Chesterfield and Westhampton: Hills, hills, and more hills

If you live in the valley and you want to suffer through some steep climbing without going all the way out to the Berkshires for your woe, I found just the route for you today. My first time up in these two towns, and when I say, "up..."

Well, read on.

I crossed the Connecticut on the bike trail first thing, and rode up to Williamsburg the back (steeper) way, via Audubon and South Streets, always a good check on the thigh status. I wish I had refilled low supplies at the stores in Williamsburg, since there were no such pit-stops for many miles after.

I turned left off Route 9 onto Route 143 just after Williamsburg and began a steep six-mile climb into Chesterfield. Think of Wendell Road, the long, hard climb from Route 63 to Wendell center -- but harder and longer. On the way up today, a fellow cyclist went whizzing by me on the way down; I waved, and he replied, "Woohoo!!" That'll give you some idea of the climb.

Great lunch spot on 143

Good enough for a closer shot

After lunch, I pulled into Chesterfield and glanced around -- and that's all it took. It's a tiny little crossroads, though a few of the houses are so perfectly colonial, I half-expected to espy a mother in petticoats and a bonnet in the yard wringing out the breeches and flouncy undergarments. Right out of an 18th Century print, it was.

Left on South Street at the intersection there, and I was rewarded with a swooping descent -- briefly. Then the descent becomes crazy rollers leading down overall -- but involving lots of up, too. Seemed cruel at the time. "This place hates me and wants to hurt me," muttered I. However, the scenery was rustic New England all the way; great stuff through there.

I went with my gut and took a right on King's Highway (more evidence of Colonial times?). Steep, curvy, gravel downhills, pretty well graded, thank goodness. Fun and scary and fun.

Check out the mailbox. Figured no one'd believe me, so I took a picture.

A quick stop at the KOA General Store in Westhampton for a Diet Coke, and then a left on Route 66. (The reader will here notice my admirable restraint in not making lame references to the song by the same name.)  A new road to me; I'd been avoiding it because it's a highway and I expected over-development. However, most of the way back into Northampton, it was pleasantly rural, very smoothly paved, and with a very cushy shoulder. Recommended as a connector route for anyone passing through.

Take note of Outlook Farm on 66 in Westhampton, a surprisingly large farm stand/grocery store (think Atkins Farm-size) with plentiful food/drink options, and picnic tables and benches strewn about.

Nuthin' beats local produce for fuel

From "Hamp," as locals call it, I made my way back across the river and home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

I'd do the route again, for sure, but I think it would be more rewarding in reverse. 66 would make a nice early-morning warm-up climb, and 143 isn't especially scenic, so would be well-suited to a very long, screaming descent -- as my fellow cyclist testified today. "Woohoo!!" indeed.

All in all, 46 miles and 3,200' of climbing, certainly my most ambitious altitude for the year to date -- but there's a metric century coming up in two weeks which will beat that all to heck. 'S'why I was out beating on my legs today: prep.

Guess you'll just have to stay tuned for that one. Heh, heh.

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September Quatrain

September Quatrain

Cool in the dell
Hot on the hill
Hay in the breeze
It's summer still

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Hadley, Late August

     Hadley, Late August

Under a shade tree I lingered too long

Sipping of summer before it was gone

Heavy of head and dreamily dozing

On soft, fragrant grass that soon will be frozen

The laughter of children resounding nearby

Fingers of breeze from a blue cloudless sky

I lay by my bicycle, resting my legs

And licking my lips for sweet summer dregs

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Reviewed: Rivendell Roll-y Poly 28 mm Tire

I wanted fatter tires on my road bike.

Not fat -- just fatter. Something that might provide a little cush over the nasty New England pavement. Something that wouldn't blush and giggle every time I pointed them on to gravel side roads for a little exploratory jaunt.

On my Salsa Vaya, I'm running the 40 millimeter Clement X'plor MSO, so I'm well-covered for those long unpaved rides that require some paved connections. Now, I wanted my Jamis Quest to be just as flexible, but in reverse: perfect for long, comfortable road rides, yet more than ready when a dusty byway catches my peripheral vision.

