Category: Tours, Trails & Group Rides

In the late afternoon, before a late dinner, Basil and I took another tour around Williamstown, Massachusetts on our recent visit, this time exploring a neighborhood, and a different area of the college.

Houses in these small towns are so much more interesting that those in suburbs that have been “developed”.  For one thing, they tend not to be cookie-cutter versions of one another.

I may not find every house I see to be aesthetically pleasing (and often I don’t!), but I do appreciate the variety of styles, whether they seem misguided or not.

Though I’m no fan of lawn ornaments, every now and then I spy a new iteration that strikes my fancy. (I hope there’s some family planning going on here; otherwise, it might be worrisome to have a stork constantly arriving in the garden!)

There’s a cute little porch attached to this house, matched by a cute little garage at the back –and will a rather less cute little extension between — but all of it well tied together with a neat job of paint and trim.

The red accents here are unexpected, as are the flamboyant Adirondack chairs on the porch — and oh, what a porch! Though it’s not obvious here, it wraps around the considerable length of the house, as well as across the front.

This home has a garage on a grander scale — in this case, as in many, it’s undoubtedly a converted barn. No more room for livestock, but plenty for vehicles and gear.  The garage is painted to match the home, but not nearly as colorfully; instead of red trim, the edging is done in a darker blue.

This structure has double-tiered faux bay windows, and glorious double porches — just the place to be on a sultry summer day.

After scouting the neighborhood, Basil and I headed over to a new (to us) section of the Williams College campus. We learned later that this is where former professors and spouses are buried.

It’s a tiny cemetery, but apparently there is a supplemental one elsewhere.

Though irrelevant to the permanent residents, the view is lovely.

I gathered from the bunting and banners (“Williams 1948”) that a reunion weekend was in the offing.

The dorm may be high-density, but the landscape behind is strictly bucolic.

This small vehicle was parked in a maintenance area, attached to a power source by what looked alarmingly like an umbilical cord.  It’s electric, of course — maybe a catering truck?

The license plates are “LS” for “low speed”.

Then Basil and I headed down toward the athletic fields.

They’re a little more spectacular than at some colleges.

We lapped the fields and then returned to town, where I took a few last snaps.

Once a church, this building was converted, like so many now, to another use (though I’ve forgotten to what), and is now apartments, I believe.

I’m assuming this was once the bell tower. I’m quite sure it is stone, but it has a lovely burnished-copper sheen.

This was another stunningly beautiful, temperate, day in Williamstown, and another rewarding bit of exploration with Basil.  Travelling with a Brompton: Is there anything better?

Back on our home turf, Basil and I took a short ride with Mr. Diarist  under a darkening sky, next to one of our lush stream beds:

The draped vine made this view look almost Southern, and made me think of cypress swamps:

Bamboo is flourishing on one side of this waterway.  It’s beautiful stuff, but tremendously invasive, and hard to control.

This variety has obviously adapted well to the Mid-Atlantic climate.

There’s a peculiar little pedestrian bridge that crosses the stream here — there may be a park on the other side, but Basil settled merely for ascending the steps, on this particular day, and we went off exploring in a different direction.

Waking up extra-early in a strange place with a Brompton is only an advantage.  Basil and I were out the door in ten minutes after a quick night’s sleep in Williamstown, Massachusetts, on a recent trip.

The light was marvelous on what turned out to be another exceptionally beautiful day.

There can’t be much doubt about which direction this side of Williams College’s Southworth Schoolhouse faces:

I thought this was a fairly uninteresting edifice, except that I love brick, of course.  However, check out this peculiar detail :

Someone with either really bad taste (or, perhaps, a sense of humor) has added a faux column to the corners, with a odd little capital at the top, and an strange little base below.  It’s class-on-a-shoestring!  Or, anyway, an attempt at it.

The neighborhood around Williams is dotted with homes with large porches.  Does anyone sit on porches any more?  I imagine that air-conditioning — and computers — have probably nearly eradicated that once ubiquitous pastime.

When the illumination was just right, these windows mirrored the sky perfectly.

There was very little traffic and few people were stirring at this time on this particular weekday morning, and, correspondingly,very little noise. I was startled when Basil and I were crossing a street and the bell in this tower chimed the quarter-hour.

I took this shot because the house and garage are so quirky and so beautifully maintained — and because that central section is practically a turret, in keeping with a recurring Williams College theme.

Later I realized what was really unusual about this image:  I think the vehicle is a Honda. That’s notable because Williamstown is nearly wall-to-wall (shoulder-to-shoulder?) with Subarus.  No kidding; the Subaru dealer must be as flush as Midas. But why not? They’re excellent four-season vehicles, and their owners tend to be very loyal to the brand.

After our leisurely turn around town, Basil and I returned to the inn, relaxed and refreshed, to prepare for the day. I am not a morning person, but my Brompton has changed my life  — literally, it seems.  And so much for the better . . .

At the end of our first ride in Williamstown, Basil and I returned to our inn, then rode past, away from town, in search of a grocery store. Much to the pleasure of the one of us who was hungry, we found an upscale co-op.

This meant that cheese was undoubtedly on hand. Not only that, but it would probably be local cheese.

But imagine our surprise when we entered the store and saw this display:

This little orange beauty is a Citizen Tokyo, an inexpensive folder which is, nonetheless, equipped with six speeds, just like Basil (though without Brompton’s BWR hub).

Naturally, Basil posed with his new-found compatriot, though in trolley mode, as space below ceiling-level was limited. (So was light, unfortunately!)

We filled up Basil’s small green bag with Vermont blue goat cheese and a bunch of local hard ciders to take home to Mr. Diarist.  Then we headed back to the inn for a light repast and a good night’s sleep.

