The Point Of A Journey...

...is not to arrive.  But I did.  I had every intention of making my first real road excursion on Rocinante a meandering journey to nowhere.  The weather has been outstanding here over the weekend - sunny and in the 70's.  But yesterday was a complete anomaly - blistering (literally) sunshine and temps in the mid 80's!  We spent all weekend doing yard work and getting a jump on our Spring cleaning but the forecast for Monday had me salivating for an adventure.

I would begin my trip by further exploring some of the country roads leading out of Warner.  Schoodac Rd is a flat and shaded road lined with horse farms that I had ventured down in the past on my mountain bike, but turned around before I could find where it led.  As it winds it's way out of Warner it becomes White Plains Rd and carries you around a bay in Lake Winnepocket exposing the hilly landscape across its surface.  I carry a map, but hadn't consulted it - nor done any map research online, which I'd normally do before setting out.  Had I, I would have known where this was leading.   

The road eventually brought me to the junction of the very familiar route 127, just about at the Blackwater Dam.  Route 127 is a road that I have traveled several times last year and will do so many times this year - but I didn't want to do it today.  Both exciting and challenging, several miles of 127 will be the focus on the Montreal-Boston Tour racing through here in August.  Riddled with undulating hills - peaks roll into valleys and back into peaks before you can catch your breath - nothing boring about this road.

I could have backtracked from here and set myself on a different course but It was a beach day and there was a beach at the end of this road - kind of.  What the hell, I thought - I felt up to the challenge.  I had been out mountain biking a bit and a consistent leg routine in the gym for the past couple of months had me feeling good about my preparations.  Suddenly my journey had a destination - Weirs Beach, Lake Winnipesaukee.

Route 127 eventually brings me to Franklin and then it's Route 3 around to the beach.  The road isn't any less forgiving leading out of Franklin and into Tilton - a challenging climb, with traffic, begins in Franklin center.  This ride presents two very distinct riding experiences.  While 127 can be considered a wooded, undulating back country road, the remainder of the ride is urban and hurried - but still very hilly.

Lake Winnipesaukee is about 40 miles from my home in Warner - and I felt real good getting there.  My stamina felt up, muscles felt good, hydration seemed adequate and I was on a pace equivalent to trips last year while in peak shape.  Weirs Beach was quiet: despite the feel of a mid-summer day it was still only mid April and the shops and boardwalk have yet to open for the season.  Attractions or not, the weather was
beautiful and I had plenty of company as I ate my lunch in a park by the beach.  I had ridden a portion of the trip sans shirt and while resting in the park I noticed that my arms were quite red and my back had that deceivingly cool sensation - the kind you get when your skin fries.  It seems I do this every year: I get out early in the year and underestimate the Sun's strength, resulting in an ugly and painful sunburn.   

With my shirt back on I began my trip home.  Rested and replenished of fuel I headed immediately into a strong headwind - by the time I reached 127 again my problems began.  All that I longed for on this trip had finally over taken me.  The sun, the wind and the warm air had taken their toll on my body and all that existed for me on this road now was struggle.  Just across the road existed bliss and pleasure - now, a few hours removed and in the opposite direction, those feelings were the furthest from me.   I lumbered along, getting low and grinding each pedal stroke into the dense unyielding wind. 

After 70 miles I felt like death, but accomplished.  I had envisioned a destination less century for my first ride out - but in the end this trip was a good barometer for me.  This is a grueling route, especially on a 50 pound rig, but last year I was at a point where this was a walk in the park.  I'll lay some blame on the sun and wind and heat - but that's why I ride.  I need to be at a place where none of that deters me...and I'm on my way again.  I'm heading to Fort Rock with some buddies to get some mountain biking in right now - I'll report in later.