Today on the backroads of central Massachusetts, in the pouring rain, I encountered roads that were frostheaved beyond recognition. Fortunately the rain had slowed me down so the bumps were not so severe, but there was one 2.2 mile section of route 62 that was completely torn up and I got a good bit of mud on my body and bike. Nothing that a good hosing down and a hot shower couldn't fix.
Mr Babcock entered Massachusetts from the west and had some interesting observations:
Wheeling through the Berkshire hills is pleasant for the roads are good. There was only one drawback to my enjoyment of them. On the long hills about every 200 feet there is a ridge where heavily loaded wagons can rest without having the wheels locked. The ridge extends entirely across the road and is a hindrance to coasting. One doesn't mind climbing a long hill if he knows that he can fly down the other slope, but to have his progress stopped or his wheel broken by these thank-ye-mams is annoying.
At Lebanon springs, near the western line of Massachusetts, I passed through a Shaker community. It was a peculiar looking place: the buildings were very large, sometimes four or five stories in height. This particular community has about 200 members, many fine buildings and hundreds of acres of land. Marriage is a stranger here, and their number is kept up only by he addition of such persons as desire to join them. They adopt many children from the orphan asylums, but the most of these remain only till they are old enough to know the roads which lead to the outer world, and then they execute their valedictory shake in an endeavor to remove the dust of Lebanon springs from their feet. They all wear the same kind of clothes taken from the common stock, and when one woman has a new "shaker bonnet," all the women in the community have. They now have to hire outside help to work the farm, owing to the decrease in numbers. I stopped to yea and nay awhile with an old man, but he seemed rather reticent and gave me little information, but when he was asked regarding the road to Pittsfield, he was full of knowledge and was strangely anxious to help me on. Probably he was afraid I would stay to dinner.
That night I reached Springfield, and early the next morning arose to make the last day's run of the trip.
I too am preparing for my last day's run, but it is looking like the weather tomorrow may even be worse than today. I keep telling myself that it is just the odds catching up with me, and that I have really been extraordinarily lucky, but since there is nothing to be done about it, I shall ride into Boston whatever the weather is like. I plan to arrive at 2:00 at the Public Gardens near the Ritz Carlton.
I could have used a snorkel out there today for my 75 miles.
Dennis