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“If you come to Nashville and you don’t see any live music, you’ve done something wrong.”—William the Uber driver, Nashville

Day 22, 50 miles, Carthage, TN to Nashville

It completely snuck up on me. How much I’ve missed live music.

When I found myself at Rudy’s Jazz Room, here on Day 22 of my 70-day xUS bike trip, sitting at the bar a few feet from the quartet performing jazz standards, I felt emotional with the thrill of it. Live music again (albeit behind a plexiglass screen, but that didn’t matter).

What is it about live music? The real-time interaction between performers and audience. The thrill of the unknown because no one is sure what might happen. The immediacy of musical invention when a soloist improvises a melody. The enlivening pulse of the beat and the collaboration of artists taking place right in front of you. There’s no other art like live music.

Coach, Rudy’s proprietor, really took care of me, ushering me to the best seat in the house, setting me up with a Manhattan, got some gumbo. I couldn’t have been happier.

I can’t say enough about Rudy’s, a highly recommended stop in Nashville. Some folks don’t realize that, in addition to the massive Country and honky tonk scene, Nashville also has a thriving jazz scene. This band was stellar.

Tennessee’s friendly people scene has also continued. At the Rudy’s bar I met Addie and Hannah, who just graduated from University of Idaho. Ok, they’re not from Tennessee, but they were here on a graduation celebration vacation; we related over my daughter, Livvy’s, graduation from Smith in January.

The jazz was awesome, but I was in Nashville, and I had to catch some country. So I walked from Rudy’s one mile over to Broadway, the tourist catchall in Music City, with blocks upon blocks lined with live music venues.

I haven’t seen a city street like this since New Orleans, with so much live music, bars lined up side by side all down the street with sounds of rock, country, honky tonk and even some bluegrass pumping out the open windows. I was exhilarated with the musical energy electrifying the city, providing a rhythmic backdrop to the circulation of the crowds, the lights moving and pulsing. Nashville has a personality more distinct than most cities I’ve visited.

Also, the best way to enter Nashville is by bike. The city is outfitted with miles of pristine bike paths, and after five hours of biking along Route 70W with the traffic (good shoulder), I was fed onto the Music City bike path. Perfect surface, no bumps from ice swells like you get on northern bike paths. And gorgeous scenery alongside the river.

My visit to, and night out in, Nashville was one of the standout highlights of this trip. A beautiful bike path entering the city. Interesting, friendly people.

Live music.

Day 21, 67 miles, Clarkrange to Carthage, TN
Day 20, 83 miles, Knoxville to Clarkrange, TN
Day 19, Nearo day: 13 miles RT to Knoxville bike shop and back
Day 18, 53 miles, Bulls Gap to Knoxville, TN
Day 17, 45 miles, Johnson City to Bulls Gap, TN
Day 16, 60 miles, Chilhowie, VA, to Johnson City, TN

“Northerners can be kinda tough to deal with sometimes.”—Tom the fence builder, Two Bridges Road, outside Lancing, TN
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I made it to Tennessee a few days ago. Goodbye Virginia hills, hello Tennessee hills.

Meeting a lot of people in Tennessee. Mostly good.

Tom the fence builder isn’t really a fence builder but he builds a hell of a fence. It wasn’t easy getting him to open up, but he eventually did. I saw him and his friend Tim – even more reticent than Tom – out near Two Bridges Road on my way by and stopped to chat.

Most rural Tennesseeans, it would seem, in my brief experience passing through the countryside here, are not accustomed to seeing a grown man dressed in tight pants riding a bike. For some, it takes a little work to win them over and assure them you’re not an alien, or some kind of pervert there to steal their wives and daughters, or worse.

Tom eventually proved to be a very nice gentleman. Steven Myers, on the other hand, was eager to chat. Riding along route 70N west nearing Carthage, TN, I heard, “Hey!” Steven gets off his lawnmower and waves me over. He loves seeing cyclists come by, he and his wife are cyclists themselves. We chatted for a while about some of the races he’s done. Great guy. I wish more people would yell at me to pull over and talk.

In general, the people of Tennessee have been wonderful. Drivers have been, for the most part, respectful. I haven’t been black-smoked once in this state (can’t say that about Virginia) and nobody has turned their truck right toward me and stepped on the gas in a threatening game of chicken (Virginia again).

Best of all, my great friend Chris lives in Knoxville, and I kicked off my cross-state tour with a relaxing couple days at her lovely home, martinis included on the back deck! (First drink I’d had in a week and a half, and it hit like it!)

