Plain Meeting House Cemetery West Greenwich Rhode Island

Yet another day I ended up in Rhode Island under the threat of imminent rain. This time around there was a 30% chance and I was willing to take those odds. My travel companion chose a cemetery that has a bunch of completely made up folklore because that was a little different than anything else we have done…

We’d already been to the grave of Mercy Brown, Rhode Island’s last vampire, and it was Mercy Brown who was the inadvertent cause of confusion in the this completely different cemetery. The story suggests that a teacher in the 1960’s told his students about Mercy Brown but his details were vague and he didn’t have her name so the students went out in search of the vampire’s grave with only the scant details they did know – and they decided at some point that the grave of Nellie Louise Vaughn must be the vampire. Nellie died in 1889 from pneumonia at the tender age of nineteen. She was not a vampire or even a victim of tuberculosis (which is where most of our vampires are from.) In fact she was an innocent bystander to the chaos that ensued.

All small towns have their urban legends and this is usually how they start – with a dusting of truth, a lot of mistaken details, and the whole story getting increasingly twisted as it’s told generation to generation. In time local teenagers believed so strongly that Nellie was their hometown vampire that her gravesite became a bit of a tourist attraction and with that came the inevitable vandalism that occurred as pieces of her stone were chipped away as souvenirs. From there stories about satanic worship began being circulated until someone took the stone away completely. Was it stolen? Or were respectable townspeople the culprit, having taken the stone to preserve it? No one knows. But not long after her story got even more colorful as the appearance of a ghostly woman and white showed up not long after. Now, is this a true haunting or just a bunch of hilarious hogwash, I don’t know. What I do know is I ended up in this cemetery and it had a lot more charm than it would seem.

First off this place was a bit of a nightmare to find. My GPS for some reason did not register the address at all and my navigator, using his phone, kept falling asleep on me. This eventually resulted in the poor Prius driving down what looked like an unpaved camp road that ended in signs reading, “Dead End. Private Property. All trespassers will be shot.” Which is always fun. From there I got to practice my 300 point turn on a narrow wooded lane until I got my way out of there.

The cemetery itself is at a church that is easy to spot on the corner. It doesn’t look like a functional church but there is a plaque out front telling the history of the area. We weren’t the only ones there. We parked, wandered into the cemetery as the other people in the parking lot watched us freaks. I began to take photos of cool stones and the many adorable mushrooms that were blooming as my travel companion tried to find Nellie’s absent stone. He wasn’t having any luck but I was finding all kinds of interesting things.

The cemetery looked ordinary from the outside but it had a few unusual quirks. For one it was still in working order – here smattered randomly throughout were modern burials, probably laid to rest next to their ancestors. This graveyard was chock full of Tillanghasts. This is a name I have never met anyone by even having lived in New England for my entire life. It made me wonder if they had gone extinct in the area. It made my travel companion wonder if HP Lovecraft was wandering cemeteries and taking the names off the stones for his characters – which included not just Tillinghast but a number of others here – and as I would later learn he once “haunted the town in his infancy.” It’s an odd thought but it makes sense. Stephen King has openly admitted to both wandering cemeteries and using the names as inspiration so why wouldn’t his horror writer predecessors?

In addition to this there were stones with poems and histories on them – even one of a civil war soldier who was shot and summarily drowned trying to make an escape by swimming. Many of the monuments here were historically speaking enormous – and in these older cemeteries this is a signifier of wealth. But that wasn’t the only clue these people were loaded, there were also Masonic symbols everywhere, and the most alarming thing were their ages at death. Many here died in their 80’s as far back as the early 1800’s and one was even 101! I have found through my travels that life expectancy is a super flimsy thing – it only seems to apply to the lower classes. These upper classes always had the resources to live very long lives.

And then I found a modern stone with a very sweet sentiment on it. It read, “Life is like a painting. It started with my brush and I have filled my canvas with love.” I usually don’t bother to stop for modern stones but that one touched me. This was a small cemetery but we’d made three trips around it finding one cool thing after another before we finally found dear Nellie who was positioned in the dead center just in front of the crypt which had pentagrams and god knows what else scratched into it – likely by clueless teenagers needing a thrill. We knew it was her because other more respectful individuals had left coins and trinkets – as did we. Leaving pennies is usually reserved for historical figures and a 19 year old farm girl from the 1800’s is not exactly the kind of person who’d fit this category but through the power of urban legend she is now. And I hope she’s enjoying it.

