See the story as it appeared in the October 2012 fall travel issue

GET YOUR MO
TOR RUNNING
NOTHING BEATS NEW ENGLAND IN THE FALL. WHITE STEEPLE CHURCHES ENGULFED IN SEARING RED AND GOLD.
ROLLING HILLS SUDDENLY AFLAME WITH COLOR. TWISTING BACK ROADS COVERED IN CARTWHEELING LEAVES. FOR
A FEW SHORT WEEKS EACH YEAR, THE SCENERY IS GRAND, THE TEMPERATURE’S JUST RIGHT, AND THE OPEN ROAD
BECKONS. TO HELP YOU MAKE THE MOST OF THIS DRIVING SEASON, WE ASKED LOCAL AUTOMOTIVE WRITER CLIFFORD
ATIYEH TO MAP OUT FIVE OF THE REGION’S BEST JOURNEYS AND PICK OUT THE PERFECT VEHICLE FOR EACH JAUNT.
P H O T O G R A P H S BY D O M I N I C C A S S E R LY
86 BOSTON | OCTOBER 2012
BOSTONMAGAZINE.COM 87 A
B
MASSACHUSETTS
NORTHAMPTON
TO
DOVER
ROUTE A ramble through Western and Central Massachusetts,
with stops in Northampton and Worcester; a search for a strange
cave in Upton; and the best back road in the Metro Boston area.
DISTANCE 111 miles I CAR Mercedes SLK 250
ere I am, fleeing to the state’s lonely roads. I’m in
the new Mercedes SLK 250, a tank-solid, compact
roadster that’s easily tossed around—plus it’s got
a stick shift. In metro Boston’s yuppie haze, the
towns of central and western Massachusetts seem
a world away. Rarely are we drawn past the Natick
Mall’s metal sheen. What a mistake.
Out in Northampton, Route 9 becomes indifferent to suburban life. Just beyond Smith College, it snakes in wide
turns as if dancing to a slow funk. The Northampton Brewery
has a surprisingly dynamite salmon—crisped in a bourbonmustard glaze—and plenty of strong, malty beers. I spot tattoo
parlors, grungy music halls, and gigantic, blown-glass cherries
at the Don Muller Gallery. Rainbow mugs and T-shirts with gaypride messages abound. If all the hipsters from Boston pedaled
their single-speed bikes west, they’d end up settling here.
Just past the UMass campus, I ditch Route 9 for Route 202,
which peeks into the Quabbin Reservoir, an 18-mile-long manmade lake that supplies much of Greater Boston’s tap water.
The sight of a dotted yellow line on this extra-wide stretch
kick-starts my heart and I make a pass, then amp up to third
gear, fourth gear—police? No—fifth gear. Save for the SLK’s
small four-cylinder engine, little dampens my momentum on
202, and the car’s sport suspension is right in the groove.
Heading east on Route 122, I am completely alone for
minutes at a time. Farther east, two-lanes like this—blessedly
free of driveways—simply don’t exist. A few miles after
Barre town center, I stop off Route 62 at the Barre Falls Dam,
built in 1958 to prevent flooding along the Ware River. The
idyllic 557 acres teem with whizzing discs (there’s an official
disc-golf course) and wildlife, and I watch a couple wrap
XX BOSTON | OCTOBER 2012
2
1 Author Clifford
Atiyeh and his TK
BREED NAME pull
out in a Mercedes
SL roadster during a
reenactment of this
road trip.
2 A teenager
fishes in Gates
Cove, part of
the Wachusett
Reservoir, in West
Boylston.
1
up a picnic lunch and return to their
motorcycles. Back on 62, a canopy of
oaks and maples shroud my ride as the
road narrows. I pause in Princeton and
park atop the hill, looking down at the
spired, burgundy town hall, the creamy
stone clock tower by the public library,
a stone-faced two-story of rose-tinted
granite and brownstone.
