Before we went to Vermont Evangeline and I had an
opportunity to include our daughter Nikki on a bike ride in one of our favorite
local places, Maudsley State Park in Amesbury. Nikki has been away from biking
for a while so we wanted to get her back into it with the more gentle trails of
Maudsley, and it was just the right amount of work and adventure to whet her
appetite for the sport again.
Maudsley was an enormous 450 acre estate that was built by
its original owner Frederick Strong Moseley. The 72 room mansion, which is long
gone, was built over the course of five years, 1895-1910, and was landscaped in
such a creative manner that today the casual hiker and biker can marvel at the sense
of adventure that comes with exploring its web of carriage trails, foot paths, and
off trail routes through overgrown woods. Part of the grounds overlook the
Merrimac River which allows cool breezes to waft across some of the open fields
that can be found for a picnic. If you’re interested there is a good write up
on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maudslay_State_Park
To my surprise we discovered a handful of small hidden double
and single track along the river bank of the park, and deep inside the more
wooded areas to the north side. This was remarkable given the fact we have
ridden in the park a dozen times or so over the last five years. One
fascinating little run went through what was probably a rhododendron garden
that is now overrun and hidden to all but the most observant passerby. Along
the route are two small stone bridges that overlook dry stream beds; but in its
day this little piece of real estate must have been a beautiful place of
respite. At one point the growth was so close and heavy the girls had to push
their bikes through branch and flower just to keep going.
Up in the higher elevation of the park we came to the well
known flower garden and adjoining carriage house. The garden presents a
luscious riot of color and a tranquil water fountain.
The masks swayed and shuddered in the gentle breeze like face dancers in a creepy vaudeville show.
Yep, old farmer Bob was chasing one of his young milk cows
down the road and trying to heard her back to the corral, but she was trying to
make her getaway down the soft margin on the side of the road, and kept
stumbling like she was drunk. Eventually she wobbled up onto the road, and proceeded
to ignore Ol’ Farmer Bob’s hollering and
arm waving. He called her Priscilla.
The Northeast Kingdom is the Green Mountain State’s four season playground for those who lead an outdoor active life. Moreover, it has the #1 mountain bike trail network in the continental US, according to Bike magazine. There is every kind of trail available for every type of rider. We arrived about noon on a glorious sunny Saturday and parked in a field next to the Inn at Mountain View Farm on Darling Hill road in East Burke, the nexus of a network of single track through forest and field, and along flowing brooks and streams at the base of Darling Hill.
This area is the easier offering of the multiple trail networks. Across highway 114, east of Darling Hill lies Burke (ski) Mountain. I did not take Evangeline there because the trails are full-on downhill courses, and you can’t get on them unless you have the following gear, according the website:
- Wear a full-face Helmet
- Wear full body armor
- Have a 5” Full-Suspension Bike
- Ride in a group size of Three or
more Riders
- Carry a cell phone
- Carry a first-aid Kit
And here’s a couple of snap shots of what the insane riders are willing to attempt in other playgrounds:
Anyway, there was plenty of challenge over at Darling Hill as we would soon find out. We set out across an open field on a high bluff that gave us a chance to take in the spectacular view of the peach and apricot colors draped across ridge lines in all four directions.
We soon came to a trail cross roads
of sorts where other riders had congregated. I thought of asking for tips on
where to go, but decided to stay mum after hearing all the franca lingua. One
thing is for sure…the French Canadians can rock the outdoor stuff. I’ve seen
them up in Tuckerman’s Ravine, and now here, and I have come to the conclusion
that the French Canadians are a lot of fit people who like outdoor fun with a
good dollop of adrenaline.
So with my trusty map in hand and sense of true north locked in my brain I took us down a southerly trail. It lulled me into thinking this was going to be a cherry experience for Evangeline because the single track trail was level and smooth, and it wove gently back and forth like a slow mambo dance through nicely spaced trees that provided relief from the brilliant sun. But very shortly I could hear laughing, shouting and whooping through the trees somewhere below us. And I started to think…why are they below us?
At that moment the trail dropped and twisted past a dark stand of trees that forced my eyes to adjust so I could see where we were headed. And I thought…”oh shit”, and stopped my bike to look back for Evangeline. About this time she arrived behind me by about thirty feet and said “Erik! I can’t go down this!” I said, “we can’t get back up, it’s too steep and more riders are coming. If we just go a little ways ahead we’re bound to come out on the easy trail.” Bad idea.
