Ever since I first saw the Wachusett Reservoir, I've wanted to ride a bike around it. That, and a growing awareness that the sun is setting earlier each night, foreshadowing the end of the season for long rides, spurred me to today's ride, 94 miles through Arlington, Lexington, Bedford, Concord, Sudbury, Maynard, Stow, Bolton, Clinton, Sterling, West Boylston, Boylston, Berlin, and Hudson, with 7066' of elevation gain, which for my money gives the whole trip a net grade of 1.4%. Did this on the trusty LHT: the new bike needs to be broken in slowly, no sense in taking it on a long ride out of the box and having it break me in rapidly...

Left the house at 9:15, about 45 minutes later than I'd hoped, then headed out the Minuteman to Bedford, keeping an easy pace. Headed over to Concord on Route 62, negotiating a knot of parked/stopped cars at a yard sale. At Scimone's farm stand on Old Bedford Road, encountered my friend Dave, who was out doing errands. Dave rides an old Trek 520 steel touring bike, very much the brother of my Surly. We chatted for awhile about bicycles, rides, pedals and shoes--he was curious about the combination of MKS Lambdas and five.ten Impact 2s I was using. Continued on to Concord Center, where a street fair was in progress.

Rode up through Concord and picked up Sudbury Road; the stretch between the railroad tracks and Route 2 is mostly grooved pavement, with a nasty 3-inch shelf on either end that required special care. I was pleased that the Grand Bois Cypres Extra Leger 32mm tires (hereafter, the GBs) soaked up all the road buzz from that.

The weather forecast called for a 30% chance of a thunder shower around noon, but the weather radar showed all the big stuff sliding West to East along the South coast, so this seemed like a good bet. I paused on the Sudbury River bridge to have a look at the sky to the West, my own forecasting technique on these rides. The high, bright overcast didn't look particularly menacing.



It was on Sudbury Road I first got the feeling of this ride. There is a kind of space repeated many times across New England, a two-lane asphalt road with a steel barrier on one side and woodland falling away behind it that just screams "riding in the country" to me, that presented itself here for the first of many times that day. My friend the anthropologist would say this has liminal significance.


Picked up Route 117 headed West, passing familiar landmarks through Concord, Sudbury, Maynard, and Stow.


In Stow, noticed this little Gingerbread cottage again, and took its picture; didn't notice my finger, and took its picture, too.


Rode deeper into apple country, crossing the Bolton line. Stopped at a farm stand for a bottle of lemonade and a delicious homemade shortbread cookie stuffed with apricot jam: first fuel of the ride, and welcome.


Maybe it was the pink flamingos on Still River Road, or maybe it was the dude in the BMW on Route 117 who buzzed me to impress his girlfriend, but Bolton had not made a good impression on a previous ride. This time was different. I started noticing charming 18th-Century farmhouses in good repair, often attached to working farms. Then I reached the Bolton Historical District and the Pan Burying Ground, and the sale was made.






Picked up Wattaquadock Hill Road headed Southwest, and began a long climb, as is customary for any road with "Hill" in its name. Rode past the the Nashoba Valley Winery, which looked worthy of a separate visit. Kept climbing, enjoying the mix of Concord grapes, Virginia creeper, and poison ivy that contended for the same ecological niche on the road's right shoulder, and the orchards and fields on the left side. At the top of the hill, reached a cow pasture with one of the best views this side of Switzerland.


Over the top and down the other side I went, on a very long, very fast descent that made me thankful for the smooth road surface. Good old Worcester County, nobody ever complained about a lack of hills there. Transited the Clinton line, came to a crossroads, and passed into the the next phase of the ride: more liminality.


To be continued...

rod