I was on the second day of my Vermont to Rhode Island
adventure ride trying to link together trails all the way across New
England. Thunderstorms and thousands offeet of elevation had served up a slice of humble pie on day one. I was already forced to improvise. But day two promised to be drier. At least that’s what the weatherman told me. Instead I was about visit the seven levels
of wet.
Level 0: Not Wet Yet
 |
| "Never heard of that" should have been a clue. |
I set out from Williamstown mid-morning, with the promise of
clearing skies into the afternoon. I had
around 60 miles to cover that day- about twice the previous day’s haul, but
today would see only one big climb with mostly descending all the way to
Westfield, MA. I had some help planning
the route from a Northampton local, as well as my friend Sam. After busy road to Adams, I would climb
straight up out of the valley eastward on an old road and into the Savoy
Mountain State Park. From there it was a highly recommended back road along the
Westfield River to Chesterfield Gorge.
Although the first section into North Adams was on busy
road, it was wide with ample space for a bike in the breakdown lane. Grey skies
loomed above, but the overnight downpours had mercifully ceased. I made great time as I flew along the wide
and level pavement and finally into Adams where I popped my head into Village Bike Rentals, that just happens to be run by Drew, the brother of a good
friend of mine. I told him about my
intended route, and described the road I would be using to get up out of the
valley, and despite his ample biking experience in the area he gave me a quizzical look,
“Never heard of that..” he offered. The fact that he didn’t recognize it should
have been a warning. But with a long day ahead, I didn’t linger and instead
headed quickly out of town and started my climb up out of the valley.
Level 1: Clammy
Rolling along pavement, I was soon half-way up the climb. I
passed the Susan B. Anthony homestead, enjoying a brief reprieve in the
struggle up to the top of the ridge. I
rolled upward through two large active farms enjoying the view of the valley
below. I managed to stay on the bike until one of the last steep pitches, where
I hopped off and pushed upward. I
finally reached the turnoff onto the dirt road that would take me the rest of
the way into the State Forest.
Although there was no rain, my effort to gain the ridge had
me sweating up a storm. I had reached the first level of wet: clammy. I was clammy. No big deal.
Level 2: This is Nothing, I’ll Dry Out Quickly
I turned off of the pavement onto the first dirt of the day
and under tree cover. This wasn’t a
moment too soon as the steady pitter patter of rain started just as I ducked
under a friendly green canopy. I donned
my rain jacket and started down a rough old dirt road that abruptly devolved
into torn up doubletrack. After barely
a hundred yards, the road ended entirely and I stared over the road's edge into a deep
gully. The bridge, which must have once
crossed the gully was long gone, and a brook roared below full of the previous
night’s downpour. This was why Drew hadn’t heard of this way out of
the valley. It didn’t exist
anymore. Somehow, when I was planning, I
must have traced an old road. Hopefully there was more of the road on the other side of the gully.
My GPS track plodded over the now missing bridge to the
other side of the gully. With no bridge
to help, I needed to improvise. Although
the entry was steep, I found a path down to the bottom of the gully. The brook was too wide and full of water to
rock hop, so I took off my shoes and waded through the knee deep water to a
sandy bank. After climbing up the other
side of the gully, I found an old roadbed, however I still was off the GPS
track. Once more, I skidded down the
bank of a second gully, and up the other side, bushwhacking my way in search of
the roadbed. Thankfully, before long, I happened upon a wide doubletrack heading
into a deep lush forest. The rain had
picked up and was now finding its way through the thick canopy of above. I was
wet, but convinced myself that the showers would be short lived and I would dry
out quickly once I was making my descent out of Savoy.
Level 3: Maybe I Can Hide From This
 |
| Is it a road or a brook? |
At the edge of a large field I stopped under the canopy of a
large hemlock. I knew that once I
stepped out into the field, I would bear the full brunt of what was now a deluge Given that it was noon, I decided this was a
good a place as any for me to stop and brew up my lunch. Perhaps if I lingered long enough the rain
would pass.
I fired up the Jetboil and cooked up my soup as the rain
beat down on the trees above, dripping through the thick cover of the hemlock
and down onto me, the bike and my lunch.
I took my time, lingering under the thick cover hoping beyond hope that the rain would stop.
Level 4: Okay, Let’s Stop Pretending
I still had a long ride ahead, and so I couldn’t wait
forever. As I rolled out from under my
hemlock sanctuary, fat drops of rain thundered down onto me. I continued climbing upward,
through the field and back into forest until finally exiting onto a dirt
road. By the time I made my turn onto
pavement, I was drenched. I couldn’t
have been wetter if I had jumped into a pool.
And so I continued along the rolling pavement hoping the rain would soon stop, but beyond any hope of drying out.
The paved road section was quiet, and thankfully short
lived, as it led to a long narrow dirt road and then back into forest. I finally reached a section I had been
looking forward to all day: a long doubletrack descent out of Savoy through the State Forest and down to the
main road.
 |
| Wet n' wild trail through Savoy. |
Level 5: I Don’t Care. I Literally Don’t Care Anymore
I exited the road through a gate and onto the grassy
doubletrack that would take me down into Savoy proper. The trail was
beautiful. Surrounded by dense woods,
the trail was overgrown and wild. I half
expected to come upon a moose or bear as I rolled deeper and deeper onward. The
trail was submerged more often than not in several inches of water, and it
splashed up under my tires and onto my feet.
The wet grass brushed against my legs further drenching my socks and
shoes. But by this point I didn’t care.