That visit set me up perfectly for venturing into the heart of the state, which included a foray through Oak Ridge (home of the Oak Ridge Boys, I presume?), a really nice town, where I happened to catch the Wichita State rowing team on a practice tour. Go Shockers!

So all in all, Tennessee has been the highlight of my 70-day xUS bike tour so far.

Last night I found myself in a tiny unincorporated town called Clarkrange, less than a thousand people. No hotels, no camping. But at the general store, the owner suggested I camp out at the community park, and even called the park ranger to get permission. Everyone in town was at the park until about sunset, so I waited till dark to set up my tent. Not a great sleep, but the morning was beautiful, and the ride out of Clarkrange was two hours of blissful country touring, complete with a massive chicken in someone’s front yard. Cause why not?

Nashville tomorrow, for some serious music. I’m hoping Tennessee continues its bounty, and that I can put all the trauma of that I-95 corridor far behind me.

Day 15, 45 miles, Fort Chiswell to Chilhowie, VA
Day 14, 60 miles, Elliston to Fort Chiswell, VA

You have a lot of time to think when you’re cycling all day. Today, Day 15 of my 70-day xUS bike trip, my thoughts wandered back to childhood as I pulled off a busy highway and found myself on a wonderfully quiet, verdant County Road 76 in southwest Virginia.

This road twisted and turned through backwoods warrens, moss-covered rocks and thick trees crowding into the lane, quaint rivers and forgotten bridges. And almost no cars. It allowed me to zone out.

I recalled in detail the first time I rode a bike. Everybody remembers that moment, right? (Tell your story in comments.) For mine, three of my older siblings picked me up and placed me on top of a bike that was way too big for me, so I couldn’t reach the ground with my feet. I was probably 4 at the time. They gave me a shove down the front yard incline and I was riding, out of control but riding. Across the street, over to the elementary school parking lot, and around the school to the other side, where I ran into Rocky Carter (infamous town bully) and his gang. They either pushed me down or I stopped and fell. Either way, I went down because I couldn’t touch the ground. Rocky and his hoods hassled me as I sat there on the ground, humiliated and out of sight of my sibs. That’s all I remember.

That incident didn’t dampen the thrill of riding, though. After that I begged my mom to buy the rusty little bike we spotted at the local bike-junk shop (this was small-town Iowa circa 1966.) I remember it was $17.50, and she bought it for me. I rode that little bike all over town, and I can still vividly recall the sense of freedom I had tooling along those streets, way out to the edge of town, and through downtown, all over.

That’s the feeling I had again today as I rode along that country road. Just freedom. No boundaries, no limits. These moments are what I seek in adventure, the reason for going. Such moments are the best part of this trip.
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Another cool part of this trip is meeting fellow cyclists, especially those crossing the US like me. Today I met Viktor. He’s from Belgium. He was intending to ride across central Asia, and flew to Turkey in October to begin his trip. He got as far as Tajikistan then ran into visa problems. So he flew to NYC and embarked on a xUS tour instead, NYC to LA. Then he plans to fly to South America and cycle down to Patagonia!

Viktor talked wistfully about cycling in Turkey, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and other countries of central Asia. He said how breathtaking the scenery is, and almost no cars! And he mentioned how friendly the people are, always inviting you in to stay in their homes and eat meals with them.

It’s already on my list for a future adventure.

52 miles, Natural Bridge, VA, to Elliston, VA

To me, balance is the key to contentment. My best days are always those with a good balance – of rest, social interaction, time with family, productive time, creativity, peace, adventure.

So far, most days on this 70-day xUS bike trip have not been balanced. Every day has been lopsided with either mostly riding or mostly work, either dozens of miles of heavy traffic or hours of empty roads (that I don’t mind).

Finally, today, Day 13, was a day of ideal balance.

I slept in for a change, till 7 a.m., then put in 2 hours of work. I headed out at 10 a.m. from Natural Bridge. Four miles down the road was Natural Bridge Park, featuring the requisite tourist ripoff gift shop with a door out back to walk down to the Natural Bridge. It’s a 215-foot high rock formation, 500 million years old, a remarkable work of nature, impossible to do justice in photos, but here you go, views from both sides.

From Natural Bridge I rode along Route 11 south through a cute little town called Troutville. Lots of good fishing spots, as you’d expect.

