Bridgewater to Braintree - Day 7

Oct. 21, 2009 - The Pure Water Ride is complete!

If all went well, this would be the final day's ride-the last leg in the link between Massachusetts and Canada. It started well, great roads in Bridgewater, and then Barnard, until I stopped to read a posting that said the selectman had closed all class 4 roads in Barnard between Oct. 15 and Dec. 15*. This was Oct 21st. Of course, I had had no idea that this would happen and both the ride north and the return route south went through Barnard. No time to plan alternate routes, only enough to make the run up and back.

This would force me to leave my goal of staying on unimproved roads as much as possible. However, it just wasn't possible-not today in Barnard. To make it worse, there was no direct way to pick up the route on the other side of Barnard. The only choice was a long highway ride up route 12 north and east. And another long hiway ride west and south on route 107 to Stockbridge, where I picked up the pure water ride route again. I'd covered at least twice as many miles that were less than half as enjoyable, but at least it didn't take any longer.



The Barnard General Store has a large food counter and several chairs for eat-in dining. It seemed a popular spot for the locals (their cars are parked on the Rt 12 side of the building).
They also had AA batteries which I needed for my camera, which had gone dead since the last day's ride.


Except for the long highway slog, all day I enjoyed riding over a crisp carpet of leaves covering the lesser traveled back roads. The freshly fallen leaves looked great and the swishing sound brought back childhood memories of crunching along the sidewalks to and from school.















The last road to complete the ride was the Granville-Bridgewater Road - a fine old country road that winds its way steeply up from Granville through the Bridgewater Gap and then descends gradually and nearly straightly mile after mile down the east flank the mountain towards route 12. And so the final miles of the 2009 pure water ride were all down hill, easy going, and my mind was free to anticipate the completion and admire the mountains across the valley covered with yellow and orange.















On route 12 again I turned north and rode one tenth of a mile to the intersection that marked the southern most point of the previous day's ride and the non-descript end of the pure water ride. It was nothing as grand and satisfying as the day my wife and I rode (out of order) up to the Canadian border.

(As always, I made sure that I returned to the ending of the previous ride to insure that my route was continuous, even when it meant something as trivial as the tenth of a mile I had just ridden.)

The Pure Water Ride is now officially complete. So far a total of $585 has been donated to the two charities. Thank you, thank you, to those who have contributed. Because of you, many more people have healthy drinking water, but the need is still great. If you haven't already, please consider donating now.

* When I got home, I wrote to the Barnard Selectmen asking for permission to ride the class 4 roads during the restricted season. They responded that there was a change in the restricted dates to Dec. 15th through March 15th, and most signs were changed, but apparently the one I saw had been overlooked. Since the new dates would have no effect on future Pure Water Rides, I was OK with that.

Braintree to Middlesex - Day 6

It was solid overcast and the sky was gray as I left the parking lot at the start of the day's ride. Later the clouds would start to break up and let the sun peep through. Nice of them to give us earthbounds a break. They can enjoy the sun anytime they want, though they do tend to battle it frequently, especially on riding days it seems. Thankfully the power of a bazillion nuclear explosions was sufficient to blast at least part way through and yes I was California Dreaming. Not much in the way of heaters on my bike.

There were several miles of street riding before the first class 4 section, which thankfully was a good long one up and over the mountains around Northfield. The exertion of riding the rough and twisty cart path was warming and I thawed out only to go numb again along the straight and smooth streets of Warren. Out of Middlesex, there were several very rough sections where I got lost and long before I found a way out, I determined to find a better route for next year.

In Braintree, I came upon pickup blocking the road. The farmer had purposely parked his truck directly across the road and then put two cedar fence rails from the tailgate to the stone wall along the side to completely seal off any means for the cows to escape.

This sort of thing is Vermont and no one even thinks of getting impatient. Least of all the cows, who, even though I supposed were headed back to the barn for a good feed, seemed in no particular hurry. Indeed, I was astonished at how many stopped what must be their daily jostle to the chow hall and took time to check me out. They were always several at any one time who were giving me the once over so that I'm not sure who was more curious about who, me or them.

By the way, I was the only one waiting even after the time it takes for 300 or so cows to cross the road. Guess how long that is?? Actually I don't know either, but it was awhile. I asked the farmer afterwards how many cows and he wanted me to guess. I guessed about 200. Not bad, since they were already going when I got there. He asked me how I like to job of milking them, all 300, twice a day, every day, when you would rather be somewhere else, holidays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter. I said that would be quite a job. I think he liked it though, he seemed happy and we enjoyed a friendly chat, before he headed back toward the barn behind his charges.

I headed down the road where I came upon this early autumn scene.

It was a nice day. Even nicer knowing that, thanks to your generousity, more people will have healthy water to drink.

Hyde Park to Canadian Border- Day 5

It was cool this morning as I set out from Hyde Park riding north to the Canadian border. The hellish dog days of August were here-hazy, hot, and humid, but the sun had not yet burned off the morning humidity, which was dense enough to be a visible mist, and it was like riding inside a giant evaporative cooler. It was easy to feel in the coolness the nearness to Canada. Did the snow on the Canadian side come right down to the border itself? I fancied that, and while my mind tried to dismiss the possibility, my body insisted it was true and I was eager to get there and see.

