Sometimes you just got to get out of the house, get some fresh air, and poke at something with a stick. Maybe a dead bird. Just kidding, this adventure didn’t involve any dead birds.
This was another adventure in nostalgia where my companion tried to remember somewhere from twenty plus years ago enjoyed in the haze of mispent youth. I’m more than happy to oblige because I was a VERY well behaved youth who was monitored and controlled more than a felon with an ankle bracelet and it’s nice to see what freedom must have been like back in the day.
This time around I was treated to Purgatory Chasm, not the more well known one in Massachusetts but the one no one’s heard of in Newport Rhode Island. It’s so obscure the parking lot is tiny and only good for a half an hour of parking. There was however a handicapped space… in case you wanted to take your wheelchair bound buddies to a heavily rooted hill and an oceanside cliff for no particular or heavily insured reason.
Purgatory Chasm itself is only a hop, skip, and clumsy trip away from the parking lot and it reminded me a lot of Thunder Hole up in Maine, just smaller and somewhat less thundery. It still made a pretty good whooshing locomotive sound when the waves came in. I can totally imagine my nervy Puritian ancestors pointing to the noise growling from the rocks and declaring it must be the devil. Curiously although Heaven was always above for these people Hell always seemed to be here on earth – you can tell because they named half the land here Purgatory something-or-other.
Beyond the chasm there was also a lovely little love lock bridge my companion wasn’t even aware of. Clearly others had as it was FULL of locks, some of which had hearts and names carved into them, most of which were rusted to high hell because unlike other more famous love lock bridges this one was likely constantly sprayed with saltwater.
A few weedy little trails led to a handful of observation points that gave a pretty view of the beach off to one side, a weird sea monster looking set of rocks in the water and lots of ocean. There was also a tiny tree stump that had a heart shaped center ring that made me believe it may have been a Giving Tree – loving its people even while they were cutting it down. The scenery was beautiful but also clearly a lover’s nest reminding me just a bit of the beach the main characters of Wristcutters: A Love Story woke up on. If you’ve seen that movie you’re probably screaming just a little bit, if you haven’t you should totally watch it. It’s way more wholesome than the title infers, I swear! It’s dark comedy at its finest.
I had been told about Moonstone Beach last summer, or perhaps even before that. Rumor was that during the off season it was a decently isolated beach that was perfect for gathering pretty rocks and I am a sucker for pretty rocks. Especially since I have a fish tank and an excuse to bring them home now!
So on this blustery Monday afternoon I headed out into the 39 degree weather forgetting that ocean = wind. I had attempted to come to Moonstone Beach once before but the road leading to it was flooded that day and if there’s one thing I won’t do with the Prius it’s drive into puddles of unknown depth. Today however I lucked out. I drove into their odd parking situation (no parking at the end of the road and only to one side on the rest of it) without taking the Prius swimming.
A pick-up truck drove in at the same time but no one ever got out of the car. I did! And wandered onto the beach. WOW was it coooooold!!! The wind was fierce and nonstop, waves were crashing on the shore and foaming up the beach and there were the promised rocks. Millions of them in all colors shapes and sizes, the vast majority completely smooth from the ocean’s battering. Next time I set up a new fish tank I’m totally bringing a bucket out here and picking a bunch up!
I tried to take a few artsy photos as this beach was made for such a thing but the wind was so cold my fingers were hurting and my face was bright red. The solitude of the beach almost made it seem colder.
The beach appears to be open year round but perhaps I’d suggest visiting it on a warmer day or at least in more layers of clothes if you’re insane enough to go in the dead of winter like I did. I wasn’t there for long but I believe I’ll be back to take more time feeding my need for gorgeous photography and pretty rocks of course. I’d heard whispers of finding the occasional agate or other vaguelly more valuable rock here. There was certainly a bunch of beautifully polished quartz in both white and rose sitting next to speckled smooth lumps of granite. I really don’t know much about geology so I couldn’t say what the rest were but I’m sure some rock hound out there might be able to.
