Pedals, Petals, and Puddles 

2026 Full Circle Semester Blog #7

♪ It’s gonna rain, It’s gonna rain.
Put on your boots and build your fences.
It’s gonna rain, it’s gonna rain.
Prepare your defenses.
But it’s all right, everything is gonna be fine.
But it’s all right, even when the sun don’t shine. ♪

Hi again everybody, this time from Marlow, New Hampshire, where we finally completed the Full Circle! Last you heard from us, our paddling leg was coming to an end and we were having some beautiful, sunny days near Merrymeeting Bay in Maine. Between our paddling and bikepacking legs we had a layover at Stonecipher Farm, where we exchanged our boats for bikes and prepared to set off on ironically the shortest and longest leg of our expedition so far: Short as in we only had 10 days of travel, and long since we were covering 250+ miles in that time. 

Before departing on our final leg, we prepared for a week and a half of bikepacking by test riding our bikes one last time, which led to some unexpected brake failures (thank you to the local bike shop for the speedy repair!). We had one last hand on the land to show gratitude and appreciation towards Stonecipher Farm and we were off on our next adventure.

Just moments away from starting our journey of cycling south – helmets and hi-vis vests on – we were surprised by a last-minute addition to our group: Ian of Stonecipher Farm had decided to tag along, and we greeted his enthusiasm with matched excitement. A long time bikepacker himself, he biked all over the country before winding up with a flat in Maine that changed his trajectory in life and led him to founding the “largest no-till, deep compost market garden this side of the Mississippi”. As we reviewed our planned route, Ian proved his chops as a local guide, recommending more scenic roads and helping to avoid busier ones. On our first day we also encountered a handful of minor mechanical problems: a few back racks kept falling into the back wheel. Luckily our brilliant gear manager Rohan was quick to get some p-cord and lash a few of the back racks into a stable position. 

Pretty soon we found ourselves picnicking in the middle of Brunswick and going on bathroom runs to Hannafords, fully immersed in the front-country. After being out in the back-country for so long and only briefly passing through towns, it was an odd feeling to be biking through cities with all our camping gear lashed to our bikes. 

As our first day of 34 miles came to an end it started to rain. Luckily we were very close to our destination of Pownal, ME and had very little time on the rainy roads. That night we were graciously hosted by Jo (our Leg 1 and Paddling Leg instructor) and Ice who gave us a beautiful house tour and some frozen bacon: two things that we’ll always be grateful for. 

Our next day was our long anticipated arrival to Portland. First we biked through some very scenic roads with a marvelous view of the bay and different bogs. But none of that can be compared to our arrival to Portland. As we crossed our first bridge over the ocean to Portland it was magical. Our jaws dropped, time seemed to stop for a moment, and all that was left were the bikers and the endless seas ahead.

Unfortunately, time couldn’t stop time forever and we had to keep pedaling. We made a pitstop in a city park to gather firewood, then found our way cycling through Portland neighborhoods until arriving at the house of Clara Woods (Ecuador Semester alum) and her family. Nestled smack dab in the middle of suburbia, our camp was to be on their lawn right next to the street, a far cry from every camp we’d camped so far. Our lovely hosts had generously offered to feed us and Randall Woods, Clara’s dad, had been painstakingly preparing us a Texas barbecue. We talkin’ brisket, pork and beans, coleslaw, the whole shebang! Every bite was magic and our gratitude for such a feast? Incalculable. Your humble scribe is on the verge of drooling just recounting the deliciousness so kindly provided.

After dinner we eagerly ran off to catch a bus to head to the Portland Contra dance. We were in for a hootenanny and a half. Already well under way when we arrived, we were excitedly greeted by Ian and hit the floor ready to show off a thing or two. This dance was like nothing we’d ever seen before; all types of people merrily dancing from left to right, twisting and turning, jumping and stomping, laughing and singing. As it would turn out, this was one of the hardest contra’s we found ourselves in. Hours passed as fiddlers fiddled, sweat pooled and bare feet grew sore, all while we dizzied between dance partners. Eventually the final waltz finished and the band couldn’t strum another tune, and thus came the end of our homeric hoedown. We enjoyed our long walk back to our urban “camp” through the streets of downtown Portland.

