Where I’m from I don’t have much in the way of a cycling community, which made it quite special to be surrounded by a crowd of likeminded individuals at the 8th (and my first) Nutmeg Nor’Easter. I managed to convince my friend Atom to drive down from Burlington to join me for a weekend that ended up being a ton of fun and came through at a perfect time in my life when I needed a bit of a reset.
After forgetting a tote containing most of my stuff (including my tent, sleeping bag, bike shoes, and all our cookware) and needing to make a bonus round trip back up to Springfield, I joined back up with Atom to shop the tag sale, make some new friends, and drink a beer before settling in for a cozy and chilly night’s sleep. The next morning, we woke up excited to ride bikes and soak in the good vibes. Breakfast was savory and coffee was strong. After a quick stop down at the lodge to check out the live music, we headed out on our adventure.
Legs felt good and spirits were high as we rode out of the retired boy scout camp (that my dad and his siblings attended as kids, actually), and we moved quickly along winding country roads under the autumn leaves. At some point we turned right onto the best named street of the entire weekend, Roast Meat Hill Road, which deservedly had an bespoke street plaque next to its street sign. Atom kindly got our mechanical for the day out of the way early in the first offroad stretch of the way, breaking his chain and then quickly repairing it with a donor quick link from a kind stranger. RIP to my crank brothers multitool, which some say is still sitting on the side of the trail camoflauged my leaves until this very day.
After a lengthy stop at Chester’s busy and picturesque main street for coffee and pastries, we caught the historic ferry to the eastern and more remote side of the Connecticut River. One kind Nutmeg participant paid for all us cyclists on board, which was very kind and generous. This ended up being a theme of the weekend. Riding across the ferry is always a treat, moving slowly on the water in the shadow of Gilette Castle.
The Hadlyme side of the river is far less busy, likely because the Chester side has Route 9 and I-91 running along the riverbank. Aside from being emptier, the roads are much narrower and punishingly steep. A loop around Hadlyme featured some beautiful scenery and a stop at JP Weigle’s frame building shop. It felt like we belonged there, with a plant stand that matched Atom’s David Bowie-inspired bike perfectly. I wasn’t familiar with Peter’s work and it was a cool experience to learn about this legendary frame shop. The bikes on display were super cool, and it’s a shame that we’ve collectively kind of moved on from classic bespoke frame building like this. I guess we haven’t, with the Nutmeg’s sold-out crowd as proof.
We just barely caught a ferry back west, rolling on without even stopping our bikes. This reminded me of the Frame Rule metaphor in Super Mario Speedrunning, which is a neat intersection of interests. Some more gravel and dirt roads led us north to Haddam, and eventually right by my uncle and aunt’s house. The top of the hill they live on turns into a one lane “road” that’s more like a hiking trail, and as such have never approached their house from that direction before. I’ve actually never been to the end of their street. It was cool to have a unique experience in a place otherwise so familiar. We stopped to visit and grab water and Atom played my cousin’s kid-sized drum kit.
Unbeknownst to us, the roughest trails we had to face were on the back half of our ride, so the break with family to set the vibe for our next couple hours was perfect. A few minutes down the road we turned onto a hiking trail that was a bit too rough for my 45c tires but I managed to make it work. It felt good to have my limits pushed a bit. A second section of trail was narrower but far less rocky and more forgiving. This might have been my favorite riding of the entire weekend. I didn’t eat enough throughout the day, so I stopped to eat a dozen fig newtons I had carried with me the entire ride and slowly spun the last triumphant two miles back to camp.
Suddenly, we emerged from the woods right at our campsite, which was very cool and unexpected – I had anticipated rolling back into camp down the gravel road that we had driven in on and pedaled down in reverse that morning. After dumping bikes and eating two PB & Nutella sandwiches each, we changed and headed down to the main lodge for pizza and hanging out. Atom and I ended up chatting for a while with Sam Scipio, who was attending for the first time to help Ron with the event. We hung with her a bit for the rest of the night and met up the next morning as well. It was cool to make a new friend.
I responsibly replenished calories with hot pizza and cold beer before the disco dance party started. I was wiped and intended on only staying to check out the first few minutes, but got caught up in the music and stayed late into the night. I’m glad I did, as it felt great to anonymously and temporarily connect with folks.
The next morning we woke up and packed up camp, ready to watch the fixed gear race. I mostly ride fixed gear, but certainly don’t have a ride that can face this terrain. Ron won a cool second place, but my conspiracy theory is that he just didn’t want to win the event he put on. Cheering on the riders was a blast and I think I’ll try to compete myself someday, although it certainly won’t be in a bid for first place.
After the race concluded, Atom and I left to ride one of the other mapped routes before heading back north. At this point most people were leaving for the weekend, but why not get another ride in? We enjoyed some quiet roads and trails under blue skies. At one point on some rough downhill singletrack, Atom’s bike computer glitched and we got separated. Once reunited, we took direct roads back to camp, arriving just two minutes before the 3:00pm deadline to vacate the premises.
The Nutmeg was a perfect weekend surrounded by people who I felt like understood me and my perspective without needing to say anything. Unlike most cycling scenes it was vaguely queer and certainly counterculture. As a cis, straight white man coming from a place of many privileges it may sound silly to say, but I felt much more comfortable here than in hypermasculine paceline racing groups – and I should note that folks here were as strong if not stronger cyclists than people in the more traditional club racing scene.
It’s great to see a welcoming and inclusive event thrive, and I expect it to sell out again immediately next year. I hope I’m able to be part of that sellout crowd.