S Septet

 Salem's snowy single speed Saturday solstice! Fortunately, I didn't augment that alliteration with the sssss of tube perforation, which is particularly painful in the cold. Yesterday was also the summation of shotgun season for deer hunting, but, again fortunately, that didn't impact me directly, or even catch me with ricochet, other than turning my light on early at 6:05am when I saw a hunter's flashlight coming through the woods towards me.

Yes, the woods, like for this years summer solstice, I stuck to riding off of roads as best I could. After a 100 yard commute down my street, I headed into trails on state land, then soon connected to snowmobile trails after another half mile of roadway. That trail bisects the system of Canal Trails, which treated me to what I consider my first true bout of mountain biking after the operation.

 It went pretty well, with me respecting that my ability to pull on the handlebars is still very limited. I walked over most log crossings bigger than a couple inches and had only one particularly interesting moment when roots bounced my boots off the pedals and I waddled, quickly, awkwardly over the top tube for ten feet. I still have much recovering to regain full usage, but it's pleasing to be content with what I have now.

Back, and backward, on the snowmobile trail, an old rail easement that eventually turns into the Norwattuck multi use path, I connected most of the remaining unofficial bits, except the wet parts, to join the eastern terminus of the improved rail trail, which took me all the way to a well worn pathway to the end of Northern Ave in Northampton, home of the Pedal People Bike Lab, and the friends there to help instruct others to work on their bike, at all times of year and in types of weather. 

Rail trail, heading west

In addition to some warming company, I procured a just-the-right-size washer to keep the tug nut bolt from bottoming out before it fully tensioned my single speed chain, so after that, I went from three or four dropped chains to all of none at all. Thanks Bike Lab! But while chatting was warming of the soul, standing about and eyeing the tinge of sunlight around the clouds was not, so after an hour, I continued west on the railtrail to Florence, covering the first half mile by foot to stamp my feet and swing my arms, aiding my extremity circulation.

Since my first solstice outing in 2019, my intent is to be outside for every moment of daylight, thus the start and finish in full dark, but even on that first outing, I did venture inside a lavatory at the Quabbin Reservoir. In addition to a functioning gastrointestinal tract, I'm also a bigger fan of crosswords than dogma, so in Florence I ducked inside the Lilly Library for a minute to collect copies of the New York Times and Boston Globe puzzles they print each week. Thank you to libraries in general!

While the rail trail does pass very close to Lilly, continuing past that, it dead ends in Haydenville if one is to avoid violating the no tresspassing signs of a grumpy land owner who apparently failed the sharing part of second grade, so I opted instead for a couple miles of road to drop down to the Mill River and a path winding along it's bank to the pond at Smith college, which is conveniently close to the multi use path to East Hampton, complete with a hook-back-to-the-oxbow option, which allowed me to complete my circuit of the river's west side on dirt roads through the meadows before a neighborhood path connected me back to the rail trail headed east.

It kept getting colder, so I kept getting off the bike to walk some more warmth a few minutes at a time. In addition to appreciating the things I notice at walking speed, I also really like that walking is a safety measure readily at hand, or foot, when the wind chill of riding speed is more than the ciculatory system can capably counter. Yup, I like bikes, and I like that they're much easier to push than cars, when need be.

Same rail trail, same wetland, heading east

I rode the rail trail back to it's eastern end and completed my last couple of miles on the road to connect to state land and trails that wind their way to diagonally across the street from me. Lights were lit for that last bit of street, and even a bit longer in case any hunter was really pushing the definition of sunset on the last day of shotgun season, but about fifteen minutes into the woods, and about fifteen minutes from home, I looked west to a truly dark horizon, and met it with an enormous grin. Yes, these solstice outings mean a lot to me, in all their forms.