The next day we biked through Portland to a ferry service that took us to Peaks Island. The ferry ride was short but very enjoyable. On Peaks Island we biked to a nice little park where we enjoyed a delicious lunch and ocean views. Once we were back in Portland we split into three groups, each granted a couple hours of time to explore and some spending money for a treat. Some of us managed to get a long-awaited bite of lobster, others went straight for the ice cream or pizza, and everyone had encounters with interesting locals who were curious about our journey. We all came back together with full stomachs and grins. It was definitely a very different experience to wander around a city instead of a forest. 

Back at our front lawn setup, we greeted a new addition to our flock. Evan, a new hire at Kroka and future Hellbender Semester instructor, had come to accompany our travels as a visitor. A master bikepacker, it was instantly apparent how down to earth and congenial he was and we were ecstatic to hear more from him over the next day or so. Going to bed that night, we were somewhat despondent to leave the city, but eager to put down more miles as we crept closer to basecamp. 

Waking up to a warm sunny day, rumor was it wouldn’t last and that weather was on its way today. Hastily we took down camp, aiming to get on the road ASAP in order to beat the rain. We biked out of the city crossing the Casco Bridge, making our way on to the East Coast Greenway. We traveled from the city proper through suburbs to salt marshes and farm fields until the inevitable happened: it started to rain. As a light drizzle grew stronger we found ourselves huddled under a roadside baseball dugout spreading PB & J onto Wasa crackers. This whole time the navigators had been hard at work deciphering the best route between roads and trails. As soon as they felt secure about our next directions, we set off this time through the pouring rain, rushing to get to a place where we could get warm and dry once again.

Our raincoats were being put to the ultimate test and proving to be less than adequate for the weather circumstances. After a lack of road signs led to a brief turn around, we finally made it to our destination. We were to be hosted by the McGlashan family in their backyard (Eamon McGlashan is an Ecuador 23 and summer staff alum). Once camp was up, the McGlashan’s generously offered us their outdoor shower to get nice and warm before changing out of our dripping clothes. They even brought out a box of warm sweaters for us to layer up with. After a cold and wet day, such kindness warms your soul more than any hoodie ever will. We had quite a dinner in store for us as well. Having driven Evan down to join us, Kroka’s gear manager Colby had been waiting for our arrival, surprising us with his much beloved Mac & Cheese for dinner. The McGlashan’s even surprised us with s’more materials. We truly appreciated every gift we received that night. 

The next day we said our farewells to Colby and Evan, who had Monday morning chores at Kroka to get back in time for, and gave a special thank you to our hosts, and started off on a beautiful, rainless morning. We cycled through the last bit of southern Maine eventually finding our way across the border into New Hampshire. We stopped for lunch at a skate park just outside of Dover, then upon cycling through downtown we encountered a pounding downpour– one so torrential it forced us off our bikes to wait out the dangerous conditions. This was a rain unlike any previously encountered biking so far. It was more akin to a summer rain than one of spring, coming hard and fast and not nearly as bone-chilling as the day before. When conditions subsided enough we mounted our bikes again, continuing towards our home for the night. We were to be hosted at the University of New Hampshire Browne Center, where we found ourselves to be quartered in a yurt, a great relief considering the current dampness of our tents. We hung our wet gear to dry and settled in for the night, grateful to be under a warm, dry roof. 

Following breakfast the next morning, we were tasked with some maintenance work around the Browne Center in exchange for our stay. The area was surrounded by a ropes course, of which we cleared of debris and mulched the walkways. Soon enough we were back on the road, biking across southeastern New Hampshire headed to a campground just outside Manchester. Not much can be said about the day besides its beautiful weather and lack of rain. Before not too long, we had made it to Calef Lake Campground, where we would be living over the next day. 

Our time at Calef Lake was one of rest and recreation, with a visit from a guest teacher scheduled for the evening. We started our day off with academics, trying to get ahead on our final personal statements before the days got too packed. After that, we had free time to explore the campground, go for a swim, and take a shower in the camp bathrooms. Some people focused on their Big Jobs, like the navigators going over future travel plans, others went for a chilling dip at the lake, a few even started a barbershop in one of the bathrooms.

Once our free time had come to an end, some of us went to await the arrival of our anticipated visitor. It was Jake Lewis, the raconteur who had last spellbound us in January before we ever set ski on the winter trail. Once again, he shared with us a captivating tale, and sucked us into a world of folk and fantasy, periodically pausing to inquire where we saw ourselves in the story. As daylight faded into dark we listened, entranced by the words of oral tradition.

