Over the Green Mountains

I woke up a little before 7, and was able to chat with my host before heading out around 7:30, off to face the mountains. Theu are lovely, beautifully wooded and truly deserving of their name. All the work of the day felt worth the scenery I was rewarded.

Google set me on a side road, which I planned to get off onto route 7, until I realized that route 7 goes over the road, rather than meeting it. So with no choice, I decided the side road was fine, which it was...until it turned to gravel. It was well-packed, but for the wild downhill section it took me on, especially with its huge wheel swallowing potholes, it was a little harrowing. But with a few jolts and scares here and there I got through it alright, and the road became paved again. I intended to try and hit route 7 again at that point, but then learned it was disallowed to cyclists. So, side roads it was, until I reached 11 near Manchester, which I would take the rest of the way.

And it was shortly after reaching 11 that I had to do the truly big climb of the day. I can't tell you how lucky I felt that this was a cool day for my climb, in the 50s at this point in the morning, rather than the 90 degree heat of just a couple days ago. It made the difficult ascent so much more bearable. With only a couple rest stops on the way up, I made it to the top. It was downhill with flatish segments after that, before making one more lesser climb, and then all downhill from there. The road could have stood to be better maintained, and there was plenty of pothole swerving and crumbling shoulder avoiding on the way down.

All in all, it wasn't so hard a day as I expected. I called my host in the little town of Chester next over from his, as he had asked me to do when I was coming that he might ride out to meet me. He had other things going on and was unable to, but he prepped me for the final hill I had to face. There was an option he said of a longer but flatter route if I left 11, but I figured what was one more hill at this point and pushed myself through it. Then after racing downhill once more, I came into Springfield at last. Against his advice I went up the extremely steep Elm Street, but on foot, because no gear would be low enough to make it up. I showed up on his street right as he, in full kit, was heading out to meet me, having not expected I would make the time I did.

It was a good evening. Plenty of carbs. Since they weren't eating until later, he made me a heaping plate of spaghetti first thing, in advance of tortillas later. Unlike most Warmshowers hosts, he is not of a touring background, but rather a racing one, and so we both shared stories of worlds foreign to each other and how crazy we both are in our own ways. It was good conversation and a fine end to a full day.