My LSD experience

 Largo Solstice Devotion was something of the worst late plan of a mousey man, but don't knock mice, they're incredibly adept at getting into places and finding food and surviving. There's the adage: "Design a better mouse trap, and the world will beat a path to your door," but design mice that trip mouse traps with a stick, and the world will beat down your door!

Wow, second sentence and I already sidetracked, which isn't a bad state of mind for a summer solstice outing, as there's a lot of time to fill with mental meandering between a 4:25AM start and 9:30PM conclusion. 

As for the "late plan", my first consideration was to head for Maine where Steve, my companion for the last two solstice hikes, now lives. He'd expressed interest in continuing with the forrays, and while we've never ridden bikes together, his tales have me consider him a heroic rider, so he'd be an ideal companion for enacting my idea of a one day ride through every state in New England.

Alas, Steve's schedule conflicted, so for a plan b, I considered riding the M&M Trail with either a start or finish at Mount Monadnock, but my friend living in the adjoining town is headed to a race in California, so again, that jaunt will better wait for timing that includes company. Plus, I've wanted to do that ride since I was undergraduate at UMASS, so it will easily keep a little longer.

Then I saw the forecast high in the upper 90s with a heat index over 100, and I thought about trying (Tri-ing? Having already completed bike and foot segents) a solstice kayak paddle on the Connecticut River. Maybe someday, but for this time, that thought didn't progress past the hmmm stage.

And the winner was: a one day outing north on the New England Trail toward Monadnock, eventually looping back south at some point that appealed, but Wednesday had to happen first, and that included an afternoon ramble on the rough-and-ready rugged hybrid with the bigger 42c front tire transferred to the rear, replaced by an even bigger 2.2" 29er tire at the prow. Afternoon is when the weather stormed with thunder, and while I could likely have scooted home in advance of that, I instead opted to shelter as it blew through, slowly. Slowly, slowly, so I waited into evening to make it home merely significantly damp.

4:15AM start for full dark sky, remember that? I go to sleep early, but for that start, I'd usually don an eye mask and bed down an hour earlier around 7AM, which is hard to do when I don't make it home until after 7:30. So, in the full spirit of "largo", just before 7AM of the solstice ride, I stopped for my first nap on the second landing of the Mount Lincoln fire tower stairs, about fifteen feet above the ground and the rain nurtured mosquitoes. Yes, I hooked at arm over the next step in case of restless slumber, but figured I was already far more secure than the time I realized I'd just napped supine on the 2x6 railing cap of my dad's porch, ten feet off the ground.

Better rested, I considered it time to better feed, which is when I discovered my yogurt hadn't well survived two hours of mountain bike jostling in the bag of supplies on a rear rack. Snacking takes a little longer when one of the courses licked off the inside of a bag and my extra clothing layers.

Reassembled, my bike and I continued down to one of the splits between the classic M&M trail and the new New England SCENIC Trail, which follows a lot more road (future diatribe to come). I opted for NET over the former M&M as time, disuse, and lack of maintenance has not always been kind to the latter. As a reward, I went home with two large chunks of reishi mushroom, easily spotted after my friend Dan had pointed out others on last weekend's run.

I prefer the M&M and had ridden the NET trail section in Schutesbury near route 202 only once prior, four years ago in Covid lockdown times, so it was a pleasing confirmation that I haven't completely lost my mind from the accident when a quarter mile early I recognized the topography of the approach to a substantial bridge installation. Things like that have always held more meaning for me than mere names!

After multiple miles of ever-so-scenic dirt roads, that I was ever so happy to be rolling, not hiking, I arrived at the Wendell State Forest to the rumble of thunder in the distance. More precisely, I arrived at the Wendell State Forest picnic gazebo, which appealed as the favorable place the weather the impending weather. Plus, it was time for nap number two.

I remembered finding blueberries at an earlier point on the M&M during last summer solstice's hike, but this time had to wait until Wendell offered a couple earlier ripeners.

Once again, better rested and fed, it was decision time: continue north, or begin a more secuitous wander back south. In the interest of being rationally consistent in following fate, I decided if water was available a half mile ahead at the junction of those two options, I'd top up and continue up, otherwise I'd turn south and exit past the ranger station with the outside water tap. Hey, look, yes, there's an old pump well at the junction picnic site, but look closer, and no, it hasn't been functional for years.

South past the ranger station it is, but functional, the outside tap isn't. Happily, my timing coincided with a friendly ranger headed into the building who filled my bottle from their cooler. Thank you DCR! Cross the rural Wendell Road, and I'm onto the even quieter Chestnut Hill Road which turns to less frequently improved dirt on its way down to Leverett. But wait, a quarter mile down that is a arrow for the Robert Frost Trail indicating a right on Dry Hill Road. I'd never travelled that way, which is all the enticement I need, so I turned and found a lovely track through the woods.

Then a further along, I found the name of my path was definitely Dry-Hill Road, not Dry Hill-Road, when the roadway turned to a stream bed. To keep a hill dry, drainage is needed, viaduct?

I'm glad I tried it, extra glad I was riding down, not up, and I may even ride it again during the next draught. My brake cables tightened to compensate for pad wear, I truly parted from the woods to follow the Franklin County bikeway through Montague down to the Mount Toby forest and a long forest road climb to the long ridge that was significantly longer than I remembered from running it. I did have a break to change the tube in the smaller rear tire after the air broke out of it. I need to check if a 2.2 might fit back there as well!

Amble, amble, amble, I did complete the length of that ridge and then cruised through UMass and Amherst center to a soundtrack of much more distinct thunder emanating from a sharp line of dark clouds to my west. Amherst College tennis courts were a water source on last year's solstice hike, and they also had covered seating, and I remembered the shelter as a metal structure. Metal is an attractive pathway for lightning to reach ground, more attractive than the human body, so if surrounded by it, my body would be the higher resistance path, which is what I wanted, especially when a bolt struck a few hundred yards away at the top of campus with zero delay between flash and sound! Ok, that's the physics lesson for this post.

Safely watching violent clouds approach

And a few moments later they arrive

And how!

One advantage of fast moving storms is their end approaches quickly as well, so my shelter entertainment was shorter than the prior day, and before too long, just about right long in fact, the rain abated enough to lure me out for my rail trail segment of the trip home. Lights back on, I joined the roadway again just as another burst of precipitation joined the ride, so I briefly, as in one minute, sheltered again in the alcove of South Amherst's Munson Library before finishing my jaunt home, significantly more wet than the prior day, but happily right at 9:30PM, an hour after sunset, and in true full dark!

Long post? It was a long day, literally!