Crossing the Wachusett Reservoir on
Route 12, the road widens all the way to
the Worcester Art Museum, where you
can duck under original, arched limestone from a French medieval church
(called the Chapter House, it was the
first medieval building brought to America). I take I-190 for a few exits to downtown Worcester and stop at Armsby
Abbey for serious mac ’n’ cheese made
with IPA. For more down-to-earth fare,
there’s the Rose Garden, a dive bar off
Route 140 in Upton with hand-ground
beef and “none of this frozen crap,” as
chef John Lindi tells me when I meet him
in the parking lot upon emerging from
the woods. I was searching for the Upton
Chamber, the town’s infamous manmade cave. No one knows its origin—in
Lindi’s youth, kids smoked weed there—
but it’s certainly a strange diversion.
Then it’s on to Farm Street in
Sherborn and Dover—the single best
back road in the entire metro Boston
area. It’s like driving through a Thomas
Kinkade painting, dreamy and drenched
in autumnal color. That, and there are
hairpin turns, just a half-hour from my
apartment. Paradise found.
3 Stillwater Farm
in Sterling, near
the intersection of
Routes 140 and 62.
3
5
4
6
4 Horse- and
turtle-crossing
signs on Route 122 in
Petersham.
5 Looking south
down Main Street in
Worcester.
6 Dam and
roadway at Connors
Pond in Petersham.
For a complete directory of the places
listed in this drive, turn to page 166.
MAPS BY DON COKER
BOSTONMAGAZINE.COM 89 B
A
MASSACHUSETTS TO NEW HAMPSHIRE
BEVERLY FARMS
TO
HOLDERNESS
ROUTE An easy North Shore trip that turns into a driving
workout en route to New Hampshire’s Lakes Region, with stops
in Newburyport and Meridith and outrageous views
DISTANCE 135 miles I CAR Bentley Continental GT
3
4
century ago, lucky New Englanders could enter
Prides Crossing in Beverly on their own private railcars. Today, the old green-and-white station post
is a chocolatier, and while the commuter rail does
stop here, I’m going express in a refined Bentley
Continental, making my way, eventually, to Holderness, New Hampshire.
I start out on Hale Street heading toward Beverly Farms, a Victorian neighborhood so incredibly preserved
that some of the residents still organize cotillions. Private and
quietly upscale, yet only minutes from a hot roast beef sandwich (Mikey’s or Nick’s?), Beverly Farms is—if not ideal for firsttime home buyers—the best place to kick off a North Shore
drive. And while it starts easy, this route is a real challenge the
entire way to the Granite State’s Lakes Region.
I divert north at Manchester-by-the-Sea to meet up with
Route 133, gliding by the dandelion wine at Russell Orchards
and the antique cars at Paul Russell & Company, where a
refurbished 1962 Cobra CSX 2026 is available for $2.75 million. Past Rowley, Route 1A is all flat farmland and brown
cattails waving by the Parker River, which often floods the
low-lying bridge after a storm. I stop for a Kobe burger at
Ceia in Newburyport’s red-brick downtown, and then bypass
the nearby boutiques and the ones a few miles northwest in
Amesbury, and cross the New Hampshire border. There are no
stops for me now, not even to buy tax-free liquor, because I’m
busy tackling Route 107, a grueling workout ingrained in hard
asphalt that weaves thorough 55 miles of forested landscape.
Sharp elevation changes, blind crests, downhill curves,
braking, shifting, swallowing to maintain ear pressure—there’s
little margin for distraction. And just when you think you
90 BOSTON | MONTH 2011
1
2
can’t take another ab-straining turn, 107 relaxes into a calm,
wide straight, then coils back again. I pass a sign in Gilmanton
cautioning “outrageous views ahead,” and I’m now 1,200 feet
above sea level.
By the time I reach Alton Bay at the southernmost tip of
Lake Winnipesaukee, my endorphins are zapped. I’m revived
by a stretch of Route 3 along the water and intriqued by the
cash bingo, the Broken Spoke Saloon (a biker bar with live
music), and Frank’s Firearms, right on Main Street in Meredith.
