A Night in Pachaug

Enchantment One

Awareness of large predators is, apparently, one of those basic instincts that has dulled for me over time. It took me almost a minute for me to grasp the significance of the large gray form, close along the roadside with fangs bared.

My distracted, 21^st century mind was focused on my friend Phil, who I was convincing that we weren’t lost, that I had been in these woods a hundred times. I could get us to our destination easily. We had just stepped off the trail to a gravel road, an obvious shortcut (or was it?) in the middle of Pachaug State Forest. Middle afternoon was giving way to late. The February sun was still a couple hours away from checkout, yet there was a menace to the shadows pooling beneath hemlocks, those skeletal woods where no birds sang. Bare deciduous trees afforded fractured views of the gray hills, and long-abandoned farm walls. There was plenty of landscape to go around. At over 26,000 acres, Pachaug is Connecticut’s biggest state forest.

Even, as I pondered exactly where in those 26,000 acres we might be, my attention zoomed in toward the foreground, the spot right behind Phil’s feet.

“Uh, Phil, you might not want to turn around right now,” I said.

Of course, he did exactly that. The creature was right out of Grimm’s fairy tales, an Eastern Coyote, sprawled out dead. A wound in its side hinted at a mortal injury. Perhaps it had met a speeding ATV earlier. Another distracted mind.

“Whoa! Of course, I’m going to check this out!” Phil exclaimed.

We were on a short overnight doorstep adventure. We had started from our homes in Mystic and pedaled our bikes into North Stonington, about an hour’s ride, so that we could camp out at a nearby lean-to and hike around. Phil, a longtime friend, has climbed in the Andes and Himalayas and is no stranger to the extremes. This adventure was a meant to be a simple getaway however, not an epic

It had been months since I’d spent a night outdoors. Although I had taken brief requiems biking and hiking in nature, I hungered for a larger pilgrimage, a pilgrimage where I could take a break from distracted thinking and contemplate small enchantments. Such wonders included the coyote corpse, grotesque, beautiful, and a reminder of the wilderness character that never left our state.

Eastern Coyotes are, in fact, hybrids, between coyotes and wolves – the thinking goes, and so it was unsurprising to see resemblance between the Canis latrans specimen at our feet and the scourge of Little Red Riding Hood. Attacks on humans are vanishingly rare. Yet, buried instincts had surfaced at last. The coyote’s broad muscles and sharp teeth gave me pause.

The corpse made a fitting ambassador to Pachaug, which has always seemed a little strange, to me, a little dark. The many fens and hollows lie beneath towering, schist escarpments, thrown together, as if by sorcery. Small family graveyards lie moldering beneath snags.

Enchantment Two

Ice stalagmite in Bear Cave

When I was a kid, my dad and I spent many trips wandering these woods looking for Bear Cave in North Stonington. Before the Internet heyday, there was far less information than there is now. We got lost plenty of times. Eventually, we found Bullet Ledge, a ship-like bulwark of fractured rock that rises above the trees. Halfway up the ledge, we found an opening.

Back at the coyote, I mapped a rough sketch of how I could get back to the cave. My mistake had been following a reroute on the Narragansett Trail, which missed the cave, apparently. Instead, we followed the road, in what I hoped was the right direction. I made an informed guess at an intersection, and in another 20 minutes we were back on course.

It was Phil’s first time inside the cave. I always enjoy taking newcomers up the steep path up Bullet Ledge and then casually stopping next to the cave opening. Much like a dead coyote, it’s very easy to miss. Once upon a time, Phil had heard, there really had been a bear inside the cave. A group of natives led a colonist to the spot – so he could shoot it dead.

We clambered inside, where there was the familiar musty darkness, tiny dribbles of groundwater percolating from the top of the hill. The cave goes in 30 feet or more. It was nothing new for me, However, I was most taken by some of the ice formations at the cave mouth. Icicles were utterly smooth and clear. Low afternoon light struck orange fire within the crystalline enchantments. An icicle stalagmite was perfectly symmetrical, clear, and balanced, with utter improbability, on a narrow base. It was an elongated teardrop. It was an alien shrine.

Phil emerges from Bear Cave

Camp

Enchantment Three.