As for it being haunted – I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything weird but several of my photos do have an odd haze over them. I thought it was the sun but one of these photos was taken in the opposite direction as the sun and I… just don’t have an answer for that. Just as the people in the parking lot didn’t have an answer about us – having watched us poke around for an hour they left when they saw us leaving. Protective locals? I don’t know. In any event it was an interesting little jaunt. As always I learned a little something and I hope you have too in reading this.

September 25, 2021 0

The Tavern on Main – Chepachet Rhode Island

After visiting the nearby Carl Erickson Covered Bridge, the country’s oldest consecutively running general store, and a series of antique stores, we finally managed to get to our final destination of the day – the reportedly haunted Tavern on Main for a good dinner.

Mind you, it’d been a harrowing journey and I had been suffering from heat stroke for hours so I wasn’t exactly in the best of shape when I showed up. Add to that the fact that just prior to going into the tavern I’d made the mistake of trying a sip of sarsaparilla which did not go down well!

I showed up at the tavern red as a lobster and unable to string together a cohesive thought (which is probably why I somehow managed to wear a mask on my face and another around my neck at the same time without noticing.) ANYWAY… we had come here because we heard the place was supposed to be haunted and who doesn’t love a good haunted bar? The place was very old looking. They had decked it out in rustic 1800’s style. I was surprised the menu however was decidedly not rustic in any way shape or form. In fact it was downright worldly for a place like this.

I ended up ordering the Pecan Chicken which came on a bed of butternut squash ravioli. My companion got steak tenderloins which came out in a massive dish. I would have loved to have eaten my chicken but my stomach was violently angry at the abuses I put it through earlier in the day so I spent much of the next forty five minutes just sighing and looking at my food longingly. That being said I did bring it home and eat it later and it was fantastic!

I am sure we will be back. Probably whenever we get to find the nearby ghost village in the woods which we didn’t get to that day. Either way it was a lovely experience with polite staff and delicious food. With or without ghosts I’d still recommend this place.

August 15, 2021 0

B-52 Crash Site – Greenville Maine

Did you know there are numerous airplane crash sites in the woods you can still hike to all over New England? I have wanted to visit one for a long time now but most of them are pretty intense hikes into the mountains which I knew I couldn’t physically do… but the B-52 crash site in Greenville is practically right off the parking lot so it was the optimum amount of difficulty for me!

And the story surrounding it is more exciting than an Indiana Jones adventure. On January 24, 1963 a B-52C Stratofortress flew out of the Westover Airforce Base in Massachusetts. It was a training mission for six crew members and three observers to learn how to fly at low altitudes over rugged terrain to avoid RADAR detection in the Cold War effort. All was going well until the turbulence became violent enough to rip off the vertical air stabilizer which sent the plane careening into Elephant Mountain. The pilot gave the order for everyone to eject but it’d only be ten seconds between this and the plane hitting the ground. Almost everyone on board died on impact but the pilot and navigator managed to eject in time but there was a big problem here too – the pilot’s parachute didn’t deploy after ejection and he landed without it’s aid the five feet of snow below. Remarkably he only suffered a broken ankle and is the only one in US history to survive an ejection without a deployed parachute. The navigator survived with only minor injury but this was only the beginning of a miserable situation because they were six miles beyond civilization in the thick and untamed wilderness. If that wasn’t bad enough the temperature was at -15 degrees that night with a wind kicking up at 40 knots. With the added wind-chill factor this would have felt like -51F or -46C respectively. They somehow survived the night and were rescued in the morning when they could be reached.

Currently the wreckage is still six miles beyond the borders of Greenville up a series of logging roads. Having learned my lesson from my last logging road adventure I left the Prius behind and took the RAV4. This was the right idea! Several parts of the road were nearly washed out from recent rains and it got rough at points but unlike the abandoned trains the journey was relatively short and very well marked. There were signs pointing to the B52 memorial site all along the route and afterwards there were signs to guide us back to Greenville which was great because the GPS is useless on logging roads and shouldn’t be relied on in such a situation.