Today there wasn’t any shells so to speak but there was the delightful rumble of the clattering stones as they were washed in and out on the waves. This was the sort of communing with nature I so desperately needed and it filled my soul with the greatest joy.
As I got back into my car and settled in to drive off another young woman drove in. Our eyes met through the car windows and we both gave each other only the biggest of smiles. It was a sweet and wholesome moment to end my trip out here.
All and all I think Moonstone was a wonderful place for a rock hound or introvert to poke at during the off season. I suspect in the summer its probably too peopled for my taste but to each their own!
This entry has to be the most ADHD adventure we have ever taken. It started because we were in search of a public bathroom and google was more than happy to oblige. That’s how we ended up at this lovely little park. I didn’t need a bathroom but I noticed a little pier-kinda structure and I wanted to poke at it. Below it swelled swarms of little fish who breached the surface in a way that made it seem the canal water was boiling. As I stood trying to take photos of this a seagull carefully aimed its latest BM at my companion. It thwacked the deck of where we were standing with a wet slap. MISSED! Seagulls are such fuckers sometimes.
As my other companion came out of the bathroom and found us we all noticed there was a really populous pedestrian and bike path aside the canal. Should we check it out? We’d already had a REALLY full day and it was approaching evening. Hey look! Birds! And so we found ourselves walking down this path with a bunch of other people, all different paces, us getting increasingly distracted by the alarmingly calm wildlife. We first approached a huuuuge swarm of cormorants just gathering atop a bridge. Not far from them there was several storks just fishing, not a care in the world to the people going by, of course sea gulls continued to make their presence known, and then as it was evening the bunnies and groundhogs started showing up…
By now we’d already walked quite a way but there was a bridge not too far away. We should just walk to the bridge, I suggested. The closer we walked to it the farther away it seemed to become! And at some point my body had had enough with my bullshit and I just started overheating like an old steam locked car. Since we had not planned to go for a full hike after a trip to the bathroom no one as carrying water. I contemplated climbing down the banks of the canal and dipping my feet in the water. Eventually we made it somewhat close to the bridge where there was a bench that I promptly melted into.
By now the sun was going down and there was this gorgeous pink hue in the sky highlighting the bridge and reflecting on the water. SO GORGEOUS. I could not have planned this if I tried! And so even though my body was fucking done with me and I was in pain and turning all kinds of funny colors I was still with it enough to be completely and utterly thankful for this absolutely bonkers detour because the photos I was taking were so well worth it, as was the time spent with some of my favorite people.
It was A DAY. A long, weird, whimsical day and this was the perfect way to end it. or at least end the adventuring part as we shuffled back into the car and drove into the great blue yonder. This was a surprise destination for sure but if you’re in the area and aching for a good enjoyable walk (or bike ride) check it out! The scenery was amazing!
I am continuing my quest to get to 500 Catching Marbles Entries before the end of this year. We’re running out of time, energy, and good weather… which could explain why we decided to go to the beach in DECEMBER.
Oh my, was it BRISK! A fair wind was coming off the waves and even I, who has been overheating like a cheap European car all summer, was a bit chilly. Big gray clouds went out to sea as far as the eye could see. Despite being cold as a witch’s tits it was actually kinda gorgeous.
The beach had a huge parking lot which I am sure costs money to park in during the on season, however December was so far into the off season that we found a pack of herding dogs joyously running up and down the beach with their owners despite big signs reading, “NO DOGS ALLOWED ON BEACH.” I get it. You and your friends were insane enough to adopt a gaggle of border collies during your golden years AND you live in a densely populated area. Where else are you and the other crazy grandmas going to go to burn off some of that unused herding energy?? And I for one am all for it. Even though one of these dogs didn’t like me. I think I surprised him.
