Missive from Yankeedom, pt. 2

After a week off, during which I spun around town some, found a great bike shop, but left the big wheels alone, I headed to the southwest of town for a Saturday afternoon ride at John Boyd Thatcher State Park.

The park is several miles outside of town, so I saddled up the Focus and headed out. As I drove I began to wonder if I might not have the wrong form of transportation: the roads were beautiful, and even my fat-tire-loving soul wished that I was cruising along on my road bike. Unsurprisingly, I saw a number of lycra-clad warriors on the route, and I'm sure I'll join them in the future, as the spin through old villages and up the climb onto the escarpment looks like a blast. (And it should help with my inability to climb.)

The park was packed with picnickers, with the smell of grilled goodness and music wafting over the hills while I rode. The trails themselves weren't anything special: a mix of double-track and wide paths that were heavy on smooth and low on excitement. The climbing, on the other hand, was fun (whether I did it on or off the bike), and the views made the trip well worth the drive. Here are a few snaps of the area:



Of course I've since found out that there are some really sweet trails in the park, just not where I was. An excuse to head back, it seems.