Day 5

This barn was storing up heat for the coming Winter.
The road over Mount Hunger was not thirsty.
These birches chose a place with a view.
The first and only flat tire ever on the Pure Water Ride.
Note the high water mark on this road-side house and new gravel foundation. Incredible rains during hurricane Irene caused a local stream far below to swamp this house. This grateful homeowner posted a thank you sign to everyone in the community that helped to salvage their home.
Do I look exhausted? For some reason, my energy level was at a record low that day. It was unseasonably warm. I should have worn shorts. After 18 miles, I called it quits.
The leaves on this seldom traveled road rested undisturbed.
Closed for the season, this park offered a good place to leave the truck.

Day 4

Road or stream? On this kind of day, who cares?

Hillside in green and orange.

Hurricane Irene again!

Native's sign.

Flat lander's sign.

Fresh water.

Bench to sit and watch the fresh water go by.

Naa Naah. My cupola's fancier than yours!

Oct. 17, 2011

PWR Goes Green

Sept. 21, 2011 - Day 3

Almost a month after Hurricane Irene caused the worse flooding in Vermont in 83 years, I pulled off I89 onto Rt. 4 in Central Vermont. My bicycle was in the back and I was on my way to the start of Pure Water Ride Day 3. I drove behind a line crew from Minnesota. The waitress at the Ottaquechee Inn in Bridgewater, where I stopped for morning coffee, said that they had been without power for only 5 days, but the area would not be back to normal for another week. Line crews from as far away as Ohio had been working to restore power. Road repairs along Rt. 4 had slowed traffic in three or four areas in the 15 miles from I89 to Bridgewater. Much of the way, the route follows the Ottaquechee river, normally sparkling, clear, swift flowing but well behaved. Now it was muddy. Torn and toppled trees lined the barren banks, swept clear of all but sand and clay, which the swollen river had deposited on low-lying fields the road wound through.

It was a common sight to see bulldozed mounds of sand that had been scraped clear from driveways and fields of river-side homes. Finding humor in difficult circumstances, one landowner had posted a "Free" sign on the DPW sized piles that lined his plot.



Desperately in need of exercise, I rode a bicycle instead of my usual motorcycle. The quiet of my mount was wonderful and allowed me to hear the chainsaws, dumptrucks, and power shovels that filled the silence everywhere. Rebuilding was progressing fast, but there were many months, if not years, of work ahead. The road I was climbing was badly eroded in places, but manageable.



A mile or so later I came upon a section that was completely washed away-nothing was left of the road except a gully deep enough to hide me on the bicycle.


I climbed out to find a faint path along the bank. There I met another mountain biker. His bike was the only way he could get to his house. He showed me the path he had cut, clipping away more branches as he walked along with me pushing my bike behind. When he stopped he gave me directions-follow path to his yard cut across lawn to driveway, go right, cross gully onto field and stay to left of field until the next house. After the house the road would be rideable again. And so it was. At least for a young person in good shape. I did get a few yards of pedalling in here and there, but otherwise it was walk beside the bike. It turned out to be 4 miles of continuous climbing. The 'hill that never ends' had me wondering if it had been a mistake...

Achieving the top was not the victory I had long anticipated. The far side descended far to rough and steep to relax and enjoy. Riding down was hard. At times it was necessary to walk just to keep the bike in control. Life's peaks are often not what we had hoped and worked so hard for. It's only when we sense God smiling at our efforts that we find real satisfaction. At the foot of the mountain were normal dirt roads and relief. But this was my bicycle shake down ride and the odometer was badly off. I had maps of the area, but was never-the-less bewildered. I was not where I thought I was. After failing to reconcile the sequence and shape of several road junctions-trying to match the map, I finally gave up and decided to just follow the main road down. Eventually I was able to rejoin the planned route, although I had missed several roads along the way.

At this point I accidently came across a road-side spring. Two local men were deep in conversation, one of them leaning on the fountain. They carried on, but moved politely away when I pulled up to fill my Gatorade bottle with the fresh, clear and cool water that flows continually day and night year after year. The water was delicious and I drank with no fear, thinking of the people in Cameroon and the Dominican Republic, who know their dirty water often makes them sick. You can help to make their water safe by donating funds for water filters.

