Mike, Josh, and I all left the motel at different times. Fresh out of Fryeburg, I immediately went the wrong way. It wasn't until I was a solid 5 miles into the wrong direction that I realized my error. I couldn't help but smile and laugh. Oh, 5 more miles added to 4800, what a bummer!
Finally back on track, I passed an old couple riding ahead of me. It always bothers me to pass people so I usually slow for a second, smile, and give a friendly "Hey, how are you?" The elderly woman nodded back and gave me a grin. At the bridge, I stopped to look at the river.
Two geese swam upstream against the current. The two seniors behind me also stopped to take a gander. I got back on the road.
The climb was imminent and I kept waiting for the road to gain elevation but I didn't feel it. Not for a long time. On a quiet road running parallel to Route 12, I stopped to check out a river down below. In actuality, I wanted to try to get my head straight before the ascent and meditate a little bit.
I inhaled and exhaled, counting up to fifty with each breath I let out. I began feeling a vibrating sensation in my cheeks and my lip began quivering. It was an ecstatic and equally clearing feeling, equal if not better than sex. But hey, maybe I'm not doing it right. It's something I need to make a habit of.
The quiet, little road that had more bikers than cars eventually connected to Route 12. Yet still, the climb wouldn't start. I saw the perfect place to eat a chocolate peanut-butter sandwich but I had to cross a bunch of neon-yellow garnered workers chopping down trees. They wouldn't let me pass. So, I went across the road and climbed up a rock face to get a better view of the day's mountain.
Slipping and sliding my way back down (away from the road), I got biking again. And after many miles, I felt the road begin to rise higher and higher. It was also around this time the rain began to slowly fall. Beginning at 500 ft. around Fryeburg, the climax of the route was at 2,855 ft. in Kancamagus Pass. In terms of temperature, every 1,000 ft. in elevation is equal to traveling north 290 miles. I may or may not have learned that from a sign on the ride. But it was getting cold and wet.
In the distance, as the rain began to pound harder and harder, I saw Josh's yellow panniers. We met up and went up toward the summit.
The rain came down harder and harder. The summit had a small gazebo that had a scenic overlook but at this point, we were in the rain clouds. Josh went ahead of me to bravely descend the eleven miles into the town of Lincoln. Unfortunately, it wasn't what I had in mind for our first downhill because of the rain but we each felt like conquerors. The climb was still absolutely worth it.
Mike found us later at a pizza place owned by a kind local man named Steve. We were still looking for a place to sleep and he told us of his buddy named Jimmy that owned a local motel. He packed all of our bikes into his truck and drove us to the motel!
Steve was probably in his fifties and knew how to have fun. He stopped at a grocery store to get a pack of cigarettes and a 12 pack for the poker game he was heading to. His buddy Jimmy was also a part of the game. Steve told us about the Murray family that owned a local "show" with trained bears. He told us of his pregnant wife and how he'd just gotten married. Steve was great to us.
His buddy Jimmy was just as kind-hearted, giving us a discount on a room and telling us we could stay in as long we want tomorrow. The raining hasn't stopped and there's a flood warning until 3am. We plan on staying for the USA World Cup game then traveling again.
"You know, I was really tired before you guys came in. But you guys are being all happy and lively, and that makes me feel that way too. I feel good!"
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