Litchfield loop

Today was supposed to be 41 degrees and partly sunny. But it was dismal and overcast as I did my morning ritual at the 7-eleven. I met a truck driver who crashed his truck because a pebble hit his windshield, shattering it. He came hobbling up with a walker. Makes you think a little.

He has what could possibly be a Schwinn Paramount in mint condition, he bought it in 1967 for 185.00. This sounds about right. That was a lot of money back then.

He said the bike has always been stored in a heated room, and he's kept everything lubricated. A kid at the bike shop offered him 500.00, so It's probably not a Varsity. I love stories like this. He had a little lap dog that was friendly enough, but growled when I tried to scratch his head. So I said "oh I'm sorry", and he looked at me like: "ok we cool". Probably arthritis.

So today I rounded Litchfield, as I promised to solo it to see if it was any good for a group ride.

I will start this off with some New England prose, and emphatically state that the weather conditions could only be conservatively described as excuciatingly tortorous. Ok I'm back now.

I got pounded by a vicious headwind through Farmington, but once I hit route 4, I was buffered a bit by the hills. Traffic was consistent here, but there was adequate shoulder into Litchfield.

Sometimes I get songs in my head. I play guitar for fun, and sometimes little riffs go through my head endlessly. Today it was "Warning Sign" By the Talking heads. I can't post links here anymore for some reason, but I urge you to go on You Tube and seach that title, the 1978 one from Berkley.

So I sang "Move my head, hear my voice, I've got money now, come on baby!" To stave off the tortorous wind gusts. I loved David Byrne, still do. He made some cool bike racks in NYC.

The really strange thing is when you repeat the verses over and over, and then bordeline hypothermia sets in, numbing your brain, you start to actually beleive that you in fact ARE David Byrne. This would not sit well with any riding group, which is why you do rides like this solo in the first place. Please let me slide, hey it's February. Thanks.

I saw the "Bear house" in Harwinton, where I almost hit a bear cub sprinting across the road last june as the family went in the yard to raid the bird feeder. I was on a heavily loaded touring bike, and the cub shot right across my wheel. The sow would have been quite pissed. She was huge, and when I stopped to gawk, she stood up on her hind legs and looked pretty formidable. It's a brown house on the left on a windy bend. Look for nylon flags hanging out front.

Slow down!!!

I think I handled the climbs very well, despite the headwind. There is one incredibly long one, a couple miles before Litchfield, the type of hill that makes you just hang back and get into a slow plodding rhythm, concentrating on not rocking, keeping it straight, all that stuff you were taught.

My favorite hill is right before the town of Litchfield. It's pretty steep, but short, It's gotta be at least 11 percent. On a loaded touring bike its just a total annoyance, because you are looking foward to hitting the pizza joint. But today I stopped for just a few minutes to change my socks on the steps of the Unitarian church, as it was a good wind break, and sufficiently isolated from onlookers, I wasn't in the mood to explain what I was doing, even though that was pretty obvious.

Going north on route 63, I was blown away by the 18th century mansions. Litchfield CT is the second richest town in the US. I think Bozeman Montana is number one, if I recall. I saw the Harriet Beecher Stowe house also. I kept going WOW!!! Every fifty yards. Down the road a ways, I saw a very cool homestead that had all the stone wall structures still intact around it. I wish I had my camera. Somtimes you come across these formations deep in the woods. It was so cool to see one still working.

I got hammered by more headwinds into Goshen, and started thinking "Damn, if I dont get a tailwind coming back east, I'm gonna be pissed." I started fading, but it was all in my mind, I entertained my brain with more observations of 18th century homesteads.

I got my wish.

OMG I started flying. The best part of the whole trip was when I flew past an empty schoolbus at the curb on the right. I waved to the raven haired Puerto Rican driver. She smiled and shook her head and smiled like; "look at this crazy-ass white boy" . I then took the lane and went down a beautiful, long winding descent, with perfect pavement. Maybe 4 miles?

I looked back in my mirror, she was behind me, and had her warning blinkers on, running blockage for me, 200 yards back. This was so awesome. Was this my "warning sign?"

What an angel! I came into some sort of pseudo- town, went into the shoulder, and blew her a kiss. She tooted the horn and sped off.

Torrington, I'm sure, is a great place to live, but route 202 east was not like butter. No shoulder, and it was close to rush hour. The climb out of Torrington demands intense concentration, awareness, and simply stopping to let the "hornets nests" purge out. For about 20 minutes I was not "happy-Rob", especially near the Wal-Mart plaza, which for some reason made me depressed and slightly paranoid.

Eventually 202 becomes relatively tolerable, and I was hauling major ass with the strong tailwind. I was also warm and comfortable because of it. I got into my big ring ok and went about as fast as this bike could possibly go, for about 6 miles.

I missed a turn somewhere in Collinsville, so elected to just fly down route 4 again. I improvised a detour to route 10, then up and over Talcott Mountain via Talcott Notch Road. I like this climb, it's usually "the quiet way" to get over this beast. Lots of nice scenery and homes.

Stats:
66.7 miles,
17, 432 feet climbed
45, 204 calories burned
Average wattage , like 250 at least
Average speed: about as fast as ya wanna go without going fucking comatose.
One most excellent chicken parm sub consumed like real quick, Franks Pizza in Torrington rules!
one Point 3 Power bars consumed,
found a full roll of electrical tape. This made my whole freaking day.
Thank you Gina and Sue for letting me take a frozen leak in your hoidy-toidy hair salon bathroom and for the water fill. Total cuties. Funny too!
I could write a song about bus-driver lady. OMG.

Thank you to the SUV community for being predictable and almost mellow, there were no psycho-swerve passes on the right at 50 mph, for ex.

And finally, thank you to "Squeaky" my Raliegh. While I have many bikes, you will always be my little bee-yotch! I can't beleive I found you in a dumpster. When I ride you I fear nothing. Other bikes are faster, but if they fail and crash, what good is that? Someday we will tour Nottingham, promise. You are my little monster, and you will never die.

Peace out

Rob