Apple Picking

My family and I went apple picking today.

I grew up in California, and apple picking was not a part of my culture. California is a very agricultural state, but there aren't many apple orchards. In retrospect, I don't know why I didn't do more strawberry picking, or for that matter artichoke picking as a kid, but "pick your own" was never a big part of my childhood.

When I moved to Massachusetts in 2005, I quickly learned that apple farms are a huge part of the local culture. After all, Johnny Appleseed was born in Massachusetts. Apples are kind of a big deal.

My family and I try to go apple picking at least once a season, but we flake out and miss some years. Every time we make the effort to drive out to a local orchard, and pay the fee for picking a bag-full, I think it was worth the cost and effort.

Today we went back to Carver Hill in Stow, MA. We had a soft spot in our hearts for this place, because our oldest son Henry, who is now 9, lost a tooth there when he was 6. Our younger son, who is 5, has a loose tooth. We wondered if he might lose it today while biting into a field-foraged apple, but he did not.

I love apple picking. I am always impressed by the fecundity of Apple trees, and by the taste of a fresh-picked apple. I feel while I'm roaming an apple orchard, that if I could only ever eat fresh-picked apples for the rest of my life, that I would always be in pretty good shape.

Today at Carver Hill, I tried many apples, fresh from the tree. My kids roamed the width and length of the orchard, excited to try to identify the breed of every tree they passed. I picked apples, some great, some good, some probably horrible. I put them all in my bag, satisfied that I was enjoying a bit of special New England culture.

Stellar Dunkin'

I was moved to write a Yelp review for a particularly good Dunkin' Donuts (767 Cromwell Avenue, Rocky Hill, CT). It's not normal to feel moved to review a more-or-less gross fast food place, so I thought I'd keep the review here for posterity.

Stopped here unexpectedly to give a break to a car-sick-feeling 6-year-old on a road trip. The 6-year-old sickling and his 2-year-old brother marched in to find the staff up on ladders hanging Christmasy stuff. The older boy had spent the last hour or so of our road trip confusing Connecticut and Canada. He declared loudly for all to hear: "I love Dunkin' Donuts! I've never been to a Dunkin' Donuts in Canada!"

I ordered a bagel and cream cheese, which the staff had to lightly dance around ladders to accommodate. But they did it quickly and with friendly courtesy. I brought the bagel back to the kids and was confused to see a man approaching the table with two small bags. He held the bags up, looked at me with questioning eyebrows, and glanced at the kids. I assumed it was somebody else's order being misdelivered to our table, but when I asked what it was, he just said, "donuts."

I thanked him, told the boys of his kindness, and explained that we'd save them for later. They shared them as dessert after we had reached our destination.

The staff continued hanging Christmasy stuff and a customer, a man I had noticed writing copious notes onto paper cards, stood up to offer his advice. "Hang it a little imperfectly. It's always better if it's a little imperfect." He waited for the man on the ladder to string the corporate festivity a little to the left and a little to the right, before declaring, clearly sharing in the pride that exudes from many aspects of this Dunkin' Donuts: "That's it. Perfect."

Minuteman Bikeway Adventures

I decided to take a late Saturday afternoon ride on the Minuteman Bike Trail. This trail technically runs from the Alewife T Stop in Cambridge out to Bedford, but an extension to the trail brings it through part of Somerville, to within about a mile of my house.

I had ridden it once before just to Arlington Center, a mile or two past Alewife station, so today I thought I'd head out and try to go a bit further than I had last time. I had the idea that I might gradually build up distance on separate rides until one day making the entire journey to the end and back. Before today, I didn't even know where the end actually was, so it was sort of a magical mystery dream to explore as far as the end of it.

The ride was really pleasant, despite the throngs of idiots who pollute the trail on a nice summer day. Stupid moronic families loitering in the middle of the trail huffing and puffing, drinking juice out of a thermos. Get off the trail! Imbecile children riding on the wrong side of the path while imbecile parents warn them about completely stupid things like "don't go too fast, stay close to daddy," when they should be warning them that they're going to become kid-smear the first time some fast bicycle comes around a blind corner. Idiotic inline skaters who do their stupid skating moves in the middle of the trail, headphones blaring, obliviously sliding as far to the left and right as they possibly can as they meander their way up the path. Hey idiot! Olivia Newton-John just called and they're worried about you back in Xanadu!