Williamstown, Massachusetts is the home of Williams College, an elite school with a history going back about as far as formal history does in the United States. As you’d expect, then, the emphasis is on academic study, not athletics.

But sports are played.  This is the gate to an athletic field, in keeping, as you’d hope, with the appearance, at least, of the venerable construction of Williams’s early days.

The plaque says, enticingly, “Gargoyle Gate”, but I couldn’t find the gargoyle.

However, the metal portion of the gate was as pleasing as the stone, even without gargoyles:

The ancient (by North American standards) hasp and bar are still in place, but secured by a decidedly modern padlock.  If not secured by the padlock or something similar, the bar can be lifted completely off the gate.

The hinge isn’t at the point where the separate halves join; it’s what allows the end of the bar to fold over the loop that, in combination with the hook above, holds the bar in place and  level.

The bar is warped now, and no longer hooks as it should, at the other side, once the gate is closed.

At the end of the bar, the grip is impressively lethal looking, with that spike-like finial threatening serious violence to anyone imprudent enough to fall against it.

Basil admired the intricacy of the pattern.  Old technology and new:  Metal, it’s lovely stuff!

Basil, my Brompton bicycle, and I took a quick tour around Williamstown, Massachusetts when we first arrived, not pausing, I’m afraid, to identify the buildings we encountered.

This, however, is the First Congregational Church. There may be a law requiring one First Congregational Church in every New England town.

I admit to preferring the classic church and steeple to this creation, which looks a lot like a cross between a California mission and something gothic-gone-wrong.  Variety is good, though; I like variety.

Turrets are a recurring theme in Williamstown architecture; though there’s less ivy than you might think.  The ivy is a treat for the eye, but death on walls.  Still, a college must have some, whether the school is technically Ivy League or not.

If you want something approximating New England Gothic, that’s here, too. The lines are a bit cleaner, and the ornamentation more sparse, than on similar structures in Europe.  Also: no gargoyles.

Is modern art just not my thing?  The structures scattered next to the Williams College Museum of Art did not thrill me, even though I’m rather pre-disposed to love metal.

I’m afraid these just seem creepy to me. Nestling a single eyeball in the landscape doesn’t help a bit. (NSA, are you calling me?)  These pieces seem too whimsical to me to make a serious statement about being observed, and too aggressive to claim that isn’t the goal.

This sign amused me, so Basil and I attempted to stop in to pick up a comestible, only to discover that the business had closed up.

A sign in the window said that there had been a store there for 168 years, but now the space is empty.  In fact, there were empty store fronts all along Spring Street.  Were some seasonal casualties? Or do even the students shop elsewhere when they’re here?

Well, almost.  Here’s the cottage, no taller than I am, encountered in Willilamstown, Massachusetts:

and here’s the barn hen house:

They are right next to each other. Gotta love New England gentry farmers and their clever, crafty ways!

Basil and I took a trip to Williamstown, Massachusetts, recently.  We arrived earlier than expected, so we set out exploring.  Almost immediately, we encountered this building, destined (or so claimed the sign on the side) for conversion to “luxury condominiums”.   They’re “now selling”, but it didn’t look as if there was a lot of conversion action going on.

Which hardly mattered: For visceral eye-appeal, it’s hard to beat ivy on bricks.

Look at that sky!  It was like that the entire trip — just stunningly beautiful.

We took off down the two-lane highway that leads into (and out of) town, cycling next to flowing water virtually all the way.

Small rapids form as the water rushes over rocks and stones in the stream bed, which created a blissful background to the gentle clicking of Basil’s rear hub.  We arrived after Williams College’s 2013 graduation festivities, so there was little in the way of traffic or other human distraction to compete with either the burbling of the waters or the enthusiastic tweets of birds.

We crossed over the water, but not without stopping to admire the bridge, whose railings seemed very contemporary, but whose rusty girders blend organically with the surroundings.  I’m a sucker for the stones of New England, so the supports on either end were quite pleasing to my eye, too.

I’m a northern Californian at heart, but I love the ubiquitous visual pleasures  offered in so many New England landscapes.  Small stone structures, like the one above, for instance, turn up frequently, as do others like this unexpected wall, below, that doesn’t really go anywhere, or define anything but itself.

Basil waited patiently while I hopped the guardrail and snapped a few pictures.

We turned off the highway onto a smaller asphalt road, but that became packed dirt shortly thereafter, and I turned around. The area was rapidly becoming quite rural, and I was more comfortable staying closer to town in this unfamiliar geography.

Our eastern home grounds are lush, but not quite as lush as this part of the Berkshires, at least this year.

Trees are quite tall, and the mountains loom, so shadows form well before evening.

My trusty point-and-shoot was never able to capture any real sense of the scope of the landscape rising all around the area.

But it did capture this island in the stream . . .

We went on to explore town and campus, but that’s a post for another day.

. . . and two paths not taken.  Come to think of it, the bridges were also not taken. One has been abandoned, some time ago.

There was once something of a road leading up to it, with a run-off gully to the side,

however, the road looks more unfinished than actually abandoned. I wonder what the story is?

The second bridge is probably in a park of sorts, but I’m not sure which one. Or perhaps it’s in a nearby golf course.

This road — one just ridden past, today — runs through an older area that reminds me of the unincorporated neighbourhood of my very early childhood, when large lots were sold, and ordinary houses built upon them — before developers moved in.

Further along, this spur appeared. On a map, it looked as if it went through to another neighborhood.  Had it gone through, this would have been a terrific route back to my starting point; it’s very short, but marked with “no trespassing” signs, so we turned around.

This was an utterly glorious day for a ride, at 66 F/18.8 C, with lots of sun and only a light wind.