Notes from a journey up 91, where there must be something in the water

The Professor today suggested a trip to the Montague Bookmill, an old haunt from her undergrad days in western Massachusetts. She thought the drive would be nice, and that, once there, we could sit around, without the distractions of home, and get some work done (me/writing, her/grading). So, we printed out a map and headed north up 91.

We got off the highway at exit 24 and stopped for lunch at the Whately Diner, quite possibly the cheapest 24-hour establishment in the Pioneer Valley. Mostly used as a truck stop, the characters inside ranged from locals to Rubber Duck from Convoy. 

Ain't she a beautiful sight! Sorry, had a little C.W. McCall moment there.

One thing I really liked about the diner, besides the wide range of folks sitting at the counter, were the jukeboxes stationed at each booth. What a crazy selection! From CDs with titles like "Trucker Classics" to albums by Justin Timberlake, I could only imagine, as I ate my sandwich and gravy fries, the all-out wars that probably occurred at 2 AM between UMass students and the big rig sect. It was something I did not want to witness. Much blood would be shed in those battles. Truckers love their Justin Timberlake and, from what I've gathered, often defend him to the death.

Anyway, we finished eating and paid our tab, then continued on into South Deerfield. 

This is when things began to get weird.

Now, I've never been up to South Deerfield before today, but there must be something in the water in that town. How else can one explain the monstrous structure that is the Yankee Candle Village? 

We were about to drive past it when the Professor suggested we stop.

"I really don't want to stare at candles," I said.

"Trust me, just stop," she replied.

She had been there before, so I put my trust in her judgement.

I'm glad I did. I must have commented how strange the place was about 15 times while we were inside. Sure, there were the usual things one would expect from a candle store: ugly crafts, country-bumpkin nonsense, and, of course, candles by the truckload. But, once we got past the anticipated, we encountered some bizarre stuff. 

Leading off was the "Black Forest," a magical place where it snowed every 5 minutes. From there we found ourselves standing in the very odd medieval castle portion of the Village (you know, the first thing that comes to mind when I think "candle" has always been King Arthur), where a massive nutcracker stared down all who dared enter.

We then came across a creepy animatronic "Good Ol' Boy" band that we watched for a few minutes. Being all red state, they started spouting phrases like "Ain't Sarah Palin purdy?" and anti-Obama rhetoric, which was really a turn-off. Okay, I made that part up. They didn't say any of those things. Instead, they stuck to the universal humor of fish jokes, which, I think we can all agree, are always crowd pleasers. Though, I'm not sure if the fish they were referring to were the koi found in the indoor moat that surrounded the medieval castle walls . . .

It was during this routine that I began to wonder what any of this had to do with candles.

Dear reader, you have to trust me on this one. Yankee Candle Village = weird-ass stuff. Do not visit there if you are inebriated or under the influence of any foreign substance, no matter how much said substance makes you want to go and sniff candles. You'll probably end up lost, confused, and wondering why it is snowing on your head in the middle of the summer. Then, you'll punch the nutcracker and break your hand.

We headed outside, my head still spinning from the Village, and got back on the road.

If the Yankee Candle Village was not enough to convince me at that point that South Deerfield was a bit off-kilter, two businesses a short distance away helped cement the fact.

First was the conspicuous castle with the equally conspicuous name Dr. Spooky's Animal Museum.

Second was The Rock, Fossil and Dinosaur Shop and the Velociraptor that stood roadside, greeting passing cars.

I have to admit, when I've always thought about western Massachusetts, dinosaurs and mad animal scientists weren't the first things to come to mind. Maybe eight or ninth, top twenty definitely, but not top three. 

We pulled into Dr. Spooky's first, but they were closed. Total bummer. I really wanted to see what a "spooky animal museum" consisted of. Were there ghost goats inside? Devil cats? Franken-pigs? Unfortunately, I'll probably never have the first-hand experience to really know for sure. According to their website, they're only opened on Fridays and the weekends. I could drive up again, but the picture in my head is probably better than what sits behind the manufactured stone walls, anyway.

But, to see a gigantic fake castle in the middle of Deerfield was quite something.

Conveniently located across the street, we stopped at The Rock second, mostly to look at the dinosaur in the small parking lot. The proprietor was standing outside, though, so we felt obligated to stop in for a look. He noticed our Connecticut license plate and we shared the following awkward conversation:

Mr. Rock: You from Connecticut?

Professor: Yes, but we're from Massachusetts originally.

MR: Where in Connecticut?

P: Um, outside Hartford.

And, before he could ask "Where outside Hartford?," we quickly stepped inside.

Would you happen to be in the market for some pre-historic dino-teeth? Then head on over to The Rock! They've got dinosaur teeth, whale vertebrae (a GREAT stocking stuffer, in case you were wondering), and more sparkling mineral deposits for sale than you could shake a stick at. It almost felt like a souvenir shop one would come across in Cape Cod of Maine, selling boogie boards and cheap t-shirts. Only this was in Deerfield, very far from the ocean. And it was full of bones. Very, very old bones.

Oh, and there was no visible front door on the establishment, so everyone was shivering and wearing coats at the register. 

It was a curious find along US-5. 

As we got back in the car, I really began to question if South Deerfield was full of oddities. Was it some sort of magnet for the mysterious, or, like the origins of Rhode Island and Australia, was the town created just to have a dropping ground for exiles and misfits? 

The short trip was like an episode of The Twilight Zone.

We eventually did get to the Montague Bookmill and sat inside for a few hours. The Professor drank coffee and graded midterms and I stared at my blank notebook and eventually filled a few pages. 

But, the sights in South Deerfield were enough for me to have made the trip.