Word, so I just wanted to hook up a little recap right quick. In my mind the best riding of the day was done on Tuesday, August 24th. This was the day that we rode from that weird RV campsite (with the owner/lady who sold us logs in a plastic bag from NY state, and only sold ice cream and candy) to Connecticut. We charged this day, and the scenery was mind bending.
This day started with us trying to find some short cut to Route 7 through the scraggly network of dirt roads that exist in southwestern Vermont. We ended up riding up-hill for about a half-mile in the wrong direction. This didn't turn out to be so bad because it kind of set us up like a drop-in. A fucking half-mile drop in to a 3 mile descent down a mountain. It was absolutely wild to have started your day in this way. It was, like, wake up, bathroom break, have a coffee (which ruled, being in the woods and all), and then get on your fucking bike and shred. For miles. At close to 35 miles per hour. This might not seem that fast, but becomes interesting once you add 30 pounds of gear to your 30 pound bike. Fucking fun, I say.
This wasn't the fastest we went during the trip. I clocked us doing 43mph on the previous morning. That descent also started on a dirt road, but only lasted for about 1/2 mile. I had off-loaded my front pannier and an additional 10 pounds of shit from my bike that I thought I needed, but (of course) totally didn't. I was a little sketched out because my bike felt, well, better. Anyway we ended up passing a huge piece of heavy machinery that was being pulled by a tractor trailer. Unsafe, but totally awesome. 12 miles later, in Manchester, we stopped for coffee. Then it rained for the rest of Monday, and it was horrible.
Jumping back to our ride from VT to CT: I had low expectations. I generally dislike Massachusetts (fuck the bruins), and Pittsfield was absolutely horrible to ride through. Chud roads, no shoulders, and drivers had their heads shoved directly into their anuses. It was living hell for hours, and miles. We pulled over, checked the map, and decided to barge through the rest of this shitty state.
Three miles (up-hill and with no shoulder) later, we made the right hand turn onto US Route 7, and things changed. The clusterfuck that is Pittsfield disappeared into country nothingness, and the road opened up into rolling hills, and endless descents. The turns were epic. We passed Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted at least 3 times. We hit up an ill bicycle shop in the Berkshires, and Brian copped a sweet new cycling computer. I got up on a new pair of cycling shorts (underlayer), because the new ones I bought had shredded themselves on the morning that we left. Don't ask.
It kept on going for about 45 miles. Even the climbs were awesome, but that was only probably because there weren't any cars on the road. We were riding right in the middle of the street, and it didn't even matter. I had been snacking the whole trip on all types of shit. Cliff Bars, granola bars, shit bars, and tons of gator and/or powerade. I even might've had another Red Bull (before Pittsfield) and I hate that shit. It's horrible stuff. In any event, I wasn't that hungry but Brian was. We pulled over at some random parking spot, which turned out to be a trailhead that will hook you up with the Appalachian trail. We debated about hiking out into the woods and camping on the trail, which would have been tight. However Brian and I wanted to rage it, and chose to keep pushing on. It was only about 6 miles to the next town, and ultimately 15 miles from Macedonia Brook State park, and we had to finish at our original goal. There was no other way.
We stopped for supplies in Lakeview, and charged out. After a short hill climb, we ended up in Sharon, CT. For those that don't know this is where the ultra-elite gather and make decisions that will affect the rest of the population. You might know these people as skull and bones, the illuminati, the federal reserve bank, Bildeberg group, Donald Rumsfeld, George W. Bush, Halliburton, and all that shit. The place stank of Freemason sorcery. They had expensive driveways, too.
We blew past that shit, and missed our turn because we were in such shell shock from the magnitude of those ridiculous houses. We had to back track (up-hill, again) for about a mile, and then we had to walk through a fucking construction site. The bridge was out, and we had no choice but to walk the bikes through because our tent site was somewhere on the other side.
After crossing we got on the bikes and started pedaling again. The road seemed to jack straight up, and kept on going. This climb lasted for 3 miles, and the road disintegrated into mud and rock. It was wild. When it ended, and switched to downhill it was kind of like mountain biking, kind of. We were cruising at about 30mph down this shit when we saw the sign that said we had entered the state park, and we saw campsites appear out of nowhere. It was also a security-free zone, and we just set up camp without fee, or fear of hassle. It ruled. We had neighbors, a Wiccan couple who shared corn and hot dogs. They were real nice. The woods are fucking rad.
We ate, crashed out, and woke up the next day and rode back to New York City.
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