Day 8. Worthington, MA to Pittsfield (22 miles)

("Cliff Notes" Version: An afternoon tour down from the Berkshires uplands into the grand old cities of Dalton & Pittsfield, trying to recover from employer decimation. Positive highlight was being swept up in a motorbike rumble).

We arrived in the minivan back in Worthington this morning at 11:30 to resume our ride West. I struck an immediate problem with leakage from my hydration pack. (a backpack with integral 3 liter water bladder inside). The slightest pressure on my backpack would cause a steady "drip, drip, drip..." of water droplets into the backpack, wetting what I had stored there. The water then drained out of the hydration pack and into my cycling pants (running completely counter to the standard bicycling advice of keeping your clothing as dry as possible to reduce chafing).This sounds bad enough, but the biggest problem was the total distraction it caused! (Imagine bicycling around while someone pours a steady stream of water into your, ummm, bottom! Try ignoring it and enjoying the ride!!...NOT!!).
After initially doubting the seams of the pack and criticizing the design, I discovered after 15 minutes or so that the problem was mine....I had not threaded the screwed cover onto the reservoir securely enough. Shortly after, the dripping water (and resultant distraction) had evaporated!


Our first hour or so took us through gently rising "haying" country. There was plenty of evidence of hay-growing and hay-making, though the area has been suffering under dry weather conditions. At one point, a gap opened up between David and Elizabeth, and I found myself cruising to a stop. The peaceful quiet was being interrupted by a deep, gentle rumble. (Was it thunder?...No!). I came to the conclusion that it must be a freight train! While I was quaffing some water, a couple of motorcycle cops with blue lights a-flashing cruised on by, then a few more motorbikes... then a torrent of them! I would say that over 200 of them passed me by, tailed by a second armada of police motorcycles. Their deep, pistonous roar shattered the calm of this remote area, yet I had a lot of fun waving at them and getting waved at in return. Clearly some sort of 'charity ride' or similar?

200 to 300 Motorbikes roared by under Police escort

Our bicycling map showed Peru, MA as the logical lunch spot. As we approached the center of town, we were riding up a slow but inexorable incline and passing by various community buildings such as a Highway Department depot and Town Hall.

Tiniest Town Hall?

The more we cycled, into Peru, the more elongated the town seemed to get. Cresting the hill in the center of town, we got a familiar feeling...another case of a significant town on the map, but without ANY retail space in sight! A local resident suggested a place 4 miles down the road ("down" being the operative word!), so we sped off in that direction. Goodbye Peru!!

We began a long gentle decline that lasted the entire rest of the day. Paused briefly to chat with fishermen at Ashmere Lake State Park, before turning right on Route 8 toward Dalton. We stopped for lunch at a roadside oasis complete with fake palms and Caribbean island music!


Soon after resuming our ride, a blog-worthy event occurred. I fully believe that this blog needs to cover "the good, the bad, and the ugly", hence I'm not going to censor my report. However it's kind of gross, so (if squeamish) you might want to "pass over" this paragraph and the next.


Route 8 narrowed and became quite wavy on our way to Dalton. This caused us to 'hug' the shrunken road-shoulder, and become extra mindful of space for cars overtaking us. While leading our pack of 2 bicycles, a couple of items of "road-kill" came into view, one of them a relatively large animal out in the roadway, the other one being much smaller but right on my track. As I skirted the smaller animal, it had the effect of pointing a truck across the path of the larger. This created a sickening moment for me, as the truck hit the larger animal head-on (an ugly, rich sound), sending a spray of moist flesh particles across my left side. One piece had to be quickly wiped off my left cheek as I uttered a grotesque "Aaaargh!" noise. GROSS!!


The final miles of the day were spent traversing through Dalton, then Pittsfield. Both are "one company" towns. Dalton dealing with the shrunken Crane Paper company, which, to my knowledge, is the sole manufacturer of U.S. Banknote Paper. Pittsfield dealing with the loss and evental destruction of General Electric manufacturing in the late 20th century. We rode thru a variety of residential areas before "calling it a day" near a boisterous Polish Festival hosted by the Caholic Church in downtown Pittsfield.

Downtown Pittsfield was 'hopping'