tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63992074652467723742024-03-18T14:48:49.651-04:00Nor'Easter BackcountryThe North Country: Unpaved and UngroomedAndyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.comBlogger261125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-39809662907466150122020-04-13T13:35:00.002-04:002020-04-13T13:35:45.204-04:00Big Dirty Codder: Falmouth to Provincetown by Mountain Bike
It was 1980 something and our ancient powder blue Ford
Grenada lurched along the highway with Grandpa Turner’s pop-up camper
clattering along behind us. The wilds of
Vermont in our rearview mirror, we sailed down 93 toward Boston, and the Cape
beyond. Dark clouds on the horizon morphed
into wave upon wave of severe thunderstorms with blinding rain and howling
winds. It was a Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com4Orleans, MA, USA41.7898354 -69.98973230000001441.6950919 -70.151093800000012 41.8845789 -69.828370800000016tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-38116245219478600682019-10-09T12:04:00.002-04:002019-10-23T11:52:45.895-04:00A Punch to the Stomach Before Going Home: Day Five of the Vermont to Rhode Island Adventure Ride
I was around five years old when it happened. I was walking home from the babysitter’s
house and decided to take the long way, because it was different. That’s when a few of the older neighborhood boys
surrounded me just up the street from my house.
They held my arms behind my back and took turns punching me in the
stomach. To this day I don’t know what possessed them: Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-26248955010743417962019-10-03T13:32:00.002-04:002019-10-03T14:13:02.734-04:00Connecticut's Chlorophyll Superhighways: Day Four of the Vermont to Rhode Island Adventure Ride
The coughing from my neighbor’s room woke me from a dead sleep. My eyes opened, and I gasped for breath. As I wandered into the bathroom, the air was thick with nostalgia and mold spores. The grungy and faded mid 1960’s brown, tan and orange tile décor in the bathroom conjured memories from my childhood home. The décor was “dated” in the 80’s when I was growing up. Now it wasAndyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-15941292473858918512019-06-04T08:30:00.000-04:002019-06-04T10:18:14.775-04:00Miles of Metacomet: Day Three, Vermont to Rhode Island Adventure Ride
Despite it being part of New England, I’ve never looked at Connecticut with the same respect or admiration as I do to Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, and yes, even Rhode Island.
It has vast tracts of wildlands, hard flowing rivers, and abundant trail networks, and yet I always felt like the state was one large suburban neighborhood for New York City. I always pictured busy Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-86430618638735868312019-01-12T16:00:00.000-05:002019-01-12T16:29:05.574-05:00Seven Levels of Wet: Day Two, Vermont to Rhode Island Adventure Ride
I was on the second day of my Vermont to Rhode Island
adventure ride trying to link together trails all the way across New
England. Thunderstorms and thousands offeet of elevation had served up a slice of humble pie on day one. I was already forced to improvise. But day two promised to be drier. At least that’s what the weatherman told me. Instead I was Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-88376080685900015392019-01-07T08:00:00.000-05:002019-01-12T16:50:05.811-05:00Taconicked: Day One, Vermont to Rhode Island Adventure Ride
How far can you get on trails? That’s the burning question that has motivated my bike adventures for the better part of two years now: The Kingdom Sampler, Boston to Northampton, Southern NH Overnighter, the Trunkline Adventure, and the Big Dirty South ride. All iterations of the same goal: get as far as I can using as little road as possible.
Last winter I pieced together maps Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-6214753736991127792018-12-31T10:35:00.000-05:002019-01-03T17:08:41.107-05:00Singletrack Mining in Southern New Hampshire
Bikepacking highway.
The White Mountains.
Winnipesaukee. The Seacoast.
Ask any New Englander to talk about must-see destinations in
New Hampshire and these three areas invariably come to the top of the
list. Dig a little deeper and you might
get mentions of Mount Monadnock, Santa’s Village, or even Manch-Vegas. You’ll have to wait a while- a long while-
before Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-73302772699510114222018-10-26T08:30:00.000-04:002018-10-26T08:30:08.466-04:00Why Plus Bikes Make So Much Sense
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Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-18816684395213578912018-10-22T10:00:00.000-04:002018-10-22T10:00:00.864-04:00The Best of Leominster
I recently re-visited one of my all-time favorite places to ride, and put together a route for getting the best out of Leominster.
