You can read my interview here.
Thanks so much to BromptonUSA for contacting me and running this feature. I had a great time answering their questions.
Showing posts with label Berkshires. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Berkshires. Show all posts
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Spring on the Brompton
And I'm back!
During this year's impossibly long and rough winter here in Massachusetts, dreams of cycling adventures helped see me through to the beautiful months of spring. If my early season Brompton rides are any indication, it's going to be a good June, July, and August ahead.
Along with some great rides in my neighborhood, such as on the Neponset River Trail next to the old Baker Chocolate Factory....
...early spring warm weather gave me a chance to take my Brompton with me on some trips out the the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts, where I rode the Ashuwillticook Rail Trail. Running from Pittsfield to Adams, this 11-mile paved path features some beautiful lakeside views of Massachusetts' tallest mountain, Mt. Greylock...
During this year's impossibly long and rough winter here in Massachusetts, dreams of cycling adventures helped see me through to the beautiful months of spring. If my early season Brompton rides are any indication, it's going to be a good June, July, and August ahead.
Along with some great rides in my neighborhood, such as on the Neponset River Trail next to the old Baker Chocolate Factory....
...early spring warm weather gave me a chance to take my Brompton with me on some trips out the the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts, where I rode the Ashuwillticook Rail Trail. Running from Pittsfield to Adams, this 11-mile paved path features some beautiful lakeside views of Massachusetts' tallest mountain, Mt. Greylock...
...as well as waterfalls, rocky outcroppings, and nice cycling infrastructure.
And just last week, my Brompton was in all its inter-modal-transportation glory as I took it on the historic Greenbush Old Colony Line train (recently re-added to Boston's Commuter Rail system) to the South Shore town of Scituate.
A bike path leads from the station...
... alongside a vast salt marsh, with seaside homes lining the ocean on the other side...
... on to the harbor.
My goal for the ride was Scituate Light on the opposite end of this little bay.
Riding out on the neck took me by picturesque summer cottages...
...before reaching the old lighthouse on the end.
Riding a bit further up along the Scituate coastline, I reached the second lighthouse of my journey -- the remote and mysterious Minot Ledge Light. Here you can see it to the right of this photo, completely surrounded by the rough waters of the cold North Atlantic.
And then it was time to ride to the North Scituate train station and head home...
...with my Brompton tucked into the seat beside me.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Creating Spring Colors
And then it was spring!
"That sure doesn't look like spring," you may say, "look at all those bare trees!" I took this photo in Housatonic -- an old mill town in the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts. I was out there on business and brought my bike along with me for a brisk afternoon ride.
How about this photo then?
.JPG)
That's a dam along the Housatonic River, the town's namesake. I rode along the river for a number of miles as I made my way back to my car in Lenox, Mass. Still not very spring-like, you say?
Here's another one, again from Housatonic:
.JPG)
O.K, now I'm having fun! But only a little, because there's something about a bicycle that changes the whole way we look at spring.
Early spring in New England does have a black-and-white quality to it. It's a kind of quiet interlude between the dark days of winter and the burst color that is yet to come. But we cyclists love it. We love it on an impossible-to-explain elemental level, as if the very first bicycle ever created was forged in some dark furnace deep in the hills on a cold April morning, and we're just now reconnecting with our beginnings.
Maybe it has something to do with the simple aesthetics of it all, the image of a bicycle -- a streak of bright color -- set against a monochrome background. Or maybe it's the idea of the epic ride, the thing all serious cyclists strive for. Cycling through a grey landscape, I feel like I'm adding my own color to those trees with every pedal stroke.
The pros have the early-spring bug too. Just think about the great March/April races like the Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix, winding their way through old WWI battlefields. Those races would loose their soul if they were held in summer. You need that film of grey hanging over it all, reminding us that a bike race is a beautiful, peaceful thing in itself.
Even when those racers ride on cobblestone through green fields, it still has a wonderfully bleak feel to it. Cleaning my apartment the other day, I came across an unfinished watercolor I painted of those cobbles:
.JPG)
Pretty lonely, right? But we cyclists would like nothing better than to ride that road and make the unfinished painting a masterpiece.
So getting back to Housatonic...
Across the street from the local post office...
.JPG)
... the townspeople have put up a mural:
.JPG)
It's green and cheery, and it reflects the creative spirit that is so strong in the Berkshires. Very cool! But on that particular afternoon, I was just as happy to enjoy the pleasant shades of grey.
"That sure doesn't look like spring," you may say, "look at all those bare trees!" I took this photo in Housatonic -- an old mill town in the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts. I was out there on business and brought my bike along with me for a brisk afternoon ride.
How about this photo then?
.JPG)
That's a dam along the Housatonic River, the town's namesake. I rode along the river for a number of miles as I made my way back to my car in Lenox, Mass. Still not very spring-like, you say?
