Ive been doing a lot of what can only be described as “accidental mileage,” that is I set out to do a ride of distance x and end up doing a ride of distance y where y is much greater than x, not because I was feeling frisky, but simply because I was hopelessly lost.
Case in point. I was doing the NEBC Saturday ride. The weather looked extremely threatening and I was suggesting various short options with bailout possibilities. Somehow that got outvoted, and we ended up going South, which turned out to be a very good move, since we could hear thunder in the West, the usual route.
These were all racer types, so we ended up going way faster than I had planned, and way further. On the way back I realized that we were following the Climb to the Clouds arrows for the most part. We got to one intersection where CTTC went right, and I was in front, looking a bit tentative. Someone yelled something that sounded a lot like “Right” which turned out later to be “straight.” So I and the only woman in the group went right. When we didn’t see anyone follow us, she asked if we should go back. The right answer of course was “Yes.” But I was fairly sure that I was told to go right, and reasoned that they would be along real soon, so kept following the faint CTTC arrows.
So we’re tooling along merrily following arrows, when I see a sign “Entering Sudbury.” Now geography is not my strong suit but I was pretty sure that was not a town I wanted to be in at this point in the ride. It was totally clouded over so there was no way to tell from the sun what direction we were heading (note to self: ALWAYS carry a compass). I’ve been on rides where you enter wrong towns on the right road. The first time I did the 200K I was thinking we’re getting pretty near the end when I saw a sign welcoming me to New Hampshire. In fact, this was correct, since we nip back into Nashua for a bit in order to pick up those extra miles to make up 200K. So I was undeterred until a bit later when the sun peeked through the clouds and I could tell that we were in fact heading south when we meant to go north. I had missed a few arrows, so I reasoned we were off the CTTC route. We finally asked some passerby’s the direction to Concord, and after a bit of discussion pointed us in that direction, though their demeanor led me to suspect that it was not right around the corner. So we headed off in the indicated direction, and after a while, picked up the CTTC arrows again. Always a glutton for punishment, I started following them again, just making sure that there were always arrows to guide our way. And there were, until we got back to that famous sign “Entering Sudbury,” and it was deja vu all over again. So, it seemed we were in what is referred to in the computer programming biz as an “infinite loop.” Since this time around I was sure we were going in the wrong direction, we just did an about face and started looking for recognizable roads. Turns out we were actually on Route 27, but the founding fathers wisely avoided putting up any signs to that effect, presumably in an effort to keep out the riffraff. Once I knew we were on 27, I knew even I could find my way home, and did the Sure Thing, 27 to 62 all the way back to Bedford. Not very scenic but at least giving us a chance to get home before dark.
My companion had long since lost any confidence in me, but since she was possibly more directionally challenged than me, I was the only game in town. She was a good sport, and when we got back just said that she had learned a lesson to always carry extra food and money. Don’t think she’s likely to go riding with me again (that is an ever shrinking club).
I looked at the CTTC map after the ordeal and I still can’t figure out where we were or how we got there, but be that as it may, my planned 30 or so mile ride turned into about 70.
Please send corrections, additions, comments and praise to