Three days in New England

In early August, I attended my second meet of sport-touring.net, called ESTN 05. E stands for Eastern.

'?' had ridden up from Toronto the night before, and the Friday morning of our departure -- along with Bentup -- at 9:15 I still had not finished packing. By 9:30, after skipping breakfast, we realized at noon, we were off for ESTN 05!

I lead '?', on his K1200RS, and Bentup, riding a vintage, mint, mid-eighties FJ1200, through the back, and mostly straight, roads between Ottawa and Cornwall. Crossing the border was an easy task, despite a gung-ho, and probably not gun-shy, border guard, grilling us with repetitive questions from behind his Ray-Bans.

In upstate New York, it took us forever down on NY 37 and NY 56 to get to the interesting parts, south of Colton. There, as the road twists left and right (or right and left, depending when you start noticing) we made our way into the Adirondacks.

I've said it before somewhere else on this site, but I'll say it again: New York offers some of the continent's finest pavement. Especially the fresh 10 miles at the south end of NY 56, before it meets NY 3. After Tupper Lake, we took 30 south, to Long Lake, which was the turn off for the beautiful NY 28N. That road took us, through Minerva, to NY 8, then US 9 and on to NY 74 to the best-named town of NY (Paradox) and on to the ferry which took us to Vermont. Here's a close-up of that route:

Once in Vermont, we followed VT 73 to Brandon and then VT 100. East of Brandon, that road is called the Brandon Gap, but it really isn't much to write home about. Better gaps and notches awaited us further north.

Further north, of course, was Stowe and the Riverside Inn, headquarters of the meet. We rode a little further north on 108 to get to Smugglers' Notch State Park campground, of which there's no picture, because you can't photograph loud noise.

Loud noise? Well, that's according to the cop-wannabe of a warden who told us, at 7 a.m. and as we were ready to head for breakfast, that we had 20 minutes to pack up and leave, on account of too much noise six, seven hours earlier. That's OK, because we ended up finding a nicer campground.

(The two cruisers were some French-Canadians from Quebec City. They didn't mind our noise...)

This whole pack-up, find another place, find the office close thus go for breakfast, set up camp again and what not meant that my day ride would be a short one. A departure of 10:30 a.m. will do that to you.

Bentup and I set out to find the areas' twistiest roads, on a very approximate route which we could easily modify every 100 miles or so.

First, we did the Appalachian Gap, between Waitsfield and Bristol, on VT 17. We did it the right way, westbound, where the turns are somewhat technical on the uphill and somewhat sweeping on the downhill. It was nice, but for comparison purposes, US 33 between WV and VA, near the Shenandoah Mountain, has more switchbacks and hairpins, on both sides of that pass.

Here's the view from the top of Appalachian Gap:

And here's Bristol, VT, with its rather quaint downtown.

Down on VT 116, I had to come to a sudden stop. Well, a red traffic light made me do it. If I hadn't, I'm not sure I would have won against that car.

After that bridge, we took VT 125, known as the Middlebury Gap. Not that technical, but there were some sections where the pavement was not pristine. Personnally, that doesn't bother me too much, but to others it must, because we kept hearing from others that the road was bad. Quite bad.

A bit south on VT 100, then VT 107, which lead us to Bethel and VT 14. We made an unfortunate detour through Lebannon, NH and US 4 through Enfield and Canaan, which was populated by Vermonters and New Hampshiites who insisted, aboard their Volvos and Subarus, in respecting the 40 mph speed liimit.

Alas, we finally his NH 118, a two parter where the turns were sweeping in the first half and twistiers in the second, as we went through an unamed gap. That lead us to NH 112, the western edge of the Kancamagus. We didn't stay long on that and my instinct told me to take NY 116 south, which was a roller coaster of elevation changes, smooth turns under a canopy, no traffic, few driveways and... fresh pavement. I was grinning so much, my Shoei felt tighter.

From there, I had the pleasure of experiencing Vermont's finest frost heaves, on VT 232, through the Groton State Forest, between VT 302 and US 2. They should post a sign at the beginning of that road that would read "Who needs a vasectomy when you can ride 232?".

Ladies, you can skip this part. Just click here. Thank you.

Guys, even if, after the first painful frost heave, you have the natural reaction of sliding back a bit on your seat, putting your butt closer to the pillion seat and your 'nads away from the hard metal tank, after a few more bumps, you don't notice that you've crept forward and then, surprise, at the next frost heave, things that should never be compressed, are.

VT 232, I hereby name you "Nut Crusher".

Ouch.

Welcome back, ladies.

After buying some crushed ice at a general store -- no, I'm kidding, we only bought gas and water --, we set south on US 2 to Montpellier, than slabbed 10 miles on 89 to Waitsfield and back up on VT 100 to Stowe.

The next morning, after drinking beer and scotch until 2 a.m. with fellow not-so-quiet revellers, I set out at 10:30 a.m. and made my way to Smuggler's Notch, VT 108 which links, in the summer only, Stowe and Jeffersonville. That road can't be plowed in the winter, is so narrow it doesn't have a centerline and, even if you're not following a Navigator like I was, its corners need to be taken in first gear. Here's a section, close to the top:

Did I mention the very large rocks on both sides?

From there, it was a smooth, albeit a bit slow, ride down Vermont's back roads: VT 15 south to Essex Junction, VT, pop. 8641 and a dozen traffic lights, all red. Then 116 south to Bristol and 17 towards New York. I crossed Lake Champlain on a bridge, at Crown Point, NY. Here's another picture for my collection. Seven picture taken, 43 to go.

I then took NY 22 north, very nice!, to Wesport and NY 9 west to Elizabethtown, then Keene, then Lake Placid and Sranac Lake before blasting my way north on NY 30 to Malone and Cornwall. Just after Massena, a Mohawk squid on a Buell Thunder-something-or-other, whom I had safely passed earlier and then lost in a curve, almost ran me off the road when he passed me, in my lane, on my right, his mirror inches from Colorado Dancer... I was so shook up that, a few miles later arriving at the Canadian Border, I pulled out cash, thinking I was at the bridge toll plaza!

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A big thanks to Ms. Corbeau who joined me Saturday afternoon and who had the chance to meet some of the crazies who populate STN...

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