I follow 3 northwest, almost to I-93, before sinking into the
sofas at Ashland’s Common Man and enjoying another burger,
this one topped with green peppercorn aioli. Should you
require more back roads, double back to Holderness, where
even the gas stations sell fresh pies and produce, and get on
Route 113. Better yet: Stay overnight by Squam Lake. You’ll
hear nothing but wind rustling through moonlit pines, and the
water slapping against the rocks come daybreak.
1 A sea plane idles
on Northwood Lake
in Epsom.
2 The kitschy
sign welcoming
tourists to Weirs
Beach on Lake
Winnipesaukee.
3 Sunrise over
Newburyport
Harbor.
4 A view of the
Pine Hill forest in
Gilmanton.
For a complete directory of the places
listed in this drive, turn to page 166.
BOSTONMAGAZINE.COM 91 B
A
MAINE
KITTERY
TO
1
YARMOUTH
ROUTE A lazy cruise up the Maine coast, with stops in Kittery
and Portland; a peep at a lifesize chocolate moose; and a walk
along the cliffs where Winslow Homer once painted.
DISTANCE 95 miles I CAR Rolls-Royce Ghost
outhern Maine is a lazy man’s ride in the fall.
Most of summer’s agonizing 15-miles-per-hour
beach-town traffic is mercifully gone, yet there’s
little reason to speed now. From Kittery to
Yarmouth, I’ve chosen a gentle cruise, hugging
the craggy coastline on narrow cove roads.
This is a time to one-hand the wheel, sip an
iced tea, and drop my bare feet deep into the
lamb’s-wool rugs of the Rolls-Royce Ghost.
In downtown Kittery, I grab a beer at the Black Birch and
chat up a lady with a ukulele under her stool. The bartenders,
pulling unlabeled tap handles custom made with items like
old hammers and steam gauges, lay vintage soul albums
on the record player and serve up Allagash-battered fish
with fries and house-made ketchup. Stepping off Route 1 to
Long Beach Avenue toward Cape Neddick, the Rolls floats
alongside the ocean in near silence—it has self-adjusting air
suspension—and there aren’t any mansions blocking my view
of the surging surf. I hook back up with 1—shortly after, it turns
into Route 9—and proceed through Rachel Carson National
Wildlife Refuge en route to Kennebunkport, where I stop at
the swank Tides Beach Club for a lobster roll at the leatherpadded, marble-topped bar, flanked by loafer and Nantucket
Red types guzzling wine. (My lodging for the night, the Colony
Hotel, is more old money and great at mixing gin, but there’s
no A/C or TV in my room.)
An hour more along Route 9 lands me at Len Libby, a
Scarborough candy shop that features a lifesize chocolate
moose that weighs 1,700 pounds. Tempting, but even with an
18-foot-long Rolls, I don’t have room. I hit Route 207 and arrive
at a “dead end” sign a few miles down the road. Other cars
92 BOSTON | MONTH 2011
2
4
3
turn left onto Route 77, but I head past
the sign and down Black Point Road to
Prouts Neck, passing a golf course, a bird
sanctuary, and the stately Black Point
Inn, with its own private coast, including
a section of cliffs where Winslow Homer
once painted (the artist’s studio,
recently refurbished by the Portland Art
Museum, is now open for tours). Then,
it’s back to Route 77 and north toward
Fort Williams Park in Cape Elizabeth,
a 19th-century military outpost with
the big old lighthouse that shines on
postcards throughout the region.
A few miles later, and I’m docking
the car on Fore Street in downtown
Portland. I sample root-beer popcorn
at Coastal Maine Popcorn Company—
it’s arranged like an ice cream shop,
with more than 30 flavors—and then
meander through Portland’s narrow
blocks, following my nose to the jars of
maple glaze and habanero-mango aioli
at Stonewall Kitchen. Sated and back
on Route 1, I’m on the final stretch to
DeLorme, the Yarmouth map company
with a globe that’s just over 41 feet in
diameter rotating in its lobby, plus a
motley collection of maps, travel guides,
and GPS equipment. Such a display
might inspire wanderlust in others, but
all I want to do is ramble back south
along the Maine coast in search of my
next lobster roll.
1 A view of
the Saco River
Resevoirfrom
Route 9.
