Can you hear the raindrops falling on the tin roof? To us, as we sit here in our camp in Saugerties, New York, it sounds like we're being pelted with pennies.
This morning, before we broke camp, a very slight patter of raindrops could be heard during breakfast. We couldn't actually see any rain, but we knew it was out there. Later, as we left our camp in Littleton, Masschusetts the rain grew steadily more persistent. And then, for the remainder of the day, with only brief interludes, it just rained and rained and rained. Well, except for our lunch break (bottom photo). We stopped to eat on the edge of Grafton State Park, Massachusetts, and actually had a moment of sunlight to keep us company.
So, as you might guess, we decided to just put miles on the machine and forego most stops for interesting sights, should we run into any. Our chosen route, Highway 2 that runs all the way across Massachusetts, or at least most of it, was at one time the "famous" Mohawk Trail in the early days of automobiling. I put quotes around the word famous because I don't suppose many of you have ever heard of it. I know of it because I'm a fan of early motoring memorabilia, and I've seen postcards on the Mohawk on Ebay.
Though I tried the whole day to catch a glimpse of some remnant of early 20th century petroliana, or other interesting roadside architecture, I never really saw much. I guess that time has obliterated most of the automobile-related support structures, though we did see during the course of our drive a teepee advertising a defunct restaurant, a petrol station converted to a flower shop, and numerous decayed and lifeless commercial spaces that would no doubt have been standing during the teens and twenties.
So, I wondered just what I might write about this evening. All I could come up with is perhaps the history of the Mohawk Trail. I'm certainly no authority, but I will try and glean some facts from the web and combine it with some old postcards that are being sold on Ebay right now. I hope you find it interesting.
From Wiki we learn that: "The Mohawk Trail began as a Native American trade route which connected Atlantic tribes with tribes in Upstate New York and beyond. It followed the Millers River, the Deerfield River, and crossed the Hoosac Range, in the area that is now northwestern Massachusetts."
"Today the Mohawk Trail is a part of Routes 2 and 2A. It follows much of the original Indian trail, from Athol, Massachusetts to Williamstown, Massachusetts, for about 69 miles, and passes through the communities of Orange, Erving, Gill, Greenfield, Shelburne, Buckland, Charlemont, Florida, and North Adams."
"The Berkshire mountains are clearly visible from several points. The modern day Mohawk Trail is considered one of the most beautiful drives in Massachusetts. There are numerous points of interest along the way, including many scenic viewpoints, roadside attractions and gift shops."
"Of particular note is the Hail To The Sunrise Statue at Mohawk Park, which features a tribute to Native American heritage (Note: this was completely fogged in when we drove by). A portion of the trail parallels the Deerfield River for several miles, and passes through the village of Shelburne Falls, and the Bridge of Flowers. The route crosses the Connecticut River via the historic French King Bridge at a height of 140 feet."
"The road reaches a high elevation of 2272 feet at Whitcomb Summit. On the western side of the summit there is the popular hairpin turn and lookout overlooking the city of North Adams and the Taconic Mountains. On the eastern side, the highway descends steeply eastward from Whitcomb Summit down the slope of the Hoosac Range following the Cold River to the Deerfield River. Notable features include the infamous Dead Man’s Curve. (Note: my photos, as well as all the post cards are of the Dead Man's Curve portion of the Trail)."
"A six mile section of the Mohawk Trail was severely damaged by Hurricane Irene in August 2011. This has been expeditiously repaired. A considerable portion of the road is surrounded by the Mohawk Trail State Forest, a 6,400-acre forest known for its camping and occasional encounters with bobcats and black bears."
"Within this area there is substantial acreage of old growth forest containing many of the tallest trees in Massachusetts as verified by the Eastern Native Tree Society. The route passes close to Vermont's southern border, and alternate routes travel north into Vermont to Harriman Reservoir and Ball Mountain State Park. The western terminus in Williamstown provides access to Mount Greylock, U.S. Route 7, and New York State Route 2."
"A portion of the route, including at least the parts in Florida and Savoy, was added to the National Register of Historic Places on April 3, 1973."
From the New York Times of October 2007 we learn further that: "Construction of the trail, one of America’s earliest scenic roads, began in 1912, a decade before Kerouac was born. When it opened in 1914 the gravel road was just 15 feet across, about the length of a Honda Civic. Paved and widened to more comfortable proportions,
So there you have it. Since I started typing this account the rain has doubled in its ferocity. When it rains this hard we end up getting water inside the rig since the rubber seals for the slide-outs are just not 100% weatherproof. So, before we go to bed we'll run in the kitchen banquette to ensure that we don't drown while we sleep.
The other thing we have to report is that we're not camping tonight in the city, nor even on the highway that I had selected earlier today. Because Route 2, which we followed all day, appeared to run out when it reached Troy, New York, and since the highways in Troy appeared pretty confused and confusing, I programmed the GPS to take us to a town called "Richfield Springs" in central New York State. The town was located on Route 20, a road very similar in appearance to Route 2.
Care to guess what happened? Well, Jezebel decided, quite by herself, that we were NOT going to follow Route 20 West as we wished, and head toward Syracuse, but we would have to drive south on Interstate 87, a toll road, and drop into northeastern Pennsylvania. We're not at all sure when she decided this course of action, but before we had detected her subterfuge, we were committed to entering the toll road. We tried getting off Interstate 87 and just winging it, but we were soon faced with the reality that it was getting late, and navigating by map towards Syracuse was going to take a lot more time than we wanted to invest. Does this remind you of HAL and the pod bay doors? It should!
The conversation would go something like this: "Take us to Richfield Springs, in northern New York State, HAL!"
"I'm sorry, Tom, but I can't do that. I must complete my mission."
"What is your mission, HAL?"
"To winter in Florida, Tom. Setting course due south now."
Anyway, we got back on Interstate 87 south and here we are on the fringes of the Catskills, in a town you've never heard of called, "Saugerties." Come morning we intend, if at all possible, to navigate through that expanse of beautiful forest using those dependable three letters, M-A-P. From there we'll drop into Pennsylvania on Route 370 and drive, more or less, toward Scranton. But who knows, maybe the GPS will try and take control anyway, even though we'll leave her turned off. If you don't hear from us tomorrow night, well, the pod bay doors may have opened for the last time.
But don't let these tiny travails deter you, go out and have some Happy Travels!
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