Decided to closeout the last full week of our Covid summer with some camping and paddling in, where else, but my home state of Massachusetts; any thoughts of trips to Maine or other New England states had long ago been shelved due to travel restrictions. For this trip I'd operate from a base camp at a KOA in Westhampton and take a closer look at Pioneer Valley waterways previously paddled.
On the drive westward, at about the halfway point, I exited the Mass Pike in Sturbridge and shortly found myself at an incredibly quiet and peaceful Lake Siog in Holland, MA. Perhaps it was a combination of the haze from the Pacific Northwest forest fires and it being a weekday late morning, but I don't think a more peaceful place could've been found to kick off my trip. Holland is on the cusp of the Pioneer Valley and seems to identify more with the "Last Green Valley" of the Quinebaug River...
A pair of bald eagles were seen over the Siog's south end. I paddled out of the small lake's north end and entered the Quinebaug River proper...
...leading to an island of sorts. The bridge is said to be located close to where a 33-year old scout, Ephraim Curtis, in 1675 crossed the river on horseback from right to left while delivering a message from Massachusetts Bay Colony's Governor Leverett to the more than 200 Nipmuck sachems and warriors assembled there. Leverett hoped to persuade the Nipmucks to remain neutral during King Philip's War which had recently commenced. Neither Gov. Leverett nor Curtis knew the "ship had already sailed" and both sides played a game of how much did the other know? Curtis was lucky in being allowed to leave...in one piece. His subsequent report to Gov. Leverett is one of my favorite first-hand accounts of a historical event. This present-day trail marker may be close to the very spot where the dustup occurred...
A few hours later I was back on the turnpike and making my way to a waiting tent site at KOA. It was the first time in awhile I'd pitched my tent on a pea-stone pad and it was worth every extra penny.
Launched the next morning from a foggy Oxbow Boat Launch on the Connecticut River in Easthampton...
Before paddling under Route 5 and the railroad bridge I headed into the Oxbow with plans to ascend a bit of the Manhan River which was quiet and peaceful in its own right...
Back on the Oxbow I ventured further in to where Mount Holyoke loomed in the distance...
Out on the Connecticut River's main stem, enough protection from a gusty southwest wind was provided by Mount Tom...
...allowing me access to the section between Smith Ferry to the south and Mitch's Island to the north.
Another sign of the times was this homeless person's camp site located in one of the more isolated spots...
With the forest fire haze holding firm most of the day's color came from wildflowers like these...
The following day started again with river fog at the Cow Bridge Brook launch in Hatfield...
After exploring the rock ledges in this smaller oxbow I headed upriver towards Sunderland and the looming Mount Sugarloaf known to Native Americans as "Wequomps"...
Hugging the west shore while paddling upriver brought me past an area in Whately where a considerable amount of plastic seemed to be oozing from the base of the riverbank...
Looks like it cures most everything and measures 6" x 2" x 1". It likely dates to the late 1800s or early 1900s. Note the rubber stopper is still in place.
This day was the warmest of my trip and really had the full feel of summer.
Awoke the next morning to a cool northerly breeze. Broke camp and decided to take the slow route home instead of the Mass Pike. After crossing the Route 9 bridge between Northampton and Hadley I came across this mural on the side of a building...
...I encountered a group of ducks being pursued by this immature bald eagle...
A belted kingfisher actually stayed still long enough for a photo...
After about 2.5 miles I reached the dam and falls at Bondsville (a village in Palmer)...
The falls from below the dam...
A closer look at the crystal-clear water which originated in Quabbin's deep basin...
Despite our present drought conditions the discharge from Quabbin to the Swift River is maintained to a certain flowage according to terms dating to the reservoirs creation back in the 1930s.
On the last section of my homeward drive on Route 32 I passed this covered bridge spanning the Ware River in Gilbertville (village in Hardwick)...
Note the mere trickle of water in the Ware River compared to the Swift's guaranteed amount.
Adios Covid Summer and I sure hope you're a one and done.
Trash wasn't too bad and ran the gamut...
Two interesting finds were this plastic bag with 11 Styrofoam cups...
...or at least a shoutout to rail-riding Shoestring the hobo.
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