But the highlight of Troutville was that I came across my first fellow xUS cyclists! I passed them at first cruising through downtown Troutville, then circled back. We commiserated on the Virginia hills, the wind, carrying weight, food, and other distance cycling issues. You can follow their trip on Inta, @joyrideacrossamerica.

It was wonderful to share some of the challenges of distance riding with others going through the same things (e.g. sore behinds all around).

Today’s ride was also a good balance of hills, some flat (-ish) roads, some rural country lanes and heavy city traffic as I passed through Roanoke. Even the wind played along, little gusts here and there, but a decent balance of low breeze and direction change. Sometimes it even helped me out.

A day of balance: some morning work, a little tourism, a decent ride, and met some new friends.

That is a good day.

Day 12, 45 hard miles, Waynseboro to Natural Bridge, VA
Day 11, 75 hard miles, Culpeper to Waynesboro, VA
Day 10, work day, Culpeper, VA

Sometimes it seems like riding takes up my entire day. I wake up thinking about it, I go to sleep plotting the next day’s route, the details of riding comprise too much of my thought bandwith throughout the day.

It makes sense. This is a 70 day xUS bike tour, after all. It’s about riding bike, nearly every day. But actual time on the seat (and a lot of time standing lately with all the hills of Virginia) only consists of between five and eight hours a day. That leaves many empty hours, some for sleeping of course. But what about the rest of the day?

Some people have asked: what do I do when I’m not riding? Where do I sleep at night? And where do I eat? Etc. So I’ll fill you in on the details.

Here’s my reality:

That is, this is a working trip. The way I am able to bike across the country and be away from home for three months is by working on the road. I packed my laptop and a few essential materials, and find 20+ hours every week to maintain my virtual presence. That means this somewhat sad scene of a mobile working office in hotel rooms.

It hasn’t been easy finding the time, but mornings work best, so I’m typically up at 6 a.m. working for a few hours before setting off on the bike. It also means more hotels than I would prefer, for the wifi. The entire first week was hotels because my work schedule was so jammed (and because there aren’t many places to camp between Boston and Washington, D.C.

But lately I’ve been working in camping, alternating one night camping with one night hotel. Camping feeds the adventure way more than a hotel room.

As for what I eat: usually a high-protein meal at a restaurant for dinner. While riding, high-protein snacks and energy bars.

All this is likely to change as I work my way west. That is, more camping, less working, more camping meals, different riding hours. I’ll keep you posted.
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Up, Up, Up

For now, day 12 of my x-country tour, I’m in Virginia, working my way across the Shenandoah Valley. Virginia is 1) beautiful, 2) affluent, and 3) hilly! Emphasis on #3 from my perspective.

The hills make for tough riding, because at this point I’m mostly gaining elevation. That is, I’m climbing a lot more than I’m coasting. I knew there was a reason I was taking all those cold rides up into the hill towns around the Pioneer Valley in March and April. The upside of climbing is the views. This could be Western Massachusetts, I thought.

And here’s the well-earned view of the Shenandoah Valley below, from Rockfish Gap leading into Waynesboro, VA.

I wouldn’t mind flatter terrain, but I can’t complain. At least I’m out of the city traffic. And when I reach Arkansas and Texas and the terrain flattens out, I know I’ll miss the variation of these hills, (though I won’t miss the constant climbing.)

Day 9, 65 miles, Lorton to Culpeper, VA
Day 8, 60 miles, Columbia, MD, to Lorton, VA
Day 7, 45 miles, Aberdeen to Columbia, MD

First of all, allow me to apologize in advance to anyone from Baltimore, who has family and friends in Baltimore, or who has some special affinity for the city.

But Baltimore ranks dead last on my list of cities to bike through.

Major (and mid-major) cities I’ve cycled through on this trip and their bike friendliness
1. Philadelphia (takes care to put bike lanes through most major streets in town)
2. New York City (the roads suck but the bike culture is prevalent, and exciting!)
3. Wilmington, DE (small enough so that riding is easy; and an awesome bike path out the south side of town)
4. New Haven, CT (see #3; small city, nice bike path coming INto town)
5. Washington, DC (good bike culture here, too, and lots of bike lanes, but a little dicey getting into the city; bonus for a great bike path across the river in Alexandria, VA; and the Capitol area can’t be beat for biking through)
6. Newark, NJ (huge gap between #5 and #6 here; Newark was awful: bad, bumpy streets full of dangerous holes, and not bike friendly—literally bike-unfriendly)
7. Baltimore (I didn’t think a city could surpass Newark until I risked my life riding into Baltimore. No bike lanes, tons of traffic, asshole drivers—even a fire engine buzzing me. And it didn’t help that it was pouring rain and I slipped on crosswalk paint downtown and went down. Just a cherry on my knee (I’m fine, Mom) but had to realign handlebars.)

