Day 32 – July 18

Waking up a tad after 5 am (shrugging off slumber in my usual way, a wake up call from Friedman) I started to focus on the task at hand. Today’s ride would contain nearly 8,000 feet of climbing, and I would be forced to earn every foot of it. The ride was drawing to a close, but it was not going to lay down quietly in accepted defeat; I still had to prove that I am up to the challenge of conquering this great land on two wheels, regardless of how close to the calm waters of the Atlantic that I am.

Nearly 38 miles into the ride I hit the first big climb of the day, Gary and I said our farewells and I set out to beat this piece of jagged earth one stroke at a time. Feeling exhilarated with the thought of actually making it to the climatic conclusion for my ride, all in a days time, I pushed into the pedals hard and kept up a frantic pace. Sweat rolling down my wind broken face, dripping onto my pumping limbs, I still found time to peer through the heat and take in the sights and sounds of this beautiful land. New York was a treat to ride through, but I found myself particularly fascinated with Vermont. There was something nostalgic about this entire state; from the forested lands to the majestically old towns, everywhere my gaze fell I was struck with the history of the area. I can definitely see myself coming back to Vermont for some kayaking and sight seeing with the wife; the land and area is gorgeous and should be experienced multiple times.

After breaking through the second noteworthy climb of the day, I began my white knuckled descent. Avalanching down the mountain, I was soon struck with a sight I had no interest in seeing; thick billows of inky black smoke shrouding the sky above the thick Vermont forest. As I came around a bend, I saw brilliant orange flames licking the sky as it gorged its self on a victimized wooden cabin. The fire was fresh and its appetite had not been satiated by a fireman’s hose; since no firefighters were on the scene yet. I did encounter countless fire-trucks careening up the mountain roads after I had passed through the smoke and scene of tragedy. During lunch I spoke with Gary about the fire, and he mentioned that when he came upon it, it had been snuffed out by the geyser filled hoses of the fire-trucks. I must admit, when I first saw the smoke and flames, I had a brief surge of fear. We have all read or seen on television reenactments of forest fires that quickly turn to into a fiery storm of death. On my two wheeled mount, I had no intentions of witnessing such destruction first hand or in foolishly trying to outrun it.

I ended today’s ride just past the final climb of my wheeled journey. There now remains a mere 60 miles separating my bike and I from that soul-stirring call of the Atlantic. Tomorrow, at long last, I shall answer its summons...