But really this beach must be HOPPING in the summer! It had a series of roofed structures with picnic tables and a bunch of benches to watch the waters and people going by. And the parking lot was ENORMOUS. I never understood the appeal of sunning next to a thousand other strangers while their children trip over you but hey, to each their own! I preferred the beach now… cold, unforgiving, and completely taken over by a less stressful kind of creature: birds. Holy birds! There were sea gulls and a swarm of ADORABLE sandpipers and some weird sea ducks?? (which I thought were pipers when I was taking photos because I have shit distance vision and frequently have no idea what I am taking pictures of. Sadly this led me to not taking photos of the actual pipers. Just as well, those fuckers are as fast as they are adorable.)
But we weren’t here for the beach. No matter how many rocks I shoved in my pockets proved otherwise. (As a lifelong cool rock collector you have no idea how deliriously happy I am to have a fish tank to put them in now. It’s a veritable rock scrapbook of places I’ve been… with fish!) We were actually here to check out the ruins that I saw someone post on Facebook. I mean… this is how I will be lured to my death some day.
The ruins were waaaaaay on the other side of the beach so we hoofed it through the sand until I was again, overheating. I looked on slightly irritated because my companion was gliding over that sand while I sunk into it like a water buffalo with four left feet. It’s SO MUCH harder to walk through when you’re sinking! Whhhhhy?! Why must I lack so much grace?!
Just as steam was starting to pour out of my ears we reached our destination. The ruins of the Windswept mansion which sits directly between the Scarborough Beach and Black Point. It was built in 1895 on the backs of chronic pain sufferers. Well, at least their hard-earned cash paid for it. You see the money used for building it was earned through selling the family business – Perry Davis’s Vegetable Pain Killer. Believed to be the first such tincture marketed directly to chronic pain sufferers it probably had quite a punch being made almost entirely of alcohol and opium which are suspicious vegetables if you ask me. Eventually it became a fancy restaurant Cobb’s by the Sea before changing hands and starting a long retirement of vacancy in 1952. Ravaged by no less than 5 fires little remains of what was once a 21 room mansion. However, what is still standing is still pretty neat and made for some lovely photos! And a brief study in pediatric psychology as we found some youngin’s notebook ripped up and spread to the wind inside the ruins. Pages and pages and pages of, “I am certain I love my girlfriend.” I wish I could have written back. Sweetheart, whatever mindfuck she’s putting you through ain’t worth it. RUN my child! RUN LIKE THE WIND!
And that was our trip to the ruins. This place was definitely entertaining on this off-season day and wasn’t hard to get to. If you love ruins, or beaches, or just a bit of fresh air I do suggest checking it out.
It’s really strange to find a trail no one seems to have heard of only a few miles from home. And you wouldn’t believe how I found it – accidentally by looking at a realty map of the area. Why it was listed as an attraction I do not know but curiosity got the better of me.
The Gramwick Trail was already an adventure before we even got there – having once again decided to drag my unwitting Prius down another sketchy dirt road, this time COVERED in leaves to the point I couldn’t tell where the road was and it was slippery, as heaps of dead leaves generally are. FUN.
And when we got the parking lot I was actually kind of surprised – it seemed well plotted out and had room for quite a few vehicles considering the remoteness of this place. That being said the trail kiosk was faded almost beyond being able to read which is odd considering the information on it claimed the Gramwick Trail is pretty much a baby – born in 2016! It winds through 395 acres all along Gilmore Pond and ends at a series of sweet little swimming and/or fishing holes. And if you want to continue on from there and do a whole loop it does attach to a different trail that’s mostly used for snowmobiling, but I did not test this theory.
I brought my mother with me as she wanted to go and get some exercise and fresh air. She was however a nail-biting challenge to watch do this trail as it is currently covered in slippery leaves, mud, and roots jutting out of the ground, none of which she missed as she tried desperately to topple over. We ended up having to find her a hiking stick. Luckily there were plenty to be found and she did better from here.
Despite our early troubles this path was kind of magical. It had gorgeous scenery, not a soul in sight, and it was SO QUIET out there, like we’d trekked many miles away from civilization. The only other critter we saw was a mourning dove. This was an introvert’s delight! And the swimming holes were darling! Had I been out here in summer I definitely would have dove in! What an experience!