The roads were dirt, but broad and smooth and speeds were what they would have been on tar. Here they wound through a kind of country suburbia-not open farmland, but not close packed developments either. Hyde Park is suburbia to Stowe and marks not only the transition to more rural but also the transition from mountainous to hilly. The landscape of northern Vermont favors large farms. The valleys are much broader than in the rest of the state and the hills are smaller. The result is relatively flat land-good for pastures or crops. Plenty of sun, with nothing to block it and judging by the green everywhere, plenty of rain as well. The views here stretch on towards the limit of one's eyesight. This is rare in the lower two thirds of the state. Now having been there, it is easy for me to see why the Northeast of Vermont is regarded as a separate region, known as the 'northeast kingdom'.

After a section of the narrowest trail of the day, which was overgrown with grass and weeds to the point where I was wondering if I was still on it or just riding through a field that badly needed mowing, it emerged onto a new home construction site.
Since there was a convenient porta-potty right on the trailside, why not? How thoughtful! Here the trail turned into a dirt road and a stone throw away, surprise, the town common.


This is one of the great joys of trail riding. One minute you are on a woods trail, the next you pop out into the everyday world. Like being teleported between separate worlds. Having appeared out of nowhere, you have avoided all traffic and congestion, enjoyed the scenery every foot of the way, and been able to travel at your own pace, without another vehicle in sight.

Not just any town common, but the extraordinary common of Craftsbury Common.Crafts people and farmers were gathered there for the Farmers market held every saturday during the summer. See more about this quaint village at http://www.townofcraftsbury.com/

On the other side of the common, there is a really nice view.The route descended the hill into the large valley below and went from farm to farm for quite a distance.

One farm in particular had a terrific collection of old farm machinery quietly rusting away. What a goldmine for an antique tractor and stationary engine collector/restorer such as I hope to be someday.

In South Newport, the planned route was blocked by a gate even though it showed as a public way on the map. Again I had to improvise, and the area was confusing to say the least. The map showed alternate routes, but but for the first three, when I got there, no road or even visible trail. Eventually, thank God, I met a ATV rider who was familiar with the area and had his own map. It took us 5 or 10 minutes to figure out a good way for me to get back on route. After thanking him, and wishing him a good day, I was off and in a few minutes back on track.






A couple of covered bridges later (one had a family swimming under it, but I was too shy to ask them if it was OK to take their picture)

I met my wife in North Troy where we drove together to the Canadian border.





It was great to reach this point even if it was out of order. There would be several months and several days more riding before the pure water ride was complete.

Update from D.R. Mission

Mission to Haitians in the Dominican Republic
Annual Report 2009

Five adults and two teenagers traveled to the Dominican Republic to meet with our Haitian brothers and sisters in San Pedro de Macoris.

Food and clothing distribution at the Bateys (the “villages” at the sugar cane plantations)

We distributed 4,250 pounds of rice; 809 pounds of beans; 1,280 pounds of corn meal; 1,040 1-pint bottles of cooking oil; 100’s of pieces of candy; about 1,000 peanut butter sandwiches and cups of cool-aid to children; about 200 or 300 articles of clothing, and about 150 pairs of sandals. This is about a 50% increase over last year. The rice, beans, corn meal, and oil went to about 1,180 different families – almost twice as many as last year. Last year we were not able to distribute all of the food that we had brought to some of the Bateys because the crowd got out of control. This year (thanks to your prayers and God’s intervention) that did not happen. In most cases we were able to leave about 30 extra sacks of food with the local church leaders for people who were unable to come.

In most of the Bateys, the pastor of the church in San Pedro de Macoris asked who were Christians and who were not. In every case people seemed pretty clear on which camp they were in. In two Bateys we were able to pray with children who expressed an interest in becoming Christians. All received food regardless of their faith.

Relationships with our brothers and sisters in San Pedro de Macoris

Our relationships with Pastor Berlus Sainril and his family and with those who worked along side of us (about 15 or 20 people, young and old) continue to develop. There were tears on both sides as we departed. Yolanda, the pastor’s wife, sent us an email after a few days, telling us how much she missed us already. We spent a lot of time with people there, working, playing and worshipping together. This year it seems to be especially important to them to know that we cared about them enough to come and help them even though we live so far away. Knowing that so many people from so far away were contributing and praying for them was very special to them.

We were able to make visits to three different church families in their homes. One was a young family with 5 children that is hoping to some day get a house of their own. They currently live in a rented home that barely would qualify as a shack to most of us. The father works as a security guard and makes a few dollars a day. We also visited an elderly couple who have no income and were suffering from malnutrition. We were able to fill some prescriptions for the wife and to give them extra food and a small amount of cash. Our third visit was with a woman and her children who were better off, and clearly able at least to feed themselves. The woman was very fervent and spoke with us about the spiritual battles that she faces daily. Our visits help us to connect with them in a more personal way and to pray with them. We hope to continue to visit new people each year.

