Yesterday, the weather just wasn't ready to let up and I decided to wait it out in the cabin again. Yesterday being the third day of waiting out the rain, I was getting pretty bored, so I rode out to the mall and picked up some movies which I'll mail home in my next package. I did absolutely nothing and was really happy to get back on the road today, though the weather still wasn't great.
I had breakfast at the Dunkin Donuts that's right on the town line between Pittsfield and Lanesboro. While sitting outside, I learned by talking to the locals that a prerequisite for living in Pittsfield is paranoia. Pittsfield rose to a population of about 55,000 in the 1950s and has been shrinking ever since. The population now is down around 40,000. The folks I spoke with seemed isolated and untrusting of most things in the world and I was really glad to ride away.
My first stop of the day was Arrowhead, the house where Herman Melville lived when he wrote Moby Dick. The main structure was built in 1780 and was increased in size through a series of additions through 1840. Melville purchased the property in 1850 (during which time he selected the horrible yellow color that it wears again, thanks to the work of the historical society that operates it) and lived there until 1863 when it was turned over to his brother, then his niece. The Melville family occupied Arrowhead through 1927.
While the Melville family was living at Arrowhead, the house contained not only Herman and his wife, but also their 4 children, 2 of Herman's sisters and his mother. Melville's father passed away when he was 13. He died bankrupt, having raised his children rather comfortably. When his father died, Herman's education ended and he went to work. His first whaling trip was when he was 16, but of the 6 or so trips that he took, the one when he was 21 was the most memorable. He and a friend deserted the ship and ended up in the company of cannibals. When he finally escaped and made it back to Boston, he had been gone a year and a half.
Inside of his study, some articles that Melville used routinely are displayed in a case, and items that reveal his eccentricities are found everywhere. Quills because he refused to adopt using the pen when it was invented. Candles because he refused to burn whale oil in lamps. Melville was also deeply disturbed by the concept of consuming food in the room where it had been prepared.
When Melville lived in Pittsfield, the surroundings looked very different. Pittsfield held the county seat and was booming with 6,000 people (now, its economy is failing and its population is shrinking) and 70% of the forests in the area had been cut down. Some of that deforestation was due to the iron industry (sorry guys, took bad notes on that one...I don't remember how it related) but was mostly from the creation of pasture. In the 1840s, Berkshire County produced 50% of the wool in the US!
After the tour, I bought some books and hit the road again, south through Lenox and into Stockbridge where I went to the Norman Rockwell Museum. I snapped a few pictures (no flash) and then was informed that photography wasn't allowed. Oops. Photography isn't allowed because the museum does not possess the copyrights, and therefore aren't allowed to reproduce the images. Since I'm not making anything off of this site, and I'm not big enough for anyone to care about, I'll post the few pics I did take, though at some point they may need to come down. Look while you can ;)
I didn't know that much of Rockwell's work, but it struck me that when he wanted a character to command respect, they were always extremely tall and lanky. I don't know if Rockwell ever painted an overweight person. And his attention to detail is absolutely amazing. He paints just enough to give the piece humanity, personality...then stops when it's just right. The museum grounds also house his studio, set up exactly as he would have had it and complete with all his artifacts. Though when visiting, you won't see his house - the studio was moved from his yard in town to its current location at the museum.
After looking at some pictures, being chastised for taking some of my own, and not buying any more heavy stuff at the museum store, I headed on to Great Barrington. I came here because the Great Barrington Brewery comes highly recommended by friends, and I'm staying in a motel right across the street. You'll never guess where I'm having dinner. Today's weather was cloudy and drizzly at first, then overcast with patches of sun and humid...but it was almost all downhill, so I really didn't care. 26.7 miles (oh yeah, it was short too), 33.9 max, 11.9 ave, 2:15 and 1 flat rear tire (chunk of glass). If you're keeping an inventory of my mechanical breakdowns, here's the score: 3 flats (all rear tire), 1 front shifter cable, 1 rear wheel (going to replace that in the next 2 days in Amherst - I'm not going to count the truing as a separate incident).
But I'm going to babble on a little bit about timing and routes since I get asked a lot. I'm heading south with the fall and if I were to stop and see everyone, it'd mean stops in the DC area, Baltimore area, Chincoteague (eastern) and other parts of Virginia (more central). I will not scrub the Chincoteague visit for any reason, but the others are all uncertain. I believe I'll hit Chincoteague in late October...maybe first week of November. I was planning that stop to be a week or two which puts me in a bad timing hard place. Is it too cold to continue? Do I just stay through the holidays and wait until spring, head northwest and to counter-clockwise? Another thing is that I'm in front of a TV now that I'm in a motel, and the extent of Hurricane Katrina has become apparent to me. Dad says "New Orleans is under 20 feet of water" over the phone, but all I can think of to relate is photos a friend sent me of a power boat (about 24 feet) in downtown Annapolis after Hurricane Isabel about 3 years ago. The boat is not there as wreckage, it's being driven around amongst jet skis. That was about 8 feet of stom surge, probably only about 4 or 5 feet where the boat was...so my mind just added a few feet to that and I didn't think much of it. The images I see on TV today are more like the images from the recent tsunami. Neighborhoods are gone. I've never seen New Orleans. I was thinking about timing my trip around Mardis Gras, but maybe this fall would be a bad time to try visiting the south east. Maybe there won't be much in the way of campgrounds and motels...or anything. So there's a lot to think about and right now I really don't have any answers.
This is not going to sit well with some of you, but I watched a little CNN coverage of the evacuations and releif effort in the south east, and they're really nervous about a fire in New Orleans. Fire hydrants are out, trucks can't get around, and the few trucks that are at the site are trying to pump the flood water out of their hoses and deal with this fire before it spreads. With the French Quarter buildings being so tightly connected, everyone is nervous that the fire could spread rather quickly if they don't contain it. I must say, I'm a little fascinated with the idea that a large portion of a town could burn under these circumstances. These towns are essentially vacant and are loaded with water...nobody would really get hurt...it's all destroyed already anyway...and how ironic would it be for a city full of water to burn down? We don't hear about cities burning after the early 1900s. ...and now I feel bad about saying I was bored being trapped inside with electricity and a dry bed for 2 days because of normal rain (I was in a tent the first day).
