Day 01: Salem, MA to Chelmsford, MA

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Outside my tent, the soothing sounds of the ocean waves were punctuated by periodic episodes of one of the most horrible sounds I’ve ever heard.  Apparently the man at the camp site next to me had asthma, emphysema and black lung all at the same time, and he decided to spend his last night on earth camping at Winter Island around people who would most likely live to see another day.

Despite this, I awoke refreshed and ready for the unofficial first day of my journey.  (Soo said it didn’t count as part of the trip since all I was doing was riding back home.  Once again, I am quite sure I'm legally within my rights to declare this Day 1!)  Once I ate my reconstituted, freeze-dried eggs and sausage breakfast and packed up my bags, I lugged my bike down to the water to perform the silly ritual of dipping my rear tire in the Atlantic so that I can dip my front tire in the Pacific.  Not sure what this buys me besides a salty wheel rim, but who am I to buck tradition?

Now, about my GPS.  A wonder of modern science and an indispensable tool for my trip, no doubt, but I have learned (as Monk would say) that it can be a blessing and a curse.  First, it can’t be entirely trusted to automatically plot a logical course from point A to point B on its own.  I was happy to discover that I could plot my own route manually on the GarminConnect web site and download it to the GPS unit.  Woohoo!  I had laid in my path from Chelmsford to Salem, now all I had to do was tell the thing to reverse the course.  Unfortunately, no can do.

I ended up letting the GPS choose a route home for me, and when I checked the turn list I saw that it was taking me on some bike paths.  This made me happy because I hadn’t included any on my ride out and was rather keen to make use of as many paved, flat, vehicle-free trails as I could.  Off I went with a cheery smile and a song in my heart.  Sadly, the song soon died (probably much like my neighbor in the next tent over, who obviously hacked up a vital organ at some point and didn’t survive the night).

Shortly before noon, I valiantly fought my way up what can only be described as a suburban mountain of epic proportions (who knew Everest had a rival right here in Massachusetts?).  What sustained me on this climb was the evil GPS telling me my next move was to “turn left on trail.”  As I struggled, I began to wonder what sadistic bastard put a bike trail at the top of a death climb like this one.  I passed several Bike Route signs, and an older gentleman pushing his bicycle up the 45-degree grade.  That damned trail had to be close!

Moments before succumbing to cardiac arrest, the GPS twiddled merrily.  This normally meant a turn was imminent.  The turn it was advocating was a U-turn.  Huh?  How the heck did I miss the entrance to the trail?  I turned and glided downhill keeping a sharp eye out.  Another twiddle came with the advice that I make another U-turn and go back up toward where I just was.  This is when I knew the GPS had screwed me.  I crept up until I was o (zero!) feet from the turn for the trail.  Nothing but dense forest and rock walls on either side of the road.  But wait, there was a hand-carved sign nailed to a tree.

It was some sort of cryptic group`s nature preserve.  I crossed the rock wall and was able to discern a narrow footpath wending through the ferns into the thick foliage.  It was barely suitable to walk on.  Even a mountain biker couldn’t have used it.  All that climbing for nothing!  Arrrrg!

I had to use my brandy new smart phone to help me navigate home.  Although it was 33 miles to get to Salem, it was 37 miles to get back.  Space/time wormhole?  Perhaps.

What I Learned: Always second guess the GPS.

Distance Today: 37
Total Distance: 37