Showing posts with label =Rail Trails. Show all posts
Showing posts with label =Rail Trails. Show all posts
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
South By SouthWick
We tried finding it a couple of years ago. A trail legend said it would carry us far over the state line, and deliver us into the mystical, mythical, waiting ribbon of asphalt layed through one of the greenest, lushest valleys of far off Connecticut; a path known by some as the Farmington Valley Trail system. We followed clues, took directions from locals, and pored over maps. But we just couldn't find it.
We couldn't find it because at the time, it didn't exist.
Not so today, we have since learned. They've been hard at work, and the connection is almost a reality.
But rather than ride along the uncompleted dirt path, as we saw many doing, you can meet up with the Farmington trail system at a Southwick package store called the Oak and Keg. Across the street there is a parking lot, and just below, a fresh section of connector trail.
It's still a couple miles to the border from here, and the going is lush and easy.
It's all a freshly paved, nicely built biking way.
Much of the Farmington trail runs alongside the short lived, early 19th century canal that stretched from Northampton to New Haven. Completed in three short years, they got about the same amount of time usuing it before the railroad age really kicked in, pretty much putting the new but slower canal system out of business. In many spots, evidence of the old canal is still visible.
I had no idea the Farmington valley was so lush, green and farmy. On both sides were tobacco fields...
...wetlands...
...and lush forest.
All of it hardly interupted by the blaring aesthetic burdens of modern man. A couple small neighborhoods or the oddball house in the distance here or there, but seemingly not a highway or subdivision in sight. Anywhere.
Quiet, green and clean seems to be the mantra of this trail system. Or at least the section of it we did.
The trail system goes on from the border for a good 27 miles, through the valley into Simsbury. Thereabout it branches off into other sub-trails and connectors for many miles more.
And all along the stretch are off shoots of dirt trails and walking paths, veering off on tangents into woods or over hills. Really beautiful stuff.
We only had time to check out about 7 miles of it before having to turn back. We made it to the Newgate wildlife preserve, which the trail cuts through in dramatic woodsy fashion.
Near there we took a little break before the turnaround, and rolled around a little in a field by a rest area, checking out robins and buttercups, with my buttercups.
Kelly had to work later that afternoon: the bane of my Sunday afternoons now that spring has arrived. But turn around we must. But we'll be back. The plan is to return to this trail in three or so visits; each time driving to where we left off biking the previous time, until we cover the whole 27 miles.
For now it's 7 down, 20 to go.
But who's counting.
We couldn't find it because at the time, it didn't exist.
Not so today, we have since learned. They've been hard at work, and the connection is almost a reality.
But rather than ride along the uncompleted dirt path, as we saw many doing, you can meet up with the Farmington trail system at a Southwick package store called the Oak and Keg. Across the street there is a parking lot, and just below, a fresh section of connector trail.
It's still a couple miles to the border from here, and the going is lush and easy.
It's all a freshly paved, nicely built biking way.
Much of the Farmington trail runs alongside the short lived, early 19th century canal that stretched from Northampton to New Haven. Completed in three short years, they got about the same amount of time usuing it before the railroad age really kicked in, pretty much putting the new but slower canal system out of business. In many spots, evidence of the old canal is still visible.
I had no idea the Farmington valley was so lush, green and farmy. On both sides were tobacco fields...
...wetlands...
...and lush forest.
All of it hardly interupted by the blaring aesthetic burdens of modern man. A couple small neighborhoods or the oddball house in the distance here or there, but seemingly not a highway or subdivision in sight. Anywhere.
Quiet, green and clean seems to be the mantra of this trail system. Or at least the section of it we did.
The trail system goes on from the border for a good 27 miles, through the valley into Simsbury. Thereabout it branches off into other sub-trails and connectors for many miles more.
And all along the stretch are off shoots of dirt trails and walking paths, veering off on tangents into woods or over hills. Really beautiful stuff.
We only had time to check out about 7 miles of it before having to turn back. We made it to the Newgate wildlife preserve, which the trail cuts through in dramatic woodsy fashion.
Near there we took a little break before the turnaround, and rolled around a little in a field by a rest area, checking out robins and buttercups, with my buttercups.
