Back to the Blog

Now that we are less than one month from leaving home, I thought I ought to go back to my abandoned blog. I disliked North Carolina (the area where we were, that is) so much that I was just whining and moaning and decided that it wasn't worth writing about. What got missed in the time between is how much we loved riding in Franklin County, Massachusetts when we stopped there on our way home. I had really begun to wonder if I really liked cycling after all-- I was bored and my hands were sore-- the thrill was gone. It came back within a mile of beginning a ride in Greenfield-- beautiful area, lovely roads, welcome hills, curves, twists and turns. I felt like a bird freed from a cage-- swooping up into Vermont, down along the river and forty happy miles later back to Greenfield. One of the roads early in the trip was called "Eunice Williams Road" and although it sounded familiar to me, I didn't know why until we plunged steeply down, down, down to a covered bridge across the Green River where there was a plaque commemorating the death of Eunice Williams, wife of the Rev. John Williams, captured in the 1704 Indian raid on Deerfield, Eunice Williams had only lately given birth. Her infant was killed almost immediately but she started on the march north. Weakened as she was, she fell crossing the river and her captor killed her with the blow of a hatchet. Other colonists, following the trail of the captives a day or two later, buried Eunice there by the river and marked the spot. Much later when John Williams was returned to Deerfield, a commemorative stone was placed.

The next day, fate guided our wheels, in a manner almost spooky. Planning a shorter ride, we completely failed to follow directions and ended up in Leverett, the town where my mother was teaching elementary school in 1971 when she died. Marshall and I had gone to the school when they planted a tree in memory of Lois but in 39 years I had never been back and wasn't sure how to find the place. Amazingly enough, and with no intention to do so, we rode right to it. There was a tree where I remembered it planted but no plaque. So whether it was the same tree or not, I cannot be sure. I was happy to see it, however, particularly since our ride took place on 21 March, exactly the day that she died. we were unable to figure out how to cut down to Sunderland and ended up in Amherst but another forty miles later (and two flat tires for John!) we were back in Greenfield again.

Since then we have been riding in Maine, that is to say, riding, riding and more riding. I have put exactly 1199 miles on the bike since we left here for North Carolina on the first of March. Today we parked in Thomaston and rode north to Warren, then circled around to Friendship and Cushing and back to Thomaston. About 35 miles on beautiful country roads with very acceptable traffic level. Maine is lovely as soon as you leave the main roads. I did note, however, that Knox and Lincoln counties are more affluent than Waldo. Far less rural poverty and substandard housing. Riding in lilac time rewards with frequent bursts of lovely scent as we ride by the old houses and farms of early Maine. Almost no roadside trash and no roadkill!