Thursday, July 15, 2010

We return--for the pie

Last Friday Nicole and I took our bikes back to the Simsbury portion of the Farmington Canal Trail with one thought on our minds: pie. Sweet, wholesome, fresh baked pie. It was still nearly 100 degrees and humid in the sunshine, but the physical layout of the bike trail--a converted rail bed with trees on either side--made for perfect shading. Coupled with our modest pace of about 12.5 miles per hour, we felt a sort of "natural" air conditioning if you will.

It took us a little less than an hour to reach that intersection of the bike trail and 168 where we saw what looked like the pie place. Since we were only 11 miles into our ride, we decided to keep pedaling since we wouldn't have to carry and pie with us. We continued northward on the trail, but to our surprise, we didn't go too far until we discovered that the good people of Massachusetts we still landscaping and paving the trail! There were signs that said, "Construction Zone" followed by "No Trespassing."

"I want to keep pedaling," said Nicole."

"Well," I said. "If anybody stops us we'll say we didn't see the sign."

We rode on for about two miles or so before we reached another state road. The unfinished trail continued northward, but for some ethical reason I didn't feel like "trespassing" even though I didn't see anybody working on the trail itself. We turned eastbound and were greeted by large tracts of farmland to our right.

"They've got summer squash!" Nicole exclaimed.

I saw a rather delicious looking summer squash outside the many rows of crops. It almost begging me to place it my bike bag to be enjoyed in some sort of salad or stir fry.

"You want to take one? " I asked, not sure of I was being sarcastic or serious. Before I gave Nicole time to respond I answered my own question: "I think those people will mind," referring to the farmhands.

As we pedaled onward, we could see the tall ridges that marked the end of the Connecticut River Valley, peaking several hundred feet above us as if to show their dominance in the skyline.

About five or so miles down the road we hit our first intersection and turned south. The scenery changed, slightly, as we were greeted by the tobacco fields of Granby.

"Looks like we're back in Connecticut again," I said.

That wouldn't last long. We were approaching the Congamand lakes chain. Three lakes--aptly named North Pond, Middle Pond and South Pond--define the border between Southwick and the rest of Connecticut. Middle Pond stretched towards us on our right; South Pond was set back further towards our left. A small bridge separated the two. An unassuming bridge no more than 500 feet long divided the two. We rode over the bridge and viola! Back in Massachusetts, back onto 182 near where we thought we could obtain pies.

We had hoped to get a pie for Steve Dauphinais. He had intended to grab one on his last visit to the Farmington Canal Trail but fate intervened. We locked our bikes up and went inside only to find it was a sit down restaurant. Oops!

In back there was counter with a menu. Was I saved? Could I still get a pie for my boss, who sorely needed one?

"I see you sell pies by the slice," I said to the girl behind the counter. "Can we get some to go."

She smiled. "Normally we do, and we sell whatever is in season."

I leaned forward. An inside source (actually, his wife, Deb) had told me peach is Steve's favorite.

"However," she said. "We don't have any pies right now."

Ouch! Back to the drawing board. It was a hot day, and by the decor one could clearly see this was a nice restaurant. Nicole and I each ordered a smoothie to refuel and cool off in air conditioned splendor. Steve would still get his pie, I reasoned, but it would call for a contingency plan.

We headed out of the restaurant ripped and ready to go. The sugar from those smoothies must have been a little magic, because our pace increased noticeably on the way back.

"I want to go faster!" Nicole said, eyeing the open space of the trail ahead of us.

"Oh, all right," I said, expecting her to flame out after a quick burst.

Instead, Nicole mashed on the pedals and quickly accelerated. I increased my speed to keep up, noticing that we had reached 18 miles an hour. I expected her to slow down. She didn't.

We finished the final leg of our 30 mile trip relatively quickly, thanks to our home-brewed style smoothies. After which, we made a quick stop to Wade's Fruit and Vegetable stand, a nice place to get fresh fruits and veggies near the foot of Taclott Mountain. We spotted a fresh-baked and Peach and Blueberry pie and picked it up.

"What will Steve say," asked Nicole.

"What Steve doesn't know won't hurt him" I said.

Sure enough, we delivered the pie in person to Steve and Bicycles East that very day. Flustered from being so busy, he nearly rejected his gift when he saw us.

"For you," I said, handing him the baked dish of many tasty morsels.

"Peaches," he said, quietly. "My favorite."

"Enjoy."

And he did. We didn't tell Steve about the pie's origin until the next day. But hey, all's well that end's well. A true maxim in baking and in bicycling!

KM

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