Riding the Robert Frost Trail in Amherst

A quick, late-night photo report on a stellar ride today on single-track I'd not explored before: The Robert Frost  Trail, specifically the segment from behind Cherry Hill golf course in North Amherst to Atkins Reservoir, and back again.

I started out by climbing the long hill up the south side of the golf course, for which effort I was amply rewarded at the top.

Working my way past the back of the course and on to the RFT led me through much ruggedness. If you have full suspension, bring it. If you got no suspension (beyond a fat front tire) like me -- leave the Advil out for that night when you go to bed. You'll be aching here and there.

A long climb and some road crossing brought me to a narrow, off-camber passage up to Bridge Street, with a sparkling autumnal brook crashing down below. I walked much of this very narrow and rocky/rooty passage, and found that plenty challenging as it was. Note the thin trail at bottom right, squeezing past the tree.

Further on, and more road crossings down the trail, a picture-perfect bend in the river.

Finally -- for today, at least -- a lovely rolling section between Flat Hills and the Atkins Reservoir, worth the whole bouncy, steep trip to that point. The vista at the res was of the moody Octoberish variety .

On the return trip, I discovered a brief short cut that removed the worst of the dangerous, narrow, and stupid-steep stuff. Eight miles total, and almost 900 feet of climbing. You can bet I'll be back, as soon as possible.

In a only somewhat coincidental note, I've been reading a Frost collection this week, rediscovering the many faces of this master many think of as the avuncular rock-ribbed uncle, but who, in fact, knew as much of the dark as he did of the light that both make our home place so entrancing.

As I say to anyone who'll listen, people come from all around the world to see this area at this time of year. Get out there -- and take a few minutes at the vistas to let it soak in. 

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

RF

New Trail on Mt. Warner in Hadley

Pioneer Valley mountain bikers (and hikers) should know about the lovely new trail that's sprung up on Mt. Warner in North Hadley over the last year.  If you like the buff, flowy nature of Earl's Trails, there's a pleasant surprise waiting for you on this scenic hillside.

Mt. Warner is well-known amongst locals as the easy-to-spot high point in Hadley, one of the lowest-lying Pioneer Valley towns. There's some evidence that so-called Paleo-Indians were there as long ago as 10,000 BC, and that the more recent Norwottuck tribe hunted there quite a bit. Later settlers left behind two handsome artesian wells in remote places on the hill.

For almost as long, locals have made other kinds of use of the hillside: hiking, cross-country skiing, hunting, and, yes, mountain biking. However, the property was all private, and usage rights were contentious and unclear.  Trails consisted either of neglected cart and jeep trails, or unmarked, complex spur trails.

In 2009, The Trustees of Reservations, a venerable Massachusetts organization dedicated to preserving local places of natural beauty, acquired 156 acres (amid a larger protected area of about 500 acres, including neighboring Lake Warner) and set about to preserve and develop it for wise and enjoyable outdoor usage. Within the last year, Pioneer Valley director Josh Knox and a varied team of staffers and volunteers (recently including me!) have developed a lovely two-mile trail, mostly new but incorporating existing paths where possible.

I've been riding this yellow-blazed Salamander Loop Trail trail for months now, and believe it compares quite favorably to some of the best riding in the Valley

Intentions to develop further official trails do exist, but in conceptual stage only.

Though all are welcome to ride or hike the trail now -- I met four first-timers there just this past Sunday afternoon -- the reservation will open officially on Saturday, October 18, 2014, with a ribbon cutting and guided hike at 10:30 a.m., followed by food and festivities at the popular North Hadley Sugar Shack, just around the corner from the Reservation. For more info, go here.

Finding the trailhead is a bit subtle right now, as road signage is still in the works. Simply put, look for an unmarked gravel driveway on the north side of Mt. Warner Road, half-way up the hill from where the road branches off of Route 47. This driveway leads to a nice, new gravel parking lot.

Get out there and have fun -- fall is here and the air is crisp!