We weren’t the only ones there that day as several families with an inordinate amount of children were bounding out of the woods. They were respectful though, everyone was. I was shocked at the sheer carnage. You’d think that after so many decades in the wilderness that there wouldn’t be much left but actually there were pieces of metal and rubber everywhere, scattered over a disturbing distance, some pieces were still in trees. We could identify some of the wreckage but most of it was just lumps of shrapnel at this point. And that’s where the deeply unsettling thought comes to mind that airplanes are basically just tin cans we’ve convinced to stay in the air for a while.

I found the memorial to be as interesting as it was sobering and would definitely recommend it to anyone with an interest in these things. It’s near Moosehead Lake and there are a bountiful number of other things you can do in the area – hiking, camping, kayaking, and that sort of thing.

July 25, 2021 0

Mount Hope Cemetery – Bangor Maine

I must admit the Mount Hope Cemetery has been on my bucket list since I was told about it a few years ago. It’s a very large cemetery (possibly the largest I’ve been to with 300 acres and over 5,500 stones!) But besides the sheer amount of stones it’s also beautiful. As far as I know it’s the only garden cemetery in Maine, the second installed in the United States, and is situated amongst the hills of what must have been a swamp at one point which is now a series of well manicured mini ponds.

The cemetery functions also as a park and there’s tons of parking and a number of people out taking walks – perhaps in the steps of a young Stephen King who was said to wander here as a college student looking for inspiration to name his characters off the stones. (And I thought I was the only one to do this!) The monuments speak to great wealth and were at times pretty extravagant. We were on a search for a few famous inhabitants here – first the stone of a certain Mr. Peavey who invented a logging tool in his name that saved countless lives on Maine’s rivers. The second was Hannibal Hamelin who was vice president under Abraham Lincoln. (And who also has a “death couch” at the local library which I have yet to poke at.) Other people of note were gangster Al Brady, comedian Richard Golden, and actor Ralph Sipperly. The only one of these we found was Hamelin who was situated at the very front of the cemetery near the road and was easy to spot.

We both really enjoyed an afternoon amble through the cemetery. We weren’t there long at all when I snapped a photo of a lot of plots that were for The Home for Aged Women. In it a bright orb showed up. I have taken a lot of photos in all sorts of graveyards and cemeteries, this is the first time this has shown up so maybe we weren’t alone!

Indeed it wasn’t long before we found several Civil War memorials – which I must say is a bit odd for New England. And they were strange! A castle and a bronze statue of a faceless grim reaper dragging someone off to the great beyond. I was intrigued. There was also a memorial for the fallen of the Korean War which had a disturbing little plaque that noted half the fatalities of that war were in prison camps.

We went pretty far and enjoyed a great deal of the sights when my travel companion noticed something odd on one of the stones. It was a large bird of some kind. I thought this probably was an owl – which are fond of cemeteries as they are the perfect hunting ground for mice – but actually it was a hawk. A huge, fat, wet hawk. Probably perched here in the sun to dry off. It let us get alarmingly close without reacting. These photos were taken with full zoom but we were still only a few feet away. Just far enough to feel like we were safe from having our faces ripped off if it decided to turn. Very odd. But sweet in a way. Perhaps it was paying respects to a long forgotten life. We continued on after a few minutes, leaving the bird there to keep chilling.

It was a wet day with grey skies and slippery grass. It was probably this that resulted in the end of our little jaunt when my travel companion went flying down some stone steps landing with exceptional violence on his back. He was lucky to have been able to walk out of there. We decided to leave after this in search of first aid supplies for all the cuts. That being said – besides this little incident the trip to the cemetery was well enjoyed by both of us and maybe someday we’ll return to find those other stones. And the nearby death couch…

July 25, 2021 0

The Charter Street Cemetery – Salem MA

How could we go out for a day of sight seeing without ending up at a cemetery? We can’t, that’s how. Especially when said cemetery is in pristine condition, hosts rows of beautifully engraved slate stones, and is right in the same historic district we were already wandering around. Such is the case for the Charter Street Cemetery which is bordered by memorial stones which have all the names, birth, and death dates of all the Salem witch trial victims who were not buried here – in consecrated ground – but were buried in unmarked graves somewhere. We have long since lost where. It’s an interesting turn of events as it was installed by the town in the early 1990’s and now surrounds the same cemetery which hosts the hanging judge who condemned them all to death as well as a number of other historically pertinent individuals involved with these unfortunate circumstances.

