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!
This week we took our adventures to Maine where I had previously promised to share a few old favorites. One of these was another visit to Fort Knox but I neglected to mention this also would include a bonus ticket to go up to the observatory at the top of the bridge overlooking Fort Knox. It’s only a few dollars more to the purchase of a Fort Knox ticket and it never disappoints. But first I had to drive by the entrance and find myself parked at a roadside overlook of the bridge. I hadn’t taken the time to check this part of it out and it was really quite interesting! It had plaques with the history of the bridge and its predecessor as well as a few photos and a segment of bridge complete with wires which if you could walk up to from the observatory’s parking lot below. Also accessible from this point is a little access road which you can walk on to get under the bridge for an even more unique view.
Apparently, the original bridge replaced a ferry in the 1920’s and was a toll bridge. It was replaced with the current bridge in 2006 which now houses the tallest bridge observatory in the world and the only one in the US. Even better is that most of the journey upwards to see this fantastic view is by elevator. There’s a handful of stairs to get to the last level but that’s it. No gasping for air or clinging to the walls from vertigo as some of my other adventures have been! I was however surprised there was quite a line that day. It was a mix of locals and tourists, adults and children. I was happy to re-do this adventure with an actual professional camera this time and not the tiny cheap-o pre-cell phone digital camera I had at the time. There was even a boat heading up the river leaving quite a wake behind. This proved to be “a happy bonus” for the both of us. Looking directly down at the Prius parked below though… that was probably not the brightest idea but I was able to maneuver my cell phone in a way to catch the moment. Now I have photos of the Prius from every side except its underbelly!
Having decided one covered bridge was not enough we made our way from the Swamp Meadow Covered Bridge just a half an hour away to the Carl Erickson Covered Bridge which is in Pulaski State Park. This would have been helpful information to have as this is when our little adventure started to go sideways. It had no address to type in so I was at a loss on how to find it. Fortuneately although my GPS was clueless my phone believed it knew where it was so I handed the phone to my probably begrudging navigator and off we went!
We managed to drive within a mile of the covered bridge when we came to an open gate. I believed it was still an accessible road, my companion did not, so I let him convince me to park at a nearby picnic area so we could walk. This park was large but seemingly completely deserted. We didn’t see any other people and scarcely any other cars parked anywhere. Since it was only a mile hike he didn’t bring the water he usually does. Mistake number two.
It was in the nineties and we both figured a nearby trail probably was going in the same direction as the covered bridge so we took it. It was an obvious trail but poorly marked and it forked off into what seemed to be dozens of other sub trails. My phone was still on and attempting to track us but coverage was poor and it’s responses were flakey. Sometimes we’d be headed dead-on to the central trail which the bridge was supposed to be on, other times we appeared to be walking in exactly the opposite direction. Up hills. In extreme heat.
For once the exercise wasn’t making my legs burn or getting me super tired but that’s when my exercise induced asthma started to set in. It’s yet another way my body likes to randomly try to kill me. I huffed and puffed and tried not to push it too far. I’ve never been officially diagnosed so it’s not like I had an inhaler or anything. For the past thirty something years I have forgotten to bring up this issue to my doctor. Stupid me only remembers it’s a problem as it’s happening. Because I have the attention span of a gnat.
If that wasn’t enough I was starting to overheat. Bad. Heat rash crawled up my arms and turned my whole face beat red. My travel companion wanted to go back to the car but by this point my phone was telling me we’d already made 3/4ths of the journey so I convinced him we should just keep going. It wasn’t too much longer before we hit the Central Trail…. which was a road. The same road I’d parked near. We could have driven to the damn bridge! But no, we had .4 miles to go. On any normal day that’d be quick and easy. Not so much when you’re dying of heat stroke.
“I hope it’s over a big river! I need to dip my feet in cool water!” Every other time I have suffered this level of heat exhuastion a river has always rescued me and if it was deep enough I was jumping in. I did not care for proper manners at this point.