Kelly had to work later that afternoon: the bane of my Sunday afternoons now that spring has arrived. But turn around we must. But we'll be back. The plan is to return to this trail in three or so visits; each time driving to where we left off biking the previous time, until we cover the whole 27 miles.
For now it's 7 down, 20 to go.
But who's counting.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Riverwalk, Er, Stroll
The bloggerette and the lately-interminably-teen-age-angsty-moody-kid joined me for a jaunt downtown and a quick look at the Riverwalk and Riverfront Park in Springfield.
I've heard this one is best travelled by bike, but we risked it on foot and stroller.
With the weekend's relapse into the worst of early spring weather, the pathway wasn't too populated anyway. Just a few fishermen, a couple bikers and a small gaggle of kids were with us in the cool damp park.
There are better days to check out bike trails, but we made the best of our limited time and what fleeting good weather could be had by doing something close to home base. Cool overcast days can sometimes present their own qualities.
Parking in the lot under the highway that cuts overhead through the edge of downtown, we crossed the active railroad tracks to the park entrance.
Both the tracks and highway run parallel to the river and unfortunately both were laid down without any foresight to the potential for future development. They now effectively cut off the riverfront from easy city access; a big reason for it's long delayed and anemic development.
But a strong effort and some good progress has been made anyway. There is still plenty of land here for green and recreation.
From the main entrance we made our way south, passing the triple-tiered ramp and railway overpass that leads to the old Basketball Hall of Fame, now converted to an LA Fitness gym and the Onyx Restaurant.
...a little further on to the new Basketball Hall of Fame...
...and then backtracking and venturing north as far as the Memorial Bridge.
The trail goes much farther, on into the north end. But we were only here today for a quick scouting run. A more thorough exploration will have to be done with more welcoming weather.
City recreation must always be seasoned with a pinch or two of situation awareness. In spots along the trail was the inescapable graffiti and minor littering of a metro area, countering the grass and river views and reminding us of where we were. But old whitewashed sections of wall showed the marks of constant battle and vigilance against spray painters and ne'er do wells. And vigilance can be good enough.
Although I don't think I'd chance a night ride out here, the trail was pretty clean and well kept, all things considered. We passed up and down our section of it very nicely, making it back to the car unscathed, although not without loss.
It seems one of our party couldn't help but take the opportunity during an overlook stop to conduct experiments with the effects of gravity, trajectory, current and snack food. Science is not without it's costs, and although no humans were put at risk...
...let's just say some goldfish are now sleeping with the fishes.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Swift Rivers
A local blogger's wife recently suffered an aneurysm, and their family is now dealing with the sudden life changing experience. None of us are guaranteed immunity to such changes, and his brave way of dealing with the situation has got me wondering again about it all...
Although three of my four grandparents have passed away over the decades, my immediate and extended families have been extremely lucky as far as illness and tragedy goes. But the last several years have begun to bring home the realities of the other side of our existence.
Three years ago I was basically a useless bag of poop layed out in a hospital for eight days, in the midst of a two month bout with a fierce case of pneumonia, not entirely sure whether I was going to come out of it the same or even live through it for that matter; and since then have never seemed to fully recover. For me it was a brush with death, or at least with the specter of long term debilitation.
A couple of years earlier an uncle had suddenly suffered a major, debilitating stroke in the golden years of his life, changing the course of his family's lives. More recently, another uncle had died after a long and painful fight with cancer.
Just a couple of weeks before him (now a little over a year and four months ago), my Mother, who had struggled for years with symptoms of Parkinson's and (I suspect) depression, passed away unexpectedly in a hospital after a simple cyst removal procedure. She had just turned 65.
Health and happiness are such fragile things. To stop and really think about it opens the door to an endless depth of questions, and most all of them variations on the one, main question: "Why are we here, anyway?". We might come up with some simple answers to get us by and ease the pain and confusion; or leave the question on hold. But we never really know.
Even before these things happened, after several wasted years of my own youth that could have been better spent and that I'll never get back again; a day had come along when I resolved to try not to waste another precious hour wallowing in self pity, depression, regret or resentment. To try not to waste it, anyway. That's all anybody can do. To help me in that effort and seize what (God) has temporarily afforded us, I try to spend as much time out in his world as possible.
Sometimes, I'll bike through it.