The cemetery has its own gift shop which… I mean, that’s a cemetery after my own heart right there. Who wouldn’t want a T-shirt with the cemetery’s name and a death’s head brandished on the front? This is the place for the morbid at heart. And the cemetery itself is gorgeous! It’s VERY well taken care of and although the stones are from the late 1600’s and early 1700’s they’re in great shape. Almost all of them were legible, above ground, and displaying some delightful art. There wasn’t just death’s heads here but cherubs heads, skull and bones, and random faces.

And the people were hilarious. I was not the only one with an expensive camera sitting on the ground taking close up of the stones I found interesting and all the other taphophiles here seemed very welcoming. This was definitely a different kind of tourist and part of why I love Salem so much.

Meanwhile, as i dithered about, my travel companion was on a quest to find the hanging judge. Luckily there was a little map at the beginning of a cemetery that was easy to follow to find this grave. His stone was encased in granite for some reason, maybe to prevent theft? I don’t know but it was the only stone I could see that looked like this. We held in our boos until we left but really… it’s probably best not to be known as a real life super villain. Just saying.

In any event the cemetery was small but absolutely beautiful and I fell in love with the death’s heads and wish to use them as inspiration for tattoo designs. Would definitely suggest a visit to this cemetery to anyone in the area who may appreciate these things.

July 19, 2021 0

The House of Seven Gables – Salem MA

It was two in the morning the night before when we both were lamenting that we hadn’t planned anything for the next day – our weekly excursion. I said we could always wing something before my companion said he really wanted to go to Salem to see the House of Seven Gables. I have been to Salem many times, usually during the Halloween season, and I absolutely love walking around the touristy section and enjoying the general vibe. This was a place for misfits of all sorts and I was more than happy to go.

We slept for a few hours, got up and started our fairly miserable journey through Boston and onto Salem. I’ve been to the House of Seven Gables before but I was just knee high to a grasshopper at the time and my travel companion had a very similar experience. We both wanted to see if it’d be any better as an adult.

When I went as a kid the whole tour was based on Nathaniel Hawthorne – who never actually lived there but who had used the house as inspiration for what was at the time a globally popular book. I was a voracious reader as a kid but I never much liked Nathaniel Hawthorne… he struck as someone with an overinflated opinion of his own writing, which let’s face it – was the soap opera of the day. I could have probably forgiven this if it weren’t for a few other annoying personality traits – a penchant for whining and misogyny among them. All I remembered from this tour was the weird super tight staircase which I’ll get to in a moment.

I must say the young woman who led the tour on this day did a fantastic job telling us about everything – the house’s actual owners through the years, the wait staff which were at times slaves and indentured servants, and we even learned about the architecture and design. But perhaps the thing I was most struck by was this new feminine vibe. We got to learn all about a series of women involved with the house who were absolutely brilliant in eschewing the gender rules of the time including a Ms. Caroline Emmerton who refused marriage so she could inherit her family’s fortune which she then used to restore the House of Seven Gables so she could wield it’s fame to benefit her philanthropic adventures. To this day the house is still host to both citizenship classes and initiation ceremonies. Maybe this is why the word slave on all the historical markers has been changed to ‘enslaved individuals.’

The main part of the house was built in 1668 and it’s the oldest post and beam home still on it’s original foundation in the US today. To my great joy we got to see the ‘bones’ of the house in the attic – which included 2 foot wide timber planks, some sort of long forgotten mortar/insulation, and good old fashioned horse hair plaster. We were told there were wooden planks even wider at the time but anything over two feet was deemed the king’s wood and shipped back to England. Bit mind blowing when you think about it.

Of course the rest of the house showed off the wealth of various eras and how they got to be that way. I was amused by the profound abundance of Chinese and Asian decorating styles – everything from the dishes to the wallpaper! Apparently this was a way to show how worldly and well connected the merchants who lived here were. I had to wonder if genuinely Chinese people were decorating their own houses so garishly at this time or was this a ploy to sell to white people. Secretly, I hope for the latter.

The house was a fun walk through time as each addition shows how life improved from the dingy tiny oven-free kitchen of the 1600’s to the exceptional wealth of the next two hundred years or so. And yes, there was a weird hidden staircase, super thin and windy, put there as a bit of a tip of the hat to Hawthorne’s story which included such a mystery entrance to let a killer get away. It was SUPER tight going up those stairs and just as fun as it was when I was a wee one.