FINALLY we found the bridge. The bridge made for cars. Over a road. And the river it traversed…. which was tiny. More of a gurgling brook than a river. And it smelled of algae but I did not care. I lopped off my shoes and into the water my feet went. BLESSED COLD!! I splashed my legs and arms as well making sure not to get any water on my face… I didn’t want to add weird wilderness parasites to today’s damage report. I splashed for a few minutes but my travel companion was being eaten by bugs so we decided it was only a mile down a flat even dirt road to the car. Being refreshed from the river I ankled it pretty fast for about a tenth of a mile before heat exhaustion caught up with me again. I couldn’t keep up. At all.
So I threw the keys at my travel companion and told him to have fun finding the car as he apparently was born in the bowels of Hell and is completely impervious to heat. I’d be here somewhere along the road ready and waiting to be picked up. I cannot tell you how frustrating these situations are for me when my body just fails me. It wasn’t long after this I was forced to stop walking because my feet broke out in heat rash and literally felt like they were cooking from the inside out. Every step felt like I was walking over hot coal. So I sat on a rock, cursing, and resting for about fifteen minutes before I tried again. Luckily by then the Prius was driving up blaring bizarre music so I knew it had to be the right Prius! I hopped in and drank a liter and a half of water in two long draughts. Would have drank more if I could but at that point I’m pretty sure I would have puked it back up again.
Back at the beginning of the road I got back into the driver’s seat and we decided where to go next. We’d wanted to find a nearby ghost town but that was out of the question in the state I was in. Our other thing to tick off was the haunted Tavern on Main but it wouldn’t be open for another two hours… so we just drove into town, parked at the local dollar store, and walked up and down main street revisiting the country’s oldest consecutively run general store and the numerous antique stores. After which we did in fact make our way to the Tavern on Main. (And I know I complained A LOT in this entry but the bridge was sweet and the walk through the woods was beautiful! I was too busy trying to stay alive to take any photos but it was otherwise very enjoyable!)
It was another sweltering 90-something degree day so we decided to do something that wasn’t too excessive. My travel companion had never seen a covered bridge so we looked it up and apparently there’s only one authentic covered bridge in Rhode Island – the Swamp Meadow Bridge in Foster. Even more adorable than the fact there’s only one is the story behind the bridge which is not in any way haunted or even old… actually it’s basically the youngest covered bridge I have ever heard of being built in 1994 to replace a normal boring cover-free bridge. Damn, I was alive then!
But hey, this bridge was immediately beloved. This is something I know because only four months after it was built someone burned it down and the town immediately rebuilt it. This never happens! Small towns never agree to do anything fast, especially something that was just completed four months prior!
But I digress. Off we went to Foster to see this little beauty. We had no issues finding it what-so-ever. It is located on a dirt road with only one house within eyesight. And the locals have posted a little historic bulletin to make it seem like it’s really old – the fees to cross such a bridge by mule for example. We parked nearby and poked around for a bit, taking a photo of the flyer and gently teasing the whole concept of it.
It was a sweet little bridge but was by far not a whole afternoon’s worth of nerdy New England entertainment so we decided to continue on to Rhode Island’s infamous non-authentic covered bridge the Carl Erickson Covered Bridge in Pascoag which was only a half an hour away. And in case you’re wondering what makes a covered bridge authentic… well, this is what Wikipedia has to say, “An authentic covered bridge is constructed using trusses rather than other methods such as stringers, a popular choice for non-authentic covered bridges.” I know, my eyes are glazing over too. Onwards we go!
During this adventure we got lost and turned around half a dozen times reading conflicting information on other blogs. So before I go any further here is how to get there: First locate Historic Cemetery #45 (Also called the Hopkins Mills Cemetery) at the beginning of Danielson Pike. Go to the very end of the cemetery and you’ll find a trail head with a few parking spaces. Take this path to the river (not that far away… certainly less than a mile) and voila! You should see the ruins there. SUPER EASY.
The History:
Foster RI is a pretty rural place, even today. It has a certain rugged beauty and this apparently is nothing new. It was incorporated in 1781 after separating from Scituate and for the next hundred or so years it was considered a rather rough place to live. Indeed, there was a factory here that was the soul of this village. It was the Rams Tail Woolen Mill, powered by the river. Of course at this time in history working the mills would have been a brutal existence and there would have been a lot of unmarried girls and children working the machinery and probably a good deal of accidents and possible deaths but strangely it’s none of these that have led to the area getting a haunted reputation. Instead this may date back to 1822 when former owner Peleg Walker had to hand over his ownership of the factory due to debts. Instead of complying he decided to lock himself in the factory on his last night and slit his own throat. They say his ghost haunted the grounds for many years afterwards – with the factory machinery starting up on their own as well as a litany of other complaints. The factory ran until 1850 before closing and was set ablaze by arsonists in 1873 – some say to rid it of it’s ghosts. But if that was the intention it did not work. If anything it just added to the frustrated energy felt here.
