There once was a man from... (Part IV)

Sunday, June 18

After a quick stop at the General Store for some ice (chunky monkey) cream and postcards, I'm back on the bike to get a closer look at the Sankaty lighthouse. The building itself isn't impressively large, but the view of the ocean is spectacular on the cliff.



I'm not really a beach bum, but I'm still tempted to see the water up close (and give my legs a rest; by this time I've logged about 20 miles, and I could use a place to relax). Hiking down a nearby trail with my bike on my shoulder I make my way down. I'm not foolish enough to try to try to use the bike on the sandy trail, but it's tempting to try as the rear brake cable underneath the cross tube is digging into my shoulder. After about 10 minutes of walking I'm there. After locking my bike to a fence I kick off my shoes and let my bare feet sink into the sand.

It's relaxing alright, but I can feel myself being cooked out in the sun (and I forgot to bring sun block), so after about 20 minutes I'm ready to go. Hopping back on the bike I make my way back to the main town along the Polipis trail towards the Life Saving Museum near Shawkemo on Folger's Marsh. The entrance fee is only $5, but the real treat is meeting some people local to the island. My guide (I'm the only visitor there at the moment), Amanda, is native here, and makes some suggestions where to go next. Did you know that the to save stranded ships in shoals off the coast, Nantucketers would fire a canon with a rope attached to a projectile over the ship to pull the crew back to land?

My plan is to go to back to town and relax a bit. The wind is coming from the west making the ride back to town particularly strenuous. A beer right about now would be great. Once I make it back to town, though, I realize that it's not as quiet as 'sconset, and it's full of noisy tourists and... well... no bars. It doesn't take me long to realize that there's nothing for me here, so I might as well stay on the bike. I have a few options at this point, but I decide to keep heading west towards Madaket where I can only assume it's quieter.

But this also means heading west. Against the wind. And, as I soon learn, uphill. Oh well. I want to see as much as I can, right? I make my way through town and find the Madaket trail. Most of the way I'm struggling to maintain 10mph, but after about 25 minutes I'm there. From what I can tell, the entire town of Madaket has only one restaurant, the West End. Luckily for me, it's open, and they serve meat-free burgers. I order one, turn down the barkeep's suggestion of a "Madaket Mystery" (some crazy rum drink) and accept a Cisco Ale, a brew made right here on the Island.

Wait. There's a brewery here? Fuck yeah! But I'd better hurry as it closes in almost 2 hours and it's about 10 miles away. I thank the bartender (who is from Virginia, actually) and make my way back to town. What a difference going downhill and with the wind makes. I average 22mph, topping out at 31.

The Cisco Brewery actually turns out to be also a distillery and vineyard. I resist the temptation to try it all (the trip counter on my bike registers 39.9 miles) and try the sampler: five 4-oz. beers for $5. The Underground Brown is disappointing for a dark beer, but their ales are quite flavorful.

I leave the brewery, feeling pleasantly warm... but I've got to pee like a bitch, so I find a trail off the dirt road alongside a field and take a whizz. Since it's father's day, I figure it's a good time to give dad a call. He turns out not to be home but at Camp McKee, a summer camp for boy scouts, so I talk to mom instead.

So it's been a pretty full day, but I have two things left on my list of things to see: the Brant Point lighthouse, and the old mill.

I don't know why I'm so interested in lighthouses. I think it's partly because they're so picturesque, but also because their function is so simple yet so iconic of a simple life. A lighthouse is just that; a house. Particularly in desolate places on the coast, their inhabitants would live there with the sole purpose of keeping the light burning so that people they probably never will meet might stay safe. That and the fact that they're usually free to enjoy. Unless you're married, though, it's got to be the most boring job in the world.



Obviously, though, no one's living in this one. "It's a teeny-winy lighthouse. I couldn't even stand up in it."

The old mill was a bit more interesting. Being the oldest functioning mill in the country, it was worth the trip to see, and I got some really nice pictures, too.



Call me Don.

After a short bike ride back to the wharf, I'm ready to go. After a solid 45 miles of biking, I'm ready for a good night's rest, although after the hour-long ferry ride I'm still about 110 miles from home. It's been a fantastic weekend that has inspired me to see as much of New England as I can while I'm here.

There once was a man from... (Part III)

Sunday, June 18

There's a wonderful breakfast coffeehouse just down the road from my campsite in Brewster aptly named "Brewster Coffee Shop." It's 6:30 in the morning and I'm enjoying a fresh cup of coffee, ready to hit the road to Hyannis. Yesterday when I saw this place on the road I was afraid they wouldn't be open this early. I'm still amazed that people will surrender themselves at this hour of the day. Personally, I haven't been up this early since, well... I guess since I drove up to Massachusetts last month. It really is a fantastic day to do what I'm doing... it's just my luck, though, that I'd get flat tire.

***

Ok, so while I'm enjoying an early lunch of Quahog chowder and caesar salad with anchovies at a cafe on the island, let me bring you up to speed on today's adventures so far. The ferry ride was rather upsetting; the plan was to fix my bike tire on the way over with the patch kit I brought with me. The problem is that the boat travels up to 40mph and is pretty far out to sea, so the wind made it, well, challenging. To say the least. I tried applying the rubber cement to the tire, but the goop whipped around in the air like it was coming out of a hose. The patch itself needed to fit over the valve stem, so I needed to cut a hole in it. Holding the kit box down with one foot and my tire pump with the other, squeezing the wheel between my legs, clamping the valve cap down in my teeth, I then attempted to cut a hole in the patch with my pocket knife, pressing it against the floor of the boat...

