https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRsBNMpkzOM
http://www.strava.com/activities/145659531
The fellowship of the 9 was formed, 9 strong men and women, and bold, brave enough to carry themselves all the way to Ptown (and back again), to defeat the twin evil beasts of holiday weekend boredom and excessive holiday cookie consumption.
The intrepid fellowship, formed of representatives from the far flung corners of Middle Mass, had a simple mission. Carry the impression of the missing member of the group, to Provincetown and back again, within a day.
Living across the four corners of Boston, the fellowship met up in dribs and drabs. Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, as the first of the fellowship (The Doc, The Swede, The Big German and The Brit) convoy met first at Peets Coffee in Harvard, then picked up more rats, sorry fellows, as the pipes were played across Boston and to Boston South train station. The evil hordes had contrived to dusrupt our intrepid travellers, by arranging a mighty army of runners cutting off all the roads connecting Cambridge to the train station. "5k woo-hoo" came the rallying cry from The Mustachioed One, as a unit we steeled ourselves and broke through the ranks of the evil hordes and made it through to the train station.
Tea and doughnuts were procured from DDs at the train station, trusty steeds were housed aboard the carriage at the rear, and intrepid explorers were away. A short 60 minute spin to Buzzard's Bay for a mere 20 USD, sold by a man with a patriotic belt buckle. Seats for the steeds were luxurious, less so for our travelers, legs had to be tessellated into limited space akin to a game of tetris, and of course, noone could sit near The Big German.
Disembarking the train, our heroes set compasses, heads, and GPSs and started to wind through the countryside. The path was not straight, and our heroes lost bearings, and left the path several times. There was a great deal of nerves as they rode over a huge bridge over the Cape Cod canal, and at one time the evil road bit hard on the wheels of The Doc, sucking air from wheels, and leaving her empty. How many riders does it take to change an inner tube? Pretty much all of them as it turns out!
The path straightened and escaped the wild roads. Big metal cars were banned from these roads and the compatriots relaxed as they span through the countryside, through fields and parks and past lakes with motorboats. Our intrepid 9some were speedy, much speedier than the other users of the path, and coordination was required to navigate through the hoi polloi.
Sustenance was required, we picked up another intrepid member of the crew - C-Dog the ball player - and searched for the right combination of the major food groups. Thankfully, D'Angelo (burp!) was willing and able to meet our requirements.
As we reached the end of our journey, the road climbed and descended, rolling towards the final destination, then finally we were there. Entering Provincetown, we were delighted and happy and very happy to see the sea and sand and sun. A swift fish and chips and three pints of beer later, I was feeling human again. The cold came in out of the sun, so much so that The Green One purchased a souvenir (green) Cape Cod hoodie. We shivered our way onto the ferry (62 USD, including bike) and snored and dribbled our way back to Boston seaport, approximately 1.5 hours. When we got back we donned lights and jackets and cycled back through the city. It was bizarre to see the drunkards on a bank holiday Sunday night as we were riding around. As we made our way through the city, one by one we melted away, and returned to our lairs, tired, happy and with fond memories of a cracking day out.