The Factory is little more than a bit of a foundation and a rock wall aside the stream now. Everything that is left has been taken over by the forest and it seems strange to think this was once a bustling center. I sat on a rock in the stream and enjoyed the summer day here feeling like I was in the middle of the ruins in the Jungle Book. It was calm, peaceful, and refreshing. I didn’t see any ghosts, nor feel anyone’s disembodied torment, but I don’t disbelieve the stories others tell. A place so rich in history probably does have a few spirits still lingering around.
Bonus Destination: Nearby Haunted Bridge
If you take a very quick walk down Daniel’s Pike you’ll find a bridge, under the bridge was a once popular swimming hole that claimed several lives with it’s mucky quicksand-like bottom. Just a little ways up stream Betsey Grayson drowned in 1860 after toppling into the river while fetching a bucket of water. Some attribute the ghost along the river’s edge to her, others say it’s a different drowning victim. Either way the place is eerie calm. Both the bridge and the Rams Tail Factory Ruins were super quiet when we visited. Quiet and except for the child’s mask lying on the ground – quite abandoned. It was an interesting little jaunt into yet another little corner of historic New England.
On the way to Holy Land USA we passed a sign reading Gillette Castle which sounded familiar. I decided if we had the time and I noticed the sign on the way back that I was going to check it out, but I didn’t tell my travel companion, instead letting this detour be a spontaneous surprise. Coming home and a mile from the exit I saw the sign again and asked him to look it up to see if it was anything worth it because I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was.
After a moment he looked down at his phone and yelled, “YEP! Worth it! Take the exit!”
I just smiled. Most people I travel with get a bit flustered with me being so unpredictable. Going to a specified destination is always fun — going to a completely random one on the fly is arguably more fun. Besides when you’ve been kicking around the road for as long as I have you start remembering things you might like to see and like a moth to flame you just end up there at random…
So far my visit to Connecticut showed me a state that more or less just felt like a huge suburban backyard for NYC. Maybe this why even people in New England seem to have an indifferent attitude towards Connecticut… it feels… different. But now I was driving through a little town it was feeling a bit more familiar. Everything here was super well kept and quaint. A little Mayberry if you will. I however was once again back to scaring the shit out of my passenger because we found ourselves in the Prius going up a 90 degree hill which was also a hairpin turn.
“TWENTY-FIVE! The speed limit is TWENTY-FIVE!”
“Yes, but if we dip below 20 this car is going to slide back down the hill and there’s a car behind us!”
“Oh my God!”
We were lucky we went before it snowed. The Prius would have never made it up, going 27 MPH or not.
I followed signs (and my travel companions phone suggestions) to the park, again not knowing what to expect. As we drove in there was a nice little paved road through the park like you’d see in a typical city set up. However, we were both caught completely off guard when we drove up to this profoundly beautiful (but dry) manmade lake/fountain overshadowed by a little hobbit bridge. So quaintly pretty! It was like being in an English countryside!
“Where do we park?”
“Just wait, there will be parking at the end I’m sure…” And indeed I was right. There was parking just behind a huge castle!
We hopped out of the car, knowing we were on a two hour time constraint before the park was closed and gated up. This place was grand! I was not expecting anything quite so massive but here was what looked like a real castle…. overlooking a serene riverside scene. To add to the Gothic flair two turkey vultures circled overhead. I immediately wanted to attend a Gothic wedding here. I didn’t even care whose. Just a big Gothic wedding.. with at least one black-clad bride. Yep. I’d be so happy to attend.
The 24-room, 14,000 square foot castle is apparently furnished and normally open to the public but has been blocked off since the Covid pandemic. We both immediately decided that we would be back to peer inside when this whole thing blows over. In the meanwhile we wandered around the outside taking photos and admiring the dragon gargoyle jutting off the side.