Anywhoo... as I was saying, the ride was pleasant nonetheless. It's just a good thing I'm such a patient, easy-going, happy-go-lucky kind of guy.

After I had made it to my previous mark at Arlington Center, I was still attached to my original plan. Just go until the next "town intersection" or whatever and turn around. Well I started scooting along and before I knew it I was completely confused as to where I'd gotten to. Most of the path is bordered by either random suburban backyards or by public parks, making for a confusingly non-descript repeating landscape of baseball diamonds and monkey bars (which must be part of the attraction for the drooling stroller-pusher crowd; this trail is like the world's best bar-hopping strip for the Gymboree crowd). I kept thinking I would just go a little farther until I could figure out where I was. I was slightly concerned about getting too far and then having to trudge all the way home, but I took comfort in the fact that the trail seemed to be almost entirely a slight uphill incline going this way, so going home, I'd be practically coasting.

As I said, the trail is basically a connecting route for mothers drunk on the idea of bringing their children to the next park. But one field really stood out as I rode past. This was no municipal little league field. This field was not even fit for a state college! Surely it must be some kind of private hoity-toity school with bazillions of dollars:

But in fact, on the internet later, I discovered it is part of Arlington High School! A public school? I presume so. It sure looks nicer now than it does in that overhead shot on the web.

After not too terribly long, I made it to an intersection where the Veterans of Foreign Wars office confirmed for me my location in the city (town?) of Lexington, MA. Well, this is where I figured the bike trail ended. I hadn't looked on the web carefully enough, I suppose, but it had been my anecdotal impression that "the bike trail goes all the way to Lexington." So surely it must end soon, if not now. I kept pedaling.

I was in fact starting to get a little bit tired. I hadn't eaten lunch, and hadn't had much water to speak of for that matter, either. I arrived at Lexington Center (I presume) where I was greeted by a lovely drinking fountain and a quaint little tribute to the man who allegedly spearheaded the bike path I was presently enjoying.

I was pretty sure the path ended in Lexington, so I forged onward. I was still feeling surprisingly energetic, and I was excited to think that I might actually make it to the end today! The path at this point is very rustic, with few houses abutting it. I think in Lexington and beyond a lot of the land around it might be park land. I stopped to take a picture of what was ahead of and behind me on a particular straight stretch of path.

Finally, I reached an "end of the road" looking place. Bedford, MA! Hmm! Well, I didn't know it went there, and that's kind of far! I asked some bike dorks in the parking lot if this was the end of the road, and they confirmed it. Here is a dorky little restaurant or something you can go to if you end up at the end of the Minuteman Bike trail.

I was so disappointed with the destination (no offense to Bedford residents, I'm sure it's got much prettier spots than this - and isn't BBEdit made there?), that I decided to venture a little off the trail, just to see what was around. I went about 500 feet in one direction and discovered the welcome sign to Raytheon, a major military defense contractor. Gotta love the calm, relaxing countryside!

I decided to head home. I had passed up some interesting sites on the way in without taking pictures, because the uphill incline encouraged me to keep my momentum instead of stopping for tomfoolery. On the way back, I made sure to stop and grab a shot of an amazing sign I had seen on the way in. There are few signs on the path, so you notice them when you see them. I couldn't help but wonder when I saw this sign, is somebody going to sell me crab here, or are they inviting me to play Nintendo's Legend of Zelda?

It turns out that this sign is a remnant of what was once a more prolific guerrilla art exhibit on the trail. I found a reference from the Minuteman Bike Trail site to the Sonik and the "Bolted Signs Project." While I'm excited to learn what the hell the signs were about, I'm glad the trail isn't littered with a bunch of signs like what's shown on the web site. Evidently somebody agreed with me and tore down all the signs except for the cute crab and squid pictured above.

The ride back was shaping up to be a bit tougher than I had expected. Apparently the "uphill incline" I had counted on for most of the trip had actually turned into a slight downhill after Lexington, and now I was paying for it. My fingers were turning numb from gripping the handlebars, and my ass was starting to hurt, due to the fact that all bicycle seats make your ass hurt unless you've been riding every day for a month. I was starting to think about the recent Runners World article I'd read about hill runners, and their tradition of grabbing a pint of beer between runs. I thought it would be a nice refuel, especially since I hadn't had lunch. Hell, I might be able to score a cheese toasty, or at least nachos. I stopped in Lexington, because they were kind enough to put a sign on the trail advertising the "Buckman Tavern." Hell yes!