We headed up to Turners Falls for a revisit to the CanalSide Trail they got up there. We had only checked it out once before, shortly after it's opening in the fall of 07'. No greenery on the trees yet but we figured it'd be a good way to get a look at the raging torrent that the Connecticut river has become, after the recent global warming storms that have struck the northeast. (sorry).
And a torrent it was. The rail trail doesn't get too close to the famous Turners Falls dam, but you can get a view of the immediate aftermath of the water pouring over it's top near the bridge.
The trail does go along the canal that begins at the dam though, and standing on one of the short bridges over it will give you a sense of the speed and strength of the current plowing by just inches under the deck.
Turners Falls was more or less a 'planned' industrial center, ala Holyoke, with the canals designed and built expressly to power as many factories as there was room for.
Many of the factories buildings are still standing along it's edges.
With all the talk about green power, I'm always surprised we don't tap more heavily into the 400 mile long energy machine that is the Connecticut river. Good old fashioned water power. There must be a way to build water turbines that are every bit as effective as wind turbines that can be turned by the constant water current.
But I guess until Wall Street finally speculates fuel prices into the double digits, we'll just continue to grit our teeth and fork over the money until the whole kit and kaboodle crumbles...
Or maybe move to this street.
The trail was just as good as we remembered it, though a little on the short side; about four miles end to end. But with the canal at the beginning...
...a long, classic 19th century rail bridge in the middle...
....and an active rail yard at the end,
this short trail provides much to keep a traveller and lolligagger interested.
...and much to keep the occasional trailside critter curious.
The whole thing is a mystery to be travelled through. Best to keep pedalling.
Although three of my four grandparents have passed away over the decades, my immediate and extended families have been extremely lucky as far as illness and tragedy goes. But the last several years have begun to bring home the realities of the other side of our existence.
Three years ago I was basically a useless bag of poop layed out in a hospital for eight days, in the midst of a two month bout with a fierce case of pneumonia, not entirely sure whether I was going to come out of it the same or even live through it for that matter; and since then have never seemed to fully recover. For me it was a brush with death, or at least with the specter of long term debilitation.
A couple of years earlier an uncle had suddenly suffered a major, debilitating stroke in the golden years of his life, changing the course of his family's lives. More recently, another uncle had died after a long and painful fight with cancer.
Just a couple of weeks before him (now a little over a year and four months ago), my Mother, who had struggled for years with symptoms of Parkinson's and (I suspect) depression, passed away unexpectedly in a hospital after a simple cyst removal procedure. She had just turned 65.
Health and happiness are such fragile things. To stop and really think about it opens the door to an endless depth of questions, and most all of them variations on the one, main question: "Why are we here, anyway?". We might come up with some simple answers to get us by and ease the pain and confusion; or leave the question on hold. But we never really know.
Even before these things happened, after several wasted years of my own youth that could have been better spent and that I'll never get back again; a day had come along when I resolved to try not to waste another precious hour wallowing in self pity, depression, regret or resentment. To try not to waste it, anyway. That's all anybody can do. To help me in that effort and seize what (God) has temporarily afforded us, I try to spend as much time out in his world as possible.
Sometimes, I'll bike through it.
We headed up to Turners Falls for a revisit to the CanalSide Trail they got up there. We had only checked it out once before, shortly after it's opening in the fall of 07'. No greenery on the trees yet but we figured it'd be a good way to get a look at the raging torrent that the Connecticut river has become, after the recent global warming storms that have struck the northeast. (sorry).
And a torrent it was. The rail trail doesn't get too close to the famous Turners Falls dam, but you can get a view of the immediate aftermath of the water pouring over it's top near the bridge.
The trail does go along the canal that begins at the dam though, and standing on one of the short bridges over it will give you a sense of the speed and strength of the current plowing by just inches under the deck.
Turners Falls was more or less a 'planned' industrial center, ala Holyoke, with the canals designed and built expressly to power as many factories as there was room for.
Many of the factories buildings are still standing along it's edges.
With all the talk about green power, I'm always surprised we don't tap more heavily into the 400 mile long energy machine that is the Connecticut river. Good old fashioned water power. There must be a way to build water turbines that are every bit as effective as wind turbines that can be turned by the constant water current.
But I guess until Wall Street finally speculates fuel prices into the double digits, we'll just continue to grit our teeth and fork over the money until the whole kit and kaboodle crumbles...
