A lot of incredible things have happened in the past twenty-four hours. One of these incredible things is the breeze chilling my wet hair as I sit in bed and type this right now. Pajamas are luxurious -- now, forever and always, but especially now.
I just got back from short trip up the coastline to Rockport, Massachusetts. One of my friends in the urban design program, Brian, and I decided to pedal up there and pass a Saturday exploring the place. It's about 50 miles north of Boston.
Oh and real quick before I move on, gonna lay down a couple disclaimers:
1. Some parts of this story have been omitted or slightly altered for internet sharing purposes. The wholly true version unfolds under definitely funnier and overall more epic circumstances, and I'd be happy to share the real deal with you in person. Just bring it up. Keyword: legalities.
2. Brian and I are simply friends -- nothing romantic going on whatsoever. I feel the need to clarify this ahead of time because a lot of the things we did on this trip are just so cool and beautiful (in the sense that the existence of life itself is purely beautiful) that they may otherwise be misconstrued as "romantic," or whatever. And I feel that whenever a story involving a man and a woman is shared, there's an unfounded impression that there is ~something more~ and silly stuff like that. No -- it's simply two people sharing experiences that both deem fun and enjoyable (this is just the tip of a glacial rant that I would also love to continue in person. Just bring it up. Keyword: bologna.)
Great. Onward. We decided to go to Rockport because, like, look at a map. It just looks like a place of promising goodness. And it's not so far away. Perfect escape for a day; pedal there, picnic, pedal back.
Brian is from San Francisco, so he's well acclimated to the hill business. I'm, you know, from Florida. So, no.
The ride overall was pretty smooth though. Only two hills that really really took it out of me. I did, however, buy some cycling shoes Friday (Serfas Astro MTB shoe), and they definitely helped on this ride. I think they're essential for any long distance trips with climbs, especially if you're hauling all your own stuff. It's nice to feel more in sync with your bike and have your momentum be reciprocated. Incredibly helpful with incline.
The guy at the bike shop helping me choose a shoe, fit it correctly, etc. told me everyone starting off with these shoes falls at an intersection at some point in the learning phase. He recommended I practice riding with them in an empty parking lot beforehand. I rode up and down the street next to my apartment (1x each way), like, 15 minutes prior to starting the trip. Meh, felt stable and fluid and stuff. I'm fiiine.
On the way to Rockport, we stopped at a little market tempting us with "fresh local strawberries" doodled onto a chalkboard sign. We were building our picnic along the way; Brian had grabbed a bottle of sherry and some marcona almonds on the way out of Cambridge. A lady at the market recommended we stop at black and white beach and gave us rough directions how to get there. A pleasant detour indeed. You could just barely spot Boston, markedly The Prudential, on the horizon.
brian, america and the sea // gloucester, mass.
Last stop on the picnic collection front was a great wine + cheese shop in Gloucester, Savour Wine and Cheese. We tasted some wines, picked up a bottle, some cheese and other snacks, and forged northward with our eyes set on Halibut Point State Park. Brian's backpack was ridiculously heavy at this point: two liters of water, fruit, olives, a bottle of sherry, a bottle of wine, and the 5 lb. bag of ice because he insisted wine be served at the right temperature. My little daypack's drawstring top was busting with a box of arugula and a baguette. And in the distance between point of baguette acquisition and point of picnic, the baguette was poking out so far that I had to curve my head around it and cramp up my neck. As we were nearing Halibut Point State Park and the climbs were getting a little more trying, I thought, "wow I have actually sustained physical injury via baguette."
Approaching the park, we see a big yellow sign: PARK FULL. They must mean the parking lot, nah for sure. Nope, the park was closed and not reopening for another two hours because they were at capacity because everyone and their mother (and cousin and dog and aunt) decided, yo it's a fucking gorgeous day outside let's go do some beautiful things. And I mean, good, that's what you should think on days like this but GAW DAMN WE JUST BIKED FROM CAMBRIDGE TO SIT IN THIS FREAKING PARK. This did not seem to register with the park ranger. She had no heart. She told us about the impossibility of fitting in a full parking lot. We met her with a glance downward to our bikes and further felt the need to state the obvious. To which she told us any more people in the park would take away from the mothers, cousins, dogs, and aunts' enjoyment of the park and its natural resources. I gave her the we-are-two-environmentalists-who-just-biked-from-cambridge-to-enjoy-your-damn-nature eyes. Nope. Onward up the hill.
And, you know, I'm really thankful for that woman, the park's capacity, and her doggedness. Instead of sitting among however many dozens of people and trying to sneak sips of our wine + sherry, we got this:
rockport, mass.
We posted up on those rocks and enjoyed our epicnic. The sherry was perfect with the sea breeze; the wine was one of the best reds I've had (from Valle d'Aosta region -- if you ever see anything from here, grab it). The baguette was worth the cramp.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew we had to eventually get back to Cambridge, but I was so entirely in the present moment, that I didn't really care how that all would unfold. I haven't been 100% in the present in a while. It felt good. I wasn't reminiscing; I wasn't worried or preoccupied or planning or anticipating. It was incredible. I was visually consuming everything. (And literally consuming everything. We were starving.)
