Bentleys in the Berkshires

CUTTING along Massachusetts’ western frontier, the Berkshires are a short stretch of gentrified Yankee Appalachia that act as a kind of fence to New York’s border.

Not that New Yorkers ever recognized that fence, mind, like persistent neighbors, the city’s denizens have driven up the Taconic to cross the hilly divide for coffee and one-sided conversation since time immemorial.

Partial as yours is to the similar charms of neighboring Litchfield County, Conn., Berkshire County, Mass. also makes sense for the urban weekender for offering bucolic splendor and rustic charm that’s just that-little-bit closer than Vermont.

If you’ll indulge: in the great northeastern divide between NYC and Boston, it’s Gothamites that claim the Berkshires Mountains as a retreat. Bostonians, by contrast, have Lake Winnipesaukee and the rest of New Hampshire and Maine’s wilds tucked  in their backyard.

That said, the Boston Symphony does call Tanglewood home in the summer…

Regardless, last Saturday yours had caught wind that the Bentley Drivers Club was encamped at Cranwell.

So, like rabid Bentley fans, we hop into Jacqueline’s Bimmer and made tracks to western Mass. as Cole Porter, Norman Rockwell, Nathaniel Hawthorne and probably the Continental Army had done in years past (only we did it by way of I-91 to the MassPike).

We arrive and the Loyalists the Bentley drivers have already dispersed. But lucky us, there remain a few stragglers that from what must’ve been a great party.

Following up on the events that had transpired, the Bentley Drivers Club organized a sizable rally with attending members hailing from across the English speaking world. They’d converged on the Berkshires to partake in daily road excursions over the course of three days.

The lovely (if over-developed) Cranwell resort, with castle-like manor, golf links and spa was their apt choice for base camp.

On site, I spy a Blower Bentley roaring its British racing-green self all the way from the 1920s.  Parked subtly next to a Toyota Camry, the humble commuter sedan’s probably never been so close to automotive royalty.

The 4 1/2 litre supercharged roadster’s deceptively massive. As W.O. said, there’s no replacement for displacement.

Nearby another supercharged saloon, Depression era, makes an otherwise mundane parking lot an instantly glamorous setting.

In the automotive world, the 20s and 30s really were the most stunning decades in car design. This was largely thanks to the bespoke artistry of private coach builders in the day.

And to think that Bentley lived on during a time that saw so many equally beautiful marques – Duesenburg, Hispano Suiza, Isotta Fraschini – falter then perish. It’s impressive and a little sad.

Over by the links there stands an appealing duo.

One, a voluptuous red Bentley Continental Type R , very much a product aimed at the US market and next to it, a rather upright character from the 1930s in black over tan. The sight reminds me of a scene from Goldfinger.

On closer inspection, the 30′s car appears to be the Bentley 8 Litre, an example of which bowed alongside the new Mulsanne at Pebble Beach this summer.

Observing the Continental, there appears to be much in common stylistically with the new Mulsanne.

It’s remarkable that I didn’t pick up on this earlier. But those round fenders and the low placement of the circular headlamps and parking lights (now turn signals) are dead giveaways. The only aspect that’s missing on the new sedan is the vertical chrome grille. For certain, we  now know what two door super car from the 50′s will appear alongside the Mulsanne’s coupe version – when it arrives.

We see our fill of beautiful British transport and dash over to another classic establishment just down the road called Blantyre.

Situated deep in sumptuous forest and lying quietly in Cranwell’s shadow, the luxe hotel is the understated Bentley to Cranwell’s Rolls-Royce braggadocio. There’s a long drive that curves in front of another lovely manor which is border by tennis courts and gardens.

The grounds are tranquil making Blantyre a suitably reserved alternative  should the Bentley Boys return to the Berkshires next Autumn.

In the gravel parking lot, Blantyre’s own grey Bentley R-Type saloon stands sentry.

As it does this time of year, the sun sets earlier than we anticipate prompting Jacqueline and I to decamp these luxurious surrounds for Great Barrington’s bohemian village for some din-din.

We find ourselves driving down beautiful Route 7 which curves from Lenox into Stockbridge and then finally into Great Barrington before crossing the border into Connecticut.

On Great Barrington’s busy Railroad Street, we enjoy burgers at 20 Railroad Street, a brick walled restaurant that let’s you design your own. I opt for Wasabi mayo on mine and am pleased. Jacqueline goes for Pepper Jack cheese and is sated nicely.

We conclude our gastronomic intake across the street at SoCo Creamery where we’re served the world’s best chocolate ice cream. And it is the world’s best. Hand on heart.

A delicious Saturday! What with fine scenery, cars, and food? Who knew that chasing Bentleys in western Mass. could be so satisfying?