Thursday was a good day to ride to Harford

The wind was out of the north.

Hmm, given this was only my second trip to my home state this year, it must take more than a favorable breeze to blow my heading south. Oh yes, Peter Waite opened a new show at the Wadsworth Atheneum! I like Peter, a lot, and not just because he likes bikes, although that is how we first met. I also like his art work, a lot, so rather than, at least for now, prattling on with stories, which I could for multiple posts, I'll just highly recommend making your own trip to Hartford to see his show. It's easily worth going to Connecticut.

Atheneum must mean art museum

masquerading as a fortress.

I went, but first I had to get there. The opening officially started at 5pm, but I left at 9am to not rush and include time to wander in what way caught my attention. Interestingly, at least to me, who holds a vested interest in how my body is recovering, the opening segment of my route was the largely same as two weeks prior, but what took just shy of four hours thirteen days earlier, was covered in two hours and forty-five minutes yesterday. Yes, I may be pushing a little harder, but the fact that I can, and it doesn't feel bad, has me very ecouraged.

It also had me running very early, so after scouting and reminding myself of the off-the-road route to a few camping options for that night, I had time to wander Hartford a bit. When I was living in the area, I'd done quite a lot of that with Brendan, Dario, and Peter. All of them used to live in the city at various times and were excellent guides to its hidden woods for this country mouse. We hailed ourselves as The Snails, and were steadfast proponents of moving at "expedition pace".

Our regular meeting spot 

was under the Stegasaurus.

Brendan was aide to a counselor in city hall, camera right.

No, 

it doesn't exactly look like a dinosaur to me.

Critical daylight recon completed, I headed west through Bushnell Park, below the state capitol, and refreshed my internal map of some of the bike friendlier routes to West Hartford. I was excited to see the roadway beneath the arch is now closed to motor vehicles, my favorite bypass of traffic and traffic lights is still open, and new signs proclaiming neighborhood roads, "Closed to thru traffic, except bikes." Better yet, more effective than just words on signs, the ends of these streets are bottlenecked to a three foot wide opening that only a bike could use! I'm hopeful, Hartford looks like it's truly trying the whole bike friendly thing.

A much more fun section of the park

than the cyclocross natonal championships used

Bushnell Park and the benches we stood atop 

to dish meals with Food Not Bombs

Despite the overarching chain link, 

this is a great cut through.

Even after pausing for an early sup sitting on tbe park bench that used to be my Food Not Bombs footing, I arrived at the Wadsworth at 4:30, and was happy to learn admission is free on first Thursdays, so I didn't need to wait for the opening to start to go inside. This worked wonderfully, as not only was it warmer inside, it also let me take in Peter's paintings more on my own before throngs packed the place an hour later. 

I was happy to learn the museum owns one of my favorite pieces of his, which makes it much easier to see than breaking into a private residence. Also, I had good memories seeing the underside view of the Arrigoni Bridge, to which I introduced Peter. And of the studies of small home with post 9/11/2001 American flags, numbers 1, 2, 4, and 6 were present, but I'm not sure if it was 3 or 5 that I refound for Peter on a ride after he described what he'd seen (a too large US flag completely obscuring a picture window and imprisoned by the lattice work of the panes), but couldn't remember where.

I stayed an hour longer than I intended, but that let me see Brendan and Dario, and also reconnect with Mary Lynn, and ultimately hear Peter give his remarks. In this opinion of a fake engineer who muddled his way through a degree in English, Peter is a delightful speaker, well worth a departure in the dark.

I'd considered the option of cheap commuter rail to Springfield, then currently-free PVTA bus to Northampton (both of which will transport bikes) where I could nestle into my sleeping bag closer to home, and while I was enjoying being in motion after day, I believed I'd savor the trip north more in the morning, so I made use of my afternoon scouting to ride along the levy and other trails to the woods under the Bissell Bridge in Windsor. Bonus, the state boat launch facilities there included a port-o-let for my morning convenience. Double bonus, half way to the bridge from the Wadsworth, I realized I'd failed to obtain the cardboard I'd intended to find for an insulating camp mat that I didn't have to carry from Massachusetts, but lucky me, the one industrial building between the levy and half mile of path to the bridge had a moving company, which had a recycling dumpster, which had exactly what I needed!

The train I didn't take

The quiet view I enjoyed instead

After the miles gone, 

I rested.

Friday I rode back to Massachusetts. On the way, I found the extra layer I needed inside my leather gloves while it was still below freezing, and they were even dry despite the morning frost! I even made it back further north to UMass in Amherst to attend a talk about how some bees weather the winter, and learned about the forest bees I never knew existed, high in the canopy, where I must've been looking for places to put my hands and feet rather than stripey pollentators. It was a good, full day, so now I end abruptly and go to sleep!

I find lots of gloves on the road, 

sometimes exactly when I need them!

Bzzzz

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Snort, snort.

Goodnight.