|Pretty sure that's Avalon out there - King Arthur will be coming any day now.|
Event: NE Rondonneurs' Wachusett-Purgatory Brevet
Goal Time: 11:00:00
Actual Time: 12:10:00
Miles on the Day: 156
A mini-epic poem for a mini-epic ride
Down Mass Av'nue to speed my rapid course,
My little bike carried Jesse from bed
And soft pillows' sleepy magnetic force.
Valdez's magic liquor striking my head
Waking up through my personal prologue
Down empty streets to Bedford my bike led.
Calling to Calliope to unfog;
To Ghisallo to shake from poets' suite
The words from my mind and onto this blog.
At Hanscom did we all Randdoneurs meet
For the cuesheets,bathrooms and brevet cards,
Before off on two hundred k on streets.
|Evan's Notch in my building's bike room - fully loaded|
Away we dashed - red lights blinking as stars,
Amidst unearthly milky way of mists.
New Garmin -Virgil - would direct me far:
Beeps for turns to come and bonks for ones missed.
But new gadgets cannot drive untrained legs
And hills through Harvard/Bolton still exist.
|Acton's Minuteman Monument - maybe the last time I saw another Randonneur on the road|
At Lancaster those legs began to beg
Despite the route ahead and up did plow
The higher up, the lower in the dregs
I felt. As fog fell like a heavy shroud
Concealing the road to Wachusett Mount
Thus, literally, a climb to the clouds.◦
|1392 feet - felt more like 13,920|
Wheeling from the controle - forced to dismount.
Any speed downhill became empty boasts,
Surprised from the fog had to account
For eerie beasts appeared like gobbling ghosts
breaking the mists in unholy surprise
I slowed from speeding down to merely coast.
Below the clouds the sun threatened to rise
Flaming off rain and overcast amuck ~
But only peered translucent in the skies.
When that evil hiss of tyre flat struck
I was forced in cold drizzle and damp mud †
To twist away a tube and get unstuck.
|This is where horror movies start|
In Grafton with Vet School and blooming buds
The road rose up toward the sky again
Fears of Wachusett began to flood
A muddled mind seventy miles atwain.
One long climb would bring me to the Chasm
Where it was easier I ascertained.
Hike into the gorge - iconoclasm - ⋆
Was I the first to do upon this day.
Slipping on rocks and other phantasm
Thru canyon and o'er rim I made my way
To pavilion where Evan's Notch was parked
Awaiting me to trail Virgil's display.
The final forty-six was marked
By fewer hills and more flats; but, as night
began to fall and make yet further dark
I worried about cars and driver's sight.
Lights white and red returned for extra beeps
Making ahead less dim and l'il more bright.
Tired on a long day I want to sleep
Through Great Meadows - forest and bog - I flagged
With miles to go and promises to keep. ☭
Almost home and through Walden Woods, I dragged
O'er the hill that ere high as edelweiss.
Two hundred brutal k, from now I bragged.
On to Somerville and Seth's meatballs nice,
And Paul's coffee stout, earthly paradise.
◦ - I see what you did there
† - Is there any other kind of mud?
⋆ - Maybe you shouldn't try to rhyme chasm.
☭ - Not certain you wrote this line...
Other pics from the ride
|Horse with a sweater on. He appeared annoyed I was there. (or she)|
|Apple Blossoms in the mist|
|After my flat, I thought about switching to these.|
|Fancy l'il bus|
|Playing around in the Chasm|
|Purgatory Chasm - detail|
|At mile 87 - odd sign on a Purgatory ride|
|Last stop to get on reflector vest and square away the lights.|