“You’re riding your motorcycle to find the graveyard – on purpose?” My conversation with a young cop about road construction details in western Massachusetts was brief, but it prompted me to share why old graveyards are such fascinating places to explore.
Rewind to the 1970s. My father was a college professor whose academic interests included early New England graveyards. On weekends and summer vacations, he would drag my sisters and me again. Long before GPS, such trips often became a mission since Dad’s approach to navigation involved deadly calculations. “I wonder where that road goes?” he will say. “One way to find out.” To be fair, Dad informed me of my interest in exploring on motorbikes.
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Since Massachusetts has some of America’s oldest communities settled by Europeans, it has some of the country’s oldest graveyards. Three of Dad’s favorite places are in the towns of Longmeadow, Deerfield and Wilbraham, all in Connecticut River Valley of the Western Mass. I decided to revisit these cemeteries with the benefit of an adult perspective. Since they weren’t even 40 miles apart, I extended the trip by a few hundred miles using Dad’s “I wonder where that road goes” method, and along the way, I looked for other old graveyards to visit. discover.
The trip started in Longmeadow. Along Williams Street, behind the historic First Church, is the Olde Burial Ground, c. 1718, a small area in the Longmeadow Cemetery. In old cemeteries like these, rock carvings provide insights into family life, social status, occupation, religious beliefs, illness, tragedy, and how people concept of death.
Ebenezer Bliss’s Stone concludes with this distinctive epitaph: “Death is a debt to nature that I have to pay, and so are you.” The nature of a person’s death is often explained, such as from smallpox, childbirth or drowning, although Adjt. Jonathan Burt’s stone makes us wonder, because he has “left this life suddenly and surprisingly”.
From Longmeadow, I just BMW F 750 GS north on US 5th Street across the Connecticut River, then west on State Route 57. To avoid the built-up sections of Agawam, I cut through Rising Corner and re-enter 57 via Southwick fire station. The bends beyond the Granville Gorge prompted me to speed up, though as I entered Granville a flashing speed limit sign persuaded me to roll.
Up the hill beyond the town hall, I reached the Central Cemetery, c. 1753. As with many old cemeteries that were no longer “active” (accepting new burials), one could not drive into this cemetery, so I parked right on the side of the road. Like many old cemeteries, it is not next to the church. Some of the early settlers in New England, especially the Puritans, placed their dead away from the daily lives of the living.
The first stele of Lieutenant Samuel Bancraft, the first settler of Granville, includes a slight variation of the epitaph I had seen earlier in Longmeadow: “Death is a debt, to nature. I paid it, and so should you.”
Continuing west, I enjoyed a few miles of new tar, but on the steep downhill bends to New Boston, I was cursing the inventor of the tar snake. Past the village, I noticed the unpaved Beech Plain Road, and a right turn took me along trees clad in brilliant yellow foliage. There wasn’t a single dark snake in sight.
In Otis, I merge onto Highway 8 to the north and then lean west onto Highway 23, a two-lane recreational lane that hugs the contours of Berkshire Hill. Through the village of Monterey, I saw a sign for River Road. Dad explained that roads with that name were often winding and rarely had dead ends. True on both counts!
Following the bypass road, I reached Sheffield. On the other side of US 7th Street, there is a signpost for Bow Wow Road, and as a dog lover I needed to see where it went. One way after it became dirt, I found Pine Grove Cemetery, c. 1758. I saw the family plots for Olds and Curtiss and wondered if these graves included the ancestors of the automotive and aviation pioneers of those names.
I continued on North Undermountain Road and Pumpkin Hollow Road. In the village of Alford, Central Cemetery, c. 1780, warrants investigation. Among the finds was this inscription: “Gone is not lost.”
Leaving the center of town, West Street gets the nod over East Road, and after a double turn I’ll be on State Road 41 heading north through Richmond to Hancock. History buffs can visit Hancock Shaker Village. The Shakers are a religious community known for their elegant barns and functional furniture, as well as their fetish for celibacy. (The latter may account for their lack of current numbers.)