The castle took 5 years to build and was completed in 1919 costing a cool million dollars at the time (that’s over 15.5 million dollars today.) It was the creation of an eccentric stage actor by the name of William Gillette who retired here with his seventeen cats. He was apparently quite the character and built into his home a series of secret passageways and spy mirrors to help him make a “dramatic entrance” when entertaining guests. Unsurprisingly he died in 1937 without any heirs and left a bizarre will reading the estate was not to go to any “blithering sap-head who has no conception of where he is or with what surrounded.” Somehow this resulted in the state of Connecticut buying the property in 1943 for the low-low sum of five thousand dollars. It languished in ruin until a four year eleven million dollar restoration project allowed it to reopen to the public in 2002. And boy is it worth it!
We wandered off after thoroughly checking out the outside of the castle. To the side of it was an old train platform. Apparently at one time it ran a private rail 3 miles onto the property.
“This is the kind of place we could fortify for the apocalypse.” My travel companion plotted.
“Well there is a huge root cellar, access to the river, and my God it’s peaceful up here.”
We found ourselves a trail and tried to make our way to the weird hobbit bridge with nothing but our broken sense of direction. This resulted in a delightful face-paced walk through what seemed an enchanted wood. There were lovely slate outcroppings, some nice view of the bogs, and random ruins such as disused wells smattered about. We found our way to a tunnel, perhaps part of the old train rail? We walked into it. It was super dark and cold. Had a weird feel about it but I suppose any place like that does. On the way back I’d joyfully suggest we go through it without our phone flashlights. I found this more enjoyable and less creepy!
Meanwhile the trails in the woods eventually did bring us to the fountain and bridge which made for a lovely photo opportunity and I am sure would have been far prettier in the summer when it’s full of water and not swamp mud and dead leaves.
On our way back we found an old wooden trestle that had partially collapsed and took a few photos. By now it was getting late and we had our nice little walk. It was a fun day and this was the perfect detour to add to it. When we found ourselves back to the car the turkey vulture swooped very low above us and showed its immense size. And then a stairway on the hillside caught my travel companion’s eye so up we went to check out this last little nook. Up above there were a series of picnic tables and another strange little ruin. I am not sure what it was but it was fun to poke at. Maybe it was a tower? Who knows.
When we drove out of that place we were WELL satisfied but the day wasn’t done with us yet because only a few miles down the road I found myself forking over $5 to drive the Prius onto a “historic ferry.” I’ve been on a car ferry before… in Europe…. but never in the US! And this was a hell of a ride. The expanse between the river banks was shockingly wide. And what do you know – I am still phobic of boats. I was fine until it started moving and then I wasn’t so fine. I know, it’s a ferry, chill. I calmed down but it took me a moment. I was still happy to get to the other side… feeling accomplished. Exposure therapy? Something.
ANYWAY, I’d highly recommend the castle and even the ferry ride to other explorers, travelers, and lovers of the strange and unusual.
UPDATE:
Last week we realized the castle was once again open for visitors to see the inside so of course we had to go for a repeat trek. We were not disappointed!
There weren’t many people there that day – just a few families and a tour of elderly including an 84 year old man who looked great for such an advanced age and a woman he was travelling with that had the Muppets theme song for her ringtone (how adorable is that??) ANYWAY… we parked in their super sunny parking lot, slipped on our required masks, and went inside the information center to buy tickets to the castle. They only allowed 15 people at a time in at any given point and tour guides stood in various locations to answer questions. The first was a young woman with a lot of enthusiasm for her job who delighted in showing us all how cat-proofed the castle was since it was more or less dedicated to the seventeen felines that shared Gillette’s life. Cute little froggy knickknacks were literally cemented to the fireplace so the little furry bastards couldn’t knock them off. An ornate table nearby clacked to life when it was realized it’s elaborate wooden skirt was actually built to be a cat toy. This place was awesome just for that but it got better…
The doors were all unique contraptions with complex steam punk mechanisms carved into them. The light switches matched. And if that wasn’t enough to love the wonderfully weird mind that came up with this then the description of his life here really settled it. On the balcony overlooking the first floor there were mirrors placed everywhere so he could tell who was in the house and where. If it was someone he didn’t like he’d retreat to his bedroom and pretend not to be there (and introvert’s dream!) Or if he was in the mood to be playful, which seemed to often be the case, he could lock wandering souls into the adjoining bar. The only exit was obviously a trick door – I mean at that point, why not? And watching them scratch around like rats in search of an escape probably amused him more than it should have.