Eventually the trail ended at the beginning of another trail. Rather than seeing if it looped back around (which I think it does – although we would have had to walk along the road for a little ways) we turned back and went the way we came. Mum was getting tired, I knew this would have been less than a half-way point, and my phone was being no help at all finding the map I was looking at when I was home! That’s OK though, I am content we explored a new corner of Jaffrey and that it was so beautiful.
This was a mostly flat path with bridges over the muddier bits. It was easy, dogs were allowed on leash, but I wouldn’t suggest it for anyone with balance problems. Too many slippery bits and roots for that! Otherwise, this is a great little jaunt for anyone in the area or beyond who has reasonable fitness and health.
Last week was just so completely random. I have no idea how I ended up at the bougiest corner of Rhode Island staring down the world’s most terrifying carousel while surrounded by ice cream lapping tourists but I’m not complaining…
Truth be told I desperately needed to be somewhere, anywhere, that was so completely and utterly different from my usual surroundings that I could just mentally check out for a while. You know what I mean. You feel it too. Well, I don’t live anywhere near the ocean so that fit the bill but really we went for the carousel and the lighthouse. The rest was just a cheerful bonus.
When I drove up it was definitely hoppin’. People were everywhere packing nearby beaches and perusing the shops and boutiques. It was like… going back in time… you know to the mid 1990’s, before the economy collapsed and people had vacations like this all the time! Parking was just an ever lovin’ joy to figure out as it was all parallel and pretty much full down the whole block. No worries after a 20-minute show with at least one horrified onlooker I was able to technically get the car within the lines. Technically. Then we walked!
This was the most touristy tourist trap I have ever seen in New England. Kids ran about with reckless abandon being ‘watched’ by their dads who were buying ice cream for the whole gaggle while their wives fucked off and enjoyed some sweet sweet alone time in the boutiques. There was even an antique store! Granted it was all nautical, just vaguely antique, and reminded me more of one of those Old Timey Country Stores with what it was selling. Just add some salt water to that country chic and you can picture it. I took some whimsical photos of random hanging trinkets.
And then we made our way to the carousel at the end. It was…. a thing of tremendous terror. Something that shall haunt my nightmares for years to come. Here they were selling tickets to ride the Merry Go Round $1 for the inner ring of horses, $4 for the outer ring and a chance to grab a gold ring to win a free ride. Now as fucking amazing as I find all that truly obsolete Americana I was a little trepidatious for the poor children on this machine who were whipping around that thing at great speeds, so much so the horses were at full tilt, their wee hooves kicking the air towards the onlookers at the sides. It made my heart skip a few beats. And the horses. Oh my God, the horses. I have no words to describe just how blood curdling creepy they were. They are supposed to be America’s longest continuously running Merry Go Round built in 1867 and “mysteriously abandoned” at Watch Hill in 1883 by a travelling carnival which… makes sense for a bunch of ponies that look like they could suck out your soul. I’m told each one of them still has it’s original eyes which is some sort of stone… but really it makes them all look like they have milky white cataracts and combined with their over all grizzled appearance I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the zombie horses of the apocalypse. They look the part. Every time I found one that just had to be the most unnerving another one would pop up behind it that made me gasp even more. Left me in a real pickle to find a favorite.
You may ask, “Did you ride the scary pony death machine?” No, no, I did not. The horses on this carousel are very small, clearly just for children unlike today’s carousels with life-size horses (or steam punk monsters if I remember the one I once saw in Brussels, Belgium right…) And I mean if I were a kid I probably would have loved hanging on for dear life as I spun wildly out of control trying to catch a gold ring as I went by. I mean that’s just good old fashioned family fun. Right? RIGHT?