Roaring Brook Road, Conway

I headed out Saturday morning thinking of a well-worn route up 116 North into Conway, but decided to turn off a little early onto a byway with the promising moniker of Roaring Brook Road. It did not disappoint -- nay, not in the least.

It's a long road which began with a twisting, steep climb past an impossibly perfect farm with pastures tucked into gem-like hillsides. I got to thinking the 12% grade was about steep enough, which is of course when the road turned to gravel and got really vertical. It went on for miles, lots of hair-raising sketchy descents (especially on 28c tires) and secluded hilltop pastures peeking out through New England's ghostly past.

If you like rugged adventure, go forth (or perhaps, given the holiday, I should make it, "Go 4th.").

Decked out in the national colors for the July 4th weekend (the pedals are also blue…)

Upland pasture with tiny dots for cows

Blow-down from Hurricane Albert added to the rugged goodness

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New 29er Wheels for the Salsa Mukluk

While life, in it's manifold manifestations, has kept me from these pages lately, gentle reader, it has not -- I repeat, not -- kept me from fun on the bike. 

You all know I spent the winter sneaking out for fat bike adventures on the new Mukluk (and, if not, go to the links in the right-hand column of this page to catch up). As the weather warmed, I got to thinking about how Salsa built the Muks so they could take 29-inch mountain bike wheels as well as the monstrous ones that come stock.

Since I'd originally planned on buying a mountain bike before I fell in love with the Muk, the idea really appealed to me. Friend Will Sytsma, over at Hampshire Bicycle Exchange in Amherst,  put his mind to it and eventually found me a great deal on a sexy pair of Sunringle Inferno rims. He also nabbed a Salsa 2 rear hub and a Salsa 3 front, and began lacing them up for me. In no time, I had a pair of all-jet-black Systma Originals, and they looked pistol-hot.

Sytsma originals...

As is my wont, I did endless research online regarding the best tire solution. My needs were well-defined: I wanted the best tread and rubber compound for New England's rooty, rocky, hard-pack mix, and I wanted to go tubeless to add extra cush on what was to be a fully-rigid mountain bike. Even with the 3.8" Surly Nates, the Muk puts my wrists through the wringer on anything but the smoothest snow.

I settled on what seems to be the hot new tire on the block, the Maxxis Ardent, 2.4" up front and 2.25" in back. When I finally got hold of a pair last Friday (which was no mean feat) I ran over the the Bike Exchange and watched mechanic Alex mount them up.

Mmmm… new tiiiiiires...

The 2.25 hopped on the rim like it was eager to go out and rip the trails. The 2.4, however, was more truculent. After much failed experimentation and frantic pumping, I exhorted Alex to mount the thing with a tube, which I'll use until Will can get a Stan's tubeless rim strip in stock. The thinner Stan's rim tape was just not getting the job done.

Bubbles aren't good when you're testing the seal on a tubeless set-up

Alex puts the finishing touches on what amounts to a hot new mountain bike

On Saturday, as soon as I could fake finishing household chores and convince the tolerant Mrs. V to let me go, I threw the bike on the rack and headed for Earl's Trails in Amherst, my local playground at the foot of the Holyoke moutains. (Did you know they're the only East-West-oriented mountain range in the Eastern United States?)

New wheel and a favorite trailhead on a Saturday morn… Life is good.

The first thing I noticed was how ridiculously light the bike felt. Just lifting it off the car rack was a different experience. Yet the tires, while much smaller than the 3.8s, provided a surprising amount of impact absorption. The Sytsma wheels are wonderfully stiff, and, along with the aluminum frame on the Muk, ensure that every watt I apply to the pedals translates into forward motion.

