Salty Century Photo Essay: A Wellfleet-Provincetown-Dennis Figure 8

Posted on September 6, 2014 by Mikola De Roo

Every year, the peak of my training regimen for BRAKING AIDS Ride is completing at least one century ride, a training ride of 100 or more miles prior to the ride itself. Ideally, I get in one century sometime in July or August, and during my strongest years, I have been able to do at least two centuries before BRAKING AIDS begins. This year wasn’t one of those years, and I ended up doing one century ride during our annual vacation to Cape Cod. We stay in Wellfleet on the Outer Cape, so my route usually resembles something like a figure 8—roughly 50 miles going from our cottage to Provincetown and back, and then another 50 or so from our cottage to South Dennis and back.

Rather than staying on Route 6, the main highway on the Cape, which is two lanes—one in each direction—for most of it and is also the most direct route from Wellfleet to Truro and Provincetown, I took back roads for the the first 22 miles of my century ride this past Wednesday. I rode Lecounts Hollow Road to Ocean View Drive, Gross Hill and Gull Pond Roads, then Old Truro Road, Pamet Point Road, Old County Road, Castle Road, Bridge Road, Depot Road, and more, criss-crossing and riding Route 6 along the way for brief stretches. What did this mean? HILLS. Lots of them.

To get from South Wellfleet to Provincetown, rather than staying on Route 6, the main highway on the Cape, which is two lanes—one in each direction—for most of it and is also the most direct route, I took back roads for the first 22 miles of my century ride this past Wednesday. I rode Lecounts Hollow Road to Ocean View Drive, Gross Hill and Gull Pond Roads, then Old Truro Road, Pamet Point Road, Old County Road, Depot Road, Bridge Road, Castle Road, Corn Hill, and more, criss-crossing and riding Route 6 along the way for brief stretches. What did this mean? HILLS. Lots of them.

First beach pitstop after riding Ocean View Drive out of Wellfleet.

Ryder Beach, Truro.

Ryder Beach, Truro. The weather was windy in the morning, so much so I almost didn’t realize how hot it was until I stopped here.

The view of Corn Hill from Castle Road, Truro. Amazing how misleading photographs can be. These houses are on big, tall bluffs overlooking the marshes and the bay to the west. Lots of climbing.

One of the houses near Corn Hill, Truro.

Powerade hydration self-portrait, #2. After over 20 miles of hilly back roads, I was hot and thirsty, so I stopped at the general store near the beginning of the Shore Road in North Truro. It used to be a hole in the wall called Dutra’s. Now it has been renovated and expanded, and they carry fancy Fever Tree tonic water. (This brand is light and not too sweet or cloying, perfect for cocktails, but four 6.8-ounce glass bottles are not worth $8.) I skipped the overpriced cocktail mixers and went for the sports drinks. I am not a big fan of Gatorade or Powerade, but hydration is key to endurance cycling. Electrolytes are your friend, and for whatever reason, perhaps because the blue versions of these products aren’t trying to simulate real fruit flavors like strawberry or grape or lemon, they tend to be the most palatable to me. Blue flavor, please, for me and The Blue Streak.

The window display at the expanded and renovated general store in North Truro. The place has new owners and is now called The Salty Market. To give you a sense of the scale here, the pig is nearly the height of the tall bench behind it, at which two gentlemen are seated. Both these guys kept giving me a weird look as I paused to snap this photo, as though I were interested in them and not the giant pig sculpture directly in front of them that was large enough for either one of them to straddle and ride like a horse.

Provincetown, as viewed from Shore Road (Route 6A) in Truro, about 25 miles into my ride. The road is relatively flat, small rolling hills here and there, but headwind was something fierce in the morning, so it was slow going.

People walking on the sand bars during low tide on the bay, as seen from Shore Road, riding from Truro to Provincetown, late Wednesday morning.

Low tide on Shore Road between Truro and Provincetown, facing southwest.