Gillette grew to be an increasingly intriguing figure as we made our way through his castle. He was a stage actor in NYC whose claim to fame (and fortune) came from his performance as Sherlock Holmes. He was even cited as being the one who added the line, “It’s elementary, my dear fellow!” (which was later changed to Watson.) The castle was so far into the middle of nowhere he had to build his own train line to get there. Some of the stations still remain. And if all of that isn’t impressive enough he also wrote a popular play at the time about the Civil War and wrote a novel as well – a mystery novel with that I can only guess had intensely flowery language. If it were still being printed I would sooo have bought one from the gift shop but alas, there is only a copy in his little second floor art gallery in a little glass box. And that’s the other thing – a whole little art gallery full of paintings, books, and local history! The architecture equally as baffling as the rest of the castle. It was amazing. I love eccentric historical figures. They’re never boring. In fact with renovations still ongoing there was this odd playful feeling throughout the whole second floor. I pondered if maybe he wasn’t still lingering the halls. A copy of his most unusual will was displayed on the wall.
I’m super happy we went to this castle – twice. I will probably go again just because it’s so damn weird and beautiful. And outside the hiking trails around the property are just as quaint as can be and you can find tiny train stations and tunnels strewn about still, although the tracks are long since gone. I sort of naively hope maybe they’ll be replaced someday.
September 30th was my birthday so I decided to celebrate by releasing my first fiction novel Achilles in Heels and going on a bit of an adventure to find whatever remains of Alice’s Restaurant. It’s that time of year after all.
It was a two hour drive into the Berkshires at the height of the fall foliage season and I must admit just the colors alone made me super happy to be on this journey. My intention was to find the restaurant and church mentioned in the song Alice’s Restaurant heard below:
However while I was down there I might as well go for a little hike. My travel companion had found photos of a trail that looked gorgeous and seemed to end in a observation tower that looked out over the mountains from Stockbrdge’s highest point. Perfect.
And so we headed to Laura’s Tower. It was a trail at the end of a sweet little residential street that had a sign reading, “residents only.” After two hours of driving I wasn’t about to listen to it (sorry) and parked the car in the little parking lot at the head of the trail where there were other non-resident vehicles. At the beginning there was a sign describing the trails which neither one of us read until afterwards, much to the chagrin of our bodies…
I’d read reviews of this trail before coming out and one woman claimed to have brought her three year old which had an easy time of it. I’m currently sporting a quarantine bod and am pathetically out of shape but I figured if a three year old could do it I’d be OK.
And so we crossed this adorable little stone bridge and found ourselves on the most whimsical trail I’d ever seen. It was bordered by these windy fences and walked alongside the Housatonic river. Beautiful. Quaint. But we walked the whole loop in a matter of minutes and there was nothing in the shape of an observation tower anywhere to be seen. Hmmmm. I enjoyed this little jaunt but I was feeling a bit unsatisfied. This was indeed a scenic little walk but maybe a bit anticlimactic without the tower. There was a second path branching off this one at the very beginning that went over the train tracks just over the bridge. We decided to poke at it and hope that’s where the tower was.
Now I have to admit the day before we went to Sherri’s Castle again, somehow wound off the trail there, and I ended up in the indignant position of sliding on my butt down a deer path because wet leaves, a steep hill, and Converse sneakers are a terrible mix. I was hoping this wasn’t going to end the same way.
Still, we trekked into the woods, and began up this path which at first was a slow but steady incline. Even so it was becoming straining. About halfway up we stopped and took a rest on a rocky outcropping. We’d neglected to eat lunch before this and we were both hungry, tired, and unsure if we wanted to go on but according to my trail app we were already halfway up. I didn’t know if I could handle that much more hiking but we tried anyway.