On flat-to-rolling terrain, this means that I want to stand up and hammer, because the response is so quick. On climbs, the benefits of the lighter rig are tangible. To be honest, there is a slight cost in losing the huge rubber of the Nates, because the latter simply roll right over the rooty, rocky inclines of Western Mass without a moment's thought. I'm going to have to learn a lot about picking climbing lines. All told, though, the 29er Muk will almost certainly out-climb the fat version by a mile, because of the weight difference. I laughed aloud when I picked up a Nate-equipped Surly wheel in one hand, and one of the new Sunringles shod with an Ardent in the other. Rock versus feather.

The new set-up at a picturesque spot near the high point of the day

Of course, there's a real price to pay for lightness of the bike. One reason it's so light is the lack of suspension fork, which means that my wrists felt mighty abused at the end of a mere 1.5 hour ride. However, I have a number of fixes in mind for that: 1) learn to pick better lines on descents, 2) keep elbows and arms looser, 3) perhaps a shorter stem to keep a little more weight off the hands on descents, and 4) get slightly more absorbent handlebar grips, 5) and new gloves with fresh cushioning in the palms. Finally, perhaps most important of all: 6) go tubeless in the front. Five or so fewer pounds of pressure in the 2.4 should significantly ease things for the wrists, and increase traction.

In the meantime, I had the biggest blast Saturday I've had on a bike since I first climbed on the Muk for my fateful test-ride. I climbed way higher than I have before, descended more nimbly, and flicked on the afterburners on nearly every flat section, just to feel the acceleration. More good things to come from this package, without a doubt!

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Winter Finale, Pioneer Valley

As winter exits (s-l-o-w-l-y) we few-but-proud fat bikers in the Pioneer Valley are left with trails that are neither fish nor fowl. Not dry enough for trad mountain bike wheels, but not enough snow for generic fat biking. This hasn't kept some of us crazies from venturing out, though.

The arrival in town last week of mutual friend, former owner of Hampshire Bicycle Exchange, and fellow fat biker Chris, prompted an email from my pal Will, curent owner of the Exchange. I was invited for a bit of fun on the telephone-pole trails up in Shutesbury. A Mukluk reunion? A fat frenzy? How could I refuse?

And so, early Friday found us out in the forested hills on a frosty morn. The trails were pretty much edge-to-edge with ice of varying texture. I'm not a mountain biker by pedigree, so fat biking on the snow has been a great learning opportunity for me. I've been boning up on drop-offs, stream crossings, and twisty descents, all with the reassuring softness of a mat of white stuff to break any falls. As it turned out, there were almost none to catch this season; the Mukluk is a wonderfully stable bike.

Friday changed all that. Each of us was taken to school -- Ice Handling 101. Chris proved himself quite nimble, wending his way up and bombing his way down  most of what gave me and Will a bit more pause. I personally counted about four falls. Despite a few bruises, I'm learning to fall a lot more fluidly, and that might be as valuable a skill as any for a newbie. They do say that, if you mountain bike, you will crash.

I was wiped out at end of the hour-and-a-half ride, and it took me a couple days to fully recover. A lot of my energy was spent wrestling the (rather burly) bike over icy ruts and turbocharging it up slippery slopes. I'm thinking that, with a little more skill, I'll be able to finesse it a bit more and finish up less winded.

Despite the challenges -- probably because of them -- the good runs were extra rewarding. We were chatting away at the cars after we were done, dashing down a part of the trail we hadn't tried, not quite wanting to be finished… It was a good morning.

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The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep

Here are some things I've recently seen. On a bicycle. In January and February.

Fort Hill, Amherst

Fort Hill

Fort Hill

Fort Hill

Puffer's Pond dam, Amherst

On Puffer's Pond, Amherst

Ice fisherman, Puffer's Pond, Amherst

North Amherst

North Amherst tracks

North Amherst 

I've been so busy, I haven't had time to turn around, much less sit down and detail my wonderful experiences with my new Salsa Mukluk. So, let this suffice: If you like to explore, and you want to do it in winter as much as summer, and not just on cross-country skis, get yourself a fat bike. You'll like it a lot.

Fat Bikes: Why Rip When You Can Roam?