There is a two-hour worship service almost every evening at the church, and we were blessed to participate most of the evenings that we were there. Their worship is inspiring, moving, and joyful, even though we understood very little. Near the end of our visit one of the young people noticed that we didn’t usually sing while we worked and asked why we didn’t sing more and if we ever danced in church. They seemed sad for us that we did not. On the last evening of our visit they started a “conga line” and got us to join them. We were also able to distribute food to the members of the San Pedro de Macoris church. Even though most are not as destitute as the people in the Bateys, many of them often go hungry. We also had a suitcase full of toothbrushes, toothpaste, and deodorant that we gave away to some very happy people.

Business opportunities in San Pedro de Macoris

Last year we purchased sewing machines and loaned start-up money to three women who now do business with a clothing manufacturer to sew t-shirts. They sub-contract the silk-screening and embroidering. They have been repaying the loans, and with the additional money we were able to loan, there is now enough money to loan to two or three more women to start their own businesses. These women will take the bus in to Santo Domingo, buy miscellaneous articles, and bring them back home to sell in their neighborhoods. Since people have no transportation, this is a valuable service to the neighborhood as well as a source of income for the women.

Last year we provided power tools to a carpenter who had been renting tools. Because of lack of capital and lack of a place to work he remains unable to do much work. He has now found someone who has a shop but needed tools, so he is sharing his tools with his friend. We loaned him some start-up money to buy wood and materials to get his business going.

In the future we will be looking for more different kinds of business opportunities for more people, including the possibility of establishing a small water purification plant. The government has recently enacted new, stricter regulations about water quality and within the next six months many of the current water purification units will have to go out of business. This will create a greater need for clean water as well as a tremendous opportunity for the church to build a small purification plant and provide clean water for many people. As water is purified, people will be able to transport tanks of clean water to their own neighborhoods and distribute it there for a small profit. The pastor has been in contact with an engineer. The estimated cost is about $18,000. We would like to see if we can start raising money for this purpose.

Education in San Pedro de Macoris

We delivered about 300 notebooks and seemingly countless numbers of pencils and other school supplies for the school. Notebooks especially are very expensive there. We also helped provide materials, small prizes, peanut butter sandwiches, and ice cream for a children’s program in the school (complete with clowns). The young people on our trip were able to participate in this program.

We met briefly with the principal of the school. She was exited to receive the materials we had brought. When we asked how else we could help, she explained that they have two major needs. One is for subsidies for textbooks. They use government mandated textbooks (really more like workbooks), that the children have to purchase. Since only a few are able to purchase their textbooks, teachers have to try to manage a class in which only a few of the students can actually follow along and do the assigned work. She asked us to consider providing subsidies to reduce the cost of the text books (average about $15). She also explained that the school is in need of computers. The government forced them to stop offering eighth grade because they lack a computer lab. In order to starting teaching 8th grade again, they need to have 20 computers. We were able to donate one laptop computer, which they can make good use of, but they need more. We are currently trying to obtain good quality, used computers that we can ship to them. Anyone who has a used computer in good, working order (80 gig hard drive and 1 gig memory minimum) or a new computer can contribute it by speaking with one of the team members listed below.

One opportunity we were not able to do anything about was scholarships for university education. Several of the high school graduates want to go on to the local university, but they cannot afford the tuition of about $500 per semester. Some day we would like to establish a scholarship program for these young people. The church in San Pedro de Macoris has already helped out a few of their students. So far all of the students that have graduated from college have remained in the community to serve. For example, the current principal of the school is the first from the church to have graduated from college.

Thanks again for all your prayers, support, and donations. All of your efforts were appreciated in ways you may not be able to imagine. For pictures of the trip, click on
http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=nwk6qow.5xkb6mro&x=1&y=-sljtk8&localeid=en_US

We would like to start networking with others in the Boston area who are already involved in ministries to Haitians in the Dominican Republic. If anyone is interested in being involved in any aspect of this ministry, please talk with any member of the team.

Middlesex to Hyde Park - Day 4

Hidden between steep wooded hills on either side, the pond at the top of Middlesex Notch is a pretty spot. High above it, someone had built a castle-like mountain retreat with a gorgeous panoramic view. But from where I was standing at the southeast end of the lake, I could only see that it was the end of the road. There was no room for a road or even a path around the lake, so steeply did the hills come down to the shore, yet not long ago there was. It was clearly shown on the maps that I used to plan the route. Apparently the Middlesex town highway department had failed to reach an agreement with the local beaver colony limiting the height of the dams they could construct.


My wife Margaret, was accompaning me for this weekend and had dropped me and the bike off only 10 minutes earlier, at a commuter park and ride lot just off exit 10 on Interstate 89. But roads crossing the Worcester mountain range are few and far between. The closest choice was not very appealing. Turn around and go back the five miles to the start of the day's ride, and follow paved roads five or six miles to the next exit on rt 89. Usually I hate to turn back and retrace my steps and to make it worse, I would be riding paved roads along the same route that Margaret had just taken minutes earlier after dropping me and the bike off. It would have been much better to go on with her in the truck for one more exit.



Eventually picking up the route on the other side of the Worcester mountain range, I followed dirt roads along the west flank of the mountains into Stowe.