This is when the path went from pleasant little incline to an absolutely punishing upward grapple that weaved in every direction like a mountain road with no ending in sight. Two thirds of the way up I thought I was going to die. My legs were not having anymore of this. I gasped and panted in a most unflattering way. I was taking breaks every 250 feet or so. My heart was trying to leap out of my chest. My resolve was dissolving. I seriously considered just accepting I was defeated and going back down but two thirds of the way up is almost there and after driving two hours to get here I was unlikely to come back. I’d always blame myself for being too much of a wuss to make it to the top. My travel companion was fairing a little better than me but not by much and felt the same.
So we took a lot of breaks. By now my legs had gone from sore to outright painful with every step. Sharp stabbing pains. I knew if I could keep going the endorphins would kick in and I’d eventually go numb. So I pushed forward, leaning on trees at every break, watching the people who took the trail at the same time as us make it to the top and then pass us on the way down. Embarrassing. They did claim it wasn’t far though and that it was worth it!
I braced myself on a tree to puke at one point and came very close to losing the precious little water I just swallowed. Puking is my body’s answer to every problem. Luckily it was really just around the corner that time and I made it to the observation tower. Our reward for taking this punishing hike came in the form of a steep terrifying stairway to the sky. Uuuuuuughhhh.
I took a breather as my travel companion braved the stairs. When he got to the top all I heard was, “Shit!”
I frowned and yelled upwards, “What?!” thinking he’d dropped something to the bottom or some other terrible thing was happening.
“It was worth it!” He yelled back.
Oh OK, I’ll take my sorry ass and see what’s up there. I grabbed ahold of the hand rails and slowly made my way up trying not to look anywhere because I’m not great with heights.
And when I got to the top – WOW. Brilliantly colored trees were in all directions. This was a bird’s eye view of Autumn and it was spectacular. I took a few snaps, made a few off handed comments on FaceBook and Twitter, and then we made our way back down which was actually even more terrifying than going up!
Of course the trail back was all going down hill so was way easier and we were back at the beginning just as the forest was going dark for the night. Perfect timing. Now to find that restaurant… only it apparently doesn’t exist anymore, even under a new name, and the church? It was somewhere beyond a closed bridge and my brain was too melted to want to figure that one out so someday I will have to come back…
It was still an awesome birthday. And it can be even better if anyone buys my book Achilles in Heels, wink wink, nod nod. (I’ll stop mentioning it after this, I promise. I am just so excited for it!)
In the meanwhile I’m sorry this entry is lacking in photos. My phone has been throwing temper tantrums about storage space and I accidentally deleted all the photos I took which were not backed up in trash in any way. So all I have are a handful I posted to FaceBook the day of and my travel companion’s snaps. All below.
If you’re reading the title to this blog entry you’re probably wondering what on earth is going on. Am I mounting an expedition to find trolls? Eh, I won’t say I’m not trying to find trolls but that’s not what was going on in this entry. I did not set out today in order to explore under some random unnamed bridge buuuut… you know, things like this tend to just happen in my life and I couldn’t be any happier about that.
Unlike most of my recent outings I really did have a destination set today. There were rumors of “more than thirteen miles of trails!” in the Brooks Woodland Preserve and that sounded pretty nice on a rainy day like this. So I drove about 45 minutes and half a mile from my destination I saw the road I needed (Quaker Drive) was closed. More specifically the bridge was out. But I could see the bridge so I drove up to it anyway because sometimes bridges have turn-offs to park and delightful little scenic areas below. I was NOT disappointed! Just as I had hoped there was space for a car, maybe two, and it was so breath takingly beautiful I am still at a loss for words. It was like a whole different world out there – moss covered rocks cuddled up in a burbling little river out in the woods, no one else around… like stumbling into Utopia! And I wasn’t the only one to find this place. Someone had left a rake behind and someone else left a little Tuperware box full of random trinkets and toys nestled in a stone wall – I am guessing it was a GeoCache. It did seem aimed at small children. And I was so delighted to find it as in all my hiking adventures I’d never come across a GeoCache by happenstance. It’s like finding treasure — really sad plastic treasure, but treasure none the less! I have to read up on GeoCaches… I’m not sure if I was supposed to leave something? I should have left a marble…
Anyway, I messed around in this one gorgeous spot for way too long before deciding to find the other end of this road in the hopes of getting to that trail in the Brooks Woodland Preserve but before I did that I took a sweet little amble through the Ledgeville Cemetery down the road.