One week into fat bike ownership, and the obsession grows. It's clear why folks who scoff when they first lay eyes on these freakish things end up falling in five minutes after climbing on one.

So far, I've taken my Salsa Mukluk over local singletrack, up hidden urban trails, along the riverside, and even over the road -- but only when necessary (riding it on paved surfaces requires a Zen-like acceptance of its limitations). Here are some things I've learned:

1. Fat bikes were originally created to ride on snow, but that doesn't mean that any old snow will do. Many of the flashy videos you'll see on the Web of fat-tired jockeys zipping through frosted forests and pulling advanced singletracky moves were filmed on specially groomed trails. The more homemade vids by folks like me are obvious; they feature riders poking happily along at five miles per hour, spinning away and enjoying the scenery. It seems like it takes very specific snow conditions to create fun-to-ride powder. Research so far indicates that the most reliably enjoyable powder here in New England, where the temps change so quickly these days, is a modest coating of up to an inch, creating some scary-fun float on sharp turns and just enough challenge overall -- rather than a slow, draining grind on deep, crusty, re-frozen stuff. Ain't nobody floatin' on that, don't care how fat your tires.
2. I've read the debates about whether fat bikes can climb, which usually bring the predictable response: "They can if you can." As far as climbing goes, I'm more stubborn than talented, and a pair of painful old knees doesn't help. Add to that a bike weighing a chunky 35 pounds without pedals, and climbing becomes a real problem. My first couple times out, I climbed way up high so's I could enjoy the crazy-fun descents on snowy singletrack. Worth it? Not in the long-term. Tonight, I'm nursing an all-too-familiar case of chondromalacia in both knees.
3. Knowing all the above, you won't be surprised to learn that many of the fat bike owners and retailers on the Web live in the upper midwestern United States, where steep hills are not a big problem, and 300 fluffy inches of frigid snow is the norm. Many of the rest live on islands or near lakes, both of which commonly feature lots of flat-to-rolling trail. Conclusion? Unless you're real strong and have stainless steel joints, fat biking is best suited to moderate topography. The long, steep climb out the back of Earl's Trails in Amherst, on the way up the sides of the Holyoke range, was simply too much up for this old fellow.

So yesterday, I decided to give my aching hinges a break and make my ride a photo safari. I've previously investigated a nearby waterside trail along the Connecticut River on my Salsa Vaya, and I thought to re-visit it with a bike more suited to the chunky, rutted terrain. This time, taking a left where I usually go right, I was delighted to discover that the trail stretches on and on in that direction. Bend after bend produced yet more doubletrack (thank you, farmers and your tractors!). I feasted on the severe ice-scapes. Below, some of the results.

For the nonce -- and despite the daredevils out there flicking fat bikes around like they were featherweight 26ers in July -- I'm  sticking with the laid-back faction who claim that floaty bikes are the best-ever vehicle for exploring where you ordinarily wouldn't even think to ride. That sounds about perfect to me.

Salsa Mukluk 3: First Impressions

Regular readers know how many decades of dyed-in-the-wool-jersey road riding it took before I discovered the joy of putting bike wheels on dirt and exploring the forest. It was only a few years ago, when I bought a Salsa Vaya, that I started tentatively checking out local fire roads, beginner's trails, and, eventually, more traditional singletrack, gaining confidence as I went (and suffering some grievous falls). Starting trail riding on a touring bike with road gearing and only 35 mm-wide tires certainly inhibited my progress, but I  was content to poke around until the difficulties turned me back toward the road.

As the years sneaked by, skills quietly crept up on me, until I recently realized that the bike was holding me back more than I was. It was at this point that I did what I promised my long-suffering wife I would never do: I started contemplating owning a real mountain bike.

I test-rode a couple of lovely hardtail numbers in the parking lot of my wonderful local bike shop, Hampshire Bicycle Exchange (where I bought my Vaya). I liked them, and considered buying them. My fiftieth birthday is next month, and it seemed like a fitting present to myself.

Then fortune stepped in.