We had a lot of fun and picked up a couple books at the gift store that looked like they might have ideas for additional travels… And so ended our tour and began the rest of our visit to the beautiful seaside village of Salem where we continued our adventures at The Pirate Museum.

July 18, 2021 0

Cliff Walk Newport RI- Part II – From Hiking Point 7-15

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.)

June 27, 2021 0

The “Viking Tower” and Other Walking Sights in Newport RI

I know, I know, another Newport entry?! Yes. Because life and schedules and so many other things! Just keeping it local for yet another week after last week’s lovely Cliff Walk.

Touro Park & Tower

Awhile ago I lamented I hadn’t gone to see the ever mysterious “Viking” tower in Newport which is pretty lame because I have spent the past year and some months going back and forth to Newport without seeing what’s arguably it’s most contentious monument. Back in the day the Old Timers liked to tell their children it was built by Vikings sometime before the British colonists. And then some historians came in and said well no… this is in no way Viking architecture which started a wild debate that has raged for decades now. What we do know about it is that it was cited on the earliest maps of the area which suggests it was here either as one of the very first structures built by the colonists or well before them. Right now the most popular theory is that it was built by the first farmers in Newport as a windmill. Not everyone agrees with this assessment.

I was excited to see it for myself because I’d seen pictures of it on documentaries and I was already entranced by it’s bizarrely Roman styled arches. The earliest recorded colonists in the area were British, not Italian, so it’s… an enigma. We don’t even know for sure what it actually was… was it a windmill? A tower? A place of worship? A monument? An observatory? WE HAVE NO IDEA.

The tower is located in a little park surrounded by green grass and other monuments that mark important events int he city’s history but it’s distinctly different. It draws you to it like a stone Mona Lisa. I am so happy I got to see it in person because I immediately noted a few things I didn’t not see on other photos. First off it wasn’t just a tower – inside there were very clearly purposeful nooks, shelves, windows, and holes. I struggled to make sense of them wondering if they could be reached at some point from a possibly wooden staircase that’d long since rotted away from human memory. It almost looked like… a library, little places for books or perhaps religeous statues. None of that made sense in a colonialist context. The first Puritan settlers weren’t exactly big readers (unless youc ount the Bible) and they did not believe in worshipping idols. What made even less sense was the archetecture. Besides having very obvious Roman arches I was also quick to note that this structure was put together mostly by gravity with very little mortar. This was unlike Roman structures but did remind me of the castles I’d once seen in central Europe. A real conundrum.

In case you’re wondering if perhaps this wasn’t the work of the indigenous peoples that’s about the only thing I am willing to count out because they were not known to create permanent monuments of any kind and although there are stone structures around new England that were likely built by native peoples this looked nothing like those modest little places of worship. Whoever did this seemed… worldly. One of the possibilities that is only murmured about is the fact it may have been built by other white settlers who came before the Mayflower. There’s no proof anyone ever made it here but there are a lot of weird unexplained artifacts here and there that suggest several ethnicities of people made it across the sea at some point either to die stranded here or perhaps taken in by the indigenous peoples. This is my favorite theory although it doesn’t go so far as to explain exactly who these intrepid explorers were or why they built this thing.

ANYWAY. The tower was just the beginning of our adventuring that day. We also checked out the rest of the park which had some sort of monument in the middle that was hard to interpret. Something about relations with China and then the physical part of the monument seemed to be a bronze work of a bunch of slaves being taken from Africa. I do not believe the two things were related but this was probably once the town common where slaves would have been sold alongside livestock and other goods. It makes sense… but I it still strikes me as a bit tone deaf.

We just walked around after this. Newport is FILLED with named homes all on the historic register. Each displaying cute little plaques. Everything from the elk’s lodge that was once a Naval Academy during the Civil War to the home of the guy who first introduced the tomato to America! Plus some homes that really looked like they started life as a barn and a weird reclaimed church someone painted a delightful Gothic purple. Appreciate your sense of humor – whoever you are!

Trinity Church & Adjoining Historic Newport Cemetery #10

Of course the day wouldn’t have been complete without some cemeteries and churches. our first was the Trinity Church which looks quite plain from the outside but that would have been the Puritan way. Built it 1726 as a church for a congregation that formed in 1698 it’s claim to fame is that George Washington once visited here (as well as other notables Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Andrew, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.) Plus the guy who once asked, “if a tree falls in the forest