Or maybe move to this street.
The trail was just as good as we remembered it, though a little on the short side; about four miles end to end. But with the canal at the beginning...
...a long, classic 19th century rail bridge in the middle...
....and an active rail yard at the end,
this short trail provides much to keep a traveller and lolligagger interested.
...and much to keep the occasional trailside critter curious.
The whole thing is a mystery to be travelled through. Best to keep pedalling.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Good Friday
Spring came early this year. We made sure to break out the welcome wagon by stepping out after work and looking for some means of taking it all in. While heading north and driving through Chicopee, we found huge swaths of roadway, entire neighborhoods, were engulfed in a low lying cloud of sweet smelling wood smoke.
Something was burning, something big. There was a giant plume rising above the trees in the distance and we sidetracked a little bit, trying to follow any back roads that might bring us nearer. But we ran into a dead end, and could get no closer than the other side of a pond.
Must be a brush fire. The plume was far too wide to be a house fire or leaf burning...
We got back on track and continued on. With only about an hour or so of daylight left, the Amherst end of the Norwottuck seemed like the place to watch the last golden rays of this Good Friday. Maybe get a little wildlife viewing in...
The parking lot was still full when we got there and the trail busy with people reaching the end, resting, and turning back. I assumed some of the cars here belonged to people doing the same at the other end.
The word is out on this side being a great wildlife viewing spot; tripods, cameras and field glasses could be seen among clusters of folks pointing and peering out on one side or the other of the trail from select spots.
We made it to our own select spot, and got some viewing in ourselves.
All was serenity and relative quiet, except for the referee whistling of the blackbirds, the occasional honk of a passing goose or two and crickets providing background fill in music...
I happily soaked it in and clicked away with the camera while Kelly and the bloggerette (incidentally now officially of walking class), made some friends.
...Until the ground began to shake with the rumble of an approaching train, grabbing everyone's attention. Dogs paced nervously, men peered into the distance guaging distance and speed, and babes lept into the arms of mothers...
This was a long one, possibly close to a mile long, it seemed. It cruised by across the water, on the rail trail's sister track, still faithfully at it's old work.
The train and the rumble began to faded away, as the sights and sounds of wetland wildlife resumed.
Finally the sun began to sink away as the night time elements of spring crept in.
At first discreetly mixing in with the twilight sounds of birds and bugs, the calls of the newly returning peepers slowly increased in volume until all others were nearly drowned out, dominating the cacophony of the coming night.
Spring is here. They said so.
Something was burning, something big. There was a giant plume rising above the trees in the distance and we sidetracked a little bit, trying to follow any back roads that might bring us nearer. But we ran into a dead end, and could get no closer than the other side of a pond.
Must be a brush fire. The plume was far too wide to be a house fire or leaf burning...
We got back on track and continued on. With only about an hour or so of daylight left, the Amherst end of the Norwottuck seemed like the place to watch the last golden rays of this Good Friday. Maybe get a little wildlife viewing in...
The parking lot was still full when we got there and the trail busy with people reaching the end, resting, and turning back. I assumed some of the cars here belonged to people doing the same at the other end.
The word is out on this side being a great wildlife viewing spot; tripods, cameras and field glasses could be seen among clusters of folks pointing and peering out on one side or the other of the trail from select spots.
We made it to our own select spot, and got some viewing in ourselves.
All was serenity and relative quiet, except for the referee whistling of the blackbirds, the occasional honk of a passing goose or two and crickets providing background fill in music...
I happily soaked it in and clicked away with the camera while Kelly and the bloggerette (incidentally now officially of walking class), made some friends.
...Until the ground began to shake with the rumble of an approaching train, grabbing everyone's attention. Dogs paced nervously, men peered into the distance guaging distance and speed, and babes lept into the arms of mothers...
This was a long one, possibly close to a mile long, it seemed. It cruised by across the water, on the rail trail's sister track, still faithfully at it's old work.
The train and the rumble began to faded away, as the sights and sounds of wetland wildlife resumed.
Finally the sun began to sink away as the night time elements of spring crept in.
At first discreetly mixing in with the twilight sounds of birds and bugs, the calls of the newly returning peepers slowly increased in volume until all others were nearly drowned out, dominating the cacophony of the coming night.
Spring is here. They said so.
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