An Unplanned Adventure - Our Snowy Memorial Day on Two Wheels (2013)

Participants:  Tammy Walesczyk, Eric Anderson, Bill & Ellie Penn, John & Beth Hankins, Phil Forzley, Linda Pierce, Dave Jacoboski

 A bicycling weekend in the White Mountains over Memorial Day has become an annual tradition for us.  The trip provides an opportunity to test out our early season fitness (or lack thereof) on the big climbs in the Conway/Lincoln, NH area before the heat of the summer takes hold.  On the Monday before this year’s trip, the forecast looked good, with dry sunny weather moving in and temps in the 70s projected.  By the time we hit the road after work on Friday night, that had all changed.

Tammy had been nice enough to find us a condo to rent in Lincoln, near Loon Mountain at the base of the Kancamagus Highway.  We had planned a big day of riding on Saturday, but when we awoke  to cold steady rain no one voiced any enthusiasm for 100 miles of icy road spray in the face.  We were not the kind of group that stays put, however, so we planned an alternative two-mile hike to a waterfall to stretch the legs.  It was a good plan . . . but one we were unable to execute due to the unifying adventurous spirit of Mr. Anderson.  Just before we reached the waterfall we got to a trail junction sign that said – Flume Mountain, 5 miles.  The temptation was just too much.  We took the turn, and a little over two hours later seven of us found ourselves at 4300 feet.  Snow was mixing with the rain and the little spruce trees sticking out of the rocks at the bare summit were covered with icicles.  Our clothing and supplies were more suitable for the 70-degree day that had originally been forecast, so we decided to high-tail it back to the dry condo before someone became one of those Mt. Washington Valley statistics.

We spent the rest of Saturday watching it rain.  Eric declared that Sunday would be different, and we’d be getting a ride in.  Eric was right . . .Sunday was different.

When we rolled out of bed on Sunday, we realized that none of us was ready for Appalachian Trail prime time.  The 11 miles and 3000 feet of climbing the day before had left us all with sore legs and some mangled skin on feet unused to such abuse.  It was still raining, and the only difference from Saturday was that temperatures in Lincoln were now in the mid-30s instead of the mid-40s.  Seemed like a perfect day for a bike ride.

With cold rain coming down, we realized we needed to provide people a bail-out option, so we elected to take turns driving our van along the route as the official sag vehicle.  Eric took the first driving duty, and drove the van to the top of the first climb up Kinsman Notch on Rte. 112 eight miles west of Lincoln.  Kinsman Notch was a climb we had not done before.  The local cyclists refer to it as “Gonzo Pass”, and it is the second longest paved climb in the State (behind the Kancamagus Highway).  Linda and Dave had elected to stay at the condo and wait until the weather cleared (which it didn’t).  The rest of us headed into the cold drizzle and started up the pass.  As we started the climb we were surprised to see snow on the top of the hills.  Then about half way up the climb there was snow on the side of the road.  A strong headwind was now in our faces and the rain was picking up.  Shortly thereafter, Eric came down the hill from where he’d parked the car at the top and let us know that there were five inches of new snow at the top of the pass and that we’d best turn around.  It was very sensible advice, which only Tammy heeded.  The rest of us, with fond memories of road riding in the snow the previous year in the Rocky Mountains, soldiered on, up and over the top.  Our wet clothes, 30 mph headwinds, and freezing ice pellets falling from the sky were doing a nice job dissipating the body heat that is normally a feature of such climbs, and as we dropped the 1500 or so feet we had just climbed, things got a little chillier. 

After coming off of Kinsman Gap, we did a driver-rider switch, and continued on to the next challenge, Franconia Notch, made famous by that cliff-top outcrop of random rocks referred to as the Old Man in the Mountain, or at least it was until it fell off in a heap of rubble, leaving New Hampshire wondering what to do about its 100-year old branding initiative.

As we climbed toward Franconia Notch we repeated our earlier experience, and by the time we had reached the Cannon Mountain ski area at the top there was snow on the ground again.  Cars had parked at the bottom of the mountain, and people were hiking up the mountain with skis on their shoulders for an activity more befitting of the day.  The only road that goes through Franconia Notch is Interstate 93, which does not allow bikes.  The alternative is a bike path paralleling the highway.  The bike trail was notably less plowed than the highway.  Riding our skinny tires through two inches of slush for the next three miles had not been our plan when we woke up in the morning, but there we were.  To compound this difficulty, the wet snow had bent over the young birch trees, mostly blocking the way.  As we ducked under them on our bikes, we’d scrape the branches and each would contribute a load of wet slush into the collars of our jackets.  By the time we found Phil with the van at the terminus of the bike trail, all of us were frozen through, and Bill and Beth decided to take the next stint in the van with the heat turned to eleven.

As Eric, Phil, and I descended off of Franconia Notch on Rte. 3 in rain that was increasing in intensity, we were decidedly chilly, and the normally effervescent Mr. Anderson was heard to mumble “This really sucks”.  And verily, it did. 

We pushed on along Route 3 to Twin Mountain, and then turned south on Rte. 302 toward the third climb of the day up Crawford Notch.  This notch from the south is fairly gradual, and we were finally able to get a nice rhythm going as we headed up and past Bretton Woods ski area and the back side of Mt. Washington.  At the top we gave a thumbs up to Beth and Bill in the van and pushed on to Bartlett, where we met Bill and Beth for a much-deserved lunch.  After 30 minutes or so, we got up from lunch, leaving the vinyl chairs in the restaurant decidedly damper then they had been before we sat down.

Climb 4 of the day was up Bear Notch Road from Bartlett to the Kancamagus Highway.  The Bear Notch climb is one of our favorites, a steady ascent and descent on a twisty forest road with smooth pavement.  The rain had finally stopped, and although temperatures were still in the 40s, life was good.  At the bottom of Bear Notch we hooked a right on the Kancamagus for the final climb of the day on the way back to Lincoln.  The Kancamagus climb is one of the epic climbs in New England, and a badge of honor for any cyclist east of the Mississippi.  The climb we did up the east side starts with several miles of gentle grade followed by steeper grades on a twisty road with panoramic views the White Mountains.  Phil and I duked it out on the upper part of the climb, but then declared a truce for the last 100 yards to the top of the pass at 2850 feet.

The snows had melted and life was good.  Beth, Bill and Eric showed up at the top a couple of minutes later, and it was on to the finish line.  I had parked the van back at Bear Notch Road and had to back-track to get it.  I asked if anyone wanted to keep me company on my way back to the van.  As an incentive, I guaranteed a dry 10-mile downhill run with a tail wind.  All declined, and I solo’d it back to the van, making 30+ mph the whole way as gravity, a tail-wind, and a brief sunny interlude all conspired to make me a happy man.

Beth also had a smile on her face as she started down the other side with the boys, at least until the skies opened up and pummeled them with cold rain, just to make sure that those that may have missed some of the wet stuff while driving the van could get their full dose.  Beth was wet and cold and getting tossed around by the wind – her aero wheels are decidedly less aero when the wind is coming from the side.  Although it has not been confirmed by independent sources, there has been a report that she was seen walking her bike DOWN part of the Kancamagus Highway, which may be a first in recorded history.

Everyone made it back safely, and the warm showers were a welcome reward.  Because of the way we did the sag wagon, none of us rode the entire 95-mile route.  Regardless of the distance and climbing that any of us did individually, there was plenty of adversity to go around, and it was an experience that none of us will soon forget.