Sunday, September 29, 2013
Borderland - 12 miles
A perfect weather day-sunny, clear skies, no humidity, and just enough nip in the air to make you want to keep moving. Gordon and I did some local trails in Borderland, where the trees were starting to color and the crisp air seemed to make everything surreally bright. I pushed myself hard just to show off a little and was pleasantly surprised to see that a summer of riding has paid off in better power and stamina. If a couch potato like me can do it so can you. Next year there will be opportunity for you to join me on the pure water ride. See you next year!
Friday, September 27, 2013
Wahh_ahh_ahh - Wachusett! - 15 miles
A trip to Mount Wachusett turned out to be a showcase for alternative energy. The sun-bathing windmills below totally dominated (and nearly ruined) the view from this overlook half way up. And no, they weren't turning. I'm sorry, wind power is not the answer! (see excerpt below)
(...this letter written by Princeton Municipal Light Department's (PMLD) General Manager, Brian Allen, offers a candid assessment of the utility's two-turbine (3.0 MW) project. The turbines have failed to live up to expected production levels and has been plagued with technical problems. Rather than reducing rates for customers, the project lost $1.875 million and will continue to lose $600,000 yearly under current circumstances...)
On the drive up here, I passed by a solar farm off Route 70 in Lancaster, MA and hardly even noticed it although it is located right next to the road. The solar farm produces 550 kilowatts, which is just about what all the municipal buildings in the town consumes.
 |
| Windmills Suning Themselves |
Sunlight is everywhere, not just on high isolated ridges, where windmills are located. Not every day is windy, but every day has at least some sunlight.
 |
| Oh, Yeah Solar is Everywhere! |
"Rising above the surrounding forest to a height of 2006 feet, Mount Wachusett stands as a unique landmark within the central New England landscape. From the summit, a clear day reveals views of Mt. Monadnock in New Hampshire, the Berkshires to the west, and the Boston skyline to the east.".
(from the mass.gov/dcr wachusett mt website)
Mr. Retro made it non-stop to the top. Up the car road, then later a second ascent on a combination of unpaved and paved roads.
 |
| On top of Wachusett |
 |
| Barely visible due to my photography skills - a group of 5 or 6 birdwatchers were spotting broad winged hawks. Good thing for the hawks the windmills weren't turning today. |
 |
| Boston Skyline from Wachusett |
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Blue Hill - Sept 21, 2013 - 2 miles
 |
| Weather Station atop Blue Hill |
Great Blue Hill in Milton, MA rises about 400 vertical feet above the surrounding countryside. It's the highest point in the area. An access road about a mile long reaches from Route 38 at the base to the weather station at the top.
This morning I got up, grabbed my bike, tossed it into the back of the truck, and headed over to Blue Hill. No breakfast-not even a sip of coffee. I'd been planning this ride for some time, but somehow it never worked out-until today. Yet I couldn't take long with a full day planned ahead.
I was half-way to the top before I woke up. Glancing over the ski slopes to civilization far below suddenly made me aware of the height I had been gaining. Until then it was all through the woods which pretty much restricted the view to the surrounding trees. It wasn't a clear day in general, so the view from the top was obscured by clouds and fog, but what a great feeling to ride non-stop to the top!
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Monhegan, ME - 0 miles
We took a day trip to Monhegan. Nice ferry ride through the heart of Maine's lobster country?
 |
| How's your balance? |
 |
| Seal Harbor |
 |
| Picture Perfect |
 |
| Where's the Lighthouse? |
 |
| Outward Bound had a boat or two here. |
Monday, August 5, 2013
Bull Run - 31 miles
A touch of fall. Blue skies, scattered white clouds, and a nip in the air to keep you moving.
 |
| That mountain biker's gonna catch some air! |
 |
| Back to nature. |
 |
| Nothing but natural beauty and one picnic table in this whole valley! |
 |
| Greene Acres in Greene Maine. Check out this farm house Oliver! |
 |
 |
| I was getting nervous with my red bike! |
 |
| Hey Unkie Sam, can you spare a Monstah truck? |
 |
| Running bulls and flying horses! |
 |
| Mello Yello Time! |
 |
| Community Baptist Church, Sabbatus, Maine. "God's promises are like stars, the darker the night, the brighter they shine!" |
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Litchfield, ME - 9 miles
Sunday afternoon and a beautiful day. No surprise it rained before getting underway. Rain every afternoon is the rule. The ground may never dry out!
 |
| The road less traveled parallels pavement before wandering off into the wilderness. |
 |
| A log cabin, four horses in the corral, and a road to the outside world |
 |
| Big Sky Country |
 |
| T-Rex is going to chomp some trees! |
 |
| This cart path was a very pleasant ride |
 |
Friday, August 2, 2013
Litchfield, Maine - 17 miles
This ride was actually done on July 29 but I'm only now getting around to writing it up. It's raining so today's planned ride got cancelled.