We hiked swiftly back to the shelter where we’d left our bikes. The wood we gathered earlier waited by a fire pit. We were on a ridge, and I could see miles in all directions, including still frozen lakes and swampland, out to the surrounding ridges. In the last six hours, we had only seen one family out hiking, one off-roader. It wasn’t a bad record for Connecticut.

As the sun lowered, we coaxed wettish twigs into sullen flame, and then cheered as the fire blossomed over the larger branches.

Phil graced me with a beer. I balanced a pot of creek water on a grate to make couscous dinner.

Outside, the twisting morass of trunks and forest branches compressed to a two-dimensional print against orange horizon and darkling blue. Planets emerged. Stars winked into existence. Well-being trickled into my restless mind. To fill completely, I’d need more time. A lifetime.

Owls boomed from distant trees. I smiled at the night.

Enchantment Four

The dark blue and gathering orange framed the branches again. I enjoyed seeing the last night’s show repeat itself, but in reverse.

Woodpecker staccato Boodooboodabooop! Badabadapop! resonated through the forest. Small chirping birds raised their voices at last.

Fungus on a cut log made a soggy Christmas wreath.

Phil and I talked about the owls we’d heard last night. After I conked out, he claimed to have heard some coyote yips as well – at least it sounded that way. After a while he hit the radio, and why not? I wanted to hear the latest about the troop build ups.

Wolves everywhere. Circle the wagons.

I raised a fire on the embers of the last, brought water to a boil. We drank our coffee, packed the bikes, and rolled out.

Bed to Bike in 40 minutes: Applied psychology has helped me remain faithful to my bike commute.

Photo: Farrah Garland

Note:

This is my first entry in the Commuter Chronicles.

In the coming weeks, I will be writing about how I have been getting to and from work as a bike commuter (and sometimes as a runner) in order to exercise more and pollute less.

While this may seem like a step away from much of the adventure writing that I typically post, I have also found that the bike commute serves as a daily mini adventure, an adventure that presents challenges and rewards, an adventure that connects me with the surrounding nature and community in Southeastern Connecticut.

This first post will discuss ways in which routine helps me to get out the door faster and better prepared for the world. Some future topics that I will explore include, dealing with challenging road conditions, managing sweat, how bike commuting has changed my relationship with work, bike repair, and why I think small choices remain relevant in our era of big problems.

I hope you stick around and enjoy the ride!

As of a few months ago, I began taking my bicycle into my bedroom. We’d entered a new phase in the relationship.

It is not that I love my steel-framed diamondback hybrid so much that I can’t bear to be apart, or that I want its graceful lines to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. Ours is a marriage of convenience.

The bike takes me to work most days. It needs to be ready to go, with nary a dilly, even a dally. I have 6-miles of road to cover door to door. I have to be in the building, professional, and presentable, by 7:30am. Assuming that I don’t want to get up at an egregious hour, mornings will require tight choreography, not me stumbling down to a freezing basement to pick at the combo lock with numbed fingers.

The fact that I keep the bike in the room is only one of a series of morning habits that I follow in order to get on the road quickly over the years. Mornings vary, but I generally get out the door 40 minutes after I wake up. I now go down a checklist, and I have organized my apartment to facilitate speedy egress.

This is no easy feat considering my abstract-random personality and corresponding aversion toward structure. “Life hacks” and other self-optimization strategies often seem like Trojan horses from the work worship culture. Nonetheless, I hate getting bogged down by poorly shuffled gear. The motorless commute succeeds for me, not only because I am committed to decreasing my impact on the environment; it succeeds because I have planted that commitment in a larger ecosystem of habits and routines.

Habits are more powerful than principles. One need only look at how New Year’s resolutions go askance. The toughest habits to break, tend to be “low friction,” according to psychologist Anne Wood. This means that they only require a few easy steps. If I wanted to stop wasting time on the internet, it would be much harder to break the habit, if time-wasting sites were just a click away (this is a hypothetical example, obviously.) The vice is practically frictionless. Driving also has low psychological friction. I need only get in the car and turn the key.

Biking to work, with its many steps, is high friction. Sure, you could just get dressed, hop on the bike, and roll out – if you like jeopardizing your paycheck.  Arriving, clean, and professional, at the end of the ride, involves steps that driving doesn’t require. These steps include packing work clothes, loading a bike rack, checking the weather, and dressing properly for the conditions. All of this is long before I start pedaling up the first hill.

