ECG Day 10: The Northern Cape

Note: This post is for Thursday, September 16. I will upload photos when I have internet.

We knew rain was in the forecast, and had packed up the bicycles last night in preparation. The plan was to wake up, tear the camp down, and head to breakfast, four miles up the trail. We waited patiently for a lull in the action, dismantled our sodden tents as quickly as possible, said goodbye to the Mainers, and headed out. At the park office, a staff member leaned out the door as we pulled up. "You riding today? the lady asked. "Yup, unfortunately, we are." " Well you better hurry. There's a big thunderstorm coming and it's just right over there." She pointed at some dark grey clouds to the west. A rumble of thunder echoed overhead. "There's a bridge you can hide under not too far from here if you get in trouble. Good luck and be safe!". That was pretty much all I needed to hear to suddenly be endowed with a set of fresh legs. Bill and I took off like rockets... rusty, retired rockets with a few nuts loose, but still...and made record time to the breakfast place, where we hunkered down with a dozen other refuges as the deluge opened up. We boosted the local economy with breakfast sandwiches, muffins, cinnamon rolls, and chocolate croissants, then lounged around reading the Boston Globe and monitoring the weather radar until it was safe to venture out again.

I'd like to tell you about all the interesting sights along the northern cape, but these were the most difficult miles yet, and I was so deep in the pain cave I didn't notice a dang thing. It was hill after steep hill after cliff face for twenty five miles, with gale force winds and drenching rain thrown in for good measure. We did go off-trail to visit the original Marconi radio site on the National Seashore (which involved riding uphill for a mile, of course, only to read a sign marking the spot), then a few miles later waited out another soaking rain in a beach restroom. So that was exciting.

The rain let up just about when we hit Provincetown, which was surprisingly busy for a largely miserable Thursday afternoon. People were milling about the shops and restaurants, and the streets were packed with cars. We warmed ourselves with squash soup, salad, a half-dozen Wellfleet oysters, and a couple of local libations at the "Squealing Pig" tavern, then headed to the campground. We wanted to get there early to shower, do laundry, and try to get the tents dried out - exploring Provincetown could wait for tomorrow. The campground was less than a mile away, as the seagull flies, which of course was 3.5 miles by bike, on a busy highway, with no shoulder... uphill.

Our next-tent neighbors in the campground,
Mark and Shoshanna from Connecticut, extended a friendly invite for a supper of coffee, bagels and chili. "I love chili!", said Bill, his eyes lighting up. Shoshanna, it turned out, had bike toured Europe in her youth, and she was always ready to help a fellow traveler. We spent the evening sitting around the picnic table, chatting about travels and places and camping and knee joints that no longer serve their original purpose... it was wonderful.













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