Pedaling was hard work, and I often gave up, got off, and pushed.

At the same time it was rewarding, the slower pace allowed me to see more than a quick drive by. Besides, I never would have been able to follow the route on the motorcycle. Perhaps it would have been possible before Irene, but not now.

On top of that, this was real exercise, not just walking up 5 stories of stairs at work. My heart rate was elevated for pretty nearly the whole day. Only 38 miles-horrible for a bicycling pace, but then I'd walked up most of the hills, which were much longer and steeper than the downhills, this being Vermont.

A Rotten Bridge and a Prayer

July 15, 2011 - Day 2

I came upon this early on in day 2. The house of prayer itself was barely visible. A serene place that probably a fantastic view. I didn’t think I ought to ride up to see. Later I wished they said a prayer for me.

These falls were a short walk away from my route. I got here around 9:00 am and on a relatively cool day. On hot afternoons I bet it’s hard to find a spot to call your own. What a great place to cool off! I didn’t climb up to see, and it’s hard to make out in this picture, but it looks like there’s an elevated pool between the upper and lower sections of the fall.

Unmaintained roads like this one gradually become streambeds when culverts get clogged or broken. This one was very tricky to climb. Wet rocks are slippery.

I didn’t see any speed limits for cars on this road. Not that you would need one.

This tree was easy to get under.


This one was easy, too.

This one was impassible. The ground was swampy on the left side, and uphill with a stone wall on the right. Nothing to do back turn back and scout a way around.


I came upon the same smashed hippy house that had spooked me last year. Another year in the elements had deteriorated it further. The back wall crazily leaning on the left has a built in bookcase with books still in it. Very hard to make out is a green couch right underneath the bookcase. Once a good spot to read. Hopefully the occupants were gone when the roof got smashed in. I didn’t go poking around for bones.

This troubled bridge over murky waters was scarier than the haunted hippy house. I pushed the bike over on the right side, re-arranging some of the boards for better footing.

Made it on a prayer!

3rd Annual Pure Water Ride begins!

Pure Water Ride 2011 - June 21, 2011 - Day 1

Colrain, MA. Despite sounding like “cold rain” the weather was warm and sunny at the start of the pure water ride 2011 in this historic town in northern Franklin county. Colrain was the first town in the United States to fly the U.S. flag over a public schoolhouse, and had already been settled for 41 years before the Declaration of Independence. The village center has changed little in the last 150 years, and was adopted as a state historic district in 2006. For me, the highlight of the town had nothing to do with the dormant center. It was the natural beauty all around it-the fields, hills, and streams that seemed to sparkle with excitement and life.

Heading north along the Green River, I was soon into Vermont, which was true to it’s literal meaning, ‘green hills’. The green on this bright, sunny, first official day of summer, was florescent. The hills were delightful, riding seldom level, always winding up or gliding down, adding to the giddy, free feeling of a relaxing day. The cool wind offset the heat of the sun so perfectly that there was no feeling of either hot or cold, but only of supreme comfort and ease.


It wasn’t long though, before the first challenge of the day-a section new to me that obviously didn’t get much traffic. The green road was overgrown by grass almost handlebar high that completely hid all rocks, holes, logs and mud, of which there were plenty of, and which soon had me huffing, puffing, and sweating with the effort of trying to keep the bike upright and at least somewhat on course. The track twisted crazily and descended slowly downhill as the ground became more and more swampy. I stopped and considered that turning back might be better than going further and getting hopelessly bogged down or lost.

Searching out the path ahead, I decided to press on at least a little further. As I did, I caught a glimpse of a small pond, that seemed only a little lower than the ground I was on and did not appear on my map. Just then the bike dropped into a hidden hole, adrenaline kicked in before I had a chance to think about getting stuck. I planted both feet on the mushy ground and pushed for all I was worth and at the same time gave the throttle a healthy twist. The bike surged up and out and forward onto the track which now seemed to be climbing imperceptibly. After only a few more twists and turns, the road improved dramatically.