After I arrived in Provincetown, I headed straight for Joe’s to get some iced coffee and then down the rest of Commercial Street to the West End, where I stopped at Relish, a deli that has incredible sandwiches as well as baked goods. When Jen and I got married in the West End in 2010, Frank, the guy who owns Relish, made our wedding cake. These are the store t-shirts.

To the disappointment of my friends Nicole Dewey, Kerri Fox, and Gregg Passin, cupcake lovers all, I did not get a cupcake at Relish, but this tray of them was so cute, I had to take a snapshot.

Objects may be larger than they appear. This slice of pistachio coffee cake from Relish is roughly the size of my head. Although the one pictured here is the one Jen and I shared from today (Friday), it is nearly identical to the one I purchased at Relish about 27 miles into my ride and housed all by myself.

Objects may be larger than they appear. This slice of pistachio coffee cake from Relish is roughly the size of my head. Have I mentioned that under the curly hair, I have a big melon for a head? Although the slice of cake pictured here is the one Jen and I shared this afternoon (Friday), it is nearly identical to the one I purchased at Relish about 27 miles into my ride and housed all by myself on Wednesday. Photo by Jennifer L. Anderson.

At the end of a Commercial Street in Provincetown’s West End is a traffic circle that feeds onto Provincelands Road, which in turn leads toward Herring Cove and Race Point Beaches. I had never noticed before this week that the rotary itself is a tiny park with this little plaque noting the first Pilgrims’ landing. Learn something new every day.

The outer rim of the West End rotary has benches that overlook the bay, the marsh, and the causeway. This is where I sat to eat my divine coffee cake from Relish and my iced coffee from Joe’s. Now that you see the view, you understand why those first Pilgrims decided to stay.

Another view of the West End marshes, Provincetown, at low tide. Love these colors.

People walking the Breakway, which spans about 1.5 miles, West End, Provincetown.

The Tidal Flats and Provincetown Breakway at low tide, West End, Provincetown.

After my cake snack, I was hot. I should have headed straight back to Wellfleet. I had gotten a late post-9am start (ah, the beauty of a cool summer! No need to begin at 6am to avoid the heat!) so it was already noon, and because of all the hills and headwind as well, I was only about one-third of the way through my century ride. But instead I stopped here, at Herring Cove Beach, parked The Blue Streak, stripped off my cycling shoes and socks, and marched myself down to the water to go soak my head, literally, and cool off.

The Blue Streak, waiting for me patiently at Herring Cove, while I went to take a dip.

Self-portrait at Herring Cove Beach, after taking a dip in the ocean (or rather, wading in to the knees and dunking my head in). The other beachcombers were perplexed by my strange bathing costume.

Non-photographic, afternoon interlude: After my detour to Herring Cove, I hauled ass back to our tiny cottage in South Wellfleet, via Route 6, Shore Road, and some of the same hilly back roads in Truro. I was pleased to make much better time than I had during the morning. Remarkable what a difference headwind makes.

I stopped at the cottage and ate a self-made turkey sandwich that was serviceable but not worth photographing. While I was there, Jen returned from her own training ride of hill repeats along Ocean View Drive, so I got in a brief snuggle with her and our dog Sadie. Sadly, I had another 45 miles of riding to go, so the visit was short-lived.

The good news is that most of my remaining route, the 22-mile Cape Cod Rail Trail between Wellfleet and Dennis, was flat. Along the way, I passed through Wellfleet, Eastham, Orleans, Brewster, Harwich, and Dennis, and then back again in reverse. The scenery in parts is lovely but the road itself—like the NYC West Side bike path, open only to cyclists and people on foot—is unremarkable, mostly flanked by trees and scrubs on both sides, so I only tend to take a handful of photos en route. Also, the one annoying thing about the Rail Trail is that it includes numerous stop signs where the trail intersects with roads trafficked by cars, so the route requires a ton of stop-and-go slowing down and ramping up again. In addition, after the first leg of my ride, I tend to get increasingly impatient with completing the century and stop less to take out the camera. For more on what this second portion of the route looks like, see my previous post from last year.