Well! It’s been a while since I gave a little love to this blog and if I am bluntly honest I wasn’t really planning on it today either… but then I realized I actually hadn’t said much about this little haunt of mine so I took out my cell phone camera and started snapping away. I NEEDED THIS TODAY!
If you’re anything like me you’re probably being a good little disease vector and staying home in quarantine while simultaneously crawling out of your own skin. I get it. I know I had a TON of plans for this blog this year. I was going to go to art galleries, bizarre museums no one has ever heard of, lots of festivals and county fairs, and even some odd things like a midnight showing of Rocky Horror which I am currently being threatened with. OK, so those are off the table… for now… but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep exploring, just means I’ll be exploring more obscure hiking trails and cemeteries… in New Hampshire…. because all the states around NH are starting to pull out-of-staters over. Vermont is fining them, Massachusetts is sending them home and Maine is demanding a two week quarantine before entering. It’s…hairy….out there.
That’s OK though! We can do this. We can go out and appreciate nature without coughing on anyone. Especially on these far less loved trails so how about it… here we go!
Today I walked a very familiar trail – the Betsy Foskett Trail in the Betsy Fosket Wildlife Bird Sanctuary- the entrance of which is located half-way up some dude’s driveway (the very last driveway on the Emerson Lane cul-de-sac) and is hidden from the road. It is however there and that half of the driveway is a right of way so don’t worry when you’re walking up, it’s right past the little bridge and impossible to miss.
The beginning of the trail was flooded today because we’ve had so much rain but I took the part of the trail that is next to the water and walked along there following the yellow markers until a little sign showed where the two paths diverged. From here I took the red path – Pond View Trail. It’s longer than the Betsy Fosket but crosses it again later on. Here I found the ruins of what I think was a house at some point and lots of lovely photo opportunities. I even found a nesting hole from a woodpecker and a beaver damn! Both new to me!
It’s an easy trail but I am fiercely out of shape at the moment and was having difficulty keeping up. So when I came across the entrance to the clearing where it crosses the Betsy Fosket Trail again I got off it. The clearing has all sorts of No Trespassing signs but the trail is still town property so ignore them. It will lead to the dam which is where I took a lovely rest before returning home via the Betsy Fosket. Where does the Pond View Trail end? I currently do not know… but I will investigate this further when my lungs aren’t burning.
I had a GREAT trip out and needed this little distraction so bad. I regret not taking my actual camera as I tried to only take a few snaps with my cell. My photographer’s brain was going completely nuts out there. It’s been WAY too long since I let it out to play.
Since I clearly need more exercise and exposure to nature this will not be the last you hear from me this year. Stay tuned and keep safe!
So I realize with the chaos of my current life and my tedious health I haven’t been able to go any gorgeous faraway destinations but sometimes I can find immense beauty practically in my back yard. When I had to run some errands in Peterborough I decided to take a long meandering route home and of course this meant ending up in Sharon NH for no reason whatsoever. I wanted to spend some time riverside so I parked aside a bridge I chose at random that happened to have a place to pull over and park. According to my GPS I was at “25 cross street.” I took a photo of the coordinates if that’s not good enough.
Initially I was just going to take one quick snap of the river from the bridge, maybe a little video, but when I saw a path going down to the water I grew curious and decided to see what was down there. As it turns out there was a delightful little scene. There was of course the customary graffiti under the bridge, a suspicious lack of a troll, and of course a beautiful river scene. I couldn’t tell for sure but this slow moving river seemed to have a few somewhat deep parts and I got the sense this might be a swimming hole for someone. It was certainly hot enough to enjoy such a spot but of course I did not have a swimsuit on me so I had to linger mournfully along the banks. Just kidding. I sat down on some rocks and just enjoyed the sound of the river gushing by me as it echoed under the bridge and as I did so I started to notice all sorts of tiny wonders. There were two incredibly chill frogs I took a shoe selfie with, a starter swarm of of newts just doing their little newty thing, a school of minnows so small I could barely see them, lots of water skaters, and a bubble popping at the surface every few minutes suggesting a turtle was somewhere in the weeds. I was so relaxed I stayed there just observing for probably forty-five minutes – even taking two short films, one of the water on one side and one of the little newts on the other. In that whole time only three cars passed by. This was a wonderful little detour and I hope to go on a proper road trip very soon!
