20 miles
North Adams, Massachusetts to Pownal, Vermont
The first thing you come to upon entering Williamstown is the campus of Williams College. We knew we were on campus when we bicycled past lots of old brick buildings surrounded by well-manicured green lawns, kind of like every other New England private college. Not to belittle them, they are all equally picturesque and New Englandy.
We saw a couple about our age walking down one of the sidewalks. They looked like locals so we stopped and asked how to get to the downtown. The man pointed down the street and said to go a couple blocks and turn right. "You'll find Tunnel City Coffee at the end of the street."
We saw a couple about our age walking down one of the sidewalks. They looked like locals so we stopped and asked how to get to the downtown. The man pointed down the street and said to go a couple blocks and turn right. "You'll find Tunnel City Coffee at the end of the street."
I said, "How did you know we were looking for a coffee shop?"
"That's what everybody is looking for," he said. Guess we're not all that unique.
We found it at the end of the only commercial street in town, nestled within the college campus. Clearly the town exists only to serve the college.
After enjoying tea, pastry, and a trip to the bathroom, we headed slightly out of town to the Clark Institute. What a find! Over two dozen Renoirs, one room devoted solely to Winslow Homer - thirteen paintings in all - plus works by Pissaro, Inness, Monet, Manet, and a myriad assortment of other great painters, all in this sleepy little corner of Massachusetts.
The Clarks were rich. Stirling Clark's grandfather was a founding partner of the Singer Sewing Machine Company. Stirling and his wife bought a lot of art. They bought a bunch of stuff by Degas at an auction after he died. Stirling later regretted that they hadn't bought more. Don't you wish you could have those kinds of regrets?
Then they built a museum so they could share their love of art with the public.
Some people who are born rich feel no urge to do anything significant with their money. They just buy lots of yachts and other expensive toys and have lots of parties with their rich friends. But the Clarks bought all this wonderful art and then gave it to the rest of us to enjoy. And not just the art, but a beautifully landscaped piece of land. Check out the reflecting pool where we sat and enjoyed our lunch. What a legacy!
After our brief foray into the art world of northwestern Massachusetts it was time to head north, back to Vermont and on to Montreal.
Before leaving Williamstown we asked around for a grocery store so we could pick up something for dinner. The only place was Spring Street Market & Cafe, a small shop on the one main street in town that sold sandwiches and chips and a very limited supply of groceries, including nothing we could cook for dinner. We picked up sandwiches.
We rode out of town on country roads in search of Pine Hollow Campground and, wouldn't you know it, we had to climb a steep hill to get there. This made three out of four campgrounds requiring a hill climb. And this was supposed to be our day off. At least we had our dinner with us so we wouldn't have to do it twice.
We found it at the end of the only commercial street in town, nestled within the college campus. Clearly the town exists only to serve the college.
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| We spend a lot of time poring over our maps. |
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| I was very excited to see this sign outside the bathroom of the coffee shop. At least here I didn't have to worry about bringing my birth certificate along when I go to the bathroom. Because you know, as we get older, we lose those hormones that guarantee we will not be mistaken for the opposite gender. Think of all those old men with boobs and old women with beards. |
The above sign came from the bathroom in Tunnel City Coffee, which I'll remind you is in Massachusetts. But what do you expect from the most liberal state in the country? You're talking about the home state of Elizabeth Warren and Barney Frank, after all.
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| But I saw this one in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, after we finished our trip. How about that? A state that just passed a voter ID law requiring not only legal proof that you are who you say you are when you go to vote, but now you can't even register without proof that you are not only living here but that you are going to make New Hampshire your home. I don't understand that. Isn't your home where you live? Even the lawmakers who voted for it admitted that they want to make it harder for college students to vote. But at least you don't need a birth certificate to pee. Thank you, New Hampshire. |
After enjoying tea, pastry, and a trip to the bathroom, we headed slightly out of town to the Clark Institute. What a find! Over two dozen Renoirs, one room devoted solely to Winslow Homer - thirteen paintings in all - plus works by Pissaro, Inness, Monet, Manet, and a myriad assortment of other great painters, all in this sleepy little corner of Massachusetts.
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| See all the crowds in that picture? Neither do I. What fun to discover an almost-empty room filled with great art. You can stand back and see each painting in all its glory, move in close to read the plaque about it and examine the brush strokes without having to elbow aside grandpa and his walker, then stand back and gaze lovingly at that one painting that would knock your socks off if you were wearing any. |
The Clarks were rich. Stirling Clark's grandfather was a founding partner of the Singer Sewing Machine Company. Stirling and his wife bought a lot of art. They bought a bunch of stuff by Degas at an auction after he died. Stirling later regretted that they hadn't bought more. Don't you wish you could have those kinds of regrets?
Then they built a museum so they could share their love of art with the public.
Some people who are born rich feel no urge to do anything significant with their money. They just buy lots of yachts and other expensive toys and have lots of parties with their rich friends. But the Clarks bought all this wonderful art and then gave it to the rest of us to enjoy. And not just the art, but a beautifully landscaped piece of land. Check out the reflecting pool where we sat and enjoyed our lunch. What a legacy!
Before leaving Williamstown we asked around for a grocery store so we could pick up something for dinner. The only place was Spring Street Market & Cafe, a small shop on the one main street in town that sold sandwiches and chips and a very limited supply of groceries, including nothing we could cook for dinner. We picked up sandwiches.
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| Not all art lives in art museums. We passed this on our way out of Williamstown. I love it when people take the time to decorate their front yards with beautiful creations. Whoever you are, thank you. |
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| The campground didn't offer discounts for tents, so we got electricity whether we needed it or not. (It turned out to be handy for charging my phone.) But we did get a waterfront site, situated right on the spring-fed pond with its a fountain shooting up out of the middle. |
We spent a pleasant evening sitting on the waterfront eating our sandwiches and potato chips. I had a veggie wrap with avocado and other assorted healthy stuff; Rob had one with turkey and bacon and healthy stuff to make him feel okay about eating all that meat.
After dinner Rob was futzing around by the bikes when some people stopped by and were asking him about our gear. I heard someone say something about how he should make me carry more stuff, and I shouted, "I already carry more than him!"
But, you know, I don't want anyone to get the idea that Rob is a wuss. Heck, I don't know what it is like to have pulmonary hypertension, but I can only imagine how hard it is for someone who loves to exercise to suddenly find himself struggling to catch his breath when his friends are having no trouble at all. And he never complains.
I turned around and followed up with, "He has lung disease." The man who had spoken had a beer gut. I said, "Gets ya' thinkin', doesn't it?" He laughed.
After dinner Rob was futzing around by the bikes when some people stopped by and were asking him about our gear. I heard someone say something about how he should make me carry more stuff, and I shouted, "I already carry more than him!"
But, you know, I don't want anyone to get the idea that Rob is a wuss. Heck, I don't know what it is like to have pulmonary hypertension, but I can only imagine how hard it is for someone who loves to exercise to suddenly find himself struggling to catch his breath when his friends are having no trouble at all. And he never complains.
I turned around and followed up with, "He has lung disease." The man who had spoken had a beer gut. I said, "Gets ya' thinkin', doesn't it?" He laughed.
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| See that hill at the end of the day? |
Yes. Way too many of us are too quick to judge.
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