Once that story came to an end, Jake left us with a quote most pertinent to our situation: “It’s never over, ‘till it’s over.” And with that he left us to finish our own stories. 

The next day we biked the rest of the way into Manchester making our way to an establishment known as “Cremeland.” Throughout semester, we had an eye out for coins and cash found in snowbanks, roadsides, and parking lots. Our group collected nearly $50 over the course of expedition, and now was the moment to finally put it to good use. With our budget, we discussed the best bang for our buck. In the end we settled on dividing into 3 groups and buying 3 “Belly Busters,” a 15 dollar deal that offers 5 scoops of your choosing along with 2 toppings between banana, whipped cream, and a cherry on top. The dichotomy between how we went about consuming the dessert was revealing.

The group consisting of Bernie, Rohan, Taio, and Joaquin started off organized and systematic, before the excitement and laughter devolved into a feeding frenzy and it was every man for himself. If you’ve ever seen hyenas feasting on National Geographic, you’ll have a nigh 1 for 1 image. The group consisting of Kate, Jule, Ella, and Emily, however, went about completely opposite.

Choosing to instead take it slow and savor every bite of milky sugar while it lasted. Like a pride of lions, they shooed off the circling hyenas with threatening roars while they truly enjoyed their dessert. Once we’d all finished eating, we got a picture in front of the sign, and headed off as the clouds began to precipitate.

Resupplying our produce and fresh food at a grocery store, we once more made our way through greenways and road shoulders, up steeper and steeper hills, until arriving at our next camp. Our host this time was Nica, who hosted us in her beautiful backyard in New Boston, NH. Another excellent host, she offered us dumplings and applesauce and joined us for our evening routines. We heard another, longer rain storm was on the way. We went to sleep that night unsure of whether we should travel the next day or to wait out the weather.

We awoke to the announcement of continuing onwards. Since the rain was only spitting and we had places to be, it was decided that we keep going to our penultimate camp. However, just as soon as we left the driveway, our camp all packed up on our bikes, and there was no turning back, the rain started to pick up, and would leave us soaking all day. Starting off on a dirt road, it soon gave way to a mountain bike trail and then that turned into a pond. Having to navigate our way around this sudden water feature, we returned to the roads, biking through the rain until it came time for lunch. We found a little market with a covered porch to rest at and ate our meal as passersby gazed at our miserable conditions. Yet our spirits were high. Rumor was we’d get to stay in cabins at our next destination, and we sang and pedaled hard to keep warm in the meantime. While the day first started out fairly flat, the hills only got steeper as we made our way east. We were now experiencing true New England biking for what it is, rolling hills that leave quads quaking.

Trying to find our way wet and increasingly cold, we diverted plans to roads rather than unmaintained trails until we chanced upon the one we were looking for all along, and that took us to the steepest climbs of our trip thus far. Just as we were within less than a mile of our destination, we had our first flat tire. While waiting in the cold rain for the flat to be repaired, we pulled out our emergency chocolate and whatever snacks we had left before pushing up the last big hills to Camp Glenbrook. We arrived at the summer camp property and were immediately greeted with hospitality. Only expecting the most humble, bare bones cabins, they upgraded us to a house that had enough showers for all of us. After a challenging day of travel, it was a blessing to receive such a gift of hot showers, a kitchen to cook in, a dryer to dry clothes, and bunk beds to sleep in. That night we made big plans for our final day before fully closing the circle: we were trusted to make our way to basecamp independent from our instructors.

We awoke to a house without our teachers. We organized ourselves to an impressive standard, we split off to clean our lodging, work a service project on the Camp Glenbrook farm, and pack our bikes for the day ahead. We had our final uproarious trail breakfast on the floor of the kitchen before a final tidying and departure. Setting off for Kroka basecamp, we made our way from Marlborough to Marlow through a mix of mountain bike trails and roads. More and more were started to recognize our surroundings, passing through the town of Gilsum and seeing signs for Alstead. Pretty soon we were passing Lake Warren and had, for the first time on expedition, crossed through the same path we had left on so many months before.