Baltimore (east Baltimore anyway) looks like a city that has given up.

Also, this isn’t Baltimore’s fault, but it was fitting. This is spring, and I knew I’d be riding through some rain, and strong winds at times. But hail? I didn’t see that coming. About halfway through the city I’m getting pelted with ice pellets, a full-blown hail storm! I started laughing, not a funny haha laugh, more like an FU laugh, like “bring it on, that’s all you got?” It seems a little crazy looking back.

Here’s a pic of me in the pouring rain, in front of the Guinness factory (I should’ve just gone in and downed some).

Ok, thanks for letting me get all that off my chest.

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Please Step Away from the Route 95 Corridor

Today, Day 9 of my 70-day xUS bike tour, was tough, but ultimately beautiful, and a relief.

I camped out last night in Lorton, VA, south of DC.

Departure this morning was later than I’d prefer, about 10 a.m. Headed northwest toward Manassas, happy to be going inland. I got on a busy Highway 28 with no shoulder and lots of wind, of course. And of course, the wind was easterly so blowing right in my face, clocking 15 mph. Often I’d get a gust that would drop me down two gears.

It’s been three days of the wind, today the worst. Sometimes I think I’m making peace with it. Then it rears up and smacks me down on the way up a tough hill, and the fighting starts all over again.

But. I was relieved, because for the first time on this trip, I escaped the I-95/Route 1 corridor. For eight days I crisscrossed I-95, precariously navigating those interstate entrances/exits, and often traveling right on shoulder-less Route 1.

Now, for the first time I was free of that crazy traffic.
Top 3 Cycling Enemies
1. Wind
2. Hills
3. Cars

Then. THEN, after a couple hours of fighting the heavy headwind and threading the needle of the tiny shoulder on this busy little rural highway, I was steered by my nav lady onto tiny little county roads.

And I stopped. And breathed. Finally, finally, there were no cars. I could hear birds, and insects, and my bike whirring. I could see open fields, and flowers, and smell nature instead of fuel exhaust. It was finally the endorphin shot I badly needed.

The wind continued to howl, but I didn’t mind nearly so much anymore. It was a hard day but not a bad one.

I’m finally heading west.

Day 6, 75 miles, Philadelphia to Aberdeen, MD
Day 5, 0 Workday

Let’s talk about the wind. I’m not a big fan, except when it’s at my back, keeping me cool on a hot day, helping generate energy, or wafting off the sea as I’m sipping a beachside cocktail.

Ok, so sometimes I’m a fan of wind. Today, Day 6 of my 70 day xUS bike tour, wasn’t one of those days. A stiff, gusty breeze blew in my face all day. It seemed to gust the most every time I climbed a hill, doing its best to slow me down and make me work harder.

I headed out of Philadelphia at 9 a.m., sun shining and cool temps. Perfect for a long day of riding, except for that wind. Caught a glimpse of Philly on the way out.

It was a welcome change to leave the city and head south on a rural highway through some small towns surrounded by refineries in every direction. And that wind. Always the wind.

When I was training for this trip people most frequently asked me, “Are you doing this alone?” My stock reply was, “Do you wanna come with me?” No takers. Like them, I wondered if I’d get lonely out here on the road. So far, the answer is not at all.

For one thing, the wind is always there, keeping me company whether I like it or not. It provides me with a foil to swear at, and screams back in my face when it’s pissed off. Sometimes we get along and I swell with appreciation for it’s cooling effect. Other times I just want it to leave me alone. In other words, like any relationship. And we’re stuck with each other. The wind is surely not going away, and I’m not planning to stop riding, so…here we are.

Oh, also I have this mysterious guy following me every morning, he keeps me company too.

Ok, but seriously, how could I be lonely when I have you, all my countless loyal readers (pause for laugh…crickets) keeping me company.

Following all those Pennsylvania refineries, today’s ride took me through downtown Wilmington, DE, a pleasant enough little city – AND Joe Biden’s hometown, that’s a plus.

I then took a series of short bike trails through some local parks, but they felt mostly perfunctory, like she (the navigation female voiceover; yes, I’m afraid I’m starting to think of her as a friend like Joaquin Phoenix in that Spike Jones movie Her) was just trying to make up for the major traffic highway she eventually dumped me on.