Here's another one, again from Housatonic:
.JPG)
O.K, now I'm having fun! But only a little, because there's something about a bicycle that changes the whole way we look at spring.
Early spring in New England does have a black-and-white quality to it. It's a kind of quiet interlude between the dark days of winter and the burst color that is yet to come. But we cyclists love it. We love it on an impossible-to-explain elemental level, as if the very first bicycle ever created was forged in some dark furnace deep in the hills on a cold April morning, and we're just now reconnecting with our beginnings.
Maybe it has something to do with the simple aesthetics of it all, the image of a bicycle -- a streak of bright color -- set against a monochrome background. Or maybe it's the idea of the epic ride, the thing all serious cyclists strive for. Cycling through a grey landscape, I feel like I'm adding my own color to those trees with every pedal stroke.
The pros have the early-spring bug too. Just think about the great March/April races like the Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix, winding their way through old WWI battlefields. Those races would loose their soul if they were held in summer. You need that film of grey hanging over it all, reminding us that a bike race is a beautiful, peaceful thing in itself.
Even when those racers ride on cobblestone through green fields, it still has a wonderfully bleak feel to it. Cleaning my apartment the other day, I came across an unfinished watercolor I painted of those cobbles:
.JPG)
Pretty lonely, right? But we cyclists would like nothing better than to ride that road and make the unfinished painting a masterpiece.
So getting back to Housatonic...
Across the street from the local post office...
.JPG)
... the townspeople have put up a mural:
.JPG)
It's green and cheery, and it reflects the creative spirit that is so strong in the Berkshires. Very cool! But on that particular afternoon, I was just as happy to enjoy the pleasant shades of grey.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
The Dream Ride
There are two kinds of bike rides: those you've ridden and those you dream about riding someday. This colored-pencil drawing I created over the weekend is from one of those dream rides:
It's of a small section of Route 2 between North Adams and Charlemont in northwestern Massachusetts. Also known as the Mohawk Trail, Route 2 follows an old Native American and colonial trade path through the high mountains of the northern Berkshires.
I've driven the Mohawk Trail many times on trips to western Massachusetts, and I always think the same thing: I have got to come back here someday on my bike! It would be a challenging ride, surrounded on all sides by mountains. But it's intensely beautiful; the kind of beauty I really like -- a winding road through a dark pine forest, tucked away in a deep valley, and the vague memory of ancient tales hanging in the mist. The forest itself is one of the oldest in New England, with Hemlocks that are nearly 500 years old and White Pines that reach upwards of 160 feet, the tallest trees in New England.
It would be a thrilling ride ... someday. But for now I'm happy to enjoy the dream as I wait for spring to arrive. So when I saw that my local art supply store was having a sale on colored pencils, I bought a 24-color set and went to work on a little corner of the dream ride.
It was kind of strange, but for the first time I actually had the sensation I was there in the forest while drawing. Coloring in the black asphalt of the road, I could sense its smooth surface, how nice it would feel gliding under my 25-millimeter tires. And the different shades of green in the grass, and the browns and reds of the bark ... it all felt like I was bringing these magical woods to life on the page.
I also really enjoyed the sounds of drawing with colored pencils -- the clickety-clack of dropping one pencil and picking up another, and the light scratching of the lead on paper. It reminded me of the soothing, mechanical rhythms of cycling ... where machine and imagination all come together.
It's of a small section of Route 2 between North Adams and Charlemont in northwestern Massachusetts. Also known as the Mohawk Trail, Route 2 follows an old Native American and colonial trade path through the high mountains of the northern Berkshires.
I've driven the Mohawk Trail many times on trips to western Massachusetts, and I always think the same thing: I have got to come back here someday on my bike! It would be a challenging ride, surrounded on all sides by mountains. But it's intensely beautiful; the kind of beauty I really like -- a winding road through a dark pine forest, tucked away in a deep valley, and the vague memory of ancient tales hanging in the mist. The forest itself is one of the oldest in New England, with Hemlocks that are nearly 500 years old and White Pines that reach upwards of 160 feet, the tallest trees in New England.
It would be a thrilling ride ... someday. But for now I'm happy to enjoy the dream as I wait for spring to arrive. So when I saw that my local art supply store was having a sale on colored pencils, I bought a 24-color set and went to work on a little corner of the dream ride.
It was kind of strange, but for the first time I actually had the sensation I was there in the forest while drawing. Coloring in the black asphalt of the road, I could sense its smooth surface, how nice it would feel gliding under my 25-millimeter tires. And the different shades of green in the grass, and the browns and reds of the bark ... it all felt like I was bringing these magical woods to life on the page.
I also really enjoyed the sounds of drawing with colored pencils -- the clickety-clack of dropping one pencil and picking up another, and the light scratching of the lead on paper. It reminded me of the soothing, mechanical rhythms of cycling ... where machine and imagination all come together.
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