this was a Powerthirst weekend.

I hate energy drinks, I really do. Too much sugar. The shakes, the crash… ew. Let’s not even talk about the taste. But when that’s all you have to mix with your liquor, you make do. And thus began the weekend of Energy Legs.

My friend Justin and I checked out Post Prosperity featuring Sean Stevens’ Pedal-Powered Dance Party and Sustainable Sound at the End of the World on Saturday. Lights, mixing table, and speakers were all powered by dynamo action and the Menergy or Womanergy of the participants.  Justin got to run the dynamo for a while, but I was too far back in line and didn’t get a chance to take the reigns.

Sunday we took the hated MBTA Commuter Rail into Newburyport and spent time cruising around the New England Serengeti – or the Green Belt. Red winged blackbirds trilled around our heads. Chubby-cheeked muskrats scuttled through the grass. Turtles sunned themselves on rocks. I was too preoccupied with the joy of riding to take many pictures, but I did take this one of Calypso enjoying the day under Justin’s buttress.

The only tarnish on this otherwise idyllic weekend was the ride home from Newburyport on the Commuter Rail. I assumed that since the Rockport branch allows bikes on the first train of the day, the other branch would as well. I got up in the wee hours and went to the train, to be faced with a little trollish woman with cheap butterfly earrings offsetting her ill-fitting uniform, telling me that no, despite the fact that this train is almost empty and I could have ridden on it if it’d originated in Rockport, I would not be allowed on. I would have to wait until after 9am, the very hour I am supposed to report to work, to board the train. I told her what I thought about the MBTA’s policies, and her own level of compassion for her fellow man. I waited for the 9:36am train and boarded it. And proceeded to sit for an hour in the station because the train was having ‘sticky break issues’. Ultimately, the train did not arrive in North Station until after 12:30pm, once again proving to me the fallacy of putting any money or trust into this most ill managed establishment.

In synopsis, an amazing weekend; easy on the senses, hard on the legs, and only very predictably disappointing. Hopefully there will be some swimming to report in the near future.

This past weekend was possibly the most gorgeous of the year so far. If you like temperatures hovering around 85 in the shade, which I do, and if you like glaring, searing sunshine, which I do. At around 10:30am on Saturday, Chopper, Frenchy, and I left Goondocks Castle on a trip to beautiful scenic Gloucester, MA. Chopper and I on our Leisurenaughts and Frenchy on a hybrid that has seen better days. Here is our approximate route:

View Ride to Gloucester in a larger map

The first half of the journey was a tiny slice of Hell. Revere, Lynn, Swampscott…. these are not communities set up for pleasant cycling. However, we did not receive one death threat during the whole 30+ mile jaunt. I count this as a total win. We celebrated our escape from the gridlock of Greater Boston with some margaritas and lunch at the Edgewater Cafe in Salem, MA. From that point on  it was pretty smooth sailing up 127, though if you ask the guys, it was all choppy seas and huge rolling waves. Once we got to Gtown we discovered, sadly, that the place was overrun by tourists for the Waterfront Festival. We blew up Dadoo’s cell phone and met him at the Blackburn Tavern, which was mercifully empty at 4pm. After refueling with a few beers, Frenchy parted ways with us and the three amigos went on to boat to Lighthouse Cove, off Eastern Point. Lovely, clear water and entirely empty of people, this beach was total paradise. We swam for a bit and then went to dinner at the sketchiest hotel restaurant in the world. I can’t remember the name but there was a fiberglass cow standing outside, and the only dining area was outside on a back porch overlooking the marsh. Bugs a-go-go, but after a couple glasses of wine, we didn’t care. And then, home again on the train. Why the last train into Boston from Gloucester on a Saturday night is at 10:08 I have no idea. You’d think they were trying to strand people in the boonies, or something. Anyway, first thing that happens while we’re riding through Cambridge back to the Goondocks – you guessed it, we were honked at and menaced. Ahh, home sweet home.