Needless to say it was a lost cause. By the end of it my hands were black from the tire, I had glued my fingers together, and I was bummed.

However, within minutes of landing I realized that this was all pointless. There must have been six bicycle shops in a row on the street leading from the wharf. I found the one I had located online just yesterday and asked the salesman if besides renting bicycles they also did repairs. They did. Hallelujah. There is a God.

I ended up buying two new tubes... just in case.

So this cafe at which I'm currently dining is located on the east side of the island, about 10 miles from the main town on the Polipis bike path. The town, Siasconset (affectionately known as 'sconset), is gorgeous, comprised mostly of cottages and B&Bs.



The bike ride over here wasn't too bed either: on my right were bogs where cranberries grew while on my left were fields, partially used for a golf course, but overlooking the Sankaty Light House.



Of course after lunch I'll have to get a closer look. Before I came here I had maybe half-a-dozen things planned, but after talking with some of the locals I'll be lucky to get everything done in just one day. I'm just so thrilled that this trip is working out so wonderfully.

To be concluded...

There once was a man from... (Part II)

Saturday, June 17

Tomorrow will be an adventure for sure. I've booked a ferry ride from Hyannis to Nantucket Island for myself and my bike. When I arrived here at the campsite I had planned to take a quick ride around the lake here in the Nickerson State Park. My back tire was low, so I screwed down the valve ring and clamped on the pump, but after a few seconds I heard the too familiar sound of air escaping from a crack in the stem.

Shit.

I have a backup plan, though. Two, actually. Although I did bring a repair kit, they do little for cracks in tube near the base of the stem. And it'll take a lot of time to work on. Still, I'll have nothing better to do on the hour-long ferry ride. Plan A. Luckily this morning before I left I located a bike shop on the island not 1/4 mile from the wharf on which the ferry docks, so at the very worst I'll walk a few hundred yards before they can fix it. Plan B.

The success of this trip depends completely on my bicycle working. The island is 14 miles across, so unless I want to spend all day walking, rent a different bicycle, or *gasp* take a bus (!!!) I'll need to get this thing fixed.

Still, I couldn't have hoped for better weather. The air is warm, only slightly humid, and the sky today was cloudless. After Plymouth I drove down to the Cape to see some small towns like Barnstable, Brewster, and Sandwich.

Wait... Sandwich?

Yeah. Sandwich. The town was gorgeous, iced delicately with bicycle paths, walkways, and lakes. I took this picture earlier today next to the Hoxie House (I have no idea what this place was, but I had to stop because the name reminded me of the Hokie House bar in Blacksburg, ubiquitously known as "HoHo").



There's a lake here as well. Well, according to the map it's "Cliff Pond," but it looks like a lake. With the frustration of my flat tire, I grabbed a beer and took a walk.



The water calmed me down some. Or maybe it was the beer. Because it's getting late, I leave you with these parting words:

Tomorrow morning,
like all before, comes early.
Six o'clock is nigh.

There once was a man from... (Part I)

Beer and camping: what could be better? Even as I scrawl this entry on the back of a trail map by firelight in a campsite on the Cape, the Smithwicks I just purchased in Brewster are getting warm from the evening heat. I can only hope this paper survives this ordeal so I can type it up when I return to civilization.

So why am I writing you, dear readers, 200 miles from home? Just this morning I realized that in the month that I've been here, I haven't even begun to fulfill the vision of what I had originally anticipated my experience up north to be: that of an adventure. I needed to take action. On my laptop I began researching areas locally that I wanted to visit, and after about 20 minutes my heart was set on Nantucket Island. I don't know why. Maybe that prurient limerick had something to do with it, I don't know. But in two hours I had my trip planned.

There's too much to write about in one post, so I'm breaking this up into pieces, hopefully littered with pictures... assuming something tragic doesn't happen to my camera.

Saturday, June 17

Today was an eventful one as I drove along the Massachusetts coast towards Cape Cod, where I have currently set up camp from out of the back of my car. Earlier I visited the town of Plymouth to see, of course, Plymouth Rock; probably the most uninteresting object I have ever seen in my life. It's a rock, no bigger than a coffee table. What really made it interesting was this colossal mausoleum that has been built to house this historic object. I later learned Plymouth Rock wasn't even an icon until over a century later when in 1741 a local townsperson promulgated the significance of the object. It isn't even certain, then, that this landmark is what it claims to be. Who cares, though, really? I still want one in my living room.



And there was also the Mayflower II: a recreation of the famous vessel of 1620. Don't be deterred by the word "recreation." It was built nearly 50 years ago where it sailed from Plymouth England to Plymouth Massachusetts with no assistance, completely under wind power (not even a backup motor), and a crew of about 30. I was told that only 8 members of this crew are alive today. The ship itself will be featured on a documentary about the winter of 1620 on the History Channel Thanksgiving Day this year. I got to know one of the curators who knows the story of the 1957 voyage pretty well and has met, on several occasions, the original crew.



I, myself, met some politely quiet gentlement aboard the vessel. Please meet "scurvy sam" and "dysentery dan."



To be continued...