Well anyway, there was a beach right next to the carousel with plenty of people sunning and swimming and having a grand old time. We decided to shun it in favor of walking up a nearby side street to see the lighthouse which I guess is only open for a short time every year – a short time that didn’t include that day. But it was still technically a park so we went to at least poke at it. This was my companion’s first lighthouse so he was impressed. I was amused by the mansions lining the drive it was on (especially the one with the witch weather vane) but the lighthouse itself was intensely meh for me. Maybe I’m just jaded having gone to so many. Either way it did seem to be a nice fishing spot and a few people were here doing exactly that and enjoying this gorgeous summer day.
All and all it was a nice way to spend an hour or two and the carousel made it 100% worth it because it was just soooo weird. Everything else was just a cherry on the terrifying carousel cake.
We were once again trying to figure out something to do when Plymouth Rock came up as “the most underwhelming school field trip ever.” Would it be less so in adulthood? Or would we find… a rock, an ordinary rock? It was time to find out!
I didn’t really know what I was heading into. My school wasn’t swank enough to cart our little asses to something like this so I’d never been. When we pulled up there was a truly pathetic little parking lot fit for two cars or so (OK, slight exaggeration but not by much!) that was entirely parallel parking. Nooope. Not going to do that. So I turned around and parked at the beach a few feet down the road which did have proper parking thank you very much. We put money in the parking meter and made our merry way into Pilgrim Land.
Obviously, we went to check out the rock first. I’d seen it on TV before but what I hadn’t seen was the absolutely enormous structure built over this sad little rock. The thing was penned in on all sides with iron bars like it was some sort of ferocious beast.
“Is it a dangerous rock?” I asked. “Why is it in a cage?” This is the sort of humor you’re in for if you travel with me. Grade A dad humor. Even though I’m childless and I guess technically female.
An older lady, who must have been a local, actually answered me. Well, this was new.
“See that camera there?”
“Yeah…”
“They put that in a few years ago. Someone came in and spray painted a bunch of things. It was a mess.”
“Oh no…”
“And people keep throwing their kids in there to get the change.” I looked into the pit and at the change in the sand. Was this some sort of lucky dirt fountain? Having no idea what to reply she went on. “I can’t imagine that. I mean look at how they must come out! Through the bars. You know how many 911 calls we get because some kid has tried to cut their nose off trying to go through them? All for what? 20 cents? Hope it was worth it!”
OK, now I really didn’t know what to say. I was just smiling awkwardly and wondering where this was going. Not that I am unfriendly I just have trust issues when it comes to random strangers telling me things… was she a tourist guide? Or just a lonely old lady? You never can tell.
She went on. “So you from around here?”
“No, we’re just visiting…”
“Well, you see that stairway across the street?”
“Yeah…”
“If you want to climb it there’s a crypt up there with the bones of the pilgrims and a really nice place to sit. Plus it’s a great view!”
“Ooooh… thank you…. We will definitely check that out…”
This we did. But before I get to that part I’d like to take a moment and talk about the rock because it is, and was, for all intent and purposes – just a rock. Not only was it just a rock it was a rock that’d been bust in half and glued back together after they attempted to move it to a better spot. Even more despairingly it says all over the place, on every plaque, that we think this is the rock the pilgrims adopted as their mascot but in reality we have no idea where they actually landed. It could have been 5 miles down the beach for all we know and this rock might be – get this- just a rock. And here’s where it gets really funny. Nearby there is a gift store and I swear to God – it sells rocks. Tiny polished rock babies so you too can have a Plymouth Rock. This is capitalism at it’s best.
There is also a replica of the Mayflower floating out there in the bay. We didn’t go on it. I’m a bit sketched out by boats and have kind of decided the only time it’d be worth getting on one would be if someone was kind enough to bring me to a good shipwreck to poke at. New England has to be littered with them. Shame the visibility is probably slim to nil with sharks and whatever cruising through the darkness looking for a snack. Oh well. Maybe someday…
In the meanwhile, we did climb the stairs across the street and found all kinds of historic goodies up there. Just as promised we found a terrific view of the building the rock was in as well as the bay and a big rectangular monument with the bones of some of the original pilgrims. Apparently, they’d been discovered at various points through archeological digs and were carried back to be buried here. Some of the plaques stated these original graves were forgotten because they had wooden markers which decayed but this monument said most of the graves weren’t marked at all because the pilgrims didn’t want the locals to know how many of them died and just how easy it’d be to kill off the remaining. It’s hard to say if this was paranoia or just karma biting them in the ass for treating the indigenous peoples like converts for Christ. It is super telling that one of the first things they built was a fort.
