Folks who read the title are asking themselves, "Why is there an asterisk in the title? A footnote -- in the title? Something odd is going on." And yes, there were shenanigans, footnotes, and caveats in the ride into Massachusetts.
Even though my timing had slipped with the poor directions and rainstorm outside of Manchester, I was still trying to stick to my original route. Once upon a time, the plan had been to ride through Keene, stop in Greenfield Mass for a night, then ride all the way to New Lebanon NY (and the end of the tour) from there. That would put me on Rt 116 to Rt 9 into Pittsfield to Rt 20, for those playing along at home.
It was a sunny morning, I had already made reservations for a B&B that night in Cummington, and I woke up smiling.
Yes, I was wearing my rain jacket inside the tent: remember that I had decided against bringing my heavy sleeping bag? The little fleece blanket I had with me wasn't enough to keep me warm that night by itself, so I was wearing my rain gear over my sweatpants and t-shirt. I dawdled my way through a lazy morning, using the campground wifi to let folks back home know I was doing well. I didn't get under way until about 10am.
The Ashuelot River Campground was right next to the Ashuelot River; on the other side was the Ashuelot bike path. I had been suckered by several bike paths along the way, but I thought I should give this one a chance. It started out well-tended, with small crushed pea-gravel --- for the first 100 yards or so. After one intersection with the local streets, it turned into a muddy groove. You can see both incarnations here:
So much for the bike path -- Route 10 into Greenfield it was.
Greenfield was going to be the last city of any size I would encounter that day, so I was looking forward to a good meal and to a chance to off-load some weight. Since I had B&B reservations, it made sense for me to drop some of the stuff I wouldn't need anymore. I stopped at a UPS store and gleefully dropped my tent, my inflatable mattress, and my blanket on the counter. That much less weight on the bike was, well, that much less weight on the bike -- and why have any extra weight when riding through the Berkshires?
"The Berkshires." I was about to encounter the stretch of road I had been dreading for months. Here's the elevation chart for the ride as a whole, as I had planned it:
See how everything gets steep at the 300 mile mark? That's what I was dreading. Greenfield is on a river. Turn west from there, leave the river, and encounter (dum-dum-
dummm!)
The Berkshires.
Making matters trickier, I wasn't exactly following the route as I had planned it: I was headed for Cummington, not riding straight through to Pittsfield. Making matters even trickier than that, somehow that route segment didn't get downloaded to my smartphone. I was depending on my GPS to make changes on the fly. Still, it was pointing me out Rt 116, which is what I remembered was the way I had planned on going.
Between the late start to the day, the stop to ship stuff home, and the relaxed break for lunch at a very good cafe (located conveniently next to a bike store and the only lock-your-bike-here rack I saw in town), I set out again about three in the afternoon. And that, friends, was my undoing.
Go back and look again at the first map at the top of this post. See how the ride out of Greenfield is flat for about 5 miles, then turns into an unrelenting upslope for the next fifteen? And notice, if you will, that the slope gets steeper the farther you go. So by the time I got to Ashfield, the last town before Cummington, I was exhausted and demoralized. It was around 5:30 at night. My GPS was telling me I had another 15 miles to go to the B&B. Sunset would be around 7:30, and I had no intention of riding on unfamiliar country roads without shoulders in the dark. My legs weren't cramping, exactly, when I got off the bike for a rest; it was more of a shimmering feeling, like an over-tight guitar string. They were buzzing.
I tried to get a sense of how much more of the hill I had to go, but my cellphone didn't have signal, and I hadn't preloaded info about the road to Cummington. So it was time to re-evaluate my goals. What was I trying to accomplish, really? Was I trying for a ride without walking my bike -- no, I had walked many times, mostly because of bad road surface or poor visibility rather than simple steepness. Was I trying to get to the end in a certain time? No, this wasn't a race. Was anyone watching who would ding me? Or was the goal to get from beginning to end safely and happily?
Meanwhile, folks were gathered at the General Store/deli for a concert that night. Maybe 10 people were sitting outside, looking friendly. Still, they were there to listen to music. Ah, a gas station with a convenience store! I walked in, and the woman behind the counter met my eyes.
"Can I help you?"
"I don't know -- do you know if anyone here has a pickup truck and some spare time? I think I need a ride to Cummington."
I told her that I'd be happy to pay for a lift, and mentioned a number. She waved that idea down. People in the store who overheard talked among themselves, and to friends; next thing I knew I was being introduced to a gentleman who had a minivan, who was getting ready to drive home to Plainfield for the night. He was happy to give me a ride to the B&B, on the condition that I pay the ride forward.
Some number of miles later, I was dropped off at the B&B. We got my bike out of the back of the minivan together. He smiled as he turned around and headed for home. And I smiled as I got to that night's stop safely. Of course, when I got home, I checked the route: it would have been about two more miles of uphill. But at that point on that day, I'm not sure that I could have done even that little bit safely before sunset.