The route went through the center of Stowe-the most upscale town in Vermont. This mecca for all the finest, trendiest, and most expensive rivals any in all of New England. Me with my mud-splattered Walmart jeans and antique Honda dirt bike-so called because it looks as if it that's what it's made of - clunking and rattling along main street among the shiny and sleek Mercedes, Lexuses and BMWs parading from bistro to boutique. Maybe Stowe's most famous residents, the von Trapp family, were in town that afternoon. I'll know for sure if in a year or so the sequel to "The Sound of Music", ie "The Sound of Music-Extreme Version" comes out with Maria and the kids frolicking in mountain meadows doing double flips and flying supermans ala Travis Pastrana on their dirt bikes-wireless helmet mics allowing them to sing all the while. This would extend the appeal of the Trapp family to a whole new generation and insure a steady stream of visitors to the family's Lodge for decades to come. All thanks to me. I've always been something of a trendsetter, especially in fashion (just ask my kids). Like Al Gore, who invented the internet, I (and a few friends) invented mountain biking while riding our fat-tire coaster-brake American Flyers down the foot trails of the Moose Hill Audubon Sanctuary, years before anyone else had ever thought of it. And now, guests at the Trapp Family Lodge rent them on the grounds, so there you have just one example of my almost unbelieveable impact on the Trapps.




My wife and I visited the Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe on our way home. We saw the lodge and even took a picture or two, as much to prove that we were there as anything. The Lodge itself is nice, but not terribly impressive. The grounds, however, and especially the view, are oustanding and worth a visit. We had a wonderful time walking through the gardens


and admiring the views even though the air was hot and hazy. On a clear day, you could see forever.

I had liked the Sound of Music film, but after our visit I was moved to read the book, which is really much better than the film, less musical, of course, but I highly recommend it. It's true and real, not the shallow sacherine Hollywood fluff of the movie. And I read that the Trapps bought the property for the view-good call on their part. Apparently they had a smidgeon of good taste even before my influence.



On the other side of Stowe, I rode into a scenic hidden valley that few people will ever see as the road degenerated into a mere trail which was almost obliterated by grass and weeds, but which, as so often happens, opened up after awhile into a nice dirt road. However, no car would have ever made it through.

















A few more miles and then the 'Fitch Hill Inn' sign kindly welcomed us for the next couple of nights. This classy bed and breakfast is run by a thoughtful couple who continously amazed us with their attention to every detail. We had a very nice stay.

Water Crisis Facts

Here in New England we take pure, clean drinking water for granted-it's readily available whenever we want it. However, many people throughout the world have only limited access to clean, healthy water.

* More than 1.1 billion people in the world do not have access to safe water. That is roughly one-sixth of the world's population.

* Every day 6,000 children die from water related disease due to lack of safe drinking water, inadequate sanitation and poor hygiene. This is one child dying every 15 seconds.

* At any one time, it is estimated that half of the world's hospital beds are occupied by patients suffering from waterborne diseases.

These facts were collected by Water Mission International, www.watermissions.org. Check out their website for more

Weston to Bridgewater - Day 3

"I love Vermont" too, Mr. President (and Vermont cheese).

Today’s ride began at the Benedictine Priory in Weston after enjoying a picnic brunch of breakfast leftovers-half a sausage McMuffin and half of a Dunkin donuts coffee cake muffin, washed down with bottled water. There is nothing like clear cool water to quench your thirst and I was very thankful to have a bottle in my backpack. The pure water ride exists to get safe drinking water for people that don’t have it. At the time this was written the pure water ride had raised over $300 dollars-that’s enough to provide three families with a BioSand filter that will purify enough water for their needs, and will last for years. Thank you!

The Benedictine brothers have kindly invited visitors to use the picnic tables they have set out in a grassy area near the parking lot. This is a very pleasant spot with a good view of a small pond and the chapel. Today it was even more pleasant because of the terrific weather. Sunny, bright blue skies and comfortable temperature, and air dry for summer. I was feasting on the silence while polishing off brunch, and at the same time, hoping to hear the large priory bell ring. It didn’t, so maybe I’ll catch it on next year’s pure water ride.

Emerging from the woods on Yale Road, I stopped by the Crowley Cheese factory-the oldest cheese-making facility in Vermont.
Out-of-the-way enough to discourage casual tourists, it is quiet, unhurried, and real. The staff are friendly and glad to see you. I was the only visitor at the time and two of the three employees stopped what they were doing to chat with me (there are times during the cheese-making day that they would not be able to stop).

Ken, the head cheese-maker, volunteered to let me take his picture while stirring the cheese to be. Crowley Cheese is still made only by hand using the original recipe. We chatted about the factory, making cheese, and the business. The business had been sold after a period of negotiation and they were just resuming cheese-making, so I picked a good time to see the operation. But they were very low on inventory and had only extra-sharp for sale. Cheese has to be aged before it is sold, so it will be later this fall before their shelves are full again. A great place to visit and the cheese is terrific. Can’t wait to make the trip? Visit online at http://www.crowleycheese.com/.

