When you enter the Commonwealth of Massachusetts from New York State, there are a number of compensations. Firstly, you'll have left the State that's been responsible for both of your punctures. Secondly, although you enter Massachusetts via the Berkshire Hills, they're not as bad as you may have imagined, from a cyclist's point of view. Before I go any further, it's only fair to tell you that I am exceedingly fortunate to have some relatives who live in the Berkshires. In order to try not to exarcebate an already desperate tourist situation, the exact location shall remain a mystery.
Now, I am a big fan of this area and, should the opportunity arise, I'd move there before the hat hit the floor. There are several compelling reasons for this and only one, so far as I can tell not to. The con is the presence of the Deer tick, for its size, it packs a nasty little punch.
The Pros are many and varied but all I need to know is the surrounding countryside is my idea of heaven. Wooded hills through which streams wend their lazy way. The usual urbanization that accompanies a trip through the United States has been banished almost completely. This has been achieved without a slackening in the standard of living (I'll go further and say that I have difficulty imagining a better standard of living, although I've never been in winter). There are big roads but these are hidden away, always, it seems, in the next valley and you don't notice it until you're right on top of it.
Accompanying this relaxation in the concreting of America is an abundance of cultural activities. You may not always avail yourselves of these delights, but it's always nice to know that the Summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, for example, is a couple of stone throws away. There should you ever need it.
If I were you, I would make every effort to find some long lost family connection in the Berkshires and turn up unannounced. You will not be disappointed.
This brings me to the Islands of the South East Coast of Massachusetts. You'll probably have heard of them and if you're anything like me, they'll have been good things. As a consequence the ferry ride to Nantucket was a veritable hive of anticipation, and not just on my part.
The reality proved somewhat different. There's a saying somewhere about say something good or nothing at all.
The ferry ride from Oak Bluffs on Martha's Vineyard to New Bedford on the mainland was really fast.
1 comment:
Having grown up near The Berkshires, I can tell you that the winter is roughly on a par with central Siberia but with more traffic. You must have hit summer at the right moment, because that season is generally similar to the Amazon interior but with with more mosquitoes. Apart from that, however, I agree: it's a pleasant place for at least ten days every year and it shows well on a post card.
However, your complaints about the shallowness of American cultural opportunities were curious. You may have to do this ride over to get a more accurate perspective.
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