One of the marsh views, facing west on the Rail Trail between Wellfleet and Dennis.

Unfortunately, it isn't visible in this photo, but I discovered during the last 30 miles of my 102.5-mile ride this Wednesday that from a few places along the Rail Trail, one can see all the way to the bay. In this image, I could catch a small triangle of blue salt water right next to the tree silhouette near the top center.

Unfortunately, it isn’t visible in this photo, but I discovered during the last 30 miles of my 102.5-mile ride this Wednesday that on a clear day, from a few places along the Rail Trail, one can see all the way to the bay. In this image, I could catch a small triangle of blue salt water right next to the tree silhouette near the top center.

At this point in a long day of riding, especially on a road like the Rail Trail, which is flat, uneventful, and safe enough terrain that one can afford to zone out for a while, strange, random stuff starts to drift through one’s head. Lines from Pride & Prejudice, the number of bones and muscles in the feet, whether the road ahead will ever end, and any number of X-rated fantasies to keep the mind going and entertained while the legs continue their monotonous pedaling. It is also the section of the journey during which I decided to get “arty” with the photo composition. Look at me, putting the reflection of the sun at the center without showing the actual light source.

This is where the photographic record of my century ride 2014 ends. I had wanted to take a picture of my odometer with my total distance for the day to post here, but somewhere during the last 30 miles, in my bleary-eyed state, I went to look at my speed and I hit the reset button by accident so the mileage count started over. You will have to take my word for it: 102.5 miles total.

The thing about a century ride is that its full-day endlessness makes its completion all the more satisfying, and it’s also one of the best psychological confidence boosters I get prior to the actual BRAKING AIDS Ride. No matter how the day goes, a century is a good lesson that I repeat annually—less because of its physical training benefits and more because it reminds me that steady tenacity bears out. The closest thing I have to a picture of that figurative journey isn’t a photo from my century ride at all. It is a photo of me with my wife from the previous day, which she took during 45 miles of hot, hilly riding.

Seeing her beautiful face, all serious and sweaty from riding her bike, The Pale Horse, inspires me because she is a less experienced endurance cyclist than I, and she had a number of obstacles—physical and emotional—this summer that limited her training in a big way. Many people would have raised the required money for the ride, said to hell with the rest of the bike training, and not bothered doing the ride at all. Jen didn’t quit. When things were looking and feeling especially dark and dire in late July and early August, I assured her she doesn’t have anything to prove to anybody, except maybe herself, but she still refused to throw in the towel. Even at her most frightened and downtrodden, even when angry and disappointed at how the summer season went, she has kept showing up. Sometimes, she hasn’t been physically up to riding at all. Other days, she’s done shorter rides when she was unable to do longer ones and she’s ridden even when she has felt like crap, which has been often. She has also continued to insist on showing up and doing the actual BRAKING AIDS Ride, determined to have whatever ride experience she’s going to have. If that isn’t bravery and grit and perseverance, I don’t know what is. She has no idea what a fucking hero that makes her to me, so this is my way of trying to convey that. Jennifer Lynn Anderson, this post is for you:

This was actually taken the day before my century ride, doing a 45-miler with my wife Jennifer, who is also doing the ride next week. But she has been such a tenacious, brave beast during a challenging and difficult summer training season, and I am so proud of her, I wanted to post this here.

LESS THAN A WEEK FROM TODAY, I WILL BE RIDING NEARLY 300 MILES IN 3 DAYS, FROM BOSTON TO NYC, TO BE PART OF THE FIGHT TO END AIDS. CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO SUPPORT ME & HOUSING WORKS FOR BRAKING AIDS^® RIDE 2014.