That would be Route 40 West, which zooms I-95 alternate traffic between Wilmington, DE, and Baltimore. Twenty-five miles up and down the never-ending hills, and across a massive bridge over the Susquehanna River into Maryland.

To Aberdeen, where I’m appreciating the company of the wind, my shadow, navigation voiceover lady, and all of you.

Tomorrow, Baltimore. Then Washington. The no more cities for a while, I hope.

Day 4, 58 miles, Middlesex, NJ, to Philadelphia

Here’s something I love about riding bike long distance: You see everything like you can’t in a car. You feel the place under your tires, every single bump, rise and depression. You hear the sounds, of bugs and birds and people, cars and machinery. You smell the smells, of wild vegetation, cooking meat and oil, people living together, must and rot, and of course, exhaust, lots of exhaust.

Your senses are filled with the space through which you’re rolling.

Today, Day 4 of my 70 day xUS bike tour, was filled with sensory contrasts. I rolled out of Middlesex, NJ, about 9 a.m. and traversed some beautiful rural roads (who knew? Jersey) for a couple hours before climbing up into Princeton. This is the consummate American privilege, blue blood town, similar to Cambridge, MA, Hanover, NH, and some other high brow college towns. Grand, spectacular houses and buildings, quaint coffee and sushi shops, manicured gardens and lawns. I stopped for a tea at Small World Coffee.

I rode out of Princeton and not half an hour later I’m rolling through the streets of Trenton, NJ. These two towns are such a study in contrast it’s jarring to nearly juxtapose them. One is glitz, the other is pure grit. Princeton dresses itself up for the grand ball while Trenton is getting all slutty for a back alley dirty dancing rave.

I came away from the experience without a preference for either, rather an appreciation for what each contrasting town offered. Princeton is nice, cushy. But Trenton is real, man.

My ride next led to another wonderful bike path, the Delaware and Raritan Canal towpath.

I’ve been getting lucky with some nice bike paths, I hope it continues once I’m out of the northeast. This one is gorgeous, with these exquisite trees (not sure what they are, they looked like lilacs) reflected in the water, long, peaceful backwoods stretches with no traffic, and lots of wildlife. I watched a spectacular crane flying along the canal. And a couple times, stopped to watch irresistible baby geese waddling behind their parents. (View a brief video on Insta.)

After nearly 20 miles of loving the Delaware and Raritan Canal towpath, I got dumped out onto Route 13 heading into Philadelphia. Culture shock. I was thankful for the huge shoulder to ride on because traffic was explosive and constant. Trucks, delivery vans, motorcycles, construction vehicles, all passing by at top speed. Lots of highway entrances/exits, always a moment for high alert and potential pissed off drivers as they wait for me to cross the entrance lane so they can hurry onto the highway.

The last 10 miles today was city riding. Philadelphia does a decent job of painting in a bike lane, for that I was thankful. But I swear I was hitting every red light and there are a lot of them. Most the time I could slow down and ride through but had to stop and wait many times. Frustrating. (Btw, for those of you who bristle when you see a cyclist riding through red lights, consider: it takes some good momentum to start up a bike – let alone one with 35 extra lbs. – from a complete stop. Stopping, unclipping your shoes from the pedal locks and waiting for the light to turn, then push starting, clipping shoes back in and ramping up to speed takes a lot of energy and time. I know running red lights breaks traffic rules and can be unsafe. But please hop on a bike and ride through a city to see what it’s like before heckling the next biker you seeing doing this. My PSA for the day.)

After 4 straight riding days averaging 68 miles/day, it’s time for a day’s rest in the City of Brotherly Love. By “rest,” I mean “work.”

Day 3, 65 miles, Mamaroneck, NY, to Middlesex, NJ
Day 2, 55 miles, Milford, CT, to Mamaroneck, NY

One of the reasons I started this blog, about adventure and adventurism, is that I believe every day is an adventure, and should be celebrated as such. Adventure, to me, is where life is lived. It’s experiencing the 2s and 3s, yes, but also the 8s and 9s. Sitting in front of my desk at home yields days full of 4s, 5s, 6s, sometimes 7s.

Today, Day 3 of my 70-day xUS bike trip, defined my philosophy. It was an adventure in every sense. The highs, the lows, the drudgery of challenge, the ecstasy of triumph.

