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#NoVanLife
Good days make for boring blog posts. That was my thought moments before taking an incorrect left turn on Jacksonville Stage Rd outside Halifax, VT. That was the bad news, but the good news: that error sent me to the top of an open hill where I had cell coverage to call and wish Adele good night, our evening ritual. Fortunately, I realized my error (or dare I say, the error in road signage) before descending too far back into the North River valley from which I'd just climbed, dropping instead into the correct valley in time for my night's rest on the bank of the Green River. Yes, this weekend I treated myself a two overnights adventure into Vermont and New Hampshire.
A few years ago, I envisioned a mountain bike, unencumbered by racks and bags, but towing a trailer, as a way of exploring the various trail networks of New England, or beyond, that were outside the range of my typical one day ride. With all my gear contained in an easily detachable unit, I could ride to any trailhead, drop the trailer, and enjoy the woods on a playful, nimble bike. My riding to races called this system into existence, so I am now equipped to make that vision a reality!
This past Friday, Adele was pedaling up to Ashfield to collect her CSA share, so joining her gave me the perfect launch to a weekend's exploration up north. We met mid afternoon in Deerfield to wind our way up route 116 along the Mill and South Rivers. I do have a bias toward avoiding numbered routes, and the traffic on 116 has increased since I first rode it while a student and UMass, but I'm a sucker for gradual climbs that follow streams, so the light midday traffic was worth tolerating. Plus, friend and now full-time frame builder Matt Gaspar lives along the way, so we allowed for a stop to see his newly completed shop in Conway before completing our climb to the farm where Adele and I parted ways around 5 PM. From there, after just a little more climbing, I descending into Shelburne Falls to work my way up the valley through Colrain and into Vermont. The first house I attempted to buy was in Colrain, and I still appreciate the comforting, enclosed feeling that valley gives every time I pass through it. Topography speaks to me.
And it was in this valley that I was passed by two vans headed north as well, seemingly equipped for a weekend of adventure. In 2010, my version of a van was a 1986 Volvo station wagon, and I spend a chunk of that year wandering, exploring, and seeing. But while on the road, I was seeing through a windshield, not truly in my surroundings, just passing through them. I'm not knocking people for the ease and speed that vehicular travel brings, but now with a few longer tours in my experience, I can't imagine going back to life on the road, but sheltered from it. I now realize how much I was missing while moving along in my box of metal and glass, like the conversation I had with the fire fighter in Colrain while refilling on water. Careful out there, we're at high fire danger already in mid May.
Other gems from the road unfiltered: Stopping at a public beach away from the hustle of route 9 in Spofford, NH, I asked one of the clean-up crew if there was a bathroom available and received this reply, "Not until the beach opens in two weeks, can you hold it?" Clap, clap, clap. Or later that day, rolling out of Keene on the Ashuelot Rail Trail, I cheered as a focused individual balanced, walking the 200 foot long top of a chain link fence. The world is always happening, and when I travel by bike, I experience more of this rich pageant instead of merely getting somewhere.
Chesterfield Gorge, NHI did get somewhere too. Early morning in Brattleboro had me wandering the limited trail network on the edge of downtown. While I never dropped the trailer nor deflated tires from road pressures, I did find my way up to a tower overlooking town, before deciding my day was better spent with a sooner exit east to reach the mountain bike offerings in Keene, namely the officially sanctioned dirt jump bike park and the trail system on Drummer Hill, or to put it another way, smooth, flowy pump track and then roots, and rocks, and roots growing over rocks. Drummer Hill is rough, but tremendous effort had been put into creating an extensive trail system that was highly enjoyable. I'll be back.
Two hours of trail riding in the heat, even with a dip in Goose Pond, was enough to sate my appetite for sweating, so I left the burg of Keene around two, traffic free for many miles, on the rail trail running down to Winchester. New Hampshire has a distinctly different view than Massachusetts of what a rail trail should be. Part of this, I would guess, is funding, and part the double duty of serving as snowmobile trail in winter, but the end result is a lot less pavement up north. Even pulling a trailer, I liked the dirt surface, although I did exit to pavement a little early once the frequency of mud crossings started to increase. To finish the day, back in Mass, I refreshed with a cleansing in the Connecticut River before retiring to my camp, sheltered under hemlocks from the night's light drizzle.
But if you're who's counting, you know that only brings us through Saturday night, a whole day short of full weekend. With rain forecast for late Sunday, I had elected the early start homeward, but that, plus my convenient campsite in Montague, situated me well for joining a group of friends for a trail run along the Pocumtuck Ridge while still having ample time to arrive home before a downpour dousing. Thanks to Jerome for organizing, Matt for loaning me a pair of running shoes to swap for my cleats, and Drew for the first people's history lesson after shouting "Wequamps!!!" from the summit of what we pale faces call North Sugarloaf. That was a wonderful rounding off of a weekend adventure, reconnecting with the runners I hadn't seen en masse since a pandemic ago, and I did made it back to Granby under a welcome light sprinkle of rain, able to enjoy the evening flash thunder storm with Adele under the shelter of a roof, because, yes, at times, it is nice for a bike to have a home.
And don't forget Brattleboro!
NIce to run across your blog! I have some experience with vanlife. Time & money that likely would have been better spent riding a bike and getting a motel or a tent at a campsite if necessary.
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