Outer Cape Century Bike Ride: A Photo Essay

Posted on September 16, 2013 by Mikola De Roo

As part of my training for Braking AIDS Ride every year, it’s critical, psychologically as well as physically, for me to put in at least one century ride (a ride equaling 100 miles) prior to the ride event. In past years, I’ve tried to do at least two century rides, the first in late Jule or early August, but some years, between weather, time, travel, and the usual life-juggling factors, I’m only able to do one, and some years, the best way to get it done is to do my century when I’m on vacation. We go to Cape Cod for a week every year in early September, and I’ve taken to using one of those days to complete my century ride. I could rent a bicycle easily enough, but the more one rides, the more one is attached, emotionally and physically, to one’s own bike. So each year, we pack our two bikes into our car and drive them up to Cape Cod so we can ride them while we’re there.

The New Yorker approach to transporting two bikes up to Cape Cod: Two bike frames in the trunk, along with miscellaneous beach mats, helmets, and bike pump, and all luggage and kitchen supplies packed into the backseat. As you can see, The Blue Streak has been disassembled and stacked on top of Jen’s hybrid bicycle in the trunk of our rental car. Given the odd angles of the handlebars and the bicycle forks, it’s more of a challenge than you would imagine. Two wheels fit atop the two bikes in the trunk; the others went tightly wedged behind our seats in the car. Re-assembly is my first task upon arrival at our Drummer Cove, Wellfleet, destination.

Sadie, helping me navigate on our first morning on Cape Cod, driving from Drummer Cove, Wellfleet, to the Flying Fish Cafe in the center of town, where the world’s best scones and muffins are made. (It is a well-known fact that the Cape Cod muffin, which contains a mix of blueberries and cranberries, is the only muffin in the world I will praise openly and seek out actively.)

This year, I completed my 104-miler training ride on Tuesday, September 4. The maps below offer a visual view of my route, which began in South Wellfleet at Drummer Cove.

My starting point for my 104-mile bike ride: Drummer Cove, Wellfleet. The cottage we’ve rented for the past decade is one of about 6 to 8 small houses right next to the marsh and Drummer Cove. Tucked between Route 6 and the cove, the cottages are shaded by a copse of tall pines, so it’s surprisingly quiet and beautiful, despite the close proximity to the highway.

Map of Cape Cod. The detail of this map offers a clearer view of my 104-mile ride route, but this map gives a better sense of the overall scale and distances covered.

Map of Cape Cod. The detail of this map below offers a clearer view of my 104-mile ride route, but this map gives a better sense of the overall scale and distances covered.

Detail view of my 104-mile ride route, Outer Cape, September 4, 2013. My route began in South Wellfleet at Drummer Cove, proceeded to Provincetown and back to Drummer Cove for lunch, then down to South Dennis and back. The purple line shows my the first half of my ride, from Wellfleet through Truro to the West End beaches and dune bike trails of Provincetown and back to Wellfleet. The yellow line represents the post-lunch second half, from Wellfleet through Eastham, Orleans, Brewster, and Harwich to South Dennis and back again.

In the morning, when I left Drummer Cove, I began riding east on Route 6, the sole highway on the Outer Cape (with just one lane of traffic going in each direction for most of it), and made a quick left onto Lecounts Hollow Road to make my way to Ocean View Drive, which runs along the eastern coast and offers a cliff-/dune-side view of the ocean shoreline and the beaches of Wellfleet. It’s also a road that’s less trafficked by cars than the highway and is not only more scenic, but hillier and windier, and therefore more challenging riding terrain. At the end of Ocean View Drive, the road splits one last time, and you can either take a left onto Gross Hill Road and Gull Pond Road, heading westward back toward Route 6 and Wellfleet Center, or you can take Ocean View down a sloping hill to its end at Newcomb Hollow Beach. I did both, coasting down Ocean View, stopping briefly at Newcomb Hollow Beach to take the photos below, then turning around to climb back up the hill to the intersection with Gross Hill Road. I then headed along the gentle rolling hills of Gross Hill and Gull Pond Roads, cool and shaded by scrubs pines and red cedar trees, passed Gull Pond and back toward the highway. Where Gull Pond Road meets Route 6, I took a right onto the highway, passing the best source of fried clams and other deep-fried seafood delights in the area: Moby Dick’s Restaurant.