Steward road was blocked by a fairly large blow down, but I managed by driving the front wheel over then pushing and dragging the back wheel across. My legs were sore the rest of the day. After some nice back roads in Shrewsbury, the route turned towards Plymouth. I was discouraged by the ‘Dead End’ and ‘No Exit’ signs, but determined to go as far as possible. The road did go on for a couple of miles looking every bit like it was going to go on through after all, but ended abruptly in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. Straight ahead was only a trail, where again, I determined to go as far as possible. By now it had been a long time since anything but woods, so imagine my surprise in coming upon a mom with her early teen son and daughter on mountain bikes. They told me the trail would connect up ahead to Round Top road and so it did.

Another mile or two down the road was Plymouth Notch-the birthplace of President Calvin Coolidge. This beautiful little settlement is well taken care of and has many of the original buildings and tons of Coolidge memorabilia. It is little changed from Calvin’s boyhood and a delightful place for a leisurely stroll through history. I wish that I had had more time to explore there and learn about our 30th president, remarkably a man of few words. It is said that a woman once bet him that he could not say more than two words, to which he replied, "You lose".

During my short visit, I did learn that Coolidge was actually a Massachusetts politician. Coolidge left Vermont as a young man to attend Amherst College, and after graduating with a law degree, was elected to the Massachusetts House for at least a couple of terms, before being elected Governor of Massachusetts. Coolidge’s handling of a Boston Police strike brought him to the attention of the nation, and his subsequent election to Vice President of the United States and the untimely death of the President, thrust Coolidge into the highest office in the land. By all accounts, his presidency was one of the most successful. Perhaps it was the uncluttered simplicity of this quiet and industrious little community that had given young Calvin a solid appreciation of what is most important in life, and how to attain and protect it, much like the early log cabin life of Lincoln seems inseparable from character of Lincoln himself.

But I suspect that ‘Silent Cal’s success was at least equally due to being ever-mindful of the timeless truth that what you do is more important than what you say. Unlike today’s media centered pols, who spend more time and energy in talking about what they are going to do, and listening for what others might think about it, than in actually doing anything, taciturn Cal simply did what he was elected to do – to earnestly and uprightly govern the nation’s affairs to the best of his ability – and left the commentating and spin doctoring to those with nothing better to do.

Moxie was a favorite beverage of Calvin’s, and the still open general store below his summer white house has a cool supply on hand. It had been some years since I’d tasted it. And yes, it still tastes like medicine, probably just the same as when he ‘enjoyed’ it.

A Stars and stripes flag marks the Coolidge pew in the Notch’s church, where Coolidge’s famous Bennington address was posted in the foyer:
"Vermont is a state I love. I could not look upon the peaks of Ascutney, Killington, Mansfield, and Equinox, without being moved in a way that no other scene could move me. It was here that I first saw the light of day; here I received my bride, here my dead lie pillowed on the loving breast of our everlasting hills. I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and her invigorating climate. But most of all because of her people. They are a race of pioneers who have almost beggared themselves in the service of others. If the spirit of Liberty should vanish from other parts of our Union and the support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of the brave little state of Vermont."

Mr. President, I love Vermont, too.



After leaving Plymouth Notch, I took a detour from the pure water ride, and spent a couple of hours touring some of the back roads of the area, through exquisite scenery and catching a glimpse every now and then of a life-style that I’ll never experience, and probably wouldn’t like anyway.

The area around Woodstock is the embodiment of scenic in the classic Vermont sense and draws visitors to this area in all seasons-and people who have lots of money, who buy up big parcels of land and build country homes that people like me might see only in the pages of Architechtural Digest and Country Living, and post ‘No Trespassing" signs by the SUVful.

Eventually hunger drove me back to the Bridgewater Mill Mall where the truck was parked and where Ramunto’s Pizza was waiting. A cheese and a pepperoni slice were delicious and washed down by ice tea and, yup, more bottled water. I ate outside at a picnic table in the shade by the sparkling Ottauquechee River and felt sorry for the millionaires.

Wardsboro to Weston - Day 2

July 14, 2009

In Wardsboro I saw these vehicles for sale, presenting the dilemma that every Vermont guy constantly wrestles with - should I buy a shiny new green tractor or a shiny new red sports car?

In South Londonderry, I made a wrong turn and dead-ended in an unofficial junkyard - what my backyard would be if I wasn’t married-where someone had collected cars for a lifetime. The woods were full of them. At least up until recently. Today a crew was flatening them in a portable car crusher parked by the side of the road. There were only a few to be seen from the road and those were from the fifties. But judging by the size of the crew and the sounds coming from the nearby woods, there were plenty more being dragged out. I only hope those doing the clean up were as interested in preserving old cars as they were in cleaning up the land, but there was no way of knowing. It was really sad to think of all those old beauties being sold for scrap, even if the land was being cleaned up.

Rowley Lane, with great views of Magic Mountain, turned into a nice woods road, but was blocked by a large blow down too big and long to get over, under, or around.

As I was coming back down this road, a lady walking two dogs was gesturing wildly, which I eventually understood as wanting me to stop, which I did. While she rounded them up she explained that her dogs would chase me. She herded them back in her house, and thanked me. I was thankful not to have to pull dog hair out of my chain, and anyway, it gave me a few moments more to admire the view of Magic Mountain.

