Biking the East Coast Greenway

 Note: This entry is for Sunday, September 12. W e 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 ...

 Note: This entry is for Saturday, September 11 T he speed at which you can ride your bike and the average speed you make by the end of the day are two substantially different things when touring. Under normal conditions., we can cruise comfortably at 12-15 MPH on the flats.  That drops below 10 on moderate inclines, and below 6 on really tough hills. Occasionally we’ll get off and push the bikes (which is surprisingly difficult to do, by the way), typically when crossing a narrow bridge on a pedestrian walkway.  Downhill we tend to bomb along at 20 MPH - anything more than that starts to feel unstable, like you’re steering a runaway truck, just hoping for the best.  By the end of the day - after all the stops for water, snacks, lunch, pictures, traffic lights, and trying to figure out where you are on the map - you’ve made 7 MPH. So when I tell you that we averaged over 11 MPH today, across some 65 miles, you know we were flyin’.  That included a couple of clim...

  Note: This journal entry is for Friday, September 10.  Hoping to make this entry quick - trying to catch up a little since I’m rapidly falling behind.  Didn’t take many photos today - everything was  GoPro videos. I ’ve started a new diet: dill pickles.  Supposedly they do wonders for people doing long bike rides, or so I’ve been told by more than one adherent. Both Bill and I have been struggling with cramps,  but last night was the worst for me. I had to lay on my back like King Tut in his sarcophagus, arms at my side, nose and toes pointed straight to the sky, avoiding the least stray movement that would send my muscles into clenching spasms of agony.  If you notice any typos in these posts, it’s because my thumbs unilaterally decided to fold across my palms while tapping away. We left Ben’s and headed across the Williamsburg Bridge back into Manhattan, headed for the Hudson River Greenway on the western side.  I have only one word for this s...

Note: This journal entry is for Thursday, September 9. W e woke to a blanket of sullen gray clouds and the steady patter of rain. A couple of stifled expletives puffed from the both of us, but no use complaining - just the business of donning weather gear and getting ready to jump in the pool. It’s not that bad, really, once you’re in it. After a few miles you don’t even much notice, and the drivers seem extra polite, no doubt thinking “look at these poor schmucks.” Fortunately, today’s ride called for a relatively short 44 miles through northern Jersey, across Staten Island and Manhattan, and into Brooklyn to camp on the hardwood floor of my son's, Ben's, unfurnished, graduate-student, up-six-flights-of-stairs apartment. I’m happy to say, the day went pretty much as planned.  The Jersey leg was mostly wandering through pleasant neighborhoods; Staten Island was gritty and industrial. The ride over Goethals bridge onto the island afforded airplane-like views of shipping lanes an...

Note: This entry is for Wednesday, September 8   I started my crash diet last night.  The plan is to lose, oh, ten pounds or so before we hit the Hills of Connecticut. Grilled chicken, steamed broccoli, and canned, mushed carrots were the order of the day.  “Would you like rolls or biscuits with that?” the waitress asked.  “Yes,” I answered, in a moment of weakness. Bill on the other hand, ordered the “All-Day Farmers Breakfast Platter.” I could see his eyes light up from behind the stack of hot cakes and bacon as several plates landed heavily on the table before him. Today was supposed to be fairly easy - 60 miles, but most of it along the bucolic canal trails adjacent to the Delaware and Raritan rivers.  A mere jaunt. Turned into one of the hardest days we’ve ever done, without question. It started out okay, if not a bit oddly.  A trio of American egrets played hopscotch with us up the Delaware canal for the first half mile or so, which was delightful, b...

T here will come a day when I learn, at long last, not to tempt the fates. Today was not that day. It started out well enough, for sure. A glorious sunrise over the Delaware river greeted us as we geared up in New Castle.  The tall ship  “Kalmar Nyckel” was docked right there beside us. A bald eagle sat majestically just off-bank on a small rock isle.  Doesn’t get any better. We cruised into Wilmington effortlessly.  There before we knew it. “This is gonna be cake,” I thought, “ I may not have anything to write about.”  I know, I KNOW... but it’s not like I said it out loud or anything.  Didn’t matter.  They were listening. You know, I’ve been around Wilmington for 25 years now. Even worked downtown. I never really thought of it as a “hilly” place. The fact that it hosts entities like ROCKford Park, ROCKwood Park, the Wilmington Blue ROCKS, and a fairly substantial ROCK face for climbing aficionados... Ya, didn’t register. Well, it registered today. ...

I am often asked how one goes about preparing for a bike tour of several days to weeks. Well, actually, I’m never asked anything... the response is usually quizzical looks of sympathy directed toward my wife, Rene, who for her part is eagerly formulating plans to hit every quilting shop in the tri-state area in my absence. But for the sake of practice should I ever be asked, I would offer the following advice: Begin several months in advance of your trip by creating a detailed spreadsheet of your proposed diet and training regimen, daily itinerary, anticipated weather conditions, and necessary equipment lists.  This activity alone should consume several days, and get you out of doing regular household chores (“Sorry, Hon, but I’m busy at the moment... by the way, have you seen the kitchen scale? I need to weigh my socks.”) Then a week or so before leaving, recall having made this sheet, realize that you’ve done none of it, and spend the next few days riding up and down the biggest...