A foggy, chilly, overcast morning at Newcomb Hollow Beach, Wellfleet. It was just cold and windy enough that I wore my arm warmers for the first 10 miles of my ride.

Newcomb Hollow Beach, Wellfleet, morning of September 4, 2013, about 8 miles into my century ride.

The sky was overcast and gray as I rode along Ocean View Drive. It was chilly and no one was on the beach. I wasn’t sure it would clear up at all and was prepared to ride the bulk of my century ride in the rain. But the weather on the Cape can change in a heartbeat, and that Tuesday morning was no exception. The clouds burned off and by the time I made my way past Gull Pond and back to Route 6 heading east to Truro, less than 15 miles into my ride, the sun was out and the arm warmers came off. I rode on Route 6 for another 6 miles, until it meets Route 6A, also called Shore Road, which runs right next to the bay side of the western Outer Cape Cod coastline, and then I took Shore Road the rest of the way to Provincetown. It was still early morning, so town was quiet as I rode down Commercial Street from the East End to the West End of Provincetown. Once I got to the West End of town, I turned right on Province Lands Road, and headed first to Herring Cove, where I took off my biking shoes, waded into the water, and leaned over to wet my head and cool off. From there I traversed the Province Lands biking trails that wind up and down through the stretch of dunes and marsh grasses between Herring Cove and Race Point, where I stopped again to eat a power bar and rest.

Gull Pond, Wellfleet.

Moby Dick’s Restaurant, Wellfleet, from the intersection of Gull Pond Road and Route 6. Yes, the sign really says, “For a Whale of a Meal.” Don’t let that deter you if you’re ever in the vicinity. The seafood is excellent, and one entrée is great for two people to split.

The decor inside Moby Dick’s Restaurant, Wellfleet. Lots of nautical-themed curios and knick-knacks: fish, fishing nets and traps, buoys, anchors, all lit by holiday lights strung along the rafters. During my century ride, it was too early to stop for a snack, sadly—Moby’s doesn’t open until 11:30am for the early-bird lunch crowd—but we did eat there one evening during our stay. Mmmmm…. clam strips. Fried good good is good good!

Hilly terrain in Truro, from Shore Road/Route 6A.

Scrub pines and woods in Truro, about Mile 20 of my ride for the day.

Beach cottages overlooking the bay along Shore Road/Route 6A, Truro.

Truro, facing east and Route 6, from Stotts Crossing, a tiny little strip of connector road linking Route 6A, the shore road, with Route 6, the only highway on the Outer Cape.

View from Shore Road/Route 6A in Truro, facing west, back toward Wellfleet, with Route 6 in the distance.

View of rowboats on the water, along Shore Road, Truro.

Pilgrim Lake and dunes, Truro, facing east from Shore Road.

Hazy view of Provincetown in the distance, from Shore Road/Route 6A, Truro.

Another view of Provincetown, farther along Shore Road/Route 6A, Truro. The haze had burned off, and the day was starting to heat up.

The West End Breakwater, Provincetown. In the distance, to the right of the breakwater’s vanishing point, the tiny bump in the horizon line is Woods End Lighthouse.

The marshes in the West End of Provincetown.

Another view of the marshes in the West End of Provincetown.

March grasses, reeds, and dunes in the West End of Provincetown.

Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown.

Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown, moments before I waded into the water to cool off.

One of the Provincelands bike trails between Herring Cove and Race Point, Provincetown.

Overlooking Race Point Beach, Provincetown.

Sun bathers on Race Point Beach, Provincetown.