This route boast FOUR descents over a mile long. So bring your full-squish bike and a healthy supply of f-bombs cause this ain't your grandma's machine groomed flow trail. You'll find a multitude of rock garden puzzles that are sure to keep you Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-26648821057402407022018-10-15T11:38:00.000-04:002019-01-05T11:41:40.205-05:00Trunkline or Bust: Finding Adventure in Eastern Massachusetts
Rolling singletrack through Upton.
I was a desiccated sock- dry, crumpled and salt caked. The thirst that had been building in my throat suddenly left me feeling stale and flimsy on the bike as I rolled out of the woods and onto the blazing hot pavement. I had gambled against a water break before my last foray into the woods and now I was going to pay the price. And let me Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-77246658606624419662018-05-08T18:18:00.000-04:002018-05-08T18:18:29.799-04:00Big Dirty South : A Dirty Fifty South of Boston (July 2017)
Like Endor without the adorable little chipmunk people.
I bought a gravel grinder/touring bike recently. And so naturally I had to start riding insanely long mixed pavement and gravel rides. The first of these rides took me to the southwestern suburbs of Boston where I strung together a fifty mile loop through the quiet trails and suburban streets of Wellesley, Needham and Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-4046439286456412018-03-02T16:42:00.001-05:002019-01-12T21:09:20.496-05:00Unfinished Business: The Last Slice of the Boston to Northampton Trail Epic
Like stairmaster. With a bike.
Andy “One-Slice”. That’s the nickname my mentor jokingly gave me after noting my habit of ordering a small pizza and then eating all but one slice. The nickname was entirely in jest, but like any good nickname really put a burr under my ass. You see, I hate to start things and then not finish them. So much so, that I will put off starting something I Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-50634039629525539542017-11-11T10:07:00.003-05:002020-05-20T12:36:29.295-04:00A Kingdom Sampler: Bikepacking Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom
Brandon and I were running out of daylight. Miles short of our goal, we pushed our bikes through dense forest and around jagged rocks, lifting them over blowdowns on a barely visible trail that seemed more a figment of my imagination than reality. I had been nervous about this scenario all day- and now my fears were materializing. We were hitting the most difficult section of the day at Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-86285672574677716172017-09-18T10:36:00.000-04:002017-09-18T10:36:12.883-04:00FOMBA to Bear Brook Epic (October 2016)
Red carpet treatment.
I've heard it said that Autumn is the reason New Englanders put up with the long, cold, dark winters. While there are other reasons to love living in New England, I have to agree that Fall is at the top of the list.
But like most things, it is fleeting, and you need to make the time to breathe-in some of its essence before we descend into the hellish hangoverAndyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-81059769679566548532017-09-15T14:23:00.002-04:002020-09-15T22:36:04.721-04:00Boston to Northampton Epic Trail Ride (July 2017)
My bike took me here.
The light was fading fast as I slowly walked my bike up a
ribbon of steep, rocky singletrack beneath the high canopy of old
hardwoods. My only companions, the
mosquitos, urged me along the trail despite the empty feeling in my legs. I looked up to see the top of the hill,
seemingly miles away,and put my head back down.
I was broken. Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-65832050302472128092016-12-22T11:16:00.000-05:002016-12-28T12:55:46.882-05:00Your Bucket List is Weighing You Down: A Harvard-Boxborough Study Proves It
Sweet, sweet, singletrack descents.
The perfect is the enemy of the possible, dreaming is the enemy of doing, and the bucket list is the enemy of a life filled with adventure.
How many times have you sat in your living room pining away for the day that you'll be free of your mundane responsibilities. That day when you'll shake up your life and finally take that long awaited trip to Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-11246058014909068902016-10-06T07:00:00.000-04:002016-10-06T12:58:39.930-04:00The Other Side of Highland (September 2016)
A hint of Fall on the trail.
It was all starting to look the same. I muddled along a trail I was hoping would lead me northward and onto my planned route, but discovered yet another dead end as the trail began to loop back in on itself. Gunshots echoed in the distance and the forest began to darken in the mid afternoon light. Freshly fallen twigs crunched under my tires as I Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0Northfield, NH, USA43.4352102 -71.59005079999997243.3429287 -71.75141229999997 43.5274917 -71.428689299999974tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-74476044165071661822016-09-23T07:00:00.000-04:002016-12-20T09:55:28.841-05:00Moosalamoo's Leicester Hollow & Chandler Ridge Loop (August 2016)
Sun, bike, singeltrack and water: a winning combination.