Here too was a statue of a local Chieftan, probably the one they first met. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy in his presence. For one he was wearing a loin cloth. In cold-ass New England. An unhelpful completely historically inaccurate stereotype put up by “the improved Red Men” some years ago probably in an attempt at inclusion. Cringe. To top it all off he looked forlornly across the bay – at a bunch of boats and white tourists. OK, now I’m uncomfortable.
There were plaques everywhere talking about all sorts of things – even the first women who don’t really get mentioned a lot. And then a few weird mentions of things like a bridal tree planted in the 1800’s which… didn’t result in a wedding… and honestly I’m confused why we were still talking about it. Maybe it was to add flair to the rock. Look, now it’s a rock and a tree. We ambled through a nearby park/garden and read even more interesting tidbits before walking up the street to Burial Hill which was by far my favorite part of the day.
It’s time to really get back into hiking – amidst a slew of technical difficulties because that’s actually the best time to go. This week we decided it to was time to poke around Chepachet again, not to the antique stores that are our usual haunts but to a simple hiking trail nearby.
First of all it is still the Spring so we went during the off season and there was only one other car there. When we drove in it brought us by several little turn offs that I am not sure were for parking or not before leading us to a gate asking to pay for camping fees. We weren’t camping so we stopped in anyway and asked if we could still hike for free and yes, you can, as long as the car is parked somewhere before the camp check in. So I parked next to the only other car I could find and we headed in. The camp register had a map of the trails and they were somewhat nearby. We had to walk to the lake first which looks like it might be a swimming hole in the summer (and a very pretty one!)
This looks like the kind of place that’ll be absolutely busting at the seams with excitable children in the summer. Between the camp sites and swimming hole there are also a few cabins smattered about and three trails at this particular trail head that were respectably 2, 6, and 8 mile loops. They were well marked and looked heavily travelled. There was however no indicator if these were flat trails or uphill. Their level of difficulty would be a complete surprise.
Since this was one of our first outings and we’d already had a fairly busy morning we decided to go for the two-mile loop. It’s best not to die when you’re first getting back out there. And it was just the right length and difficulty for us on this particular day. It was a pretty mild trail. There was a little bit of an incline through most of it but it wasn’t too bad. There was no need for scrabbling but being spring there were a few soggy patches, one which almost took a shoe as a sacrifice.
I told you we’d be back to take another shot at Cliff Walk. This time we almost accomplished the whole second half! But I’m getting ahead of myself…
First we figured out where we’d left off and then parked as close as we could to it in a spot that neither one of us felt was legal but you know… sometimes you just have to take the chance with the meter maids. We started near hiking point 7 – The Breakers. We’d already seen a lot of this on our first crack at it so we basically speed walked our way through all the sights and the cool egg-shaped tunnel in the rocks. This end of Cliff Walk was MUCH less populated than the other end and we were more or less alone for most of the journey with only an old hippie woman ahead of us – again beating my ass at this whole exercise thing. Damn she could ankle! SIIIIGH.
It was a hot day but there was a refreshing sea breeze coming off the water that for the most part kept me going. At other points it just smelled of rank and rotting seaweed. We were horrified to find some hikers had wandered off the path at one point to one of these little mini beaches and were swimming in the same fetid seaweed water that was giving off such an ungodly stench. It was two young women, one with a cigarette, each almost waist deep in the water squealing whenever the sea vomited up more half fermented seaweed to tangle around their legs. The chick with the cigarette raised it above her head every time the crashing tides came in. It was… a sight. And a smell!
“Oh man, they’re going to smeeeeeelllll when they get home…” Even the many dogs we had seen hiking with their masters weren’t rolling in that water – in fact they were panting off in the opposite direction – which really says something.