So how is it that I choose not to spend an extra hour beneath the covers when I wake up in the early morning dark? Why don’t I just drive to work with everyone else? My answer is that I reduce friction. Preset routines are like oil on the bike chain. They enable me to glide through my morning with as few steps and as few decisions as possible.

Here are some strategies I use.

·         The Checklist.

I have a laminated checklist on the door telling me what to do throughout the morning. At one point, I would have thought that it was infantile to remind myself to brush my teeth or gather The Trinity (my keys, wallet, and cellphone.) from the bedside. I have finally accepted the truth: I can forget almost anything. This is especially true when I am groggy or feeling rushed in the morning. I make this easier by putting key items in exactly the same places, the night before. I feel much less anxiety, and move faster in the morning, when I know that there is a hard copy on the door to guide me right.

·         Workout Pajamas

Sleeping in workout clothes has been a common trick for the morning exercise crowd. It not only helps get things moving quickly; it also spares me the cold shock of changing clothes in a chilly room. I drape my riding jacket over the handlebars, so that I can slip right into it, along with my helmet and fanny pack.

·         The Fanny Pack.

The keys, wallet and cell phone go into a forward-facing fanny pack. The dorkiness is severe. However, I prefer this to the discomfort of cycling with all that stuff in my pockets. The fanny pack also allows me to drop keys and mask somewhere quickly when I lock my door. When I inevitably question whether I have forgotten one of these crucial items, I can spot them quickly without patting or digging.

·         Packing, Charging Ahead of Time

It is easy to load my bike up ahead of time when I keep it in the room with me. I make sure it is packed with all the clothes, food, and equipment that I could want. Putting things on the bike rack is preferable to using a backpack because I am less liable to sweat. I also have recently invested in a rechargeable handlebar light. It’s great, but also a hassle attaching and detaching the thing. Since the bike is already inside, however, I can just use an extension cord to charge the lamp in its place.

·         Pre-made breakfast

The fastest way out the door would be to grab a Clif bar or a banana with no cooking. However, speed is not my only goal. The pleasures of hot coffee and warm oatmeal are vital motivations on a cold morning. I economize time by pouring out my instant oatmeal ahead of time, along with peanut butter, raisins, and instant coffee on the side. All the water I need is already waiting on a hot plate near the bed. I just plug it in. I can finish last-minute chores while the water heats. (Pro-tip: Pour the instant coffee before the water boils. It not only saves time on the stovetop; it will also be ready to drink sooner.)

·         Slides over Sneakers

Yes, I’m lazy to the point that I would rather slip into my shoes than tie and untie them. This is also helpful when I get to work, and I have to change pants again.

·          Gear at Work

I try to leave as many supplies as possible at work. Often, I bring extra clothes or provisions in on days when I have to drive, due to weather or other circumstances. I don’t have much space to store goods in the building, but I have found that I have room to stash rolled-up dress shirts, freeze-dried coffee, and meals. In a previous model of the bike commute, I had arrived to work early and breakfasted in the breakroom. It seemed to work out just fine. Unbeknownst to me, however, my early arrival had been triggering a silent alarm — and a police department visit. This went on for weeks until I discovered what was happening. My employer did not encourage the arrangement. I now eat breakfast at home.

Following these routines may make mornings easier, but based on the number of steps involved, you can see that they are far from frictionless. These procedures have added value to my life in other ways, however, including helping me become a better planning. For a long time, I have seen procedure as stifling, antithetical to the fun creative person I perceive in myself. Over the years, however, I have recognized that procedural minds have a talent for getting things done. By borrowing their systemic mojo, I add value to my own unconventional ethos.

Unfortunately, many of the lowest-friction routines in this country also hurt the environment. It is easy to drive to our jobs, purchase pre-made meals, and remain disengaged from public life or personal responsibility.

Politics, societal inertia, and commerce have put the least psychological friction around driving and the most friction around all else. Creating a community that welcomes non-drivers requires far more coordination than my morning routine. It requires people working together to create research, interviews, arguments, laws.

We are half-awake and have barely pulled the covers off. We’ll be hard-pressed to get to work on time. A checklist is a good place to start.