Things Happen in Threes…East Burke Sketch-Fest

The tribe goes to East Burke, VT to ride the spectacular Kingdom Trails (www.kingdomtrails.org) each October. The trip has become an annual pilgrimage for the mountain biking arm of our tribe and has been going on for five years. For me, it is also a symbolic end to the cycling season. By no means is cycling over for me, but the Burke trip usually coincides with peak fall foliage. In October, once the final leaves tumble and float off the trees “twig season”, the transition season between autumn and winter, begins.

So, as one could guess, the weather before the transition can vary. For the most part, the weather is acceptable, if not perfect. We usually are fortunate to have sunny skies highlighting the foliage and tolerable temperatures. This year, following a rainy weekend that flooded New Hampshire and closed the Kingdom Tails, we felt our chances were pretty good for having another great weekend. We were flying high off of this year’s amazing summer. However, this year our luck ran out.

One third of the intended participants took the chance to drive the 2 hours to Burke Friday night. As tradition dictates we meet at the Trout River Brewery (http://www.troutriverbrewing.com/mozilla/index.phtml) and then head to the official campground for more beers, a fire and endless insults and stories. As MC Hammer and I rolled into the brewery’s parking lot, the rain began…then continued for 48 hours.

Sketch Encounter #1
MC and I took a break from the brewery’s interior heat for some fresh air outside. As we chatted, a few other patrons exited. One bearded, wide-eyed, headband-wearing guy greeted us by mentioning the rain. I’m not one who shies away from any interesting conversation, so, I replied.

Well what followed was a detailed description of the damage caused by the recent floods in New Hampshire. Turns out that D’s home was down there and making it back home for him became a challenge and an opportunity to create a fish tale. For the most part, he wasn’t really that sketchy, although he was “on something.” And, I haven’t seen the news coverage about the floods but his stories of a 70 foot-wide and 35-foot deep gully running through Keene, NH seemed a bit exaggerated. But this only added to his animated personality as he acted out climbing down a 25-foot washout to look at the “guardrails hanging in mid-air like a snake.”

We actually got a pretty good lesson. “It doesn’t make sense to re-build where the river went through…build on the land that the river didn’t touch. They’re trying to fill these big holes with little shit. You need to put big shit in big holes!” I unsuccessfully tried to break in to add more fodder by saying, “Yeah, and you can bet that those folks in New Hampshire aren’t getting a $2000 debit card like the Katrina victims.” Uh-uh. D responds, “I tell you, they say that Katrina wasn’t a man-made disaster. But if they didn’t destroy all the marshes the damage would’ve been less. If you build a city under sea level, it’s gonna flood. Tell me that’s not man-made. Alstead, New Hampshire is at 1200 feet. Floods don’t happen at 1200 feet. And it’s gone. Alstead is gone.”

MC and I nodded and kept nodding until a friend of D’s, dressed in camo pants, a Planter’s Peanut racing jacket and a baseball cap, saved us. D bid us good night. MC and I went back inside looking at each other. Yup, were in the North East Kingdom.

Back to the tribe…we were the only campers in the usually packed campground and the rained forced the nine of us to take shelter under BF’s big honkin’ van’s roll-away awning. The crowded conditions and dismal weather forecast subdued the festivities. Campers drifted away to bed with hopes of dryer skies in their heads.

Sketch Encounter #2
With everyone in his or her respected tents, cars, mega-vans, or lean-tos, the campground turned silent. MC and I shared a lean-to facing out toward the campground’s entrance. I’m a pretty light sleeper and usually bring earplugs to help me blot out all the twigs snapping and owls hooting that tend to start the mind into thinking boogieman thoughts. But, with the rain falling and the cool fall air, I fell asleep with ease. Sometime during the night, something woke me. Couldn’t figure it out at first, but then the sound broke the silence. What I heard was the growl of a man, an unhappy man. MC didn’t stir. Again the growl, this time louder, longer and closer. MC woke. Again, the growl.

“Did you hear that?” I asked. “Yeah,” replied MC. “Pretty sketchy…You’ll protect me.” She lay back down. I sat in silence. Now, I’ve never thought of myself as a ‘protector’ and to tell you the truth, if there’s one woman I’d want on my team, it’d be MC…she’s muscle-hard…I was hoping for some mutual protection. As she found a way to get back to sleep, I grabbed my glasses to see better, my tiny little 2-inch bladed knife, cocooned into my sleeping bag, and lay there staring out into the night. A few more growls prevented me from sleeping, then I heard a cowboy-style “woo-hoo” and figured that this boogieman was just another camper who had had one too many at the Pub Outback and couldn’t find his toothbrush. I drifted back to sleep.

The tribe stirs around 8:30 a.m., it’s still raining and no one except MC and myself heard the sketch. The optimistic riders who had driven up Friday night were joined for breakfast by one more hopeful and brave soul who got up early and drove over. Again tradition dictates that before ride breakfast on Saturday is at the Burke Country Store where they make a decent bagel sandwich and have great energy bars and mini-loaves of pumpkin bread.

The Kingdom Association had closed some of the best trails and I had already decided the night before that if it was still raining in the morning, I wouldn’t ride. I’m an adult; I can make that decision now. 4 more agreed. As the other 5 dressed to ride, MC, Diesel, BF, KK and I headed to Newport to the Louis Garneau Outlet Store. The goal: buy cheap bike stuff and hope that the rain stops so we might ride in the afternoon.

MC and I drove together and as the rain sheeted down, I said, “We’re going home today.” MC: “Yeah we are.” I scored at LG’s getting 3 pieces of fine cycling wear for <$100. We told the others we were out of there and ask them if they could collect gear we had left at the campsite. The rain would not stop.

Sketch Encounter #3
Burke is not far from MC’s stomping grounds, so she knows all the great places along the drive to eat. We stopped for gas at one of her favs, picked up some soup and ate on one of the rain-protected picnic tables out front. An older man wearing a long yellow slicker and a Gilligan’s Island first mate’s hat asked us where the Boy Scouts were? We were in and out of the store pretty quickly and saw no Boy Scouts before or after. ???? “I was going to give them some money,” he said. “Oh, I’m a Boy Scout, er, troop leader. You can give me the money,” joked I. “No, I’m a GIRL scout,” he said. Red flag. Ooops, didn’t notice it.

Somehow we…he…got talking about teaching and how he had once been a teacher and hit one of his students and how he also threw him down the stairs. Red flag. Too late. He proceeds to embellish the heck out of the story including a meeting with the boy’s mother… “I’ve never hit a woman, but I thought if she was angry…” Red flag. Way too late. MC and I, “Mm-hmm. Soup’s good.” He headed to his car. MC and I munched and watched him, nonchalantly commenting about his sketchiness between bites. He won the prize: most sketchy. We made the pledge to not get out of the car anymore.

Turns out that everyone else packed up and left for home that afternoon. The forecast for Sunday was more rain, snow in the mountains, and 30-40 mph winds. I heard the riding was wet, sloppy fun. However, I’m sure I could have ridden in the mud and rain closer to home as well. The Kingdom Trails demand good weather and long hours in the saddle. Maybe next year….without the sketchies.