Before leaving Provincetown, I stopped at the gas station on Shankpainter Road to replenish my water and Gatorade bottles, and then I headed back to Wellfleet, riding Route 6 out of town, then picking up the Shore Road again going home, though I did take a couple of detours to do some additional hill riding along the way. One of the nice things about doing this century ride route is that after my first 50 miles, I get to stop back at home for lunch before doing the second half of it. That meant that in addition to having a delicious sandwich waiting for me, I got to snuggle with my partner and our dog for a few minutes and I had the luxury of being able to trade my sweaty, soaked-through jersey for a clean, dry one.

The remaining 50 miles were easy riding in terms of the terrain. The Cape Cod Rail Trail from Wellfleet to Dennis is relatively flat and it’s also 44 miles total, 22 each way. Because that would leave me 6 miles short of a full century and because I knew I need to put in some more hills before the day was over, I backtracked and re-did my route along Ocean View Drive again before heading to the Wellfleet entrance of the rail trail on Lecounts Hollow Road.

Unlike the rest of my route, much of the trail is overgrown with trees and offers more shading from the elements than most of the roads on Cape Cod. This turned out to be fortuitous because the weather took another 180 turn. Ocean View took me less than half an hour, but by the time I began on the rail trail, the sky was turning gray again, with heavier cloud clusters than those of early that morning. The first downpour hit when I was in Eastham, the next town over from Wellfleet. That lasted about 15 minutes and then stopped before I reached the town line between Orleans and Brewster, at about Mile 10 of the first 22 to Dennis, but the light stayed green-ish and dark, and it was clear from the strange glow cast on the pavement and on the wet trees that more rain was coming. I got to the Dennis end of the trail with no further rain beyond a few spittles here and there, but I literally didn’t have time to do more than eat a power bar and send a text message to Jen telling her I was heading back and doing my last 22 miles before the sky darkened and rumbled and a flash of lightning struck along the horizon. The sky opened up almost as soon as I got back on the Blue Streak, so I didn’t dawdle, and I pedaled like hell the 22 miles back home, tearing through the near-knee-deep puddles flooding the trail, with the rain coming down in sheets the whole time.

Cape Cod storm clouds gathering, before a deluge. The thunderstorm that drenched me all 22 miles back from Dennis to Wellfleet swooped in so fast, I didn’t stop to take out my camera, which would have gotten soaked and ruined. But the storm clouds depicted here, of another Cape Cod rainstorm, give a pretty accurate idea of what the sky looked like just before it started to pour during the last 22 miles of my century ride on September 4, 2013.

The Cape Cod Rail Trail, Brewster, on a different, sunnier day.

The Cape Cod Rail Trail, again on a different, sunnier day. Several small metal tunnels appear along the 22-mile rail trail between Wellfleet and Dennis. I include the image of this one because the storm I rode through became so severe, that when I was about to pedal through one of them, not only was it flooded, it was also occupied by more than a dozen wet people and several bicycles. One by one, cyclists, walkers, and runners had ducked into one of these metal tubes during the storm because, except for a campground area somewhere in Brewster with a hut that houses a public bathroom, these tunnels offer the only shelter on the rail trail itself. The tunnel was packed with people and I was already soaked and intent on getting home, so I didn’t stop with them, but they clearly intended to either wait the storm out or wait until the rain lightened. I rode at least another 12 miles after I encountered these folks and it poured the whole time, so they must have given up and braved the elements or stayed there, cold and wet, for a good, long time.

I was never happier than when I opened the door to our little Drummer Cove cabin. The Blue Streak and I were drenched, so I stripped out of my cycling clothes in the doorway in order not to trek water and mud and sand into the house, and then I wiped the bike down and emptied the saddle bag and hung it from a rack in the bathroom, so rainwater wouldn’t drip and pool on the floor as everything dried.

I got back home to Drummer Cove in the nick of time, it seems. The storm worsened, and pounded down on our cottage for the next five and a half hours, all through the evening. My rewards for making it through 25 miles of cycling under torrential showers were numerous and simple and full of tactile pleasures, a hot shower, dry clothes, an evening relaxing on the couch with my wife and my dog, a massage, cold beverages of all kinds (hydrating water and seltzer and juice, followed by a glass of crisp white wine), a delicious dinner of fresh seafood and grilled vegetables, and the sight of this distance on my bike odometer:

What joy: A 104-mile bike ride, completed.

