Today was a very memorable day in my cycling career…

I was up early with the intent of making it as far as I could before the forecast afternoon thunderstorms materialised. Not that I believed 100% in the forecast, after all, they have not been that accurate, but I had lost a critical day due to rain and needed to make it up.

After packing I was out the door about 8:15. I picked up a bagel and a muffin for breakfast and then cycled up the road. It was then that every cyclists nightmare happened: someone opened their door and knocked me over.

For once my ‘radar’ had let me down. When in urban areas I am always on the lookout for cars that had recently parked. The one in question was parked on the road and there was nothing for the 300 m as I cycled up to it to show me it was occupied. In any event when I was right next to it the driver opened his door into my lane and clipped my handle bars which sent me flying.

I’m quite thankful that there was nobody driving by as it would have been much worse. The next thing I knew I was lying on my back in the road with the most intense pain in my shoulder as well as aches elsewhere. It seems that my shoulder collected the car door en route to my tumble to the pavement.

It happened in front of the courthouse and a US Marshall was on duty so he ran out and directed the traffic. I felt my shoulder and it had a huge swollen area the size of a golf ball. I was helped by two people, one of whom was a doctor. He examined my shoulder and said it was OK to move so I was helped off to the sidewalk where a woman introduced herself as a paramedic and had a look at me as well. Talk about good luck having such immediate medical attention. Puts pay to the idea that people won’t help you in the USA for fear of being sued.

I was impressed with the rapidity of the emergency services for the fireman and ambulance arrived within a few minutes of the accident. After an examination they dressed my shoulder the consensus was that I had broken my collar bone. They offered me a ride in the ambulance to the hospital for an x-ray to confirm the diagnosis, but they said that there was little doubt. The fact that I couldn't lift my bike with my right arm further confirmed their prognosis. I was not keen on the hospital bit as once before I had a similar accident and my wife Lis advised me that even if it was broken there was nothing to do about it. At least that was her argument, but it may also have been because she was sick in bed and didn’t want to drag herself out on a wet winter’s night. I figured that if I knew it was broken I'd probably have to own up and cancel my trip -- only two days from the end -- which I was not keen on doing. Ignorance is bliss.

The ambulance guys were great and one of them was a keen cyclist from Keene New Hampshire so he commiserated with me about the hazards of cycling in town. They patch up a number every month. Before they left I got them to pose for a photo—thanks guys!

The police had interviewed the driver and the witnesses and since the damage was less than $1000 and there were no serious injuries it was not considered to be a ‘reportable accident’. I just wanted to get on my way, although I felt like death warmed over. At least I didn’t have a concussion—after my car crash in February I’m an expert on those—although I was slightly nauseous from the shock.

I cycled north out of town, a bit shaky, but glad to still be around. God is good! I soon found myself crossing the Connecticut River which was lovely with the mist due to the rain. I thought it would be neat to come back this way next year and kayak the river. There must be a lot of kayaking around here since I’ve not seen so many cars with kayaks on them since I was in the South Island.

Once across the bridge I was into New Hampshire and was welcomed by a sign to the local liquor store. Obviously they have different liquor hours or laws in New Hampshire over Vermont.

The ride I did into New Hampshire is somewhat of a blur. There were some lovely lakes and lots of forests and hills. It was raining but fortunately it was the light misting drizzle that was more refreshing than bothersome, but it did serve to make me nice and wet.

The shock was wearing off and I was very sore by now. At Spofford I went into the local shop and bought a bottle of extra strength Tylenol as well as a drink. Drugs are wonderful, particularly when one doubles the dose. I kind of felt like the walking wounded limping about and fumbling about with only one arm.  It was quite challenging to park my bike as I couldn't lift it with my right arm at all. Definitely broken collar bone methinks. The lady running the place was most understanding and even took the cotton out of the Tylenol for me. I haven’t been incapacitated like this since my sporting days and had taken my dexterity for granted.

After reaching Keene I headed north-east towards Concord. There was a lot of construction going on which suited me as I was able to ride in the construction zone away from the traffic. It was quite hilly and as I approached the top of one hill I saw two vehicles stopped, one of which had a big yellow sign ‘Caution Cyclists’—where were they this morning! I was greeted by about 30 teenagers from come church groups who were on a trip around New England. They were travelling much lighter than myself but I thought it was great that in spite of the atrocious weather they were out there doing it.

As the day wore on I felt a bit better and was able to slightly appreciate the lovely countryside I was cycling through. There were lots of trees and hills, with rivers often running next to the road. The road was marked on my map as a scenic route and I can see why. It would be spectacular to come back here in autumn when the leaves are changing.

I stopped for lunch and an escape from the rain at South Stoddard. It was then that I realised that I was going to have a lot of problems because of this shoulder: I can’t lift the bicycle without my right arm so parking is a real problem. There was petrol station with a country store which had a small diner. I’ve seldom seen a place as busy as them with a continuing stream of people coming in for food. They made me a delightful vegetarian sandwich and asked me lots of questions about life in N.Z. Their deserts must be something special; a woman came in and asked when they were doing there raspberry delight. They said they would make it for her Friday and she said that they should enter the recipe in competition. The woman behind the counter was most proud to say that this was her own creation.

When I came out from lunch one of the teenage cyclists I passed earlier was coming in to use the toilet (oops … that’s a rude word here. I mean restroom). I asked where the rest were and she said they were having a speed trial and were spread out along the road. Sure enough when I cycled off I came across a number of them.

This area was settled in the late 18^th century and early 19^th century, although a lot of the farms were abandoned during the latter half of the 18^th century in favour of the land that as opening up out west. The forest has reclaimed the land and as a result you can go wandering through dense forests and suddenly come across stone walls, seemingly built in the middle of nowhere. The author Bill Bryson writes about this and tells of whole communities which have been swallowed up by the forests. They are so dense that planes have crashed and their remains never found.

I saw an example of this heritage in the form of a stone bridge that dated from the first half of the 18^th century. The nearby historical plaque indicated that it was of a design unique to this area wherein it was built without any mortar.

The road passed other lakes and took me over lots of moderate hills. It was hard going for me as in spite of the Tylenol I was in a fair bit of pain. My shoulder precluded me standing up when going up hills and my left knee was quite sore. It was one of those days when it was head down, grit ones teeth and sing the theme song from the movie Rocky to inspire me not to give up.

Eventually I approached Concord which is on the Merrimack river. The land became much more rolling with short, steep grades. There were lots of old houses dating back to the 18^th century. The oldest I saw had a plaque 1764 on it. I do enjoy being in places with such history. Finally I reached Concord and tried to find a hotel. However, before that I treated myself to the largest chocolate sundae I could find. My spirits were down and I needed some cheering up. It sure worked.

I cycled up the main street and the only one that I saw was a Holiday Inn. I checked out the phone book and there were a couple more, but surprisingly little choice given that this is the state's capital. I called the Holiday Inn and they asked why I wanted to stay there. When I told them it was because I was knocked off my bicycle and hurt the manager said that he was a cyclist and so could commiserate. He gave me a 20% discount which, while still making it expensive, made it acceptable.