“I ride wet and I ride cold,” goes my mantra, “I don’t ride wet and cold.” Though I try to be ready for either cold or rain, I have not had to do much of either in 2025. I hear the roar of a thunderstorm outside my cozy apartment in Virginia and look back at five weeks in New England: Connecticut, Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket.

This was probably the most relaxing tour I have ever ridden. Plenty of exercise and beautiful surroundings, but also rest. We stayed at least five days in each place we visited, riding locally, enjoying the pleasure of a deeper familiarity with destinations we had never had time to see before. It felt homey to come back to the hostel or campground to fix dinner, knowing that we did not have to pack that night to leave in the morning.

***

With my bicycle and its panniers ready to tour, I loaded everything in my car on Monday, the 11th of August, and drove to Charlottesville, Virginia, to spend two days with my son, Daniel.

On Wednesday, the 13^th of August, I hugged Daniel goodbye. He went to work (in my car) at the church, while I finished up some chores I promised him. I did a final check of my bicycle and gear. As the sun shadows lengthened, I locked up behind me, then rode to the Amtrak station in downtown Charlottesville, raising the curtain on the 2025 Tour.

The rain from the previous week had stopped, and the streets were dry. Also, riding late in the day, I found the air comfortably cool, after the heat of the day.

For me, the tour began with something that I have not experienced in twelve years: an overnight trip in Coach. That time, it was literally a coach, as I carried my bicycle in a Greyhound bus from Houston to Charlottesville and thence to Pensacola in 2013 (https://freewheelingfreelancer.com/2013/11/30/what-i-left-behind/#more-183). This time, it was the Amtrak Northeast Regional train that left Charlottesville at 19:30 and arrived in Old Saybrook, Connecticut at 07:54 the next morning.

When I travel overnight by train, I usually take a sleeping car, which includes all meals. It can take four days to cross the continent. The fee for a sleeper is less than the rooms and meals for that time.

Dozing in a cushioned chair is not a strange feeling, In fact, the trip was more comfortable than I expected.

The conductor I approached as the train from Roanoke stopped turned out to be the friendliest and most helpful Amtrak employee I have ever met on duty. He pointed me to the car behind the locomotive and complimented me on the way my bike hung on its hook. I was just in front of the Quiet Car and only two cars from the café car. Tous les conforts.

Two advantages of the overnight train: it is the cheapest fare for a given route, and it was very lightly loaded. I had the only bicycle, and Coach Class had no more people in it than Business Class or the Quiet Car. I settled in comfortably, with my little office set up in front of me.

I reinforced a lesson about packing: remember off-season clothing. I had stuffed the woolen hoodie Cheryl sent me in my pannier, not expecting to need it on the first day of a summer tour. The air conditioning on the train would have made sleep impossible without it.

The four-hour layover in New York surprised me, because no mention was made of it in the schedule. It involved a crew change, but nothing else to justify so much time. Most of us slept through it.

The next morning, I rolled my bike and gear onto the platform in Old Saybrook. The air was still cool, the sky clear.

I had warned my family that I would break my fast at the Ashlawn Farm Café next to the station. Not only is it a favourite of mine, the delay allowed Jack and Allison to go to work and not worry about picking me up.

Allison was home anyway. The dogs remembered me with frisky greetings. It felt good to be among family again. They had rigged a bed on the landing between my niece and nephew’s rooms, so I had my own accommodation, convenient to the bathroom and the rest of the house.

Alison went to work, but Jack come home early, so I did not spend much time at the computer that day. Leland and Bella came back from work. Conversation after dinner went as long as it could, but I was the only one who did not have to go to work in the morning. On Friday, I relaxed while everyone was at work, shopped for groceries, and drafted scenes for the work-in-progress (The Marsh, expected early next year).

On Saturday, the 16^th, I swung into the saddle and took the road north. In the shade on the two-lane byways of Route 156 and 82, I made my way through Colchester and Hebron to Andover.

Overall, I climbed gently, but my sister’s home is 217 metres (712 feet) higher than my brother’s. Unlike the wide open spaces out West, the density of New England offered towns with rest and refreshment spaced as conveniently as one could want.

I spent a couple of days of family bonding and catching up what our grown children are doing. This is not the place to brag, but I am delighted see them growing so well in age, beauty, and wisdom.

Monday, I rode back to Old Lyme. Jack had a treat ready. Tuesday, we boarded his boat for a cruise on Long Island Sound. He took us up the Thames River, past the familiar sights in New London. I had never seen the city, Fort Trumbull, Electric Boat, the Submarine Base or Groton from the water. He turned around just short of Norwich.

The trees outside the city go to the water, and the roads along the bank don’t stand out. I could easily imagine the footpaths of the Pequot and the rail lines on either side, before the asphalt took over.

Tuesday night, no one wanted to quit, but others had to work, and I needed to pack to leave.

***

Sometimes, I wonder if Old Lyme is an outpost of Camelot. “It never rains until after sundown, and the dew is clear by dawn.” That song ran through my head as I made sure the dogs were indoors, closed the house, and rode to the station in Old Saybrook.

Travelling by train in the Northeast is so easy. Because Amtrak owns the tracks between Washington DC and Boston, the stations can be optimized for passenger service without permission from the freight companies, who own the rest of the American rail network. For the cycle tourist like me, this includes station platforms at the level of the coaches, obviating the need to haul the bike and bags up and down the steps at the car.

The freight companies cannot accept such a passenger-friendly platform, because they need to clear wide loads through the station sometimes.

Wednesday afternoon, I found myself riding in a light rain from South Station in Boston to the HI Hostel. While I quickly checked in, the rain stopped. When Cheryl came to the baggage claim area at Logan International Airport, I was waiting.

Über took us to the hostel, where we unboxed her bicycle. While she settled in, I walked her box to the storage unit I had rented nearby, and locked the unit until our return.

The 2025 Tour began that night with dinner at Legal Seafoods, always a treat. We closed the place and returned to the hostel. The rain started as we walked back.

We slept the sleep of the just. Even the excitement of another tour together would not keep us awake.

The next morning would bring me more excitement than I bargained for. Come back for it next week!

Smooth roads and tailwinds,

JT

© 2025, JT Hine