Newport is FULL of beaches. Most of them do not smell. In fact there were a couple other little semi private inlets on this walk alone that would have provided a better option… but to each their smelly own!
This stretch of the Cliff Walk was definitely more intense than the first half. There was a lot more scrabbling, a lot more rocks, a lot more antiquated staircases crumbling under the stresses only salt water can provide. But with these rocky stretches came new and beautiful sights. We could still see the sea angrily rushing towards shore, sometimes bringing with it piles of rocks that clacked and rumbled in the most whimsical way. There were a lot fewer birds but in their place we found a whole host of tide pools which are fun in their own right. I didn’t see too much life other than algae in them but I’m sure if I spent the time I may have found some periwinkles or itty bitty crabs or something. It’s been a dog’s year since I have gone tide pooling. It’s like looking into a little micro world you knew nothing about.
My hiking companion asked what the sea birds were. I hadn’t a clue. He’s the one that lives next to the sea! “But all I know are sea gulls and they suck.” Google later answered the question of what the big black birds having a meeting on a rock were – cormorants. Here ends all knowledge I have of said birds. They seemed chill. Certainly more so than sea gulls which let’s face it – are indeed the mosquitos of the bird world – being both obnoxious and somehow everywhere.
Meanwhile we were having fun with the more decrepit parts of the walk. We kept finding crumbled walls, bricked up stair cases, a few flits of graffiti, and random broken pipes and metal bits jutting out of the rocks off shore. It was an interesting contrast to the mansions which continued to line the path.
“Who owns that one?”
“I don’t know. I think Jay Leno has a house out here somewhere.”
“OK, I’m officially picking that one as the one the town witch lives in.”
“Why?”
“Every town needs a witch and that place looks old and beaten down.” (It did however have far more character than the better manicured mansions.)
It was wild out here – who knew that so much landscaping went into having a mansion next to the sea. We both got a good whiff of moo doo. But hey, it sure was green!
I was super proud of myself for only having to take a few very tiny breaks – and those were all due to overheating which was a vast improvement over exhaustion and pain. I still drank like a camel on leave but hey I made it! When we found ourselves at another street we decided to turn back even though the end of the trail was probably within spitting distance and you KNOW we’re going to have to go back a third time just to finish the damn thing. Point was my car was still illegally parked and we sorta needed to get back so whoosh! We waved to our new hippie friend (who had met with her family at this little cragged beach and was joining them fishing) and turned around.
All and all it was another lovely walk – this time a little better for an introvert such as myself as there were less people out here. I would still strongly suggest it if you’re in the area… just uh… be mindful of the parking situation. (And if you’re wondering – no, I did not end up with a ticket. We managed to ninja our way out of there without so much as a fuss.)
This week we went out to the Cliff Walk in Newport RI. I’d never heard of it but then again I have done a shockingly little amount of research on the city I keep finding myself in. That’s why it’s good to have a local on hand. A local who was so used to seeing the sites in these parts he didn’t even think this walk would be enough for a Catching Marbles entry! Nonsense! It was beautiful! And others should know about it!
I didn’t really know what I was in for – besides a good view of a great deal of seaside mansions and of course the ocean. I was not disappointed in this regard. We decided we wanted to do this particular adventure at sundown. This was particularly convenient because parking was easy to find at the nearby beach at this time of day since most beach goers were already packing up and going home. We put enough coin in the parking meter to last two hours. This would not be enough. Google says it’s a three and a half mile walk that takes on average two and a half to three hours and I am guessing that is going from the beginning to the end, not counting the return back to the beginning! So my advice? Feed the meter for AT LEAST 3 hours if you intend to do the whole stretch. More would be even better.
