I've been to the Fitzgerald lake conservation area a couple of times, but I had never gone around the north side of the lake. With a couple of hours of daylight left, I thought I'd get Kelly and the bicycles and we could do a loop around the thing before dark.
We started out from the North Farms Road parking area and cruised briskly past the boat-launch walkway and over a nicely constructed elevated walkway.
We rolled along up to the water's edge and then next to a little inlet where a beaver family had built a lodge.
That was right about when things took a turn. I stopped on a small mound on the trail and was snapping this picture, when I heard "Wuh, what did you stop there for?!?" and then the sad whimpering squeak of bicycle brakes, and the shuffle of confused feet and wheels on loose gravel, and I turned to see Kelly struggling to control a backwards roll, handlebars flailing back and forth. All I could do was watch until the bitter end.
After she got up, brushed herself off, I assured her the scratches just looked bad because of the chain grease, and we moved on. But not far.
Roots. Lots of them. Big ones. Intermingled with boarded walk ways about a foot across.
We had to walk the bikes.
We plodded along with our bikes bouncing next to us for about a quarter-mile. Mosquitos buzzing in our ears and on our sweaty necks.
And then the rocks started getting big. Glacial deposit big.
We added stumbling to our pace for the next quarter mile.
By this time clouds had rolled in, darkening the whole scene. And worse, some concert was playing at Look Park a couple miles away, playing loud enough to fill the damp, darkening air with an eerie moaning throughout the woods. I swear I thought I heard someone cough about fifty yards behind us in the gloom.
Glancing back every few steps and brushing off the raindrops that were now lightly falling on my face, we suddenly emerged onto the wildflower-covered dam and open sky at the east end of the lake. We both let out a sigh of relief. We had rounded the horn.
I knew the trail from here and knew it was relatively bike-friendly, so we rode at best possible speed (while trying not to damage the trail with our bikes, of course) until the trail ended and we burst, dirty, wet and sweaty, onto a quiet residential neighborhood. We had stopped only once to adjust a chain that had popped loose during our flight.
The clouds had passed and the sun twinkled through the trees. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. We rode silently back toward the parking area.
I guess the moral is don't try new trails right before sunset. And bring mosquito repellant. And that cough behind you was probably your imagination.
Safety Village
On the way back we passed a park/baseball field , I think it was called McDonald Field.
There's a neat little kid's 'village' apparantly made of utility sheds, I assume the Northampton DPW keeps their stuff in there. There are sidewalks, crosswalks, road dividing lines, a rotary, street signs, and each building is painted with likenesses of real Northampton businesses.
We sat on the grass at the park and watched the sun set before we headed back to the car.
A quick stop in Northampton for a coffee and a listen to these great fiddle/banjo/guitar street performers, then homeward bound.