After fighting food coma with some rock climbing and more exploring, we had to finally come to terms with the whole 6:00 pm thing. And the whole 4-hour-ride-back thing. We're clearly not going to bike back in the dark (even though complete darkness doesn't set in until ~9pm here). I was considering biking to the T commuter train in the nearest town it linked up with and taking that back in, but who knows how late that runs on the weekend. My back up plan was to check it out anyway. Brian said we should just get a hotel here. My response was a big NO WAY. I absolutely cannot afford a hotel in Rockport, Massachusetts. A peak season weekend in a beautiful, wealthy tourist town? Big giant incredibly massive no. He insisted on getting one anyway and he'd take care of it. Okay, fine. I guess I wouldn't mind staying for sunset and sleeping a bit before the ride back. Neither of us had cell signal out on the point, so Brian biked back into downtown Rockport to find a room. I just chilled on the rocks, sketched some, breathed some, and eventually fell asleep here:
I felt kinda bad he was hauling himself all the way back into town and I was just straight chilling here. Eeep. He came back about an hour and half later and woke me up with a bottle of wine and a lobster roll in hand.
He told me his ridiculous story of one innkeeper calling all her local innkeeper friends begging for a room before finally finding one vacancy: the family suite at Linden Tree Inn.
How absurd. This is so absurd what are we even doing. These were my thoughts.
And in his shelter search, Brian was also searching for wine. But Rockport is dry. No wine, no beer, no whiskey, no nothing. I'm sorry, but WHAT YEAR IS IT. The bed + breakfast owner offered him a bottle of wine out of sympathy, and though he offered to pay, the owner could only gift it to him since selling alcohol in Rockport is illegal. Restaurants were permitted to serve alcohol only nine years ago. The pity pinot noir ended up being surprisingly good.
So, that's how the sun went down: lobster roll, wine and an appx. 180° view of the Atlantic. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen and I think I probably incinerated my eyeballs watching it. S'all good.
I hadn't watched a whole sunset in a while (vs. stopping for a moment to admire a glance of sunset). I forgot it did that little thing right on the horizon -- that sinking thing. It takes its time getting there, but once it's right on the brim of the horizon, it drops straight down.
Once the sky fell completely dark, we left the point and headed downtown. I was so excited for the night's sleep; I wanted to take all four suite beds, line em up, roll around and pass out starfish style.
Brian wanted chocolate cake though. So began The Search.
After dropping our bikes and etcetera in the room, we meander down the main drag of Rockport. I'd hardly call it that though. Everything in that town closes at, like, 8pm. The town was dead minus the show that had just let out at the Shalin Liu Performance Center. We go inside to find someone who can help us find alcohol and cake. That's all we wanted.
The hosts working the reception desk kept apologizing for their town, saying they were embarrassed and that they, too, are [mildly] frustrated by its sobriety. They all pointed us to Gloucester -- to the only restaurant that was still open -- and followed their recommendation with a reassuring "it's only ten minutes away!" By car, sure. We were not tryna get on our bikes though. As the Shanghai Quartet met with some of the audience and signed some CDs, we left the hall and posted up outside. After a while, Brian just chucked his thumb out to the street because he still wanted cake and, shoot, why not. A car pulls up, bicycle on roof rack, and we figure out we're headed the same way. We get in the car, and the dude's name is Nick. He's the cellist in the Shanghai Quartet, and also a cyclist. Unfortunately, he recently stepped on a rock in his backyard and his foot hurts too much to ride. He still tries from time to time.
He loves being a cellist, but says the travel is exhausting, and hard on the family. Just the other week he was in Beijing and Australia, one right after the other. Hong Kong, New York, Shanghai for a while. He says he doesn't get to experience places much outside of airports, hotel, concert halls, dinner afterward.
Thanks for the ride and perspective, Nick.
The chocolate souffle and vanilla ice cream were an appropriately indulgent close to the day.
linden tree inn // rockport, mass.
The ride back was quick and rewarding. I'm really glad we didn't end up settling for the commuter train back into town. Would've felt way wrong. We made a couple stops along the way for coconut water and I was thrilled to have spent another of these beautiful and perfectly crisp day entirely outside.
Figure 1. Pedal-provoked vertical to horizontal transition.
Oh but also I fell over at an intersection. On the final leg of the trip, too, dang it! I had adjusted to the shoes pretty well otherwise. My left foot was getting all pinched up, so I pulled over to loosen the tension on the bottom of the shoe. A couple intersections after the adjustment, I went to go flick my heel out of the pedal clips but it got stuck. And in the picoseconds between me realizing this and me losing balance, I just thought of what the bike shop guy told me: everyone falls at an intersection once. Okay, here it is. This is it. And I flopped over (see Figure 1).
I'll wrap it up here with a couple notes to self and other cyclists, and other people in general:
- Stay hydrated. Very well.
- Stay hydrated. Very well. All the time.