I headed out Rt 126 towards Gardiner, ME with a plan to mountain bike a woods road off Pine Tree Road that I had hiked many years before, but got no further than a mile up the road where I came across the old trolley line that used to run through Litchfield between Lewiston and Gardiner. This was the site of a famous (in our family) hike one vacation up to the Country Store. It had been my day to decide the family's activity for the day-how was I to know that there would be more mosquitos than trees? Since then neither of my kids has ever liked to hike. The trolley line is now a snowmobile trail - the tracks are long gone, but a modern bridge spans a brook which otherwise would be a wet nuisance to cross.
When the line crossed Huntington Hill Road, I crossed and proceeded up a private drive in search of the trolley line, but before I could find it I was asked if I could be helped by the apparent lady of the house, she and her husband both were out in the yard unexpectedly in the early afternoon of a week day. Learning my desire to follow the trolley tracks brought about the declaration that they had closed the trail. They both chimed in about snowmobilers speeding past their bedroom at 3 pm in the morning, drinking, carousing, partying and clogging their sewers with sex toys. Eventually it came out that the trail had been re-routed around the other side of their property, so I thanked them and turned back to find a very overgrown and rough trail cut through the woods. The opposite of the straight and nearly level trolley line, this wound up and over and through the woods and swamps till it rejoined the trolley line-so I had been told and I've not doubt that it did, if you knew the right sequence of turns-I did not and not surprisingly, given my handicap sense of direction, stumble upon them. Instead I came out on a gas line which ran straight as an arrow up and down a succession of steep hills with no regard to moderate the slope whatsoever.
I followed the gas line up and over a long hill which was too steep to ride up (at least for me) but at the top discovered that the trail descended even more steeply down the other side to a series of mudholes, before climbing again up an even longer hill. Having little desire to slog through the mud in the July afternoon heat, I turned back to try the trail on the other side of the gas line. This wound up the same hill through the woods parallel to the line. I was merely retracing my route, only this time in the woods. I was getting tired and none too happy with wandering around retracing routes and wondering how long it would take to find my way out when, at the crest of the hill, the trail took a sharp left turn away from the line. This pleasant wood road ran pleasingly level so that I could ride again. After a half a mile it came out in the back yard of an apartment building, or so it looked. Although not marked, I supposed the trail ran along the back of the yard and so I went, hoping that no resident dogs would be prowling about. At the other side of the yard was another woods road heading back in the direction of the line.
This section had some nice old cart paths and at one point skirted a field that glowed a vibrant green under a pure blue sky, before descending almost precipitously into a sandpit where the trail literally disappeared off a twenty foot cliff. If was only because I cautiously rode the brakes all the way down that I avoided catching some serious air. The owner of the sandpit, which I believe is the town of Litchfield, partly because it was directly across the road from the town garage obviously had the right to dig out the sand irregardless of the presence of the trail, which now seemed doomed as there appeared to be no way around. I was forced to carry the bike around the very edge of the pit and clinging on to trees and tree branches to keep from falling over the edge.
At the time I had only a vague idea of where I was. Following the dirt road which rose steeply up and out of the pit, then wound down a good sized hill and came out across from the town office, and quite a distance from my original goal. In hind sight, I should have turned and headed for home, but I still had energy and decided to continue to North Adams road, which I did and pressed on further than I had in a previous year. This was a nice woods road, which would have been even nicer if a good section of it had not been torn up by a logging operation, which evidently was far more concerned with getting logs out than they were with the condition of the road after they were done.
I got only a mile further than this before a combination of fatigue, thirst (I had foolishly not brought any drink), and mosquitos overcame what little exploratory adventuresome spirit I had left. I felt now very much like my family must have felt on our famous hike. Turning around to avoid having to cross a flooded section of trail, I headed back wearily, my sole motivation the thought of reaching the country store for a cold drink. The same store as that fateful trip. Eventually I made it. How wonderful was that Mello Yello!
I headed out Rt 126 towards Gardiner, ME with a plan to mountain bike a woods road off Pine Tree Road that I had hiked many years before, but got no further than a mile up the road where I came across the old trolley line that used to run through Litchfield between Lewiston and Gardiner. This was the site of a famous (in our family) hike one vacation up to the Country Store. It had been my day to decide the family's activity for the day-how was I to know that there would be more mosquitos than trees? Since then neither of my kids has ever liked to hike. The trolley line is now a snowmobile trail - the tracks are long gone, but a modern bridge spans a brook which otherwise would be a wet nuisance to cross.
When the line crossed Huntington Hill Road, I crossed and proceeded up a private drive in search of the trolley line, but before I could find it I was asked if I could be helped by the apparent lady of the house, she and her husband both were out in the yard unexpectedly in the early afternoon of a week day. Learning my desire to follow the trolley tracks brought about the declaration that they had closed the trail. They both chimed in about snowmobilers speeding past their bedroom at 3 pm in the morning, drinking, carousing, partying and clogging their sewers with sex toys. Eventually it came out that the trail had been re-routed around the other side of their property, so I thanked them and turned back to find a very overgrown and rough trail cut through the woods. The opposite of the straight and nearly level trolley line, this wound up and over and through the woods and swamps till it rejoined the trolley line-so I had been told and I've not doubt that it did, if you knew the right sequence of turns-I did not and not surprisingly, given my handicap sense of direction, stumble upon them. Instead I came out on a gas line which ran straight as an arrow up and down a succession of steep hills with no regard to moderate the slope whatsoever.