2 A fisherman
walks along a tidal
river in Wells.
3 Roadside
seafood at Nunan’s
Lobster Hut in
Kennebunkport.
4 A tidal estuary
in Goosefare Bay.
For a complete directory of the places
listed in this drive, turn to page 166.
BOSTONMAGAZINE.COM 93 A
B
VERMONT
LAKE CHAMPLAIN
ISLANDS
TO
ST. JOHNSBURY
ROUTE A jaunt across islands and through back country
Vermont, with stops in Burlington and St. Johnsbury; a hunt for a
covered bridge in Cabot; and the state’s best hidden beach.
DISTANCE 124 miles I CAR BMW 640i Gran Coupe
his trip has me setting off in a turbocharged BMW
640i Gran Coupe from the top of the Lake Champlain Islands, then freefalling into Burlington, and
finally making an eastward trek to St. Johnsbury.
Navigating this stretch of roads through backcountry Vermont can rekindle a man’s faith. I stopped
attending Sunday mass years ago, yet whenever
I’m in this state, two thoughts pervade: God, this
is beautiful. And, God help me if I need an ambulance. I’d be
dead on some desolate dirt road, but what a view.
Starting out on the islands, farms and lakeside properties
obscure the shoreline, and unless you’re in love with fish hatcheries and tool museums—yes, the island of South Hero has
both—the inland area isn’t exactly stimulating. Yet being this
far north and this remote is a thrill unto itself, especially when
Route 2 compresses into a thin sandbar. (The best 360-degree
coastal views are here, just over the bridge to the mainland.)
I head down the road to Niquette Bay State Park, Vermont’s
“most hidden beach,” according to a ranger on Grand Isle.
She’s right—Niquette is pure solitude, with only the occasional
Canadian coming ashore in a 40-foot sailboat.
From there, it’s a fast ride through Winooski, a well-kept
old factory town with warm brick buildings that sits along a
river, and into Burlington. Church Street, closed to traffic for
four blocks, is a required detour for hearty food and a cold
one or two. Between sips on an outdoor patio, I watch as
hippies, families, and dogs wander past. The maple–butter
pecan ice cream from Lake Champlain Chocolates gets me
94 BOSTON | MONTH 2011
Dusk falls over the
causeway from
the mainland to
South Hero.
almost as high as the “Flower Power”
cyclist, a soft-spoken fiftysomething
in an afro wig who pedals around the
marketplace, his handlebars and wheels
decked out in fluorescent paper.
I pick up Route 15 back in Winooski,
and the next 70 miles are rich in classic
barns and Texas-worthy panoramic
skies. The big Gran Coupe, unperturbed
by the road’s occasional rough patch,
hustles through valleys and curves, past
cows and pine-topped mountains.
Just before Danville (famous for
its giant 10-acre corn maze), I veer off
15, on the hunt for a covered bridge in
Cabot. I pass the intersection of Deeper
Ruts Road and...unmarked dirt. Everything gets dark and thick with brush
and tangled trees, but then the woods
clear, revealing the sort of immaculate,
sun-drenched field found only in a
Twilight dream sequence. In front of me,
a chained gate blocks my path with a
sign that says, “Hikers and hunters are
welcomed.” In other words, tourists in
BMWs should get the hell out. I do, but
not before I take a long last look at the
infinite swath of blue and gilded greens
and browns and breathe in the breeze
channeling through the trees.
The engine restarts. Thank God.
Then it’s off to St. Johnsbury. The
little literary town not far from the
New Hampshire border is home to Dog
Mountain, which came into being when
the late artist Stephen Huneck and his
wife, Gwen, purchased 150 acres in 1995
and created a compound complete with
ponds, trails, and a chapel for people
grieving departed pets. Parties here
draw as many as 500 dogs and owners,
Gwen says.(The next fete is October 7.)
I get back in the car and cringe at the
sight of the red-and-blue I-93 shield.
But unlike the soul-crushing slog that
South Shore commuters face every
weekday afternoon, 93 this far north is
incredibly clear—and beautiful.
For a complete directory of the places
listed in this drive, turn to page 166.
