Happy New Years, Cotuit Style

Why not resolve to blog?

A New Years resolution that involves putting something into my life rather than taking something out (Note to self: Pie à la Mode is now on the 'remove' list for the foreseeable future).

The countdown to blog started at 7:00pm Friday December 31 at the Curran's in Centerville. John and Mackey graciously hosted a wonderful evening in their beautiful home as Jan and I mingled and recounted the year past with Richard, Tracy, Brian, Betsy, Rob, Shanti, Laura, Pam, John (+ Ned). Sitting down at the dinner table, we joked and enjoyed a wonderful celebratory meal.

3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Midnight! We watched the throngs erupt in celebration as the crystal ball finished its 104th drop from high above Times Square. And miles away on Cape Cod, we friends embraced, exchanged polite kisses on the cheek (Jan gets 'special' treatment), and perhaps each of us quickly inventoried the successes and losses of the past year. But to have the pleasure and privilege to do so in the company of such wonderful people, a true blessing.

------------------------- 2011--------------------------------------

Saturday morning - feeling, um, a tiny bit under the weather - Jan and I pondered the choices for the day. We were greeted with a wonderfully unseasonably warm Cape Cod winter day with temps of 55F. Eric Jansen (Cape Cod Cyclists) had fired off an email the night before to rally the troops for a New Years Day ride, but I wanted to cycle with Jan on this remarkably springlike day.

We met the AMC group at the Plumb Corner in Rochester. It is a bit of a drive from Cotuit, but it is nice to cycle off Cape for a change. The group ride was led by Paul Currier who always does a wonderful job at pace and route. He led the way down to Marion past Tabor Academy. As we veered off the main road onto the side roads, we encountered patches of ice, reminding us that this is January, and we are just one week past an impressive winter storm. The eight riders comprising our group were guided along the Marion Harbour to the tip of Aucoot Cove.

The air was cooler down by the water, but it did not detract from the beautiful view out across Buzzards Bay, with the white lighthouse on Bird Island glistening in the light fog. Turning our bikes back down the peninsula, we headed over to the other side of the harbour to take in another beautiful view towards Cape Cod Canal from the Kittansett Golf Club.

As we backtracked down Point Rd, I noticed that Jan was slowing slightly. My odometer was reading around 20 miles and I knew she would be feeling the distance. Jan has been very focused on our new lifestyle change (read: dietary change) so her cardio endurance could be on the low side. Plus winter riding always takes 10% off the top: the clothing, the cold air ... each pedal stroke requires just that much more effort.

At mile 25, Paul and the gang stopped at an intersection to consider options. We could add another 5 miles and circle through the Rochester countryside back to our start, or take a 2 mile route out. I knew Jan was ready to call it quits, so we thanked Paul for the wonderful trip, bade our cycling companions a Happy New Year and parted ways.

Plumb Corner in Rochester and the waiting Subaru came just quickly enough as we loaded up the dirty bikes, with 30 miles on the odometer, and headed back down the road. But not before stopping at a cute cafe in Rochester. The Asian owner greeted us cheerfully and congratulated us on bravely taking on the challenge of cycling on the 1st of Jan. We couldn't resist her recommendation of the chicken salad sandwich, which as promised, "would not disappoint". The chatter of south central Massachusetts buzzed around us as we hungrily finished lunch then headed back to the Cape.

We were both tired arriving back in Cotuit, but I was determined to launch the kayak into the waters of Nantucket Sound on this warm day. It was almost 3 pm now and diffuse sunlight would only last for another hour. I threw the bike gear out, and threw what kayaking gear I thought I would need in. I squiggled into my kokatat wet suit, neoprene booties and headed down to the town landing. The tide was extremely low leaving an expanse of a pudding-like mud to pull the kayak over at launch. Settling into the cockpit, I struggled to get my cold water gloves on then pushed off. I settled into a paddling rhythm as I glided past the empty moorings. The only craft left floating on the still bay water was the 'Thermopylae' which always winters alone on the bay waiting for the oyster harvest. I set course out through the east cut into the sound. Loop Beach appeared full of cars and people enjoying the late afternoon. Spotting Submarine rock laying nearly out of the water, I set that rocky landmark as the turn-around where I nearly ran aground on the sandy bottom on approach. It was a beautiful place to stop and enjoy a thermos of tea I had brought for a toast. The hot liquid felt as smooth as a single malt scotch on my throat in the fading January light. I listened to the slight swell breaking on the pebbles exposed by the low tide on Sampsons Island, and the faint murmur of people on Loop Beach across the water. Breathing it in, I pulled my thick gloves back on, then turned back to the landing. Each pull of the paddle drew the rhythm of the ocean up through my arms, past my shoulders and down into my heart.