ECG DAY 6: Into the Woods

 Note: This entry is for Sunday, September 12.

We timed our cruise through the bustling metropolis of Hartford perfectly, by sheer dumb luck… it wasn’t bustling. In fact, on this clear, gorgeous, Sunday morning it was eerily deserted, like an alien space force had come and taken only New England Patriots fans as hostages (which they should, by the way). We sailed right through in no time.

For the rest of the day it was all trails as we headed into the comely woodlands of northeastern Connecticut. Unlike Jersey, these trails had suffered no significant storm damage. There were a couple of minor washouts that we easily marched across on foot, but mostly we sailed along at a very good clip.  The woods looked like perfect black bear habitat, and I was waiting all day for one to come sauntering down the trail in front of me, but no such luck.

Just outside of Willimantic we closed ranks on a couple of guys riding fat ebikes. Normally ebikes blow our doors off,  but these guys were easing their way through some water ponded on the trail, while Bill and I were shooting through like the flume ride at a water park.  I was on the hunt for a good cheeseburger and milkshake, and these guys looked like they might be well acquainted with the best calorie pushers in town.  “Nice bike!” I hollered as I rolled up next to trailing guy, “How do you like it? He stared straight ahead. “Just got ‘em! We love ‘em!”, the guy up front hollered back. “Any good burgers in town?”, I asked the trailing guy. No response. Catatonic. I started to suspect that he may have honed his social skills at Leavenworth. “There’s a Dairy Queen and a Burger King just up the next street,” the lead guy hollered back.  “I love Dairy Queen,”  Bill says, with a look of delight.

As it turns out, they were headed there too. Lead Guy orders up a pink-dipped soft serve, and stands around admiring our bikes. Trail Guy orders nothing, just stares off into space, either pondering what those white fluffy things are in the sky, or planning his next bank robbery, I’m not sure which.  Bill and I order the only solid food option on the menu: chili cheese dogs.  I get to talking more with Lead Guy, and find out he’s riding an ebike because of bad knees.  He lifts his shorts to show me surgical scars that look like the New Jersey Turnpike.  “Football?” I ask. “Rodeo,” he says. “Calf ropin’ and steer wrestlin’.  We was always tearin’ sumpthin’.”   “Did you ride bulls?”, I asked. “Hell no. Bull riders ain’t cowboys,” he sneered, “anybody can do it. If somebody didn’t show up, we’d put HIM on a bull.”  He pointed to Trail Guy.  Makes sense. I would have done the same thing. “But I thought bull riders get all the girls,” I joked. “Hell no!”, he says, “We got the horses.”  Apparently this was an opening he couldn’t resist (my bad), and he began to educate Bill and me about rodeo wives. I quickly tried to shift topics. “You ever compete in the Cowtown Rodeo in Jersey?” I asked. “Oh hell yes. All the time. And let me tell you about the women down there… I could write a book,” he says, even more animated than before.  “Yeah yeah yeah, you should definitely write a book. It’d be a best seller… listen we gotta go… it’s been great chatting with you,” I say, prepping the bike for rapid escape.  I glance at Bill, who’s standing by his bike, looking a little dejected. “I don’t know what happened,” Bill says,  “I thought I ordered a chili cheese dog, but all I got was onions.”

This was our first night camping.  As we were setting up, an older woman marched into our camp, hailing us as fellow bikers. Her name was Joanne, and she was traveling the USA on a quest to ride her bike in all 50 states. She had done 41 to date, including a solo ride from Alaska to her home in North Carolina.  “You guys have everything you need?” she asked, helpfully.  “Well, we were hoping for a camp store with beer, but we’re good, thank you,” I kidded.  “I got beer,” she says, and marches off to bring us a couple of local Carolina amber ales, ignoring our protests. “This is my favorite beer,” she says, giving us the history of the beer and the brewery and some anecdotes about James Taylor.  “Enjoy!”  I’ve got to say, it was excellent, so here’s to you, Joanne - thanks again, and we hope you enjoy your ride through Delaware.