ECG Day 8: On to the Cape

 Note: This post is for Tuesday, September 14. I'm going to make this quick - trying to get caught up. Currently lounging in a tent listening to the wind blow. Storm coming... We'll be riding in it tomorrow. I will upload photos when I have an Internet connection, hopefully in Provincetown.

I had been dreading this day since I first planned it. Lots of road riding, with no shoulders, and some stiff hills. Bill tried to boost my mood by suggesting that the good folks at ECG knew the best routes, and it turned out he was right. The roads were tight, but traffic was light to non-existent, and we were mentally ready for the hills. It wasn't so bad after all. Our last hard day before "vacation" starts, we joked 

Our first port of call was Fall River, where we cruised along the waterfront and gawked at their collection of mothballed naval vessels. It's places like this where I wish I had the time to stop and read every sign, visit every exhibit, but there is this odd sense of mission that hangs over a bike tour - you have to keep moving - so I never do it. 

We clanked our way up the cliffs that border Fall River, and pointed ourselves toward the historic town of New Bedford. Somewhere along the way Bill convinced me to stop for lunch at the Mattapoisett Diner (probably because I was passed out in their parking lot, recovering from the previous hill climb). 

Having married a New England girl, I'm at least tangentially qualified to judge a good clam roll when I taste one, and let me tell you, this diner was the bomb. Once our ears got reasonably tuned to the waitress's accent, we successfully conveyed our interest in a  couple of local beers (she brought us Lagunita,  from California... close enough), and a couple daily special clam rolls. So good.

New Bedford was fascinating. I'm sure I've been there before, but I didn't remember any of it. The sheer number of trawlers in port was a sight to behold.  We stopped to watch one boat taking on a load of ice, presumably before heading out to the fishing banks, and that in itself was something to see. It was about then that I remembered that we had planned to stop at the whaling museum, now just a few blocks behind us.  Bill and I held one of those, "I dunno, do you wanna" conversations about turning back, but alas, the mission must go on.

The final leg of the day was a ride along the canal that links Buzzard's Bay with the Atlantic. For those of you from Delaware, it looks very similar to the Delaware-Chesapeake canal, just bigger, and with a very impressive tidal current. The ride was easy and flat for some six miles.  Getting over the bridge to the other side where our campground awaited was another matter.  This bridge was huge, as you can imagine, to span the width of the canal and let ocean-going vessels pass beneath.  The pedestrian walkway was about six feet of elevated concrete, next to four lanes of hell-bent roaring traffic, a hundred feet in the air. It was terrifying. 

The campground was a mere mile beyond, thankfully, and soon we were enjoying a camp meal of freeze-dried beef stew, Portuguese rolls, garlic and herb cheese, and some sort of chocolate stuffed marshmallow Oreo cookies that probably could have used some adult supervision. Easy ride on Wednesday - we're both looking forward to the much-needed break. 




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