49 miles
Southern New Hampshire - Manchester to Rindge
What do you bring someone you haven't met yet, who has offered to feed you dinner and put you up for the night, and you're traveling by bicycle, you don't pass any liquor stores, and it's after 5 o'clock so all the bakeries are closed?
When we came to an Agway, I pulled into the parking lot and said to Rob, "We could pick up a small plant for a gift."
We leaned our bikes against a pile of plastic bags filled with compost, and as we were walking over to look at the display of plants outside, I heard a man's voice. "Hi, Connie."
I turned around and saw a sturdy gray-haired man, slightly older than us, sitting in a tan sedan with the window down. He introduced himself as John Whiting, who was expecting us for dinner and to spend the night. He said, "You've got a couple long hills ahead of you. If you want you can throw your gear into my car."
That would be a treat. We tossed our panniers into his trunk, while John said, "I did this once for a couple from Germany. As I was driving away, I said, 'Thanks for the cool gear,' and the fellow realized he had just left their passports and everything else they had with a total stranger." He chuckled.
I took a quick look at John's license plate, trying to memorize it while he gave us directions to his house. As he drove away he shouted, "Thanks for all the cool gear!" And for the next seven miles I went back and forth in my head, convincing myself that this guy wouldn't really be taking off with our stuff. We had his address after all, and he was a registered host with warmshowers.org.
A couple weeks before we began this trip, bicycling friend Mike Herlihy emailed me a link to a blog by a couple doing a long-distance tour. I don't think Mike realized what a huge gift he was giving us when he sent me that link. I didn't have time to read the post, only skimmed it. And I saw a reference to "warm showers hosts" that piqued my curiosity. Searching the internet I found warmshowers.org, a site that provides a way to connect bicycle tourists with people willing to host them for the night, for free. I decided to give it a try.
I sent a request to John Whiting in Rindge for our second night on the road and received a positive reply: "Always looking for new victims..."
After John left us it started to rain. I was riding with a sleeveless jersey and I thought, "Great. My rain gear is in my panniers, in John's car." But it wasn't cold and not raining much. Yet.
At the top of the hill, at the turnoff to the town of Rindge, I heard thunder and saw flashes of lightening. I turned back to look for Rob.
He caught up and said, "I'm good." I said, "You have to look at the sky."
Deep gray storm clouds above and ahead, but behind Rob were patches of blue sky with the sun's rays streaming through enormous white clouds. We didn't know it then, but this trip would become memorable for countless views of dramatic skies.
Then the rain started in earnest.
Through pouring rain, crashing thunder and bursts of lightening we soared downhill into the tiny community of Rindge. I half expected John to come looking for us again. And he did, this time with a vehicle large enough to hold our bikes. But we were just about to his house. We pulled into the garage where he had draped two large towels for us over the sedan.
As we were drying off and getting our panniers out of his car, John called out, "You want Ramen noodles for dinner? Or you can have what I'm having."
For the rest of that evening and the following morning we were treated to John Whiting's unlimited supply of kindness, humor, and stories.
John's house is filled with the accoutrements of his many interests. He has six fishing poles stored under the ceiling of his hallway. Several large kites decorate the walls and a telescope sits in the living room. While we unpacked and showered, we heard music that I assumed came from a CD, but when I went into the living room, John was sitting there playing electric guitar.
In 2014 he bicycled, alone, the full length of the 400-mile Erie Canal trail. That's when he met a cyclist who told him about Warm Showers. He says, "I get lonely so I host cyclists."
John keeps two bicycles in his garage. He calls the second bicycle his "friend's bike." These days it's his sweetheart, Lynne, who rides the friend's bike and, when she can, helps him host cyclists. Slender and tall, Lynne matches John in height and complements his energetic humor with a calm demeanor.
The two created a picture of support and love as they worked together to serve us as much steak, corn-on-the-cob, and salad as two hungry cyclists could eat.
After dinner John shared stories of his mischievousness. Late one night he was out walking in the town cemetery; after one lap around, he decided to run a second. Tired, he lay down in the grass, looking up at the stars. When a couple of young men came along he began moaning, "Help, help me..." The two men high-tailed it out of there and John began walking home. When a police car drove by and stopped. John said, "I think you may be looking for me."
At a town dinner the chief of police sat next to John and said, "I've been hearing stories about you." John said, "They're all true."
John served in the military during the Vietnam War. He said that for a number of years he lived alone in a cabin in the woods. Some days he would get up and sit with a cup of coffee and, without knowing it, the day would pass by.
He began living in Rindge when his parents passed away and he inherited their modest ranch house. He realized that he needed a way to include more people in his life so one day he walked into the Rindge police station and said, "You're my family."
And he meant it. The morning of our stay Jeff, a local police officer, joined us for coffee and tea on the deck outside before breakfast. Jeff was interested to hear about our bike trip, hoping to do one someday, but I expect he'll be busy enough for a while with the baby he was expecting that week.