"Just beware of the stinging nettles." Those were the words of Chas, co-owner of Frog Hollow Bikes in Middlebury after recommending that I check out Leicester Hollow/Chandler Ridge loop in Moosalamoo National Recreation Area.
I'm no stranger to brambles, having stumbled through more than my fair share of bushes over theAndyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-57895808012656126422016-09-16T07:00:00.000-04:002016-09-16T12:09:04.264-04:00Fat Biking and Finding Humility in the Adirondack Backcountry (July 2016)
Big wheels keep on turnin'.
Until recently I was particularly proud of the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I shit my pants. I knew it must have been thirty-five plus years since it last happened, because, really, who forgets a thing like that?
Mind you, this was no easy feat. There was the time I was on a two day hike in the mountains of Colombia and learned Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com1Hope, NY 12134, USA43.3036812 -74.24319070000001417.7816467 -115.55178470000001 68.8257157 -32.934596700000014tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-74980560207154356032016-03-28T14:21:00.000-04:002016-04-07T16:14:33.369-04:00To The Chic-Chocs, We Don't Stop (March 2016)
"What have I done?" Cowering
the backseat of Justin’s truck, I lay my head against the cool window as Justin,
Silas, Kirk and I rumbled through the Quebec countryside in the wee hours of
the morning. I was ten hours deep into
my thirteen hour journey from Boston to the Chic-Choc mountains on the Gaspé
peninsula in Eastern Quebec and seriously questioning whether I should haveAndyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-36600892466228628772016-01-26T15:45:00.000-05:002016-02-01T16:52:47.948-05:00Fat Bikes: Making Warm Snowless Winters Suck Less
It was about this time last year that I carving lines in deep untracked powder through the woods in the Blue Hills. Those were the days- "were” being the operative word.
As if a look out the window wasn’t enough to nail home the sad state of the snowpack, this morning’s long term forecast is calling for temperatures in the 40’s for the foreseeable future. While there's still Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-14026410734691537142015-12-11T07:30:00.000-05:002015-12-11T07:30:01.537-05:00Zwift and How I Spent My November Mornings On An Island in the Pacific
Right in the middle of the lane. What a dick.
Sweat was pouring down off of me onto the bike as I closed my eyes, got out of my seat and hammered the pedals. The gate was in sight just a few hundred yards ahead and I was in a dead sprint trying to outrun a shifty Canadian who had slid in behind me mid way through the climb. I was pedaling as hard as I could in the highest Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-74353433130847407722015-08-21T08:00:00.000-04:002015-08-21T08:00:11.025-04:00Luther Forest and Life Choices (July 2015)
It was 11;00PM. Brian and I had spent two hours driving around Saratoga looking for a cheap motel with vacancy. We finally overpaid for a couple dirty mattresses surrounded by four slabs of moldy sheetrock and a grubby plastic bathroom.
As I lay there with a belly full of potato chips, doughnuts and Four Loko, I began to doubt the wisdom of some of my recent decisions.
One Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-75690452030598841312015-08-18T08:00:00.000-04:002015-08-18T13:25:23.991-04:00Daniels Road State Forest: Rock and Roll (July 2014)
If you're a beginner you may just want to wrap yourself in bubble wrap before leaving the parking lot.
There are some places that you go riding to unplug, relax, and let the flow lull you into a restorative trance. And then there are the places where you make sure your life insurance premium is paid before you throw a leg over the top tube.
I used to think that Lynn Woods in Lynn, Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6399207465246772374.post-65981474386961505942015-08-12T15:47:00.000-04:002015-08-12T15:47:19.579-04:00Prime Time and a Return to Ascutney (August 2015)
Mt. Ascutney
These are good days to be a mountain biker in New England. Trail networks are popping up like Republican presidential candidates. From Stowe, VT to Charlemont, MA communities are embracing mountain biking and pouring resources into building and improving trails.
But is more always better? And does trail building equal improvement or progress?
Times are Andyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10631402711720659300noreply@blogger.com0