Ride # 63: Drumlin to Summit

Dexter Drumlin, Lancaster, MA

Ride # 63, on Thursday, June 19 (my late brother's birthday - OM AH HUM), unfolded on a classic late June afternoon, the sun bright in a radiant blue sky, no humidity. And given the ensuing Friday vacation day followed by a weekend of celebratory festivities (my own belated wedding reception!), I was light of spirit (and light of frame to boot). I felt great and sought to go for the giant ride, and did.

In fact, I ripped it up. Powered to Sholan Farm gulping down the Breath of Fire all the way up; then like an arrow across the long agricultural landscape toward Lancaster, the orchards and the Dexter Drumlin. From there, desirous of climbing, I turned north and west toward Wachusett. I had the summit in mind.

Rt 62 out of Sterling, before it turns nice

But not via the direct route. Instead I persevered along rt. 62, a rural commuter road with much cracked pavement and no shoulder. A dangerous road but only with traffic; when bereft of cars, 62 can be sublime. Great forest trees shade it, it rolls and rises, dips and climbs. Today, I got lucky and encountered few cars. But instead of taking the Osgood or Nelson St jump offs, or heading up Redemption Rock Rd, I hammered right down to the base of the climb into Princeton, a well-paved, super steep road to the intersection where you pick up Mountain Rd. I sped up that incline with the Niceness, took a right onto Mountain Rd, and started to make my way along the ride. I'd ridden 27 miles to that point.

Summit style on the perfect June afternoon

Then the climbing began, the assent of Wachusett from the park base headquarters. Despite logging so many miles already, my legs kept the rhythm and betrayed little fatigue. Fantastic views of Mt. Monadnock off to the north, and views of Boston and Worcester. Into the blue sky and the sun. Followed by a high speed volley back down again.

The Tsar, Dubstoevsky

The last 12 miles back fell away with little resistance and after nearly three hours, I was back home, giant and happy.

Except it was a wretched day for exotic road kill. Among numerous chipmunks and squirrel carcasses I came upon a small 10" milk snake freshly run over, and an even more freshly killed scarlet tanager. If fact, the tanager must have been struck moments before I happened on the scene. The little body was warm and limp and its beak still held the remnants of a worm if had been plucking from the road side.

Ride details: 41.2 miles (65 K), 15.1 mph, 3700 feet elevation. Strava stats.

Road Kill: Several chipmunks, a milk snake, a scarlet tanager, a bunny, a couple squirrels. Massacre day. And this is just the fresh kill, it doesn't include carcasses that have been dead more than 24 hours (by my estimate).

So young

If I'd have arrived a few minutes sooner
I would have saved this scarlet tanager

The sad truth