Day 116 Exeter to Rockport 85km THE LAST DAY!

The last day dawned cold and raining, and we waited a good hour in the tent for the heaviest rain to pass before packing up our gear. The morning routine of rerolling sleeping mats, stuffing sleeping bags, applying damp cycling gear to ourselves and taking down the tent has been the least enjoyed part of our daily routine. And we smile at each other with the knowledge that this will be the last time, who cares if the tent is dripping! Before we even leave the campground we meet a family on a cycling trip, they are riding the nervousness and excitement of the first day with skill, I am so impressed, imagine doing this with kids! The rain and sky has lightened and as we climb up and down all the little hills between us and our destination we excitedly point out to each other whenever we spot a patch of blue sky. Just before we exit the tax free haven of New Hampshire we stop at a specialty cigar store to purchase a couple of celebratory cigars. The Sri Lankan man who runs the store may not have the most perfect speaking English but he makes his excitement for us perfectly clear when he shakes both of our hands twice. Thus armed with a tax free cigars we cross the border into our 14th and final state, Massachusetts.


The weather does not seem to share our anticipation and the skies turn grey with fast moving, thankfully in our direction, clouds and the rain starts again. Our google mapping of the route is working well, and right in time for lunch we find ourselves outside of a pancake house in Rowley. Where the potato pancakes served with sour cream and stewed apples prove to be the perfect antidote to the cold, and we indulge in more homefries and the bottomless coffee cups that are so pervasive and persuasive. We peddle on from here with mounting levels of nervous energy, and make a final stop in Gloucester, just 5 miles from our finish line as we need to both shelter from the worsening weather and find a large pumpkin. Some directions from an, obvious non cyclist, takes us to the pumpkins up a big hill on a road that is supposed to be forbidden to bicycles, probably because it is bloody unsafe. But armed with our pumpkin we are able to execute a farewell salute to this trip in an appropriately American and seasonal way.


Katie and her friend Moira surprise us as we descend that awful hill and encourage us through the last 5 miles of cold, rain and narrow winding road with lots of tooting, yelling, hugs and congratulations. As we climb the hill to Katie's house we see snapshots of the Atlantic ocean being tossed in the wind, the gulls soaring and the waves foaming, the weather seems to perfectly suit this ocean. It seems somehow appropriate to ride this final day along the Atlantic coast with weather that is made for it rather than us. As we draw closer and closer to Katie's house I am counting down the house numbers, and we pull up wet and cold but also excited, nervous, relieved, jubilant, proud and shell shocked.


After a blessedly hot shower we toast with Moet champagne, and have the luxury of spending an evening with some fantastic like minded women for good food, great conversation and a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from the state where this all started, Washington. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad