Photo by Meg McMahon
Bike and brunch.
Does a more perfect pairing exist?
The team was beyond excited to collaborate with Trade to create a 40-mile mixed terrain ride that ended with a fundraiser brunch for their Pan Mass Challenge team. It wasn't just the mouthwatering promise of a post-ride burrata bar, oysters, and waffles that motivated us -- although to be fair, we can't really count those temptations out. We were mainly excited to highlight some of the lesser-known trails within a close ride of downtown Boston. While we absolutely love going on hard, bucolic rides in far off places, we were certain we could introduce people to some sights very close to home they hadn't seen before.
Photo by JP Bevins
On the day of the ride, we were nervous. For weeks, the team had lived and breathed this route. On weekends and chasing the daylight after work, we thrashed our way through brambly urban wilds, searching for trails we thought probably existed, but weren't quite sure. We discovered carpeted-over earth mounds intended as ramps for a highway that was never built. There was that time we shouldered our bikes and stumbled on a creepy-cool urban wilderness where some kids had put an impressive amount of energy into building and labeling their Swiss Family Robinson-style tree fortress. We tiptoed across many questionable "bridges."
Photo by JP Bevins
We'd edited out the dead ends and (most of) the hiking for Sunday, but we still weren't sure how things would go. After a month of drought, rain was threatening.
Photo by Meg McMahon
Photo by JP Bevins
To our excitement, lots of people began to roll up early Sunday morning to sign in for the route. We enjoyed coffee and socializing before splitting up into groups to avoid overwhelming the trails. Cindy, Milica, and I set off in a group in the middle, hoping that we'd sweep up anyone struggling and that faster people would catch up to us. We pedaled quickly out of downtown Boston until we reached the Neponset River and followed the bike path that travels next to the old orange Mattapan trolley cars.
Photo by Meg McMahon
Photo by JP Bevins
The route followed Pine Brook on roads, through tunnels of spring foliage, and on woodchip-lined single track. We felt redeemed when JP Bevins, the photographer who stoically rode with an SLR bumping against his back the whole way, kept telling us that, "Hey, Massachusetts is really beautiful, guys!" We know!
Photo by Meg McMahon
We made our ways into the Blue Hills, taking fire roads to a ghost highway that was paved but never used, ominously printed with the word "SCHOOL" despite the fact it was definitely in a wilderness area.
Photo by Meg McMahon
Photo by JP Bevins
We circled Ponkapoag Pond, exchanging high fives with other groups who had taken the opposite way around. The ride ducked around some other ghost highway infrastructure on the way to Foul Meadow, a long straightaway of grass. Then we rode up the winding, paved path of the Stonybrook Reservation, past lilacs in Arnold Arboretum, and back into Boston.
Photo by Meg McMahon
Photo by JP Bevins
Our group got bigger as the day went on, and by the time we were back on the streets of Boston and navigating the weekend traffic, there were probably at least 20 of us riding together with visions of brunch in our heads. As we made our way to the very last turn toward Trade, a van pulled up next to us and some guys stuck their heads out the window. After a day of quiet trails and deserted paths, I braced myself for potential heckling from drivers, but it happened to be just a couple of pro cyclists -- Ted King and Tim Johnson -- yelling "people for bikes" and cheering us on.
Photo by Meg McMahon
Yes, this really happened.
Photo by Meg McMahon
Photo by JP Bevins
On most any other ride, this would have been the surreal highlight, but we were still only halfway through our adventure. We rolled up to Trade, handed our bikes over to the Mass Bike valet, and went inside where brunch cocktails and the most delicious breakfast sandwiches awaited. We're definitely going to make this a tradition...
Photo by Meg McMahon