Cape Cod Cycling Diary: A Photo Essay

Posted on September 25, 2012 by Mikola De Roo

View from the Wellfleet soccer field, where our dog Sadie likes to chase her stinky tennis ball, near Wellfleet Bay, September 2012.

We spend a week on Cape Cod every September, and most years, this has meant that our vacation coincides with the time period during which I need to log in at least one century (100-mile) training ride. After that, during week or two immediately prior to my actual Braking the Cycle ride, I still put in some 70-milers and short bike rides, and I commute to and from work, but I’m tapering. The century ride is as useful psychologically as it is physically. What better way to reassure those doubting voices inside that wonder whether this time, I can still do nearly 300 miles of cycling in three, back-to-back days? This year, I needed that confidence more than ever. In past years, I’ve done at least one other century ride earlier in the summer, and during a couple of seasons, I had two under my belt before I got to Cape Cod. This year, I did long rides, 70- and 80-milers, as well as back-to-backs some weekends, but Cape Cod was going to be my only 100-miler.

This year, we arrived in Wellfleet on Saturday, September 1. I did some shorter rides on Monday and Tuesday. Jen and I made our other plans for the rest of the week, and Wednesday made the most sense for my century. I should have paid more attention to the weather report. I woke up in the middle of the night a few hours before I was supposed to begin my ride to the drubbing of a downpour on the roof and skylights of our cottage.

My century ride route: From South Wellfleet, near Drummers Cove, I rode the Cape Cod Rail Trail to Dennis and back, which adds up to about 45 miles, stopped home for lunch, then looped the other way and made my way to Provincetown, adding some scenic detours in central Wellfleet and Truro and to Race Point and Herring Cove in Provincetown to tack on some additional mileage.

Riding in a thunderstorm is about as pleasurable as you’d imagine. Which is to say I still have a pretty damn good time because I love being on my bicycle, but it’s better when it’s sunny. It poured for most of the 104 miles I rode that day. It was good that almost no one was out on the Cape Cod Rail Trail, the 22-mile bike and jogging path converted from a former railroad line that stretches between Wellfleet and the town of Dennis—a few walkers and runners in rain slickers and one or two other lunatic cyclists like myself. The rain was so bad I could hardly see. I had put on a brand-new pair of cycling socks that morning; the socks were black, but they had a strip of white trim at the top. Not the wisest choice on my part. The spray as I tore through puddles on the path kicked up sand and mud—on my legs, my saddle, my rear end, my back. The trim on those socks became a grimy, silty brown within an hour. It took two washings for the trim color to return to something like white.

Storm over Wellfleet Bay, September 2011. I didn’t get any cool photos of the storm during my century ride a few weeks ago, but these images from our trip last year will give some sense of what the Cape Cod sky looks like when it’s about to pour. When this was taken, Jen, Sadie, and I had just walked over the footbridge over Duck Creek, which connects central Wellfleet with Hamblen Island/Cannon Hill. This funnel of a cloud swept over the area inside of 10 minutes, and the air over the small island became still and eerie and the light turned murky and green. Oddly, it didn’t rain on us, not even a drop.

Riding in such absurd weather does have its upsides. For the century ride, so long as I stayed off Route 6, the main local highway (itself only two lanes for much of its duration, one each direction, and four lanes for only a few brief segments), I had the roads almost entirely to myself. Some part of me also liked the challenge of it. The terrain for most of my century route is pretty flat, except for some rolling hills in the dune areas of Truro and near Race Point in Provincetown, so the headwind and the rain added a level of difficulty to a ride whose primary difficulty is added distance—about 25 to 30 miles more than I usually ride. And at a certain point, being that soaked to the bone, so long as the temperature is pretty mild, as it was that day in Wellfleet, and so long as I know my route as well as I do those roads on Cape Cod, becomes joyful. Comical. There’s a bizarre elation to it, possibly because I have so little control, my focus becomes concentrated and my concerns hone in on the present moment. The water cleanses me temporarily of my ego’s concerns—about the time or speed I’m hitting, about what I look like. My long list of anxieties—about the ride, work, my personal life, the things I’m doing but not doing well, the things I’m not doing but should be doing, life goals I’ve been tap-dancing around for years upon years, the calls I haven’t made, the emails I haven’t sent, people I’ve disappointed including and especially myself—all recede.

