I awoke to birdsong the following morning. My throat felt raw from breathing in road dust the day before. The sun was out, and the tent was dripping with dew. After packing up the tent, Piper and I stopped for a bagel and a cup of coffee. We threw on some sunscreen, did a few stretches, and continued heading west along 302. We hit New Hampshire at about mid-day. Coincidentally, this was also the point at which we lost our shoulders and gained continuous bumps and potholes. We rolled into Conway shortly after, where we adjusted the tension on Adam's new spokes and sat down for lunch.
We reached Jackson about 10 miles later, home of Piper's snowboarding buddies Chris and Kirsten. Tucked into the woods on the edge of the White Mountain National Forest and a babbling brook, I changed into some non-bike clothes and happily retreated to the living room. We feasted on spinach salad, corn on the cob, chips and guacamole, burgers, and beer. A couple of carloads of young people drove up from Portland to join us. And just before 11pm, I lay comfortably tucked away in an empty queen-size bed.