Riding a bike into and through New York City is always an adventure. Doing it with 35 pounds of stuff attached to the bike only accentuates the thrill of the unknown.

Today’s ride began with four miles on Route 1 in Mamaroneck. It’s a quick wakeup call when Monday morning traffic is squeezing you off the road. One good thing about New York City riding is that the bike culture is prevalent and seems accepted. Bikes weave in and through traffic as needed, treating red lights as reason only to slow down and make sure traffic isn’t coming before riding through.

Riding the Grand Concourse in the Bronx was an adventure in itself. Construction, cars pulling in and out of the parking lane, weaving through backed up traffic at the never-ending stoplights, negotiating the sizable potholes and bumpy asphalt patches, constantly on the lookout for an SUV veering in front of you.

And yet…I love riding in NYC, just as I love driving there. It keeps you on your toes, on high alert. It’s exciting, non-stop, adrelanine-pumping adventure.

From the Bronx, navigation led me to the High Bridge, which I’d never taken. A gorgeous, old bridge, the oldest in New York, towering a couple hundred feet over the Harlem River with a view of the New York skyline in the distance (foggy on this day), and ushering me into Manhattan. From there, across Manhattan to the Hudson River Greenway.

I crossed the Hudson via ferry from Battery Pier over to Liberty Park, Jersey City, not a pretty town. Nor, for that matter, is Newark, though it did present me with some of the most intense and harrowing traffic so far, including some bridge crossings and a highway crossing that I at first thought was simply impossible (I took a breath and went for it, and lived. Enough said.).

At one point I hit a road rut so big that my 14-lb. pannier flew off my bike and landed, forlornly, in the shoulder. A group of construction workers leered as I retrieved it and refastened it to the bike.

It’s a circumstance I’m getting used to, being leered at. Bikes aren’t typically decked out with every available space being used to carry something. It’s cool. It reminds me of my travels in China in the early 1990s – being openly stared at.

Following Newark, my day of adventure mellowed into the calm, reasonable ultra-suburbs of Perth Amboy and towns south, with modest houses in peaceful neighborhoods, smooth, untrammeled streets, smells of barbecue and families tossing balls in the yard. I love the suburbs, for bike trips anyway.

But, then the rain started coming down. It was a fitting end to a harrowing, but ultimately electrifying, day.

On to Philly.

Day 1, 86 miles, Easthampton, MA, to Milford, CT

In almost every adventure I’ve embarked on, Day 1s have been awesome. Day 1s are full of hope, possibility, optimism and energy.

This Day 1 was no different.

I headed south out of Easthampton, on the Manhan Bike Path, at 7:30 a.m. A cold, gusty wind smacked me in the face most the morning, and my fully loaded panniers and bags act like a sail, catching every breeze.

But it didn’t matter. I was on my way to the unknown. I mean, not completely unknown because I do have a route and a plan. But I mean the unknown as in the day-to-day: who I might meet, what I might see, amazing and weird scenes I’ll happen across, and, inevitably, setbacks and triumphs.

A couple hours later I crossed into Connecticut, on the Farmington River Greenway bike path that starts in Westfield and goes all the way to Farmington. The sun was out (wind still blowing hard!) and I was making good time. By noon I crossed the Farmington River and it was turning into a gorgeous afternoon.

For this route, you get off the Farmington River bike path and ride on roads through Southington, CT, which is a nice town but has an eyesore stretch of road with every fast food and big box chain you can think of, and a lot of traffic. The payoff to surviving that turnoff is the New Haven-Northampton Railroad Canal Line, an awesome bike path that runs from Southington to Yale U. in New Haven. I definitely recommend this bike path– very smooth, lots of good restaurants right alongside, wonderful atmosphere.

I left the trail and headed through downtown New Haven, then out to West Haven for a great stop at the beach and a freezing plunge into Long Island Sound. The idea here is a Day 1 plunge in Long Island Sound, then a much more pleasant plunge into Long Beach to finish. Get it? Long Island, Long Beach? (It’s the little things.)

So after about a year of planning and a few months of cold rides on nearly every road in the Valley and beyond, this Day 1 was a welcome end of the preamble and a beginning of the actual journey.

One thing I’ve learned though: you can’t depend on Day 1s. They’ll trick you into believing the entire adventure will be like the start, and that you’ll always have the energy for it that you do today. We adventurers well know that is not the case. There will be slogs in the future, of that I’m certain.

So I’m saving this Day 1, and hoping to extend the feeling as long as possible.