September 5, 2007
Wednesday, found us leaving the Hotel Hancock at 9:30, not because the accommodations were excellent, rather, we thought the ride to Rowe, MA would just take a couple of hours. The Hancock Hotel was recently built in Hancock, NY from scratch by the family that owned the logging mill near town (I can’t remember their name). The floors and walls were grown, cut, milled, finished and installed by this grateful family, intent on giving back to the community, much in need of the help. We left town, after visiting the modest post office, riding out on 17, taking the relatively new expressway to route 30, a good 15 miles. Route 30 took us through some modest towns .. Downsville, then 24 miles to Margaretville where we stopped for a bite to eat. Our server, a life long resident of Margaretville, was impressed that we came from Florida, even though she visited Daytona more than once. Route 30 was interesting in that there were enjoyable twists and turns, some very impressive lakes and lush mountains that hikers would surely get lost in.
From 30 we took 28 south, through the Catskills … an interesting road, featuring modest sized mountains lush with trees not yet overcome with winter’s touch. I liked the ride even though we didn’t encounter any sense of the resorts typical in movies like Dirty Dancing. Had we the time and inclination, we would likely have taken an off road to find such treasures.
From 30 we veered off, onto route 212 intent on discovering the hippy town of Woodstock. A good 20 miles through some beautiful country brought us to Woodstock, a small town indeed. Talking to a local resident, we
discovered that the original rock festival was named Woodstock only because the organizers came from this town. The original festival, in 69, was held in Bethel (apparently pronounced Beth El), on a farm, nearly 40 miles distant. Who knew?
We left Woodstock, headed east, reaching I87 just a short 20 miles later. North on 87, a good 45 miles, we tried to reach Troy, even though I missed the exit and Terry was completely intent on taking I90 west. At the last moment, we left the expressway behind taking route 2 east. We both decided that Troy, NY had seen a better day. On route 2, it took us a good hour to reach Massachusetts. Route 2, it turns out, took us through the highest point in MA, near the Berkshire Mountains, through wonderful twists and turns, up to an elevation over 3,000 feet. We drove through Williamstown, home of Williams College. I wish we had stopped for it really was an exquisite town. College was in full swing with students walking
everywhere. I think I would have loved to live in this town (my first impression). Next came North Adams, not as nice, but rather elegant nonetheless. Once past the town, and more climbing, brought us to a crest overlooking what we had just ridden through. The pictures don’t speak the majesty of the view. The ride today … more of what makes riding a complete delight.
Another 20 miles brought us to Charlemont, a sleepy town nearly 200 years old. Terry’s brother’s granddaughter and new husband live here; Andy working as the hotel chef in the Hotel Charlemont Inn, in this rather ancient, established 1796, yet dignified relic of yesteryear. There are no secrets in the Charlemont Inn, for no matter how careful you try to be, the floors, the beds, the doors, all squeak in rhythm to your every move. The bar is a near Cheer’s establishment, home to the good people of this old town. It’s all good.
Tomorrow, on to Vermont, Ben & Jerry’s.
Wednesday, found us leaving the Hotel Hancock at 9:30, not because the accommodations were excellent, rather, we thought the ride to Rowe, MA would just take a couple of hours. The Hancock Hotel was recently built in Hancock, NY from scratch by the family that owned the logging mill near town (I can’t remember their name). The floors and walls were grown, cut, milled, finished and installed by this grateful family, intent on giving back to the community, much in need of the help. We left town, after visiting the modest post office, riding out on 17, taking the relatively new expressway to route 30, a good 15 miles. Route 30 took us through some modest towns .. Downsville, then 24 miles to Margaretville where we stopped for a bite to eat. Our server, a life long resident of Margaretville, was impressed that we came from Florida, even though she visited Daytona more than once. Route 30 was interesting in that there were enjoyable twists and turns, some very impressive lakes and lush mountains that hikers would surely get lost in.
From 30 we took 28 south, through the Catskills … an interesting road, featuring modest sized mountains lush with trees not yet overcome with winter’s touch. I liked the ride even though we didn’t encounter any sense of the resorts typical in movies like Dirty Dancing. Had we the time and inclination, we would likely have taken an off road to find such treasures.
From 30 we veered off, onto route 212 intent on discovering the hippy town of Woodstock. A good 20 miles through some beautiful country brought us to Woodstock, a small town indeed. Talking to a local resident, we
discovered that the original rock festival was named Woodstock only because the organizers came from this town. The original festival, in 69, was held in Bethel (apparently pronounced Beth El), on a farm, nearly 40 miles distant. Who knew?We left Woodstock, headed east, reaching I87 just a short 20 miles later. North on 87, a good 45 miles, we tried to reach Troy, even though I missed the exit and Terry was completely intent on taking I90 west. At the last moment, we left the expressway behind taking route 2 east. We both decided that Troy, NY had seen a better day. On route 2, it took us a good hour to reach Massachusetts. Route 2, it turns out, took us through the highest point in MA, near the Berkshire Mountains, through wonderful twists and turns, up to an elevation over 3,000 feet. We drove through Williamstown, home of Williams College. I wish we had stopped for it really was an exquisite town. College was in full swing with students walking
everywhere. I think I would have loved to live in this town (my first impression). Next came North Adams, not as nice, but rather elegant nonetheless. Once past the town, and more climbing, brought us to a crest overlooking what we had just ridden through. The pictures don’t speak the majesty of the view. The ride today … more of what makes riding a complete delight.Another 20 miles brought us to Charlemont, a sleepy town nearly 200 years old. Terry’s brother’s granddaughter and new husband live here; Andy working as the hotel chef in the Hotel Charlemont Inn, in this rather ancient, established 1796, yet dignified relic of yesteryear. There are no secrets in the Charlemont Inn, for no matter how careful you try to be, the floors, the beds, the doors, all squeak in rhythm to your every move. The bar is a near Cheer’s establishment, home to the good people of this old town. It’s all good.
Tomorrow, on to Vermont, Ben & Jerry’s.
No comments:
Post a Comment