Chapter 3: Southern New Hampshire

Day 2: Sunday, June 25, 2017

49 miles

Southern New Hampshire - Manchester to Rindge

Out of Manchester we encountered traffic and blah scenery. But soon we bypassed the highway, taking a quiet back road that ran along a creek for a while. This was a day to see the best that southern New Hampshire has to offer - small towns with picturesque gazebos, antique churches, and wonderfully landscaped town greens for eating lunch and relaxing in the shade. We passed over countless rivers and creeks, and passed by small lakes, farms, tree-covered hillsides, and centuries-old cemeteries, countryside where you have to hunt for miles if you want a fast-food restaurant or big-box store.

New Boston

Many town greens, like New Boston's, also have a war memorial. Note the church in the background. Every town has a church. In fact, some New England towns are so small the only way to know you have arrived is when you see the church.

That's my bicycle in the foreground of the picture above. Every year we've been adding more panniers. By now we both have front and rear panniers. Not so much to carry more gear, but for more flexibility, like when we stop to pick up dinner and want to buy that rotisserie chicken, a favorite of ours. After a day of riding we easily consume one in its entirety. We're very compatible on this. Rob only eats white meat and I only like the dark.

In an attempt to accommodate Rob's pulmonary hypertension, I'm carrying 45 pounds while Rob is carrying 32. More or less. That helps, but even with his medication, Rob still struggles on the hills. His doctor says that's just the way it's going to be, so we'd better get used to it. If you ride just about anywhere you can't avoid hills, especially in New England.

I can often find a pleasant grassy & shady spot with a pleasant view to wait for my bicycling companion. But I dare not take my eyes off the road.

Rather than stop and wait at the top of every hill, we're trying a new strategy on this trip. I've gotten a rear-view mirror so I don't have to keep turning around to look behind to see how Rob is doing. When he falls so far behind that I can't see him, I'll continue riding at a pace that is comfortable for me and after several miles I'll look for a comfortable shady spot alongside the road and wait for him. 

I have to be careful though. On one of our training rides I found a shady spot on someone's lawn right next to the road, laid down and closed my eyes. After a while I sat up and looked at my watch. He should have arrived by now. I stopped a car, asked the woman driving, "Have you seen a bicyclist wearing a red shirt?" 

"I don't think so." 

"If you see him up ahead, would you tell him to come back?"

After the driver of a second car hadn't seen him either, I decided to keep heading in the direction of home and, soon enough, I saw him up ahead riding toward me. 

Even though I was stretched out not even ten feet from the road, Rob had been looking at the farm on the other side. And the farmer was running some equipment so I didn't hear Rob as he rode by. 

These signs are quite common around New Hampshire this time of year. Sadly, more common than the signs were piles of smashed turtle shells in the road. I did pass one turtle valiantly attempting to survive a crossing. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't stop to help him, as the thought only came to me when I was long past. (And maybe also because the last time I stopped to help a turtle I took the turn too sharply and fell off my bike.) I hope he made it. 

Thanks to our late start and usual dilly-dallying, relaxing on pretty New England town greens, we didn't arrive in Peterborough until after five o'clock, with another ten miles yet to go. I tried calling John Whiting, our Warm Showers host who was expecting us for dinner, but - wouldn't you know it? - I had no cell phone coverage. Nothing for it but to just show up when we got there and offer our apologies.

As it turned out, no apologies were needed.