Storm passing over Wellfleet, near Duck Creek and Hamblen Island, September 2011. No wonder artists like Edward Hopper flocked to this landscape to paint.

During those stormy hours, I zip along on familiar roads, peeling through rainwater, sometimes with glee and exhilaration, other times with irritation and weariness; either way, there’s little to contemplate but what’s right in front of me. I look out for my usual needs when cycling in any weather: to pay attention to the route to know where I’m going; to my body’s need for fuel, hydration, a bathroom break, or a rest so I don’t bonk; to the road, weather, and traffic for safety); beyond that, there’s only the tension between the determination to keep going or the possible decision to stop. That meditative calm happens on my bike in beautiful weather, too, but riding through a rainstorm forces an even more stripped-down simplicity to my thinking that’s liberating.

The rain kept coming down in sheets all morning. It settled into a steady heavy patter after my break for lunch at Mile 45 and didn’t stop until I was in North Truro, a handful of miles from Provincetown. As a result, I have very few images from my century ride because the water would have ruined the camera, and visibility was so poor, not much would have come through anyway. The sun did peep out for about an hour, though, and the images directly below were taken then, at Herring Cove in the West End of Provincetown.

The first of the limited series of photos I took during my Cape Cod century ride, at about Mile 75 of 104 miles total, Herring Cove, the West End of Provincetown, September 2012. The thunderstorm I had been riding through finally passed over Herring Cove Beach and headed east out to sea.

Facing south, Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown, September 2012.

Storm clouds over the dunes, Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown, September 2012.

The skies clearing up, Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown, September 2012.

From the parking lot at Herring Cove, facing Race Point, the neighboring beach, Provincetown, September 2012.

Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown, September 2012. Local seals, my ocean animal friends, coming to greet me and congratulate me on riding through 75 miles of downpour just to come and visit them. On my calm, pleasant days, if I were an animal, I’d be a seal. On my other days, I’d be a tiger.

The remaining images that follow here are what my rides and my time on Cape Cod looked like the rest of the week: full of Magritte skies, the smell of sand toasted all day by the sun, churning waves, the shushing sound of wind moving through the green tufts of bramble and tall grass on the moors, naps on the beach, salt water drying on my skin, the shiny black heads of seals swimming near shore poking their heads up to breathe the air and say hello to us. I’m posting these fair-weather photos partly because they are beautiful, and partly because I hope they will usher in good weather for my long, multi-day journey later this week. Fingers crossed.

Maguire Landing, Wellfleet, Massachusetts, September 2012.

View of the Atlantic from Maguire Landing, Wellfleet, Massachusetts, September 2012.

Low tide, Maguire Landing, Wellfleet, September 2012. The silhouettes on the far left are two boys who zigzagged back and forth, skimming over the shallow pools of sea water with their boards.

White Crest Beach, Wellfleet, September 2012.

The Atlantic Ocean, from White Crest Beach, Wellfleet, September 2012.

From Route 6A, North Truro, September 2012. The day before I did my century ride, I did a 50-miler (half-century) from Wellfleet through the hilly sections of Truro and up to Provincetown and back. This was taken from the shore road at the crest of a hill from which one can see Provincetown in the distance.

The view of Provincetown center, from Route 6A, the shore road, just over the Truro-Provincetown line, September 2012.

The West End of Provincetown, overlooking the moors. When Jen and I got married in May 2010, in the back garden of a beautiful house across the street from here, this was the view.