History Schmistory! It's just not cool to put a sign for a tavern on a bike trail where sweaty, exhausted individuals will read it, and have it be a historical museum. Eat your heart out, Jeff!

I thought maybe Lexington would have *something* to sate my hunger, so I took a walk down the street. Unfortunately, the town that once housed our country's most rebellious fighters is now home to posh yuppie eateries, Starbucks, and the most frickin' yupped out gilded Dunkin' Donuts on the face of the earth.

I decided to suffer the thirst and hunger and barrel on towards Arlington. On the trail, I did observe one slightly less highbrow refreshment offer. One of the applications of capitalism directly on the trail. I decided to keep pedaling instead of wasting time tinkering with these machines.

But I did stop to take a quick snapshot of the headquarters of the ice cream company I ridiculed in a recent post!

Finally I made it to Arlington, and stopped at Spy Pond, where a refreshing drinking fountain and the low sun over the water provided a kind resting spot.

I made it home about 3.5 hours after I had left. Not bad for a 26-30 mile trek that included many a ponderous moment and camera clicking.

You Can Get To There From Here

The East Coast has had a "hella" long time to grow. What do you get when you mix fertile soil, a non-desert like climate, and 500+ years of American sweet lovin'? Cities and Towns, Everywhere!

When you drive east from San Francisco on I-80, you hit Oakland, then Berkeley, Berkeley-lite, then hella-nothing, then Vacaville. Notice how the city's web page makes the place look like some kind of paradise. It looks like a Windows XP commercial, or a Prozac ad! This is what it really looks like. Absence has not yet made my heart fondly reminiscent of those arid, redneck road-stops.

When you drive in any direction from Boston, you get to something. OK, it's probably a boring bedroom community which looks identical to every other boring bedroom community in the state, but it has a name! And this is where the executive bankers and their children live! And it probably has lattes! Hooray for yuppie civilization! I used Google to map out identically scaled swatches of land centering around San Francisco and Boston, respectively. Have a look at the difference:

The Boston area is a overflowing with cities and towns. They can't fit them all on the map.

San Francisco, on the other hand, has few enough neighboring towns and cities to practically count on two hands.

Now, to be fair, I notice that the San Francisco map is missing some gems like Daly City. I mean, you get Daly City. If you drive anywhere from the Boston area, you might go through podunk nowheresville, but before too long you're likely to be coming up on the outskirts of a city. A real city. Not a Daly city! Well, at least a large town - and maybe Jack Kerouac is buried there.

In California there are historical points of interest even in the middle of nowheresville. You may be amused to stop and learn that Benicia was once the state's capitol, for instance. Or you may recoil in awe at the unbelievable oldness of something that was built in the late 1800's.

In New England they also have this habit, but instead of learning things like "John Muir slept here," you learn things like "Washington died here," or "this is where the first American flag was erected," or "hella revolutionary war blood right where you're standing." In New England, things from the 1800's are hardly vintage, let alone antique. They've got bulldozers that are older than California, for chrissake! The towns are all in the habit of putting the date of incorporation on their "welcome" signs. I've learned quickly that if you're any newer than the 1600's, you're a full-on New-England-Newbie, and you should get the hell out.

The truth is, though I'm trying to talk myself into believing that Boston is better for driving to fun and exciting places, it's only partly true. I can find plenty of boring-ass depressing destinations in the Boston area. You can make wherever you live into an exciting day-trip locale.

So, in the spirit of encouraging us all to explore our surroundings, I'm going to play a little un-scientific game where I pick at random 3 spots from each of the maps I linked to above. I will close my eyes, move the mouse around a lot, then double-click to center the map on some spot. Then I will zoom in as far as google will go, and look for the closest "town or landmark" name. I will then type that name in to google images, and paste the most intriguing photo of the area that comes up:

Boston, You Can Get To There From Here:

Those are: Dracut, MA - Harvard, MA - Bellingham, MA.

San Francisco, You Can Get To There From Here:

Those are: Vallejo, CA - Union City, CA - Sugarloaf Park, Walnut Creek, CA

Have a nice trip!