The blocked lane meant a long paved road detour to get back on route, which took me to Londonderry where I pulled in to gas up. The attendant was about my age and curious about my bike, because he hung around while I pumped my own gas, and looked it over like he hadn't seen one like it close up before. We were on route 100, a popular touring route and I had seen a large group of bikes headed this way a short time before. But these were shiny, large, comfortable road bikes like the majority of those who rode by this highway station. "I like your GPS" he joked about the Delormes Atlas I always have taped on the tank. "This kind doesn’t need batteries", I replied, not feeling any need to apologize. I would probably lose more time trying to figure out a GPS than it could save me by telling me where I was. Noticing the Massachusetts plate, he asked if I had ridden all the way up. This is a fairly common reaction, usually with an air of disbelief- partly because the bike looks too beat up to make it that far, and partly because it doesn’t seem like anyone short of no other choice would attempt such a trip. Their gut feeling is right on-while the bike could make the trip, it is much more comfortable on dirt roads with its soft, long- travel suspension and knobby tires, than supermotoing on the smooth blacktop where the tires hum louder than the engine and cause enough vibration so that if I actually had ridden from Massachusetts only the seat and handlebars would be left-the handlebars because I was holding onto them and the seat because it was percussively welded to my butt.

Next up were some non-descript dirt roads until Jaquinth Road in Weston which became steadily worse and worse and therefore better and better until it intersected with Trout Camp road-another horrible, great road.

Here I met some game and fisheries men who were on their way back from a remote stream-having gone there to evaluate the brook trout population. These were great guys - friendly, down-to-earth, and a real credit to their employer, the state of Vermont. They helped me find my place on the map and reassured me that I would eventually come out on a good road. Later, a few miles down that road, I went by Vermont’s oldest trout fishing club, a very expensive looking place, with a very scenic view across historic Wantastiquet private lake to the Green Mountains beyond.

The weather had turned worse than predicted. Completely cloudy and easily the coolest day of the summer.

Arriving at Weston Priory at the same time as a gentle rain, I was very nearly the only visitor-two other cars in the large parking lot.

I made a beeline for the visitor center, empty except for someone just leaving. Next I tried the gift shop-but I was much more interested in finding something to eat than to look at or listen to. Actually the silence around the priory was the best part of my visit – unnatural to my urban ears, otherworldly, promoting meditation and prayer-it was enjoyable, spiritual and heartening.

I found lunch a mile or two down the road in Weston center, at the Weston Village Store and sandwich shop which also sold cheese and fudge and was absolutely packed with trinkets-room full after room full-hanging from the ceiling, covering the walls from floor to ceiling and packed in so tight there were only narrow aisles left. It was the quintessential tourist trap.
The turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and a slice of good Vt cheese on local multigrain bread was good-in my half-starved state-very good and the coffee warming-and almost worth what I paid for it. Heading back in for a treat of a dollars worth of maple walnut fudge, I was told that the smallest she could cut was a quarter pound, which would be about $2.75. Unkindly thinking that she certainly looked like she had never sampled any less than a quarter pound herself, but saying that I would look for something smaller, I checked out the rest of the store, at least as much of it as I could stomach, and not seeing any candybars, although they did have some gum, left with out being satisfied, and determined not to do any further business there and to warn anyone reading this too.

Weston is a pretty town and has capitalized on its charm by catering to tourists-check out the town’s website, www.westonvt.com, to see more.

Happily, Justice (or mercy) prevailed. Going back through South Londonderry I stopped at the Village Pantry du Logis where the kind counter lady sold me their last chocolate croissant for a dollar, (the same one I had not spent on fudge at the Weston Village Store) saying that it was their last and it was late in the day (3pm, normal cost 2 dollars). I thanked her and God, and doubly enjoyed this delicious dessert, while strolling across the road to admire the river brightly bubbling along its merry way.

I had eaten here before a few years back and remembered a delicious chicken curry sandwich on real bread. If you are in this area, this is a definite must stop here place. The store and location are modest, quaint and comfortable, and thankfully have none of the glitzy tourist veneer of the shoppes in Weston. However, once inside, you’ll see what they do have-lots of good, even gourmet, food to eat there or take with you - www.villagepantry.com. And a good neighbor behind the counter.

All day I had been looking forward to supper at the Townshend Dam Diner in Townshend, but was never able to find it. If anyone knows where it is, please drop me a line.

Tennis, anyone? How's this for a courtside view?

Northfield, MA to Wardsboro, VT - Day 1

July 6, 2009

"Morning has broken…like the first day"

After the cloudiest June since 1903, with rain for 23 of 30 days, the coming of clear, sunny weather in the beginning of July was like the dawn of a new creation. I felt something akin to what my brother and other Oregonians experience when they glimpse the sun for longer than 10 minutes, which happens at least twice a year, on a good year. That’s how it felt on Monday, July 6, as I headed out from the parking lot at Northfield Mount Hermon school at 8:30 am, after having posted a Pure Water Ride flyer in the Blake student center, and taking some photographs of the stunningly attractive campus with a few early rising summer students purposely striding to summer pursuits, slicing through the morning mist off the nearby Connecticut River, and disappearing into the air-conditioned climate of one or the other of the beautiful brick buildings amply distributed around the expansive campus.
