John introduced us to Cumona, a little Hawaiian dancing figure set a shelf above the deck railing. No taller than a finger, she's set into motion by sunlight. John said, "I bought her because movement soothes me. Her full name is Cumona Wanna Laya."
Then John and Lynne made us breakfast - scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and juice. We ate outside on the deck. John said, "I have some bananas and hard-boiled eggs for you to take with you."
As we were leaving, John suggested we stop by the police station on our way through town and tell the chief that he should keep an eye on the crazy guy we over on Goddard St. We did, and the chief's first words were, "What's he been up to this time?"
After John left us it started to rain. I was riding with a sleeveless jersey and I thought, "Great. My rain gear is in my panniers, in John's car." But it wasn't cold and not raining much. Yet.
At the top of the hill, at the turnoff to the town of Rindge, I heard thunder and saw flashes of lightening. I turned back to look for Rob.
He caught up and said, "I'm good." I said, "You have to look at the sky."
Deep gray storm clouds above and ahead, but behind Rob were patches of blue sky with the sun's rays streaming through enormous white clouds. We didn't know it then, but this trip would become memorable for countless views of dramatic skies.
Then the rain started in earnest.
Through pouring rain, crashing thunder and bursts of lightening we soared downhill into the tiny community of Rindge. I half expected John to come looking for us again. And he did, this time with a vehicle large enough to hold our bikes. But we were just about to his house. We pulled into the garage where he had draped two large towels for us over the sedan.
As we were drying off and getting our panniers out of his car, John called out, "You want Ramen noodles for dinner? Or you can have what I'm having."
For the rest of that evening and the following morning we were treated to John Whiting's unlimited supply of kindness, humor, and stories.
John's house is filled with the accoutrements of his many interests. He has six fishing poles stored under the ceiling of his hallway. Several large kites decorate the walls and a telescope sits in the living room. While we unpacked and showered, we heard music that I assumed came from a CD, but when I went into the living room, John was sitting there playing electric guitar.
In 2014 he bicycled, alone, the full length of the 400-mile Erie Canal trail. That's when he met a cyclist who told him about Warm Showers. He says, "I get lonely so I host cyclists."
John keeps two bicycles in his garage. He calls the second bicycle his "friend's bike." These days it's his sweetheart, Lynne, who rides the friend's bike and, when she can, helps him host cyclists. Slender and tall, Lynne matches John in height and complements his energetic humor with a calm demeanor.
The two created a picture of support and love as they worked together to serve us as much steak, corn-on-the-cob, and salad as two hungry cyclists could eat.
After dinner John shared stories of his mischievousness. Late one night he was out walking in the town cemetery; after one lap around, he decided to run a second. Tired, he lay down in the grass, looking up at the stars. When a couple of young men came along he began moaning, "Help, help me..." The two men high-tailed it out of there and John began walking home. When a police car drove by and stopped. John said, "I think you may be looking for me."
At a town dinner the chief of police sat next to John and said, "I've been hearing stories about you." John said, "They're all true."
John served in the military during the Vietnam War. He said that for a number of years he lived alone in a cabin in the woods. Some days he would get up and sit with a cup of coffee and, without knowing it, the day would pass by.
He began living in Rindge when his parents passed away and he inherited their modest ranch house. He realized that he needed a way to include more people in his life so one day he walked into the Rindge police station and said, "You're my family."
And he meant it. The morning of our stay Jeff, a local police officer, joined us for coffee and tea on the deck outside before breakfast. Jeff was interested to hear about our bike trip, hoping to do one someday, but I expect he'll be busy enough for a while with the baby he was expecting that week.
John introduced us to Cumona, a little Hawaiian dancing figure set a shelf above the deck railing. No taller than a finger, she's set into motion by sunlight. John said, "I bought her because movement soothes me. Her full name is Cumona Wanna Laya."
Then John and Lynne made us breakfast - scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and juice. We ate outside on the deck. John said, "I have some bananas and hard-boiled eggs for you to take with you."
As we were leaving, John suggested we stop by the police station on our way through town and tell the chief that he should keep an eye on the crazy guy we over on Goddard St. We did, and the chief's first words were, "What's he been up to this time?"
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| Out of Manchester to Goffstown on Routes 114 and 114A we encountered traffic and blah scenery. Then we bypassed the highway to New Boston, taking Bog Rd. which was quiet, running along a creek for a while; some hills but nothing unmanageable. Route 136 to Francestown, Greenfield, and almost to Peterborough was delightful. As was the rest of the way to Rindge, riding without our packs. |
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| As you can see, we did some climbing, but the net gain over 12 miles was only about 500 feet. Overall, the riding was not particularly difficult, although we were still getting used to riding with loaded bikes. We were not breaking any land-speed records, averaging under 10 mph. |
So did you ever get John a present?
ReplyDelete"heh heh heh ... Yes, she did. Hi Nancy, this is John reporting the receipt of a nice cycling book "Best Bike Rides - New England" a week or so following Rob and Connie's departure from Rindge. Hosting these folks was a joy for both Lynne and me."
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