The Bookmill

May 2nd, 2010

Ride to and from the Bookmill: 40 miles

In my mind, the bike trip started today. This was our first long ride together, and I could really imagine how it will be on the road.














This morning, we took our time packing up our ice water, snacks, books and journals, and were able to hit the pavement just after noon. We started out on the Pioneer Valley Rail Trail, which I know like the back of my hand from my commutes to work. But soon we veered to the left onto a road flanked by farmland. "Freedom!" I yelled, as we coasted down, having broken away from that mind-numbing trail. It was hot and muggy especially for New England, but the breeze on our faces was invigorating, and I think we both just felt so glad to be outside.











We road along rt. 47, which follows the Connecticut River, past green pastures and freshly plowed farms, past historic homes, old barns and tobacco houses. We hugged the side of the road, and when cars did have to pass us, they always gave us plenty of room.












We were on 47 for about 20 minutes. Then we took a route that Google Maps had suggested for bicycles; right on "Shattuck." This turn led us onto a dirt path that then branched out into dirt roads. Lyon seemed to remember which one it was from looking at the map earlier, so we took that one. After rolling over gravel through someone's farm, we came to another paved street that was clearly marked, "Shattuck," and we took off down the smooth road, happy to be headed in the right direction.















The next set of roads took us through more residential areas nestled in the middle of nowhere. As we got further along, the scenery turned more woodsy and we could smell the pines towering over us, cooling us off. We could have been in New Hampshire. "How do all these people make their living?" I asked out loud. "You always ask that, every time you see nice houses that are out of the way," Lyon said. "Do I?" I guess I do. I just don't get it. Are they farmers? Do they commute to regular office jobs?











Google Maps took us over the fairly busy road, 116, at a pretty convenient place, and then took us through more neighborhoods before we had to abandon the back roads and hook back up with 47. The rest of the ride was a little more rough with some steep hills that Lyon had to wait at the top of while I crawled upwards at my highest gear. It was beautiful though. And we were happy the whole time.














When we finally rolled into Montague Center, a smile broke across my face. The Bookmill, perched atop a sloping waterfall, was a beautiful sight! And before ordering a root beer, a ginger brew and a sandwich to split, we locked up our bikes and took a foot path down to the river. As we dipped our feet and splashed our faces with ice cold water, we made plans to dunk our heads before riding back to Northampton. Standing barefooted on a rock with water rushing around us, I could picture what it would be like to live like nomads, planning our next move around the weather, finding a place to sleep at night, washing our feet in the Pacific Ocean.