The single track turned out to be more than anticipated, and about this time I heard curses raining down upon my person. Any other day, by myself, this would be my playground, but the trail was not designed for anyone less than an advanced rider. I slowed to wait for Evangeline while she came down at a much more tentative pace. At several points we had to avoid the crazy Canucks who were flat out bombing the run past us. The greeted us with “bon jour!”, and “merci!”every time we threw our bikes and bodies over the side of the trail to avoid a hit-and-run. We eventually made it down to a cross roads after descending about 1000 feet of vertical to a river bed. I saw this guy sitting on a boulder, looking at me with a smile on his face as I waited for Evangeline to join up. I asked if there was a way to get to an easy trail, “because my wife is not used to this kind of difficulty”. He said “sure.” He paused when he saw Evangeline coming down the trail by force of gravity. He said “you know…that’s Troll Stroll you just came down. It’s the toughest black diamond on this side of the whole network.” Damn if my wife didn’t have to hear that comment. By now she is beyond furious and no doubt contemplating divorce. Undaunted I said with all hope and joy in my voice “Don’t worry honey! Now we can ride the good stuff. See? Here on the map..it’s blue squares back to the green trail.” Bad idea.
So with my trusty map in hand and sense of true north locked in my brain I took us down a southerly trail. It lulled me into thinking this was going to be a cherry experience for Evangeline because the single track trail was level and smooth, and it wove gently back and forth like a slow mambo dance through nicely spaced trees that provided relief from the brilliant sun. But very shortly I could hear laughing, shouting and whooping through the trees somewhere below us. And I started to think…why are they below us?
At that moment the trail dropped and twisted past a dark stand of trees that forced my eyes to adjust so I could see where we were headed. And I thought…”oh shit”, and stopped my bike to look back for Evangeline. About this time she arrived behind me by about thirty feet and said “Erik! I can’t go down this!” I said, “we can’t get back up, it’s too steep and more riders are coming. If we just go a little ways ahead we’re bound to come out on the easy trail.” Bad idea.
The single track turned out to be more than anticipated, and about this time I heard curses raining down upon my person. Any other day, by myself, this would be my playground, but the trail was not designed for anyone less than an advanced rider. I slowed to wait for Evangeline while she came down at a much more tentative pace. At several points we had to avoid the crazy Canucks who were flat out bombing the run past us. The greeted us with “bon jour!”, and “merci!”every time we threw our bikes and bodies over the side of the trail to avoid a hit-and-run. We eventually made it down to a cross roads after descending about 1000 feet of vertical to a river bed. I saw this guy sitting on a boulder, looking at me with a smile on his face as I waited for Evangeline to join up. I asked if there was a way to get to an easy trail, “because my wife is not used to this kind of difficulty”. He said “sure.” He paused when he saw Evangeline coming down the trail by force of gravity. He said “you know…that’s Troll Stroll you just came down. It’s the toughest black diamond on this side of the whole network.” Damn if my wife didn’t have to hear that comment. By now she is beyond furious and no doubt contemplating divorce. Undaunted I said with all hope and joy in my voice “Don’t worry honey! Now we can ride the good stuff. See? Here on the map..it’s blue squares back to the green trail.” Bad idea.
The ride back was a black shade of blue, and uphill…for about 500
feet. The blue-blue stuff? Oh, yeah, we found that too; another 500 feet of
loose sand, uphill. At one point I had to schlep two bikes because poor
Evangeline was overheating and turning a shade of mauve. She turns that color
when she gets overheated. It must have been the long riding tights she had on.
By the time we got out of the woods into an open field and beneath a brilliant,
cloudless sky, we were both at the upper temperature limit. We got out onto a
road and wearily rode back to our car. We didn’t say much on the way back to
the chalet.
Back at the ranch we recovered enough to get out for a fine meal
with Chuck at our favorite local restaurant: Flatbread. Fortunately we were
seated in a corner away from the open hearth in which they cook those marvelous
pizzas. We had a vegetable flatbread with green tomatoes and goat cheese.
Devine. A couple of drinks and a full belly later, we had no problems.
At the end of our stay we took time to stop on our way home to snap pictures of our surroundings in the Mad River Valley.
***
This
past weekend the both of us got together with Chuck and another member of
Chateau Relaxeau, “Numie”, to check out a punk rock band from days past, “X”, at
the House of Blues in Boston. Numie wasn't arriving until later so the three of us found a watering hole down the street.
Once the doors opened we found our way into the dark cavern that is the House of Blues. It’s actually a warehouse of sorts, but with bars on either side of the main stage, and dance floor, one has a lot of room to move around. There is a mezzanine overhead on both sides and up in back so the guess here is that the place can hold about 2000 people for a standing room only event. The warm up band was a local act called Mean Creek. Good straight ahead rock and roll. The female guitarist, named Aurora, was very, very good. You can find their stuff on iTunes.
The main act, X, came on about an hour later and treated the crowd to the late 70’s punk sound for which they were so well known and celebrated. Billy Zoom has to be the happiest rock and roller we’ve ever seen. If he sees you taking a picture he’ll come over and smile, even while his is in the middle of a burning riff.
After the show the four of us kicked back at a brew house down the street from Fenway Park and enjoyed some fine drafts and utterly unwholesome food. But it was all good.
We'll close here with some photos from the concert, and a couple of tunes from X that we dubbed into the slide show.
