New England – An Historic Visit

High atop the Ivy Lea Bridge, as the fierce gusts of wind threaten to blow Bill and Hank’s bikes into the roiling blue eddies below, the ominous September sky is overtaken by storm-laden clouds. Telltale droplets splatter on my windscreen. As I crouch down, droplets turn to tiny rivulets streaming upward. Hypnotized, I watch the rivulets puddle into droplets again at the top of my windshield, slip over the edge and glide down onto my dash below as I cogitate about the science of wind patterns. Common sense seeps in to outstrip my bravado, and our three bikes roll into a rest area. Janice, Marie and Tina are pleased with this decision, as we suit up just in time for the deluge.

New York State Route 12 is a two-lane highway shortcut running southeast from Watertown, and a nice alternative to the Interstate. A few miles south, we pass through Dry Hill, NY, and appropriately, the rain stops. As we meander southward, the recent rainfall brightens the vibrant green pastures, a backdrop for postcard scenes of Holstein cattle, whitewashed barns and farmhouses set against the mountains of the Adirondacks, rising up through the September mist.

As we roll over another hill, an awesome view of the Mohawk River Valley spreads before us with Utica, our destination for the day, snuggled along the riverbanks. With many closed businesses and empty factories, it’s evident that the city’s heyday has passed, hit hard by the made-in-China revolution. For many decades, the Erie Canal was a major interior shipping lane through bustling Utica and on to the saltwater port at New York City. In fact, New York City became the major eastern American port because of the Erie Canal. It’s a short walk from our hotel to Delmonico’s eatery, where we discuss the day’s ride over a succulent, juicy New York steak.

Sunday morning dawns bright, promising a good day’s ride as we climb northbound out of the Mohawk Valley on SR-12. Leaving Utica behind and turning east on SR-28, we can see all the way to Poland . . . Poland, New York, that is. You never know what lies on the other side of the hill, and our commanding view alerts us to rain clouds ahead. We pull on our rain gear, only to strip it off again in a few kilometres when the sun comes out. At Middleville, we catch SR-29 on an entirely new two-lane dimension along the southern slopes of the Adirondacks. We roll through small town after small town – Salisbury, Dolgeville, Oppenheim and Johnstown. Saratoga Springs, fondly called the Spa City because of its mineral springs, was frequented in bygone eras by the rich and famous for its healing powers. Steeped in old money, with carefully preserved Victorian architecture, this lovely town was a favourite of affluent politicians, aristocrats and artists. We stop at Lillian’s, a restaurant named after the famous Broadway actress, Lillian Russell, who used to be a summer resident here.

We follow the Hudson River Road to the Taconic Parkway. We cross the Massachusetts state line and, now on The Mohawk Trail, we arrive at the city of North Adams, named after another leader in the American Revolution and signer of the Declaration of Independence, Samuel Adams. Now a college town with beautiful stone buildings randomly scattered across the campus, North Adams was once a thriving industrial centre and was the home base for the building of the Hoosac Tunnel. Located in North Adams is America’s largest contemporary art museum, the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, in what used to be Sprague Electric, who left a few years ago, leaving 4000 residents unemployed. Today, North Adams enjoys a considerable tourist trade thanks to its museum, college and the natural beauty of the Berkshire Mountains.

We continue eastbound on the Mohawk Trail, winding up, over, and through the Berkshire Mountains. In the next valley, we turn left onto Zoar Road, winding along the edge of the Deerfield River on a narrow, paved, but bumpy road. Against the looming mountainside, a freight train laboriously lumbers by us, and in just a few minutes we reach the hole in the side of the mountain from whence the train came, the Hoosac Tunnel. Linking the towns of Florida and North Adams, the Hoosac Tunnel still stands as an engineering marvel. Using drills, gunpowder, and later, nitroglycerine, it took 25 years to build the 4.75-mile long tunnel through the Hoosac Mountain. The tunnel cost 195 lives during its construction, and 30 or more since completion in 1877. It provided a link to the west and was used by passenger and freight trains for many years. Now it is used only by freight trains, and I can see why. Diesel fumes billow out for hours after a train passes through, and I can only imagine the discomfort for passengers when the mode of power was steam and coal.

Greenfield, Massachusetts, brings us to the end of the Mohawk Trail and our day’s history lesson, as we look forward to the evening’s R&R. MMM

Story by: Ron Keys
Photos by: Ron Keys, Bill Lithgow, and Hank Howard

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