Pint to Pint

Pint to Pint, in New England
Waking up on a hot, hot day in Greenfield, after putting most of my rant down on paper, before 4 days at Grey Fox. The passion of the mind, anger, love, desire, purpose, the things that drive our brains, completely our own, what rides we take, write it down before it slips away, never ever quite getting the whole feeling, only pieces, distance remembrances of a thought. A seed, a weed, a flower, then harvest the mind. Greenfield, Mass, finished Sunday’s drive with a pint at People’s Pint, downtown, Celtic music in the corner, a regular jam, casual chatter, couple my age laughing, looking, talking, discovering each other, you can see it in their faces. Nice.
Ploughman’s board of Vermont Cheddar, apple, sausage, bread. Great beer, nice little haven here.
Off to see Shelburne Falls, a little hamlet back down the road traveled in on the day before, Bridge of Flowers, they have taken an abandoned trolley bridge, and filled it full of flowers, exploring the town, easy walking around, smelling flowers, checking out the candle shop, Mole Hollow Candles, too hot to make the big candles, they will droop otherwise, then Pot Holes, this town is famous for it’s potholes, there are falls here too. In the pass the Native people called them Salmon Falls.
Leaving Greenfield, take 2W to Shelburne Falls for a look, then 2E, 20 miles of construction & cones, 202N, by Lake Denneson, though Winchendon, traffic says “thickly settled”, then 136E, another Greenfield, New Hampshire, stopped to look at the cemetery, then check-out the bakery/ café, café closed, lovely elderly lady has owned this place since 1952, lots of stories here, pass New Boston to 13N, then 114S to 101E around Manchester, big road,to a small road 27/107N to county road 156 to Pantuckaway State Park.
61.5/ 142.2 miles traveled

Pantuckaway State Park, camping on this hot day, never cooled, it’s 5pm, set-up the camp, my chair, beer & a book by the lake, life’s a bitch!
Reading the Kite Runner, the need to escape into a book, non-historical please, a great read, found myself putting on more & more bug stuff to continue to read into the night, I am pissed at the author, half-way though, his writing is excellent, description of his home and family fine, then his friend, what happened to him, will the author get a backbone.
The bugs come in waves, as the night air shifts, the temperature changes, a new group arrives, the juice is doing the trick, and I read until after midnight. Why does everyone go to bed so early when camping?
Leaving the next day, headed for Portland, Maine, the other Portland, early I leave spotting a man, by himself, fishing in his boat, on the lake, with the mist still lingering, the still, quiet morning, solitude.
Leaving, take 156N, it turns into 152N, then 202E, by Ayers Lake, logging here, trucks too, just like home, and the smell of the forest, like home too!
I drive into the heart of Rochester, stopped at the Busy Bean, an internet café, poetry monthly, neat area of town. Heading out, a little lost, my first instinct was right, on to Rochester Road County Rt.236, thinking it will take me out of town, it does. Take a wrong turn, it’s fun, now I cross into Maine on a side road, small bridge, that was easy, then 9E, horse farms, flat land, take 4N though Alfred, then to Gorman, take 25E into the heart of Portland.
Finishing my day at Gritty’s Brew Pub, at the bar, talking to locals and watching the Red Sox, 2 pints: Original Pub Style, a light copper ale, then Black Fly Stout, the finest stout, west of Galway.
59.2/ 126.8 miles traveled

Heading “downeast” from here, a full Maine report after 6 days camping in the wilds of Maine. What’s a Black Fly?