Dist 61.13
Ride Time 6:55
Avg Speed 8.8
Max Speed 36.1
Trip Dist 61
Left Myke, Marie and Ben's house this morning who had graciously provided me with a backyard space for me to pitch my tent for the past ten days. Thanks ladies and gents! Detoured up north 5 miles to Hatfield to visit my storage unit - I had forgotten to leave my lightweight hiking shoes there yesterday - and also to disassemble my Bikes At Work trailer and fit things into it so it was a bit less prone to collapsing outwards once the door was opened.
Stopped at 8 High St to fill water bottles as I pedaled up the bike path, got to say goodbye to Kristen, Mariah and Rowan for 'prolly the 3rd time! Kristen told me, "It's okay if you're not ever going to leave, just you're hanging around!"
I rode the most recent stretch of the Leeds bike path to be completed (which unhelpfully brings you to a dead end - perhaps the path to be extended?) I was amused by this 8% grade sign, for a hill that was literally about 20 feet of elevation change over 160 feet. If only all roads were so diligently signed.
Around Cummington (mile 20ish?) a road cyclist who lived nearby, Robert, rode with me for a few miles. It's great to ride with other people, and he also set a pace for me to try and keep up with since all he had was two water bottles, and not the other 40 pounds of gear that I have! A few rain sprinkles around Dalton, I saw Robert riding downhill, having finished his 33 mile ride. I stopped at a small gas station near the top of the hill in Dalton to refill water bottles, and ate some delicious samosas that the owner had made.
Beyond Pittsfield there was a ginormous hill that I knew I was going to have to go up, but I was fueled on by the fact that there was a State Park on the other side that I planned to camp. It was the most aggressive hill I'd seen all day - and Western Mass isn't lacking! - and I walked the last 1/2 mile because my legs were cramping.
I reach the top, have a short downhill to coast on the bike, and there it is! Oh! Wait! There it ISN'T! I am greeted by the sight of a small roadside turn off area, two picnic tables, no restrooms. This is "Bates Memorial State Park." And so my first night I cook dinner behind the shelter of some trees, and wait until dusk falls around 8:30pm to pitch my tent. There is a steady stream of cars pulling over, people getting out and searching out bushes to pee behind (no restrooms either, here!)
Because I was at the top of a hill, there was a beautiful view to the west as the sun set:
Aside from the persistent noise of the vehicles going by (thank you last minute purchase of ear plugs!) it wasn't so bad. Around 11pm or so - sometime during the night - I was woken by the sound of voices nearby and after listening for a while, concerned of whether they were going to approach my tent and bother me, I realized they were indulging in the anonymity of the roadside area for a little sexual promiscuity. Peering out my tent door I could see they were near a tree about 20 feet away, and I laid awake until they left. I still don't know whether they saw or were aware of the white tent pitched near them.
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