It's hard to believe that I was shoveling snow a week ago. The temperature
is predicted to go to the 70s, and our winter-saturated souls need a road
trip+ACE- At 10:30 AM we uncover the car (1973 MGB roadster) and hit the road.
>From Northampton, Massachusetts, we cross the Connecticut River on Route 9,
headed east. On the other side of Amherst we head north on US 202, which
rises gradually as it passes east of the huge Quabbin Reservoir. Jill and I
are in short sleeves, and I'm curious to know how far north we can go before
we get chilly. The brake pedal feels a little mushy and I stop at an auto
parts store for a couple of cans of fluid. About half a can takes care of
the problem for now, and we're off again. Jill is impressed by my casual
attitude about the brakes. +ACI-You learn to deal with these things when you
drive an older car,+ACI- I tell her. +ACI-Whatever's leaking probably isn't
going to
get significantly worse today.+ACI- (It didn't--we made it back without having
to add more fluid.)
Continuing on 202 we eventually cross the border into New Hampshire.
Lunchtime finds us in the little city of Peterborough, and we find a parking
place right in front of Nonie's Restaurant. After lunch we check out the
city's attractions, including a marionette theater where a Mozart opera is
to be performed later in the afternoon. We mark that down for a rainy day
and continue to explore. Peterborough is nestled in a small valley, and
features two waterfalls. An art gallery chock full of 19th century
landscapes briefly holds our attention, but we yearn to see the real thing.
Checking the AAA map I notice that NH route 123 north from Peterborough is
marked as a +ACI-scenic route.+ACI- Guess we'll find out+ACE- NH 123 actually
proceeds
generally NNW. In northern New England there are few flat roads, except
those that run alongside rivers. Thanks to the glaciers, those roads run
almost perfectly north-south. As it goes diagonally, 123 climbs steadily as
we leave Peterborough. For a short time it runs in conjunction with US 202,
then splits off to the NW while 202 is more northerly. Now 123 gets
interesting+ACE- We had a pretty mild winter, and the road surface is in very
good condition. The road is narrow and twisty, but I manage to find clear
spots to overtake the occasional Buick or pickup truck. Traffic is very
light, though+ADs- we pretty much have the road to ourselves.
You could make a documentary about this road. The trees are still bare and
through them we sometimes spot small, frozen lakes. Indeed, at the higher
elevations, the ground is covered with snow a foot or more deep. As always
in an open car, one minute we're warm, the next we feel a refreshingly cool
blast. At one point we see a Moose Crossing sign. I'd rather not see a moose
on the road today, thank you+ACE- Here and there are little settlements,
clusters of former summer-only cabins near the lakes, now occupied year
'round. At odd places in the road we encounter villages named after places
in the MG's homeland: Stoddard, Marlow, Alstead. In true New England
fashion, there is also a South Stoddard and an East Alstead, just to keep
things interesting. It's hard to decide why one location was chosen over
another to build a town. There's usually a crossroads at each town, and we
note the side roads for future expeditions.
This area was first settled in the late 18th century, and many original
buildings and homes still stand. Coming 'round a bend in the road or over a
slight rise, you see first a church tower, then the municipal buildings+ADs- the
old Yankees put a premium on learning and every town has a library, even
those too small to support local businesses. (Thinking back, we never saw a
video rental store up there, but we saw several libraries.) Most of the
buildings are of wood, some are of granite (New Hampshire is called The
Granite State), but some towns have one or two large, brick homes. Their
original owners must have been wealthy. I've driven up here on a paved road+ADs-
I can't imagine hauling tons of bricks up here by wagon. (As there are only
a few brick homes, I don't think the bricks were locally produced.)
Farming these hills was a constant struggle, and Yankees were no strangers
to adversity. When the nation called, they sent their sons to war. Each town
green features a war memorial, often with a statue of a soldier. Civil War
memorials are common in New England, but in one town I spot a First World
War memorial+ADs- I can tell by the soldier's helmet. Being so small, these
towns must have sorely felt their losses.
People smile and wave as we pass, and kids call out +ACI-like your car+ACEAIg-
This is
a new experience for Jill and she enjoys waving back. I'm careful to keep
the speed low in populated areas+ADs- don't want to give LC drivers a bad
name+ACE-
Before we left Peterborough I got some cash from an automatic teller (I had
to walk up to a drive-through, there were no walk-in machines). We stop in
Alstead for gas (+ACQ-1.19 for 93 octane Citgo), and I try to use my credit
card, but their funky system can't clear it, so I pay for the gas, fruit
juice and maple candy with cash. There's a nice 1970 Midget parked at the
house next to the gas station, and the owner comes over to check out my B.
We're headed downhill now, on into the Connecticut River Valley, and the
views across to the Green Mountains are fantastic. We cross the river and
detour briefly into Bellows Falls, Vermont, another place we'll visit on a
later trip. We head south on Route 5 for a while, and stop for a quart of
fresh Vermont maple syrup (I had to make pancakes this morning) but we've
seen this road many times, so I divert onto Interstate 91, switch on the
overdrive and cruise the rest of the way home.
A 200-mile trip, about seven hours on the road. As I said to Jill, it just
doesn't get any better.
Cheers,
Jim
-------
James E. Kearman
jkearman+AEA-javanet.com
|