I actually enjoyed rolling through the large puddles between the large
tufts of grass. Thankfully the soil was
sandy and mud was virtually nonexistent despite all the standing water. It was like riding down some shallow grassy
river. In a deep hollow the grass ended
and gravel took over as I climbed upward.
The road became more and more defined, until I was descending on pavement into
Savoy.
Level 6: Pruned
The rain had finally stopped as I turned onto the quiet, and
aptly named River Road, heading south. I was still wet, but my irritation had long
passed. I was the kid who didn’t want to
leave the pool. Soaked to the bone, but
sanguine. Eager to continue.
A good friend had recommended the next section, which
closely followed the Westfield River through Windsor State Forest. He had endorsed it as his favorite section of
road in all of western Massachusetts.
Before long, I shared his glowing admiration. The quiet road was devoid of any traffic as I
hummed along brand new pavement- winding and flowing like the river beside me. With a fly fishing rod I could have made a
whole day of the next few miles. But I
sped busily along my way.
Level 7: Help! I’m Drowning!
“BRIDGE OUT AHEAD” announced an angry orange sign, snapping
me from my dreamy trance. Anxiety crept in as I began to wonder if my route was
going to be blocked and I would need to backtrack. Into Chesterfield Gorge I rode, leaving the
road onto a doubletrack path that followed the river through a narrow and steep
run. Still no bridges, dirt replaced
pavement and I weaved my way through puddled craters under a thick canopy. To my left the narrow rushing river, and to
my right a steep climb through wooded escarpments. Blue replaced grey through the branches of
the trees above, and the sun glistened off of the wet leaves and rushing
water.
The highlight of that day was that ride through Chesterfield
Gorge, rushing along a rushing river. I
soaked it in. All the rain was behind
me. It was blue skies ahead. I had hours to go, and I was refreshed and
renewed.
And that was about the time the creak in my bottom bracket
started: pedal, click, pedal, click. And
as I rolled onto a flat section of trail, I realized my shifter wasn’t working. At least not fully. I had lost my biggest cogs. But at least I
wasn’t getting wet anymore.
 |
| Chesterfield Gorge. |
 |
| Detour time. |
I decided I didn’t feel like swimming for my life. The seventh level would have to wait. I turned
around in knee deep water and found a re-route that took me to the main road
with a minimum of backtracking.
The roads were busy with traffic, but a large shoulder
allowed me to ride in comfort as I rocketed toward Westfield. Originally I had planned to climb up away from the river and
take dirt paths through Huntington State Forest. But as I had learned the previous day- you
never quite move as fast as you think you’re going to when bikepacking. And so I mapped out a road route into
Westfield where I would stay for the night.
And then there was that damned creak, again. Every turn of the pedals it chimed out,
announcing the imminent destruction of my bottom bracket. Combined with a rear derailleur that was
intermittently refusing to shift, I was in rough shape. As I rounded a turn onto the busy Route 20 in
Roronoco the unmistakable wiggle of a soft rear tire made clear that I had a
slow leak.
And so I stopped at a small pullover area, said a prayer to
the God of Stans and ate a powerbar. And that was enough to keep me going.
With just enough light I covered the last hour on pavement,
and rolled into a cheap motel for the night. After spraying down the bike with the motel’s hose, the
shifting returned to normal, and the creak disappeared. Who would have thought that after all I had been through that day, my bike just needed a little more water.
As I downed a pizza while watching the Red Sox, I admired my belongings stretched across every inch of real estate in the room.
Read about Day 1 here: Taconicked: Day One of the VT to RI Adventure Ride
Here's the map for the second day's route:
MY GEAR LIST
Osprey Manta 28L Backpack
3L Reservoir
Jet Boil
Fuel Cannister
Collapsible Bowl Set
GSI Outdoors Ultralight Coffee Filter
Leatherman
Lighter
Spork
Wet Wipes
Large Ziplock Bags
Backup Battery
Headlamp
Feed Bag (Granola, Dehydrated Milk, Coffee, Sugar, Soup Mix, Cheese)
Defiant Zipperless Frame Pack (Large)
Multi-tool
Spare Tire
Chain Lube
Hand Pump
Co2 Cannister
Extra Stans Notubes Fluid
Rear Flashing Light
Revelate Designs Sweetroll Handlebar Bag (Medium)
Black Diamond Liquid Point Shell Jacket
Eddie Bauer Stormdown Hooded Jacket
Waterproof Pants
Eddie Bauer Synthesis Hoodie
Lafuma 30F Sleeping Bag
Wool Socks x 2
Wool Underwear x 2
Convertible Short/Pants
Long Sleeve Baselayer
Revelate Designs Mountain Feedbags (x2)
1 x Water Bottle filled with Electrolyte Mix
Snacks (Almonds, Gels, Waffles, Cliff Bars, Chocolate)
Revelate Designs Egress Pocket
Wallet
Phone
Backup Battery
Watch Charger Cord
Phone Charger Cord
Bag Balm
Revelate Designs Pika Seat Bag
Hennessy Hammock – Asymmetrical Expedition Zip w/ Rainfly
Hennessy Hammock Snakeskins
1” Webbing x2
Rappel Rings x4
Carbiners x2
Granite Gear Dry Bag (Strapped to Handlebar)
Big Agnes Insulated Sleeping Pad
Anywhere Bicycle Attachment Water Bottle Mount (Front fork)
Blackburn Outpost Cargo Cage
Nalgene Bottle
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