Will, the owner of HBE and a riding buddy, texted me a couple weeks ago, to the effect of, "Want to test-ride a couple of Mukluks with me?" Now, I knew about Salsa's Mukluk, and about all the furor in the cycling world over fat bikes. Given that I found buying a traditional mountain bike an intoxicatingly naughty idea, I certainly wasn't thinking, "Hm, maybe I'll end up buying a Muk!" It just sounded like a really interesting ride, and Will is great company, so I responded, "You bet!"

This is what greeted me when I pulled up to his house a week later:

Without much delay, we hit Earl's Trails, a well-known patch of flowy singletrack not far from us, some of which I have covered with my Vaya in the past.

Will takes a turn in a blur

Fat, indeed

The patchy ice on the trails didn't give our 3.8" tires any trouble

Yours truly, acting like a mountain biker

Sometime soon, I will record here my many thoughts and impressions from my first fat bike ride, one of the more unique experiences I've had on two wheels.  The essence was this: I had a blast. 

I mean, I was whooping and giggling like an eight-year-old kid. Everything good you hear about fat bikes is true. (How often does that happen?) I rode over any- and everything in my way. I railed turns I would have previously wobbled over. The skills from all those experimental rides on the barely-suited Vaya flourished like mad on this bike built to take away the fear of riding weird, slippery, rooty, rocky, wet places. 

By the time we were racking up the bikes on Will's car at the trailhead, I was asking how much the bike cost. A few days of obsessive Internet browsing later, I emailed Will and said, "I'll take it." 

Literally the minute I pulled in to pick it up today, it started snowing. Nice…. very nice.

After dumping the reflectors and adding a bottle cage, I took it back to Earl's Trails, and spent an hour and forty hauling its heavy carcass up vertical trails for the absurd pleasure of flying back down. Descending on the curvy, lightly-coated trails was beyond fun. 

I'm hooked.

Pioneer Valley Sketchbook: Autumn Overfloweth

This weekend, another feast of images from the gorgeousness that is Western Mass in October. First, a few appetizers from yesterday's brief trail ride:

The reservoir at Earle's Trails, off of Bay Road, Amherst

From atop Fort Hill, Amherst

St. Brigid's Cemetery, Hadley

Then, the main course: a feast of images from today's road ride:

Mount Warner, Hadley

Mount Warner Road, Hadley

South Main Street, Sunderland

In Sunderland 

Fosters Road, Montague

Crows, Smiarowski Road, Montague

A repast at the Lady Killigrew, overlooking Saw Mill River, Montague

Tobacco barn, Montague

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Pioneer Valley Sketchbook: October Hadley

Pioneer Valley Sketchbook is a new feature I'll be experimenting with here on Velophoria. It's an idea I've been toying with for a couple months. In my endless peregrinations about the Valley, I experience so many sights, sounds, tastes, etc. that are emblematic of the rich community we have and its beautiful environment. They spark thoughts, and appreciation for where I live. 

The skechbook is an attempt to pass on to you some of that treasure.

Today, I took a rain ride on a moody October day. The quality of the light, the damp chill, the empty streets, took my imagination for a ride, too. I brought out Mrs. V's point-and-shoot Canon, which I've been meaning to experiment with. 'Til now, all photos on Velophoria have been taken with a cell phone camera; a decent one, but quite limited. I'm stepping it up just a notch, in hopes of sweetening the visuals here, and perhaps having some fun in my spare time with something -- anything -- other than obsessing about bicycles. I'm playing with settings and post-processing. Let me know how you like it.

These shots were all taken in Hadley (Mass.), a visually enticing town with a deep history. The town common, shown in the first photo, is the longest in the state. Wikipedia (see above link) says,

The landscape of Hadley is largely open-field farming, which was only used in the earliest New England settlements and had mostly disappeared by the 18th century; its survival in Hadley on such a large scale is unique.

You can see some of those storied fields in the third shot, below.

Enjoy fall in one of the oldest settled parts of New England.