BOSTONMAGAZINE.COM 95 1 The covered
bridge spanning the
Housatonic River in
West Cornwall.
2 Back roads
and farmland in
Bethlehem.
B
3 Wine tasting
with a view at
Gouveia Vineyards
in Wallingford.
A
CONNECTICUT
KILLINGSWORTH
3
4 Crossing the
Cornwall Bridge
with the hills
of Housatonic
Meadows State Park
beyond.
5 A cow pokes its
head out of the Mid
Valley Acres barn in
Killingworth.
TO
LAKEVILLE
3
4
ROUTE A fun zip through inland Connecticut on windy, densely
forested roads, with stops in Meriden and West Cornwall; a stay
in a Winvian cottage; and a lap around Lime Rock Park.
DISTANCE 85 miles I CAR Subaru BRZ
s a New Haven County native, I know what outsiders say about Connecticut. They think it’s a
do-nothing divider between Red Sox Nation and
Yankees fans, a two-hour block splitting New York
from Boston. Few people aside from Manhattan
train commuters truly “get” Connecticut—like how
a top-notch winery can exist just minutes from
the interstate. That’s fine, really—because while
the masses are bored on I-84, I’m zipping from Killingworth to
a racetrack in Lakeville on windy, densely forested roads that
remind me of driving through Bavaria in Germany. Appropriate, then, that I’m in the new Subaru BRZ, a minimalist, rearwheel-drive coupe built for this exact purpose.
I start on Route 148, one of my father’s favorite roads. If
police ever closed it to traffic and barred abutters from leaving
their homes, this hilly, squiggly stretch could be the stage of a
rally race. The little Subaru tackles the curves with the grace
of a figure skater—the skinny tires and quick steering almost
make it too easy. Past Roast Meat Hill Road, which is an actual
name of an actual thoroughfare, the next seven miles are
empty. The drive is such fun that, many times through the
years, I’ve doubled back and done it again.
In Middlefield, I stop at Lyman Orchards, an eighth-generation family farm that’s so popular it takes phone reservations
for pumpkin pie. From there I head west on Route 68. It’s like
driving a paved sine wave—you power up the hills and ease
down again and again, the engine revving to keep pace. That
winery I mentioned? Make a left at the wine trail sign on 68,
stop at Gouveia Vineyards in Wallingford, and prepare for
flashbacks of Napa Valley. The barbecue trailer in Donald
Washington’s Meriden driveway is another worthy deviation
96 BOSTON | MONTH 2011
4
1
from 68. He’s open only Thursday
through Saturday, because the
rest of the week the former Pratt &
Whitney engineer is burning hickory
and smoking pigs “just like they do in
the South,” he says. Customers travel
from across New England to sample
his pulled pork and sauces.
I divert to Upper Whittemore Road
via Route 63 and end up in a deserted
intersection with six stop signs and
no street names. Heading straight, I
catch glimpses of Lake Quassapaug
and soon enter the sleepy “Christmas
Town” of Bethlehem, where the
post office is inundated around the
holidays with card senders seeking the holy postmark. Then, out of
nowhere, is the gated Winvian resort
in Morris. Here, you stay in one of 18
private wooded cottages, each commissioned by a separate architect,
like the treehouse suspended 34 feet
off the ground, or the music house
2
5
adorned with marimba resonators (there’s also a spa and
door-to-cottage room service).
I’ve seen the postcard-perfect center of Litchfield a dozen
times, so I press on to Route 45 toward West Cornwall, a tiny
town with an enormous covered bridge, café, and the eclectic
Wish House boutique packed with home accents and funky
clothing. From here, arching tree limbs whip over my head on
Route 7, the road glistening after a rain shower. Lime Rock Park
is ahead, a historic 1.5-mile racetrack that hosts the famous
American Le Mans Series (and can host you too, with a oneday pass to Skip Barber Racing School). But even if you fancy
yourself a racecar driver, please don’t crowd my dad’s roads.
For a complete directory of the places
listed in this drive, turn to page 166.
BOSTONMAGAZINE.COM 97