Everything I own is wet

And it stinks. I can't tell if my backpack is just dirty, or starting to mildew. Tonight I'm opting out of my sleeping bag, since there is a 100% chance that it will touch the floor of the tent and get even wetter.

Sunday, 14 September: This morning was quite rainy, but I packed up my soaking tent and got to it anyway. Vermont tried to make up for the last two grueling days by giving me a lovely parting gift of about sixteen mostly downhill miles. Thanks, Vermont! I'll miss you, too, ya crazy nutter. I didn't seriously pedal for the first six, and then after that I only had to pedal about twenty or thirty percent of the time. Nice. That really helped me to not flip out over the crap weather and the flat tire. Yup, after about fourteen miles I heard a really fantastic hissing noise. That was my most dramatic flat yet! I'm not sure that tube can be fixed-- it was leaking at the site of a previous fix-- but it definitely wasn't happening in the drizzle. I inserted one my skinny, wimpy spares and crossed my fingers. So far so good.

I rolled into New Hampshire, but the sign was in a dangerous spot on the road, so I couldn't get my usual picture. The state sort of eased me into the mountains with some smallish hills. The rain stopped, and the sun even came out for a couple minutes. I climbed out of my sweatbox-- I mean raingear-- and actually began to dry off a little. Things were seeming pretty good when wham! Headwind. Blurg. It isn't supposed to be difficult to go 6 MPH downhill. I object. I dragged myself up some really big hills, and as I got higher I entered some cloudy drizzliness. Then there it was. The best sign in the world. (http://www.flickr.com/photos/26490833@N02/2858569090/) It marked the beginning of five or six miles downhill. Tight. The ascents are tough over here, but the descents kinda make it worth it.

I'm currently headed for the Kancamagus Highway, which was recommended to me by another touring cyclist. His description was this: "it's ten miles up, and twenty miles down." Well, shoot, I haven't had enough punishment lately, sign me up! It goes through a national forest and is supposed to be quite scenic. My plan was to ride up the first few miles of the ascent today, camp, and finish it out tomorrow, but a chat with the ladies at the tourist info center changed that. My options were:

A) ride uphill for four miles to a $20 state park campsite with neither showers nor electricity, and be really bitter about it, or

B) camp just outside of town at a private campground that cost $21 and had showers and power (my solar panel wasn't so helpful today), and gamble that tomorrow's predicted 20-30 MPH west wind will push me over the pass in record time. Except for that part with the switchback. I'll most likely be walking there. And sobbing bitterly.

It kinda seemed like a no-brainer. Upon arriving at the campground, I noticed another campground right next door that had not been mentioned in any of the brochures at the info center. I inquired, and the guy only charged me $15. I am his only customer tonight. He's a nice enough guy, if a tidge odd, but he's 88 and still running this place. It's kinda run down, but the water is hot, the electricity works, and I'm camped right on the river with all of its white noise. Ah. Hopefully I'll get a ton of sleep, so I can be ready for a full assault on the pass tomorrow.