Took the Rawland Nordavinden out in the mid-afternoon. In Arlington Center, when the light changed, 12 bikes peeled off onto the Minuteman, 3 others continued on Mass. Ave., including the Norda. While there were a certain number of bikes and even a few runners on the road, the traffic of all sorts was pretty sparse there, social distancing came naturally. I climbed up through Arlington Heights and into East Lexington, where I stopped for a moment to photograph Robbins Cemetery, a small family cemetery established in 1792, where the dead lie in matter-a-fact propinquity with the living, the latter hanging out the wash adjacent to the former. This arrangement seemed relatively cheery against the background of the current pandemic.
Continued on Mass. Ave. to Lexington Center, where I picked up Bedford Street and continued outbound.
I turned left onto the MInuteman a few minutes later, intending to use it to get across 128 and test the theory that that segment of the trail was relatively quiet.
There were crowds clumpy enough to have me muttering "Aerosol Alley" by the time I reached Depot Park.
The weather, which had featured sunshine and temperatures in the low 50s when I set out, had evolved into overcast skies, breezy, and a bit chillier. Rather than continue on to Carlisle and Concord, I reversed course, braving the breathers as far as Wiggins Ave, then turning left and cutting across a couple of parking lots to cross the Shawsheen River on the little pedestrian bridge at Bridge Street.
Rode the short length of Bridge Street to Pine Street, where I stopped to acknowledge a little history.
Crossed the Great Road and picked up Shawsheen Road, turning right onto Page Road, and began the staged climb towards Lexington. Just as I was digging into the first real grade, I saw a huge pileated woodpecker on the trunk of a dead tree, directly across the street, hopping about to find the best place to commence pecking, which it did with a basso percussive beat. I didn't stop to photograph that, being loath to give up such momentum as I had established, but admired the bird (the first one I've seen so close to Boston) and rode on with a sense of wonder and a little regret. I climbed the hill, waving to the farmer of "Please Don't Squish My Chickens" fame near the top, and getting a cheery hail in return, then whizzed down the long, steep Grove Street descent. I made my way to Lexington Center on back roads, then followed Mass. Ave. home, with what had become a chilly headwind. I was pleased to arrive, and proceeded to make a big pot of gumbo. God bless okra and andouille! 23 miles though Arlington, Lexington, and Bedford.
rod