Riding away from the campus sooner than I really wanted to, the hum of my Honda’s 350cc was reassuring as I thought of the miles ahead. The sun was shining on my back, and it felt good.

Near Purple Meadow Road in Northfield, a fawn was about to cross the road, but fled back into the woods at my approach. He carried the sun on his back with him, the light dappled spots that fawns are born with to help them survive. It was great getting back on the bike after a long winter layover. Work schedule and poor weather had prevented me from beginning the ride earlier and today was the first time I had been on the bike since last November. I too, was fleeing the main roads and heading into little-used and even forgotten woodland lanes.

I missed a turn off Grant road in Halifax, VT. and stopped to check the map. As always I brought along the relevant pages from Delorme’s Atlas & Gazetteer, because it without them finding your way around the hinderland is hopeless. They show every road - even roads that no longer exist can be found in solid red lines and clearly labeled by name, even if no one can remember it. A good old boy, if that’s what you call a male Halifaxian about my age driving a pickup truck, and stopping to axe a stranger what he was looking for, axed me what I was looking for. ‘Woodward’, I said. He looked puzzled, got out of truck, and came over to help me look at the map. After a while we found it, ‘Woodward Hill Road’. Oh, he said, that bridge is gone, has been for years. He helped me find a way around and after wishing me a good day, was back in his truck and in his Halifaxian life.


Picking up the route at Old County Road, I was good for a mile, actually a little more than two-glorious sun and blue sky, white puffy clouds, wonderfully warm and fresh air. The kind of day that makes you feel glad to be alive and not at work. The road was getting narrower and narrower, and going slightly downward, had now come to a swamp-not too long or deep to cross - at least in the mind of an optimistic fool like the one who had just waded through it with the idea of walking up ahead to see if it was worth going through or turning back, but who had very soon grown tired of trudging in heavy wet boots and swatting at surprisingly belligerent flies and decided to go for it for no other reason than a kind of stupid tempting of fate and an unfounded feeling that on such a fine day, nothing much would go wrong.

Some kind Halifaxian had left some logs beside the road, not too big or too long to handle. Throwing a few of these in the deepest mud, and with the motor running, I walked the bike through, stopping only once, my heart that is, as the bike began to go downward faster than forward. An instantaneous but heartfelt prayer, an extra push, and a shiver of what might have been, and we were through.

The road did get better and soon I was back to civilization, at least the kind they have in Southern Vermont-which seems, to a suburban yuppie like myself, more like the kind that Daniel Boone started out with.



I took a short detour to visit Marlboro College and post a Pure Water Ride flyer there. Marlboro College (and I suppose its students) has an impressive academic record, but an unassuming campus. All white clapboard buildings packed close enough so that they could keep each other warm once the winter sets in, which probably happens a week before classes begin in the fall, or at least the students scurrying to and from classes. The campus fits in well with southern Vermont and its isolation could only promote an undistracted academia.






The population of Marlboro peaked in 1820 at almost 1300. In the 2000 census it was 978. Besides the college, the town hosts an annual music festival founded by Rudolph Serkin and the largest Civil War Re-enactment in Vermont. It was one of the first American towns to pass a resolution calling for the impeachment of President Bush. A fact, which had I known it at the time, would have cleared my mind of the recurring image of the cigarette smoking, Hollywood handsome horseriding cowboy brought on by the town's name.

A few more roads that no longer existed, a few more missed turns and it was time for lunch. The General Store in north Wardsboro is well-stocked. You can find just about anything you might need there. I needed some lunch and got an Italian sub which turned out to be so ginormous that it was impossible to eat more than half of it. The General Store is as American as the fourth of July and celebrates it with gigantic American Flag on the roof and stars and stripes around the outside walls.
















After lunch, I headed back. Just before I got to Purple Meadow Road in Northfield, a fawn crossed the road in
front of me. It was the same spot and I'll bet it was the same little guy. Had he grown more adventuruous during the day? I'd like to think so. And I hope I had too.

The Ride

The Pure Water Ride for 2009 is about 300 miles along the back roads of Vermont from Massachusetts to Canada. The ride starts at the Northfield Mt. Hermon School in Northfield, MA. This is a first class prep school founded by evangelist Dwight L. Moody in 1879 to provide an education to young men and women who’d been denied that opportunity, usually due to financial hardship. The school still offers a values-oriented environment that challenges students to develop a sense of community responsibility. Every student participates in the school's work program four hours per week, and 200 students volunteer each semester in outreach activities. You can read more about this great school at http://www.nmhschool.org/.

The route then heads west to Colrain, MA before turning north to Vermont, entering at the town of Halifax. The next 300 miles to the Canadian Border are, as much as possible, along unimproved roads through central Vermont. Along the way we’ll make some interesting stops. I hope you’ll enjoy reading my postings throughout the summer as I report on progress.