Going west on US 20th Street would take me across the New York border to Highway 22 north and Stephentown. Turning right on Highway 43 brought me back to Massachusetts, having passed the residential center of Pittsfield. Another right on Brodie Mountain Road leads to US 7 north. At the five-corner intersection, I turned right onto Highway 43 and followed the Green River to Williamstown, a posh New England college town. At the intersection of Highway 2, the left leads to lively Spring Street and many dining and coffee options.
Refreshing and recaffeinated, I headed West to North Adams and knew exactly where to go: up the Greylock Mountain Scenic Byway. This technical twisting festival leads to the highest point in Massachusetts (3,491 ft). The winding Rockwell Road took me down the other side of the mountain, and at the Mount Greylock Visitor Center, I turned around. This 30-mile round trip is just too much fun to go through.
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Northeast of Adams, the scenic Mohawk Trail (Route 2) passes the famous Hairpin Turn, to the town of Florida, then back through the Mohawk Trail State Forest. Interesting curves and elevation changes are enhanced by clear autumn days. In Charlemont, I headed north on State Route 8A, another twisting gem, to the Branch Road, following the West branch of the North River East to State Route 112. This two-lane road curves quick and easy south to Ashfield, where a left turn on State Route 116 put me on my favorite zigzag two-lane road. But first, I stopped at Elmer’s, an eatery popular with locals and passing motorcyclists.
While chatting with some old people, I learned that there is a “really old” graveyard that I should see on Norton Hill Road. When I reached Cemetery Hill, I could tell from the style of the headstones that it wasn’t older than the mid-19th century, but a war memorial right across the street was a bonus for the stop. Erected in 1867, it includes this wording: “ON THE EVEN LIFE OF ASHFIELD’S SON DIED FOR OUR COUNTRY IN THE COUNTRY WAR 1861-1865.” It’s the only place I’ve ever seen the American Civil War described by this term.
At Creamery Road I turned left to South Ashfield then enjoyed those bends on 116 to South Deerfield. It’s easy to skip busy US 5 via Lee Road and Mill Village Road to the historic Old Deerfield district. There, at the end of Albany Road, was one of Dad’s other favorite graveyards, the Old Deer Burial Ground, c. The 1690s (aka the Old Albany Cemetery).
More than a dozen stones date back to the 1600s, the oldest being for Mary Blanchard, who had 10 children with her first husband, John Waite, and nine more with her second husband, John Blanchard. . Notably, this cemetery includes a memorial to the 47 settlers killed in a raid on the town by the native inhabitants and their French military allies on February 29, 1704.
Strolling through the rock formations, it is interesting to note how the styles have evolved over time. Early carvings with skulls gave way to winged skulls, then winged angels, and later weeping willow urns. Very few parents still give their children the following names: Eleazer, Flavia, Zenas, Temperence, Dorcas, Ithamser, Arrethusa and Thankfull Experience. Also here is a headstone for a young woman whose name is hard to pronounce without a giggle: Fanny Forward.
Leaving Deerfield, a short way north on US 5 connecting with another River Road, this road follows the Connecticut River south to Mount Sugarloaf. After the bridge, turn right onto Highway 47 south on the other side of the river, where tobacco fields are harvested and the Holyoke Mountains set the scene.
Keeping the roads less traveled, I passed South Hadley, Belchertown, Ludlow and Wilbraham, to Adams Cemetery, c. 1740. The tombstones here include dozens of inscriptions with inscriptions that speak of the difficulty of life and the inevitability of death. Consider two:
- “Friends and doctors could not save my mortal body from the grave.”
- “The blossoming youth learns about your state of birth and death, how weak your life is, how short your days are.”
It is fitting that Dad is buried here in one of the cemeteries that intrigue him so much – especially one that is actively preserved and celebrated as a historical resource. Even if your ancient woodland cemeteries are no longer old, they can be peaceful, beautiful, and fun places to explore. When you’re enjoying a trip, take the opportunity to experience history in open-air museums along the way. Explore old graveyards – on purpose.