The beginning of the path seemed to still have a great deal of tourists from all over the world happily taking selfies and whatnot. There was a sign that clearly marked out the various sites and how far it was to each one. This was one of those paths you just couldn’t stray off of without knowing – and it was massively discouraged both by path signs and Private Property signs. But I was most amused by the warning signs which seemed to be every 50 feet or so and depicted a stick figure falling off and into the sea as if this is a super common experience. I half-way expected there to be guards armed with fly swatters thwacking anyone who went off the path. Believe me it was a lot more difficult to lob yourself off the side than the signs seem to imply.
“Are there a lot of suicides here or something?” I asked with one raised eye brow.
“I don’t know. I think it’s more just stupid people doing stupid things.”
At this point I looked up and saw a hawk so I pointed it out to my companion. There were also two sea gulls so he had a hard time at first distinguishing them. This lasted until two smaller birds started dive bombing the hawk making it obvious which predator was lurking too close to their nests. And they were serious! They eventually ended up with reinforcements and after there were no less than four small birds brazenly taking shots at him the hawk stopped hovering in place and started to move as effortlessly as a kite down the coastline and out of sight. Ah, drama.
After a half mile we came to 40 Steps which as it’s title would imply is a set of 40 steps that goes down to the rocky shoreline allowing for a wonderful view. Tourists gathered here, some looking out at the houses on the coastline on the opposite shore, some looking at the waves splattering over the rocks, some just seemingly in a moment of contemplation. I was enjoying the fresh smell of salt water – something I don’t come across too often and not too many of my adventures have involved the ocean.
We wandered briefly off the path and up a little road onto the campus so I could get a better look at those towering iron gates. They looked like the entrance to Hogwarts or something. It was amazing. By now the sun was setting behind the mansions (not the sea which I think my companion was hoping for) and my camera was struggling with the unusual lighting.
We continued on wondering what the signs meant when they said most of the path was easy but there was a few hard stretches. Neither one of us could imagine this paved and flat path being in any way difficult but sure enough we eventually came to a couple parts where we had to scrabble over some rocks. However this was still SUPER easy, the easiest scrabble I had ever come across. The rocks were part of a breaking wall and were large, flat-topped, and fixed in place. The only bad thing about them is the beach they were protecting which reeked so badly of decayed seaweed at one point that we were both getting sick from the smell. That was however short lasted as we made our way towards the tea house. When the tea house started to peek through the vegetation it looked like it was straight out of China. It was a bit… disorienting, if I am honest. In fact this was only one of two spots which had me questioning where I was – we also had to climb through a little alley that looked remarkably like something from the residential neighborhoods of Amsterdam and that’s not including one or two buildings we passed with unexpectedly Bavarian architecture. It was like we were going around the world!
There was a tunnel going around the tea house that was longer than expected, dark, and went around a corner. I love that sort of thing and was doubly entertained to find the other side of it came with a warning sign wrapped in barbed wire – again warning us not to stray off the path (and climb the tunnel and teahouse?!)
We decided to keep walking to the second tunnel which charismatically called from the distance like a little rabbit hole in the hillside. After a little more scrabbling we made it there and it was much quieter out here. We’d walked past most other hikers and now we were in this second tunnel alone. It was egg shaped and short and we could see the ocean through both sides of it. The wind was condensed in this tunnel and fairly violent but damn did it feel good.
At this point, probably 3/4ths of the way to the end of Cliff Walk we decided to turn around and hoof it back to the car to beat the parking meter which was ticking away like a doomsday clock. Apparently the meter maids here are fierce and getting fined is crazy common. So I let my companion walk ahead of me as I dragged my ass behind him – getting hotter and hotter and starting to get blisters alongside both feet from heel to toe. Eventually I walked past the point that my muscles hurt but I wasn’t as fortunate with my feet. Every step was PAINFUL and by the time I made it to the car I was halfway hoping there was ten minutes or so in the meter so I could dip my feet in the cold ocean water at the beach we parked at. But no, the second we got to the meter to look at it the thing timed out. Well if that isn’t a sign I don’t know what is… And so I left. I’ve been paying for this power walk into oblivion for the past couple days now… but it was well worth it and maybe one of these days I’ll be fit enough not to let these crazy easy flat paths kick my ass.
