Mishap in Massachusettes

The whir of cars and the infectious bleeping of an alarm clock, ripped me from my sleep in a conservation area before setting off on our fourth day of biking. We started off on our new route which led us to Route 20. It seemed like a nice, scenic route to take through Massachusetts until it turned into a state highway that weaved in and out of the suburbs of Worcester (pronounced "Woo-ah-stah").

Before we hit the suburbs we ended up in a small town decorated with American flags for Memorial day. Once we got to the top of the last hill before the end of town, we ran smack into a parade. We were forced to dismount (and for reasons of style) we trotted through a crowd of people until we could get back on and ride away.

I almost felt guilty, because it seemed like we garnished more attention than the parade. I guess that's because we look pretty hot in our spandex (and by hot I mean that we look like aliens). In fact, we look pretty much out of place everywhere we go, even on bike paths and in bike shops. Even the weekend warriors stare gape-eyed and slack-jawed as we wheel by. It must be because our asses look so sweet in spandex that they fear they'll never behold a more stunning sight if they turn their eyes away from us for even a short moment (yes, I just said the words "sweet" and "spandex" in the same sentence - oh yes).

When we were finally ready to call it a day, my cycling partner and I set off down a long (really long) winding road, to get to a state forest. Not wanting to bike too far down a mountain just to find a place to camp, we stopped at a heavily wooded area where there were not any "No Trespassing" signs. We carried our bikes loaded with gear down a small hill and into a patch of leafy green plants towards the subtle sound of a stream and threw our bed rolls down in the dirt. I plopped down and started eating the first meal I had had in days that didn't start with a peanut butter and jelly or an apple, when my cycling partner realized that we had hiked through and were camped in a poison ivy patch.

I yanked all of the poison ivy plants around us out with a ziplock bag and then went to town slapping all the mosquitos that had formed a colony on my legs, when we heard voices on the road above our heads. "There they are," the older one said, when he started yelling at us to get off of his property before he called the cops. I apologized profusely while we frantically packed our things. I explained that we thought we were camped in the state forest (which was, as it turns out, a mere 1/2 mile away) and ran back through the poison ivy patch and up the hill to the road. We eventually found a camping spot after the sun set - in the dark, in the actual state forest, a half mile up the road and we quickly fell asleep.