In anticipation of some heavy climbing, I got on the road earlier than normal.  My anxiety was heightened a bit because winds were forecast to be from the north 10 mph sustained 20 mph gusts.

My first 20 miles were along very smooth rail trails.

During the ride, I heard an unusual sound coming from my front wheel.  Cyclists are often symbiotic with our equipment. We know what good sounds and feels like.  When something is off, we immediately try to address it.

So I stopped, removed my front panniers, and inspected the wheel.  Sure enough, the quick-release skewer was not fully closed so the wheel had some play, which created an almost imperceptible wobble.  Easy fix—back on the road.

During preparation, my electronic route planner indicated that I would climb 17 hills today. It described the route as very steep, noting some 10-1/2 degree inclines. I didn’t believe it at the time. To my great chagrin, the planner was spot on.

The first indication of difficult climbing was when I felt like I should have been going faster than the slope was allowing, I guess it was an optical illusion.

When I arrived at my first 10-1/2 degree grade, I tried to power up it the slope but quickly ran out of breath as my heart rate approached my self-imposed limits.  It’s impossible to restart peddling when stopped on such a steep incline. So I suspended my pride, and walked while pushing the bike up to the top.  Over the course of the day, I probably walked more than a half a mile. I cursed my route planner for even suggesting this route, which included unpaved roads with similarly steep inclines.

I took a lot of breaks, including a break at Dunkin’ Donuts where I learned that June 5th is National Donut day. I purchased an extra donut for lunch.

As I was climbing a modest hill in South Kent, CT, a woman crossed the road to check her mailbox. She said hello and we struck up a conversation. Her name is Carolyn and her father and grandfather both served in the Coast Guard.  Small world!  Carolyn warned me about the coming hills.  I know, Carolyn!

I was so focused on hill climbing that I didn’t realize that I had crossed into Connecticut. I should have known because of the prevalence of rock walls:

At mile 49, I had the most hair-raising experience of the trip as I was climbing a hill in an area of rural houses.  A large black bear crossed the road about 80 yards in front of me. The foreboding creature didn’t see me.

Fortunately, I was downwind so the bear couldn’t smell the empty donut bag I was carrying. I froze, rejecting any thought to take photographic evidence.  I waited a long while before I high-tailed it up the hill. After about a mile, I stopped to process the experience. Wow!

Here’s evidence that I survived the encounter:

Day 8 was rough.  Time for a break!

Tally for the day: 63 miles, 5,500 feet of climbing.