On Monday, we tossed the bike in the back of Ric’s truck, strapped on the pop-up camper, and drove to Greenfield, Massachusetts, in the northwest part of the state. Sheila and I got out, mounted Sweathard, and pedaled west on Highway 2.
Our first stop was in the little town of Shelburne Falls. The Bridge of Flowers there was heralded on many maps and road signs. It was beautiful. We had to ride past the firemen collecting money for a new truck as a sort of “toll” for crossing the regular bridge. Below both bridges was the actual falls. A diversion dam allowed us to see glacial potholes adjacent to the actual falls.
Then it was back on the road along the Deerfield River. We passed a delightful scarecrow along the way to the Berkshire Mountains. Then we started climbing.
And climbing some more.
It never seemed to end. We finished a 2 mile incline, congratulated ourselves on our stamina in the 40 degree weather, then turned a corner to climb again. We eventually reached the Eastern Summit. Hooray! But wait. “Eastern” implies “Western”. Sure enough. We climbed some more. We arrived at another summit, but it wasn’t the Western one. A short downhill resulted in yet more climbing. I think the people who plotted these roads were masochists.
Just past the Western Summit we stopped to take pictures. When we re-mounted, our rear tire was flat. We were flat. We had had enough. We limped down to our first campsite in North Adams. Ric had already set up the camper and we were ecstatic to be able to rest in the warmth it provided.