I followed the gas line up and over a long hill which was too steep to ride up (at least for me) but at the top discovered that the trail descended even more steeply down the other side to a series of mudholes, before climbing again up an even longer hill. Having little desire to slog through the mud in the July afternoon heat, I turned back to try the trail on the other side of the gas line. This wound up the same hill through the woods parallel to the line. I was merely retracing my route, only this time in the woods. I was getting tired and none too happy with wandering around retracing routes and wondering how long it would take to find my way out when, at the crest of the hill, the trail took a sharp left turn away from the line. This pleasant wood road ran pleasingly level so that I could ride again. After a half a mile it came out in the back yard of an apartment building, or so it looked. Although not marked, I supposed the trail ran along the back of the yard and so I went, hoping that no resident dogs would be prowling about. At the other side of the yard was another woods road heading back in the direction of the line.
This section had some nice old cart paths and at one point skirted a field that glowed a vibrant green under a pure blue sky, before descending almost precipitously into a sandpit where the trail literally disappeared off a twenty foot cliff. If was only because I cautiously rode the brakes all the way down that I avoided catching some serious air. The owner of the sandpit, which I believe is the town of Litchfield, partly because it was directly across the road from the town garage obviously had the right to dig out the sand irregardless of the presence of the trail, which now seemed doomed as there appeared to be no way around. I was forced to carry the bike around the very edge of the pit and clinging on to trees and tree branches to keep from falling over the edge.
At the time I had only a vague idea of where I was. Following the dirt road which rose steeply up and out of the pit, then wound down a good sized hill and came out across from the town office, and quite a distance from my original goal. In hind sight, I should have turned and headed for home, but I still had energy and decided to continue to North Adams road, which I did and pressed on further than I had in a previous year. This was a nice woods road, which would have been even nicer if a good section of it had not been torn up by a logging operation, which evidently was far more concerned with getting logs out than they were with the condition of the road after they were done.
I got only a mile further than this before a combination of fatigue, thirst (I had foolishly not brought any drink), and mosquitos overcame what little exploratory adventuresome spirit I had left. I felt now very much like my family must have felt on our famous hike. Turning around to avoid having to cross a flooded section of trail, I headed back wearily, my sole motivation the thought of reaching the country store for a cold drink. The same store as that fateful trip. Eventually I made it. How wonderful was that Mello Yello!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Bowdoin, ME - 18 miles
 |
| Crossing over Rt 95 was like a near intersection of separate worlds. A friendly truck driver beeped a greeting as he flew by. |
 |
| The road PWR traveled bears off to the left and into the woods! |
 |
| This beautiful garden grew in the middle of the woods! |
 |
| Muddy roads caked mud into the tires, which would fly off and into my eyes on the downhills! |
 |
| More mud ahead! |
 |
| Adjusting the shift levers took several attempts before arriving at an acceptable position. |
 |
| Nice open going and no mud! |
 |
| After miles of woods... |
 |
| One of dozens of mudholes encountered. I was able to go around all but one. |
 |
| No trucks and no metal detectors! Any trucks lost in the mud belong to the landowner! |
 |
| Dedicated to the memory of Biff Morgan. Very well constructed bridge over a deep chasm. |
 |
| Now in the middle of the woods, this foundation was once a farmhouse surrounded by fields |
 |
| This surreal blue-grey mudhole looked more like toxic waste than rain water. |
 |
| Near the end of the ride, I felt like this wheel. |
 |
| House by the side of the road. |
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Your donations are making a difference! More patients at the Mbingo Hospital now have pure water thanks to your donations through the Pure Water Ride. A recent update from Cameroon, Africa tells of an upgrade to the Mbingo Hospital water system that you helped to pay for. The new system has added a significant capacity to the overburdened supply, but has failed to deliver the design goal of 195,000 liters per day, due partly to organic contamination, and partly to filters which are not performing as the manufacturer claimed. A new type of filter is being considered.
Current capacity is about 30,000 liters per day. Though falling well short of the design, the new system is supplying much needed water to the hospital during the dry season, when the wells that normally supply the hospital dry up. For those who would like to read the entire report by Tom Schotanus, send me an email and I will email it to you. I may be able to post a link later.
Current capacity is about 30,000 liters per day. Though falling well short of the design, the new system is supplying much needed water to the hospital during the dry season, when the wells that normally supply the hospital dry up. For those who would like to read the entire report by Tom Schotanus, send me an email and I will email it to you. I may be able to post a link later.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Pure Water Ride 2013
The 2013 Pure Water Ride is underway. Check this blog from time to time during the summer for new posts, or re-visit previous year's rides-there are now several pages of pictures and reports to enjoy!
Thanks to the support of people just like you, the Pure Water Ride has been successful in raising the health and quality of life for many people through efficient water filters and protected wells. Please consider a donation. Every donation is a gift toward life and health.
Thanks to the support of people just like you, the Pure Water Ride has been successful in raising the health and quality of life for many people through efficient water filters and protected wells. Please consider a donation. Every donation is a gift toward life and health.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