It will take at least six days to complete this ride. Because I ride very slowly? Well maybe, but besides that, the condition of these roads can be quite bad, and then there is an average of about 1 turn per mile, with frequent stops to check the maps. A hundred miles a day is a pretty good pace for this type of ride, but only half of that will be forward progress as I have to return to the truck each evening to load up and head home, since I'll only be riding a day at a time scattered throughout the summer and fall.

In case you’re wondering, 100% of all contributions given to the Pure Water Ride will go to charity. All costs of the trip itself are paid with my own money.

The D.R. Mission of EBC

In June of 2007 a small group of members from Evangelical Baptist Church felt called of God to go on
an exploratory trip to the Dominican Republic. Their purpose was to find out if a small New England
church could successfully partner with a Dominican church and impact the Kingdom of God in ways
that they could not alone. The trip was a success and a partnership has been formed between Evangelical
Baptist Church (EBC) in Sharon, Massachusetts and the Haitian Missionary Baptist Church in San Pedro de Macoris.

Our vision is simple. We believe that God has called EBC to the Haitians of the Dominican Republic
to show the love of Jesus and to act as His ambassadors. Primarily, we do this by distributing
food in the bateyes* and poor barrio's, and partnering with the established and planned ministries of the local church in San Pedro.

Here's a report on the D.R. Mission Trip of 2008 by Andre, a member of the EBC Missions Committee-

As part of both the Missions Committee and the Dominican Republic Mission team, I am speaking on behalf of both. The D.R. Mission is an independent ministry but the Missions Committee helps support the ministry by being their accountability partner. The Missions Committee has given three months of the designated giving to the D.R. Mission the past years, and plan on doing so this year as well.

The D.R. Mission is our ongoing partnership with a local church in San Pedro De Macoris. This year’s trip is intended to re-establish ties with this church and continue the ministries started last year.
Last year seven adults traveled to the D.R. and helped distribute 2,500 pounds of rice, 1,100 pounds of beans, 900 peanut butter sandwiches, 505 pounds of corn meal, 432 bottles of cooking oil, and 600 articles of clothing.
We purchased 3 sewing machines and a shearing machine along with tables. This was donated to three women to start their own business. They have been saving a portion of the money they make monthly, and once there, the D.R. team will re-use the money to help others start home-based businesses.

We provided power tools to a carpenter, several boxes of clothing, and school supplies including approximately 100 notebooks.

This year’s team traveling to the D.R. includes seven people. When the team arrives, they will provide food, basic supplies, and the hope found in Jesus as they minister in His name. They want to help start more business opportunities, including possibly more sewing machines and work permits.

Because the D.R. Mission is separate from the Missions Committee, they do not receive monthly mission money. The Missions Committee does help the D.R. Mission when possible, but each member who wants to travel to the D.R. must raise the money themselves. This year each member must raise a minimum of $1200. This is to cover airfare and the supplies needed for the weeklong ministry. Every extra dollar counts. The money is raised by asking family and friends for support.

It is through your prayers and donations that it is possible for the D.R. Missions team to travel to the Dominican Republic to distribute food, clothing, school supplies, and build lasting relationships with national Christians.
I ask that you would consider partnering with us in praying for the team who will be serving in Christ. Pray for them: that they would be effective in their ministry and safe during their travels.

If God puts it in your heart to do so, I would also ask that you would consider supporting the D.R. Missions team financially. If you would like to support this way, please make your gift by check payable to Evangelical Baptist Church with the name of the team member or D.R. Missions in the memo line.

Another form of financial support is located in the entry way. There is a tin can setup where you can provide a family in the D.R. with some basic needs; deodorant, toothpaste, and toothbrushes for just $2.52. Pat, Patty, or Reta can purchase these at their workplace.

We thank you for your support.

Living Conditions in the Bateys

From a US State Department report (www.state.gov/g/drl/hrrpt/2006/78889.htm):

The IOM (International Organization for Immigration) estimated that approximately 650,000 Haitian immigrants-- or 7.5 percent of the country's population--lived in shantytowns or sugarcane work camps known as bateyes, harsh environments with limited or no electricity, usually no running water, and no adequate schooling. Many of these settlements were associated with sugar mills that had been abandoned. Although some Haitians were brought to the country specifically to work in sugarcane fields, many had no documentation. Human rights NGOs, the Catholic Church, and activists described Haitian living conditions in bateyes as modern-day slavery. In many bateyes, as in many poor areas in other parts of the country, medical assistance either was rudimentary or not readily available. Housing in the bateyes was poor; many individuals slept in barracks on iron beds without mattresses or on dirt floors. Many families of five or more shared living quarters that measured as little as nine by 10 feet. Bathroom facilities, where available, were generally unhygienic, and cooking facilities were usually improvised. The availability of fresh food, including fruits and vegetables, was severely limited. Clean water was rarely available. Many batey residents, lacking documentation, felt they had little choice but to remain in their communities, where they felt relatively safe from the risks of deportation and harassment that existed elsewhere in the country.

More information is available from the National Coalition for Haitian Rights, http://www.nchr.org/rmp/archive/executiv.htm. And from a US State Department report, www.state.gov/g/drl/hrrpt/2006/78889.htm: