To Boston we go.

Donal had warned us that the Airline trail was a bit rough to start with, but that it got better, so stick with it. We stuck to it, but I don’t know how far Donal had taken this trail, because she was good for 15 miles or so, sometimes single track, sometimes a beautiful dirt road, but all through lush New England woods. At around mile 15.5, however, she became a swampy bog of a trail. We slugged through some sketchy squishy bits; I fell in to a mud puddle at one point; Brant’s bike got stuck; it was eventful.

We thanked the trail for the good 15 miles and sought some pavement. We were looking to bike 85 miles that day to make it all the way to Boston. The slow trail put us a little behind schedule, not to mention Brant's two flats, but we plugged along, inching over the many back road hills that take you from Connecticut to Mass. The roads were slow, but beautiful and lonely, winding us past lakes and old cabins.

 Massachusetts’ border was a wall of cars. Our lonely roads turned into backed up two lane highways for Massachusetts’ vacationers and Boston commuters.

As we rode with the stream of traffic next to us, a commuter slowed down to my speed and asked if we were going “cross country,” I nodded and smiled, and he said he did it in the 70’s. Stoked, he caught up to Brant and gave him a honk. Brant took this as a get-out-of-the-road honk and gave him “the wave,” a wave an old cyclist instructed us to give instead of flipping an evil motorist off. This cyclist explained that simply waving would piss motorists off even more than blatant retaliation.

Good thing too, because I was the only one who could distinguish Brant’s pissed off wave, and our innocent motorist (who was trying to be friendly but doesn’t understand that when you honk behind a cyclist that it scares the poop out of them) was waiting for us at the bottom of the hill. He introduced himself as Jeff, and asked if we needed a place to camp for the night and a shower, explaining that he lived just around the other side of the lake. It was almost 5, and we still had 30 miles to go to Boston. So we took him up on the offer.

Jeff had some errands to run, and explained that he would call his wife and warn her that we were coming. We pulled up to the house on the lake and went up the stairs of their deck to meet Tericita.

Tericita was not on the same page as Jeff. She was nice, but it was quite clear that she was not so happy that we were at her doorstep. She escorted us back down the deck stairs and down to the garage, which was the only way she would let us access the shower (not through the house).

Eventually Tericita warmed up a little to us. She let me wash dishes in her kitchen sink. To give her a break, she was raised in Columbia, and due to a variety of unfortunate events she doesn’t trust strangers. (This is how Jeff explained it when he got home later that evening and explained his wife’s unhappy response to our arrival). Nevertheless, it was such an interesting experience, to have been stopped by a stranger and invited to stay at their house and then not be welcome.

But their house was a short trail away from a fantastic ropes-swing, which was worth all of the awkwardness in the world.

 The short ride to Boston was sunny and great. As we followed the bike path that runs along the Charles River, we were blown away by the beautiful boat houses belonging to various local universities; the Boston College boat house being the most aweing.

We arrived in Cambridge and explored some of Harvard’s campus. Once again, we pedaled through another Ivy-League freshman orientation. Listening to the arguments between parents and their freshman daughters and sons never seems to get old. The kid is embarrassed of their parents, but mom just wants to make sure they have the right bedding. Been there.

 There was a gypsy jazz band, Tuba Skinny, playing in a little park. We parked our bikes and listened in the grass. We had nowhere to rush to, so we sat and enjoyed the music and some people watching while we waited for Nick and Daria, our Warm Shower's Hosts, to get off of work. 

 

After the music we wrote at a local café and snooped around a cool community bike shop.

We met Nick at their cute little apartment on the bottom floor of an old house. We had emailed Nick and Daria a few days earlier, explaining that we would like to stay in Cambridge for a day or so that Brant could knock on the doors of a few professors he had been trying to contact over the last two months about trying to work in a lab. Nick responded to Brant’s request, wondering exactly he wanted to ask from these professors, explaining that he is a Biology PhD student at Harvard that works in a lab studying that evolution of e-colai. This will mean more to poop scholars than to me, but all to say is that we contacted the perfect Warm Showers’ host!

Nick was very interested in our gear and our bicycles, and asked many questions about why we picked what we picked. Daria got home with dinner fixings and local beer. They made us delicious and hearty vege chili and we sat around the table learning about each other. 

Daria is also getting her PhD at Harvard in Health Economics. They are both from Tennessee. And they had just finished a bicycle tour around Iceland this summer. After Iceland, Nick toured by himself in Europe and loved it.

Brant and Nick discussed Brant’s water project and ideas for a portable lab that would test coliform contamination. Daria and Nick brainstormed different friends they know who might be able to sneak Brant into a lab.

We enjoyed every minute of their company. So kind, and very intelligent, they were very inspiring. We slept great on their air mattress, and in the morning Brant and I walked to Trader Joe’s for some avocados, bagels, cream cheese, and eggs. Yum. We ate together and shared coffee.

 Daria went to work, and Nick chatted with us while we packed up. We said goodbye, and looked forward to hearing from and seeing them again.

Brant and I pedaled over one the old bridges that take you from Cambridge to Boston. We rode by Boston University to see where Reid would be attending med school next fall. From their we biked along to parkway/greenspace that takes you to the Boston city garden. We found the cute little duck sculptures from the classic children’s book, The Ugly Duckling. Kids were crawling all over the metal ducks; it was quite adorable.

 We ventured over to the Boston Commons and a Boston bike messenger informed us that the Commons has free WiFi. With that, we parked ourselves on a small hill that overlooks Frog Pond, the wading pool in the park. Sitting on our yoga mat, we stretched and wrote blog posts and necessary emails.

 After a few hours, we started to think about biking north to Chelmsford, where Peter Walworth and his wife Betsy live. “Wally” is Brant’s dad’s best friend from college, so he and his wife welcomed us to stay with them for as long as we needed. The ride to Chelmsford is only 25 miles or so and the Minute Man Bicycle Path takes you almost all the way there.

The path made for a great ride. Daria and Nick recommended that we get ice cream at the local ice cream shack at the end of the path. The little ice cream shack was surrounded by green fields and cute farm animals. We particularly enjoyed the ducks and the goat.

 Around 6pm we rolled up to Wally’s house.  It was fun to meet someone who knew Brant’s dad in his youth. Within minutes, Wally was telling us stories of 20-year-old Dave in his thick Massachusetts accent and with big personality.

Betsy got home an hour later. Immediately, you knew why these two started dating, she was all humor and full of personality too.

They took us out to eat at their favorite Italian restaurant down the street, which was delicious. After answering their questions about our trip, they concluded we were a bit crazy. Perhaps.

Betsy had a ladies weekend planned with her sister, so the next morning after informing us to eat anything in the fridge, she left us three to explore Boston. Wally dropped us off near the Boston Harbor. The cobbled streets and old colonial buildings full of revolutionary war history were entirely entertaining. We got a beer at the Green Dragon, supposedly the pub where the early American revolutionaries conspired and inspired each other. Then we walked along the old harbor looking at beautiful boats. Finally we arrived at the old USS Constitution, an old navy boat from the war of 1812. You can tour the boat for free, so we went through security and played on the big old boat still decked with canons.

 Wally picked us up after he finished work and we ordered pizza to share with his sister Sandra, whom he wanted us to meet. Sandra biked over from her house to Wally’s and was thoroughly interested in our trip. She too, had a Wally size personality of her own, and we laughed and got to know each other. It was sweet.

The next morning, Brant and I set out to begin our trek towards Maine. Our first stop was Peter White’s bicycle shop in Hillsborough, New Hampshire. Brant plotted our 55 mile course, and after a long morning, we said goodbye to Wally knowing we would be back in only a couple weeks for our flight, and hit the road in search of more of New England.