And strangely. Why, in the middle of the woods, with no sign of any destination of any kind, for absolutely no conceiveable reason, did the nature of road suddenly change?


By this time, I was getting thirsty. Not to worry, the center of Marlboro was coming up soon. When I got there, I found only 1 white clapboard building. On one side was the Post Office, on the other were the town offices. Nothing else except an intersection. The next town, Dover, had a red-clapboard Post Office and General Store, where I pulled in eagerly only to find the store was closed. The day was warming up and I was getting more and more thirsty. I took a sip from the half bottle of water that was all I had brought with me, thinking that I could just stop somewhere to get more. Here I decided to abandon my planned route and head directly to the next town, Wardsboro, where I knew there to be a general store.

An old friend was missing on this trip. My son’s first grade backpack, became mine when he got a new one for second grade. That backpack had been with me all over the country, several trips to Albuquerque for work, our family’s only trip to Disney World when the kids were younger, a trip to California for work, a memorable and only family trip to New York, and most, if not all, of every motorcycle trip I had ever taken since my kids had grown and I got back into motorcycling. We’d been a lot of places together. The zipper finally wore out, and now I had inherited my son’s second grade backpack, which was on its first of, I hope, many, many rides.

At Wardsboro, I filled up the tank, bought the largest cold bottle of ice tea that I could find, took off my sweatshirt, found a place in the shade, and enjoyed a gourmet lunch of a McDonald’s Sausage McMuffin and quenched my thirst.

By now it was about 2:30, so I decided to go a little further towards Canada, exploring some new roads, and then call it a day. The new roads were poorly marked, and there were many intersections that were not on the map, so I just stayed on the main road, the one which seemed to be the most used. The only sign of civilization that I saw for several miles were a few snowmobile signs. I’m glad to have explored these new roads, but because of their remoteness and unmarked intersections, I’ll keep looking for alternate routes for next year’s Pure Water Ride.


On the ride back I had an opportunity to use my pocket chainsaw. A small tree or a large branch blocked the road. It took me several shifts that were each longer than the advertisement for the saw, which showed a larger tree being sawn in two in a few seconds. Rather tackily the ‘person’ doing the sawing was not shown. I strongly suspect the film had been speeded up to three or four times normal.

It was pretty cool to clear the path, wind the saw back into the tuna fish sized can where it was stowed, and ride on, unhindered.


No Kidding!

Looking Back and Looking Ahead

AP, May 1, 2010
BOSTON — Water to 2 million people in Boston and about three dozen suburbs is temporarily unsuitable for drinking after a break in a pipe that connects a major suburban reservoir to the city.

State officials say the break in the 10-foot diameter pipe in the suburb of Weston is leaking water into the Charles River at a rate of 8 million gallons per hour. The pipe connects to the Quabbin Reservoir.

The Massachusetts Water Resources Authority has activated emergency water supplies from various reservoirs for bathing, flushing and fire protection. But that water isn't suitable for drinking, so a boil-water order has been imposed in 38 communities east of Weston.

Authority engineers are on the scene of the break. Gov. Deval Patrick, who has declared a state of emergency, says it's too soon to know when the break might be repaired.

I remember signs on all the bubblers, bathroom sinks, and water taps at work, "Water temporarily unsafe to drink". Lexington, where I work, was one of the 38 communities affected. It was an annoyance and an inconvience, but plenty of bottled water was available.

Imagine what it's like in many parts of the world where all the water is unsafe to drink. Waterborne diseases such as cholera and diptheria are a major cause of death worldwide, killing more than 2 million people every year, most of them children.

Your donation helps to provide safe water for more and more people. Samaritan's Purse, one of the charities we support, sent 20 community-sized water filters to Haiti immediately after the earthquakes, each one capable of supplying clean water for 1,000 people per day. This is a major step in preventing the spread of cholera and other diseases.

Thank you. Together let's make unsafe water history. Have an awesome year!