After more research than I needed (mes oui!) I decided to sample tires from the company that has long been championing puffier tires for all. The 700 x 28 mm Roll-y Pol-y is made by the venerable Panaracer (the last bike tire company actually manufacturing in Japan) but conceived and marketed by Grant Petersen and his merry band of geeky bike elves over at Rivendell Bicycle Works.

After a couple hundred miles, I have some reliable first impressions. (I'll update this review in a few months with a more in-depth perspective.)

These are lovely tires, in various ways. The checkerboard tread is quirky and appealing (and probably completely useless). The old school-look of the tan sidewalls is always going to win points with me, a hopeless romantic. Above all, though, the feel of these tires grabbed me within two minutes of riding. Quality tires give a response that's very hard to describe. People mention "road feel" all the time, but misunderstand its essence: It doesn't mean that you can detect every pebble on the road, because that would translate into too much chatter for comfort. It means that the rider can sense the rubber interacting with the surface of the road in a subtle, refined way. This sensation makes me ride my bike differently—or at least with more pleasure.

In addition to lower air pressure, the extra width and beautifully rounded profile add up to very confident cornering and a sense of calm when entering marbly gravel patches on an unplanned detour. I even dropped pressure way down on these and took them to a local gravel/dirt trail to test them out: They took me almost everywhere my deeper-treaded off-road 700c tires do—from nicely-packed gravel trails...

...to chunky, soft turf (though a lot of power is needed in this stuff)...

...and even over sharp, oversized "gravel" (with some pinging and tire deflection):

So, I now have two very different bikes I can ride almost anywhere. Joy!

On the road, the Roll-ys feel much more sprightly than expected. Some reviews state that they're the lightest 28 mm tire out there, but I don't care enough to check. They spin up quick enough for this road-turtle when he feels a bit more hare-like, and they simply "feel quick." This probably has something to do with thread count or rubber compound; all I know is that I now have tires that feel better, provide more comfort, grip better—and don't hold me back. I'm pretty sure my long-term update on this review is going to be very positive.

Curse you, Petersen! You told me I wouldn't turn back once I'd tried quality wider tires—and you were right!

Hmmm... Wonder if the Rivendell Jack Browns (stated width of "33.333333 mm") will fit between the chainstays of my increasingly multipurpose "road" bike...

Bike Overnight: D.A.R. State Forest

The fam and I did a lightning overnight at the D.A.R. State Forest in Goshen, MA last night. I could go on and on about the delights, but will sum it up with Junior Velosopher's concise review: "Today was the best day I ever had with you guys."

I made it a psuedo bike overnight by riding up there from our place, once I finished helping Mrs. V pack the car. They passed me in the car on the way up (and up, and up...). We threw camp together, had dinner, and went for a walk in time to see the last of the sunset at the camper's beach, glimmers of light ochre reflected in the smooth black surface of the water. Ducks waddled about making soft trills and looking for treats.

Is there anything better than camp breakfast? Hot eggs and sausage, coffee made on the fire, the tang of woodsmoke thick in the chill air. The weather was utterly perfect, dry and sunny, so I motivated Jr.to accompany me on a ride to the famous fire tower -- a brute of a climb, including a steep mile of loose gravel, but unbelievably worth it. Unspoiled forest as far as the eye could see, with mountains in the distance. I'm guessing you can see at least three states from up there.

We threw a few extra climbs in, headed back, and packed up. Before we left the park, we lunched by the beautiful swimming lake, toasted our tootsies in the sun, and took a dip in the clear, icy water. Ahhh.

Back at home now, it feels as if we were away at least two nights. Beyond food and gas -- barely more than we'd have spent if we'd stayed at home -- we were in for $20 for our reservation and $10 for our firewood. Not bad.

We will be returning for a much longer stay at this sylvan paradise -- a mere 35-minute drive from our door.

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