I could legally drive, my best friend and I would ride our crappy little mountain bikes all over our hilly town that was more or less the middle of nowhere, causing a bit of trouble and convinced that we were the toughest girls on bikes around. But yeah, TEN YEARS, and never having ridden in an area that was even close to be considered high-traffic, I was petrified. I told my roommates this, I told Giles this, but I'm pretty sure they didn't entirely believe me. Today I had some free time, and I decided that I would attempt to grow some symbolic balls, and sent Giles a vague message that included the words "bike ride," "later," and "maybe."

...And then soon after, he's at my house asking if I'm ready to go. Which I wasn't. At all. Oh, I should also point out that Giles was good enough to come over yesterday and safety inspect my new soulmate - he's pretty much my hero, and anyone new at this should have a bike nerdy friend, I'm not kidding. Anyway, I had no idea what was going to happen. I'm a pretty clumsy person in general, so for all I knew I could have completely lost all sense of balance in the last ten years. I could have fallen over immediately and it wouldn't have surprised me in the least.

Miraculously, this didn't happen. We went through some of the quieter streets around my house, and while I trust him entirely, when he led me to Islington Street, I was questioning his sanity a little. We went to the bike shop to get my tire size (my soulmate is imperfect, and he - yes, I've determined that it's a he - is in need of new tires), and then we were off again. I thought hey, we're just going to go for a short ride around town so I can continue to get the hang of this, but NO. Again, I trust Giles entirely so I was following him without question. This ended up turning into what I'm convinced was the longest first bike ride EVER, through a bunch of streets that I'm not familiar with and then out to New Castle. But I really loved it. Riding next to the ocean (which I love more than anything else in the world) with the wind in my face and everything around me being blissfully quiet.. it was the happiest I've been in weeks.

The adventure wasn't entirely without incident. I failed to make it up a hill, but whatever, at that point I was just thrilled about making it so far without getting hit by a car or making a complete ass of myself. I only made a small ass of myself, as we were riding over the bike/pedestrian lane on one of those bridges that have grated bottoms so you can see everything below you - those things scare the shit out of me when I'm on foot, it was narrow and I was still wobbly, and I totally hit one of the guard rails. Mildly embarrassing but fortunately for me, I'm past the point of feeling awkward about stupid things in front of Giles, so I just sighed at myself in frustration and continued on. And hey, now I have a sweet lump on my arm that I'm sure will turn into a bruise, and injuries are always impressive... right?

All in all, it was a good day. I have a good mentor. I can see this becoming addicting quickly - my legs ache, (tmi alert:) my crotch hurts, but all I keep thinking about is when I'll next have time to bike someplace other than work.

Bike Routes in Portsmouth? (Part 3)

This is a continuation of Bike Routes in Portsmouth? (Part 2)

I turned around and made my way back to the front entrance of the Tradeport, where Pease Boulevard becomes Gosling Road. This is the road that goes to the movie theater, and behind that, The Mall. Where Pease becomes Gosling, like seven lanes of traffic exit and enter on to the Spaulding Turnpike.

I had to make a quick left a few hundred feet after this crazy intersection. At the traffic light where two lanes were turning left on to the Spaulding, I had to pull up right in the middle of like four or five lanes. Mind you, this was at about 6 o'clock on the day before a holiday weekend, at the intersection of The Mall, a major business area, an airport, and a major highway.


As I pulled up between the cars, I looked around. I figured I'd probably get some strange looks from the drivers around me. I mean, I have the right to be there, but even I agree that it wasn't a very good place to ride a bike. But no, I wasn't getting any funny looks. It wasn't the non-looking of acceptance, though. They just weren't looking at all. These people don't give a damn about some guy on a bike. They figured if anyone was on a bike out here, well, they better know how to hold their own, because they were not going to get any cooperation from the motorists.

Fortunately, I know how.

The light turned green, and I sprinted off the line like a track star. I slid in behind the first car off the line as it passed me, taking the lane, and deftly dived in to the left turn towards the movie theater, and the relative safety of The Mall's conservative speed limits. I biked around the area for a bit, looking for an auspicious entrance to the mall, and a good place to lock up.

I bought some crap-I-don't-need at The Mall, just a couple things that could fit in my messenger bag. After that, I saddled up, navigated the crazy traffic back to Pease, and took the bike lanes back to downtown Portsmouth, and home. Another successful exploration--Mission Accomplished!

Conclusions about The Mall

While I did in fact find a veritable northwest passage to The Mall--a backhanded shortcut through Pease--I'd have to say that The Mall is a stupid place to go anyway. Aside from the traffic density and that The Mall is mostly full of crap-you-don't-need, there is a distinct difference in mood of the other people on the road.

In Portsmouth, when I pull up to a stop sign, people will very often wave me through, even if they got there first. People are usually really friendly in town. Just yesterday I pulled up at a traffic light next to a guy in a pickup, and we chatted it up about biking for a minute till the light changed. Also the speed limit is 15 MPH on most of the main streets, so it's pretty safe.

On the other hand, The Mall Area was awful for traffic. I guess it's because The Mall Area doesn't want cyclists. I mean, think about it. You can't buy very much crap-you-don't-need if you are on a bike--how can I bike while carrying like 5 shopping bags full of beanie babies and singing moose-heads or whatever it is that people buy there? Cyclists are definitely not the target demographic here!

So, yes. I found that there is a bike-friendly shortcut from downtown Portsmouth to vicinity of The Mall, but once you get that far, you're on your own. It is also a very good commuter lane from downtown Portsmouth to Pease Tradeport. And of course I never did take that road through the wildlife refuge.

Ride Debriefing

I like to ride first, then figure out later where I'd gone. As it turns out, the sponsor for the bike lanes, and the bike path and bridge is Seacoast Area Bike Routes (SABR) (There are maps on the site). I sent them an email with my assessment--we'll see what happens.

Upcoming Events

Tomorrow is my first NorEast Team event, a dinner and I-don't-know-what. Expect a full report Friday.

Bike Routes in Portsmouth? (Part 2)

(This is the continuation of Bike Routes in Portsmouth? (Part 1)

After I exited the business area, I followed the intermittent bike signs across the windswept barrens of Pease Tradeport. Where would this path lead? Was it a veritable Northwest Passage to The Mall? I could use some supplies from there anyway . . . Could it be a scenic bike route through the wildlife refuge? Who doesn't like a bike ride down an untrafficked road through the woods?

Here's what I came to, in Stereoscopic Omnivision:

While the road in to the wildlife refuge looked inviting, I spotted a bike lane along the road to the left. I had followed the lanes and signs this far; I had to know where they lead.


The bike-laned road cut through either a scenic woodland or a windswept industrial wasteland, depending on which of your eyes is dominant. I hardly stopped to see any of it though; I quickly pedaled along with the speed and efficiency of kid tearing through Christmas presents--knowing that all the little ones were just leading up to The Big One.

This road was going somewhere, I could tell. This was really getting to something, and whatever it was, it was going to be awesome. I mean, I'm on a bike lane, on a road I've never been on before, in the middle of a decommissioned Air Force Base. There's no possible way that this wasn't going to be completely awesome. Fighting the vicious cross-winds, I came over the crest of the last rolling hill. This was it, this was what it was all building up to:


Wait. Whoa. What's this? Just a loop-back, a pile of rocks, and a pickup truck blocking a gate leading on to the tarmac? Seriously? This was the grand destination? Like the spoiled Christmas kid who finds there is no The Big One, I was thoroughly disappointed. I had the kind of disappointment that only rabid capitalism could cure:

I decided to go to The Mall.

How crazy is mall-traffic at six in the evening, three days before a major holiday? Find the answers to this and more in next week's thrilling conclusion!

Bike Routes in Portsmouth? (Part 1)

One of my favorite things about biking is exploration--finding new routes that I've never taken before. As I headed out for a ride this week, I decided to investigate the bike lanes on Maplewood Ave, and see where they lead. I'd heard rumors about some sort of bike trail or something that leads across Pease Tradeport in to Newington, but had never looked in to it, and assumed the bike lanes were a part of that.


The bike lane wasn't terribly well-marked, and ended abruptly after a short while. A nearby sign reading "Bike Crossing" lead me down a residential by-road which came out on to the ominously-trafficked (This was five-o'clock on a Thursday afternoon) Woodbury Ave, which featured the bike line shown above. Now, I'm not a shy rider; I know how to handle adverse road conditions, but I did think it was a little ironic that the arrow pointed directly in to a pothole.

Shortly thereafter, the bike lane came to an end again. Looking around, I saw it, just barely down a side street: A real bike-road; wow! I felt like a kid at the gates to Disney World. Where could this lead? Was this a worm-hole shortcut, a tesseract leading me to some kind of joyful, car-free cycling utopia?


The road was smooth, the grade was downhill, and the wind was at my back as I bombed over a little bike-only bridge, which lead to another sensually-curved bike path segment. The path really was quite sexy, but like most sexy things, ended too soon. I was left off at the business end of Pease Tradeport (literally). There weren't any more bike lanes once I reached Pease, but the shoulders were wide, the roads were well-maintained, and there were encouraging bike-emblazoned roadsigns every so often.


The road went past a few of the major businesses at the Tradeport: John Hancock, Loftware, the National Passport Center, etc. I followed the bike signs in a large loop around the area. Had I found the end of the road? Was this the ultimate purpose of the bike path? A shortcut from Portsmouth's major residential area of greater downtown to Portsmouth's major commercial zone of Pease Tradeport? Was this just a commuter lane, or was it . . . something more?

Find out the answers to these questions and more in next week's thrilling conclusion!