Blessed with pleasant weather and a shining sun, we settled down in a beautiful grassy meadow overlooking the lake. The same field we had skied over when it was covered with snow leaving Kroka February 4th. It was a moment of closure, and we shared many memories of our early days at basecamp and the initial hardships of winter, relieved to finally be just minutes away from the end. But, as Jake Lewis would say, it’s never over until it’s over, and we still had one last hill to get up and down. We clustered up, to make sure we arrived the same way we departed – as a whole group. We came down past many familiar sights until the red roof of the farmhouse came into view, cheering as we rode triumphantly into basecamp, returning to home now full of the vibrant life of spring. Our homecoming was held by many new faces and old ones alike, with hugs and congratulations and songs. This was it. The end of our expedition.

While we still had two more weeks before graduation, this was the moment where we could finally say we completed the full circle. And while it was melancholic to know it was over, the gratitude for our experience washes away any feeling of loss into one of completion. 

Basecamp:
After a 700 mile journey through rolling hills, blue lake, and rocky shores we had made it back to Kroka!

We expeditiously completed all of our trail de-issue and regained our strength and energy for the following week. We were given the opportunity to work for the community to reflect our gratitude for all of the support we had received from Kroka during our adventures.

This service project is known as Small Group Projects. We broke off into different groups and we were all working on different things.

Here goes a quick run down on who was doing what: Ella, Emily, and Noah were working on the farm with Jacob, Emily, and Jennifer. They were working for the future with the goal of planting many perennials that’ll benefit this community and the surrounding ecosystem for many years to come. Joaquin and Rohan were working with Hugh, the resident carpentry master, on a detailed woodwork project. They made beautiful compost bins that resemble the Kroka spirit. Oliver and Kate biked each morning to Orchard Hill Breadworks where they helped with important bakery chores and assisted in the bread making process.

Taio, Zahava, and Jule were all working as Kroka teacher apprentices for two school programs that were happening here. They got to go paddling in Lake Warren and rock climbing in the Marlow Profile with visiting students. Bernie, Anna, and Charlie worked with Marty in order to build a big cob oven in the Kroka village. In a few weeks, this oven will be ready to bake bread, pizza, and more for the community. At the end of the three and a half days of Student Group Projects, we reflected on our work with a show and tell presentation for the Kroka staff community.

After finishing with our service work we moved on to prepping for our 24 hour solos that we were about to have around the beaver pond. We grabbed our packs, stuffed our sleeping bags inside them, our tarps, and maybe a few carrots. When we were all ready, we walked off into the woods together in complete silence.

Whenever we were called to a spot in the woods we’d trickle off. Just like last time, everybody spent their solo time differently. Some rested, others carved, or maybe read but we all came back ready for what was to come… a long study hall block in which we finally finished the Book of Wisdom. The tedious hours working became worth it once we went to the Spring Ball Contra dance in Peterborough where we danced and laughed for a few hours. The perfect segue into our last week of semester.

As I write this, with graduation feeling just moments away, an odd feeling enraptures my body. An almost out of body sensation that comes from realizing just what we’ve all accomplished as a new-found family. It’s like we entered a pocket dimension where time moves so fast you don’t even notice it, and simultaneously never moving at all. From a cold winter to a blazing spring, and all the in-between.

We started this journey as people completely separate from who we became. All the hardships, all the joy, excitement, perseverance, challenges and success… It all blurs together into one moment. One space in time occupied by 13 like minds who were pulled together by inexplicable means, and who now look onward to a future just ahead. Thank you, Kroka, for creating this opportunity. We will forever hold these moments in our hearts, and will carry them with us wherever we tread.

Signing off,

Your Scribes,
Taio and Bernie

Bonus: Bernie’s Advice Column

Nervous Paddler: As a future semester student, what should I do if I flip my canoe?
Bernie: First you laugh, then you pray, finally don’t let go of the paddle and hope you’re saved.

Future Ski-Packer: As a future semester student, what should I do if backpack is too heavy while I’m skiing down a hill?
Bernie: Try and balance the weight well. If your pack is top heavy, it’s not packed well. But the useful thing is to convince yourself that your pack is light and that you can carry more.

H2No!:  How do I not get holes in my rain jacket?
Bernie: They’ll tell you to wear an Anorak but in fact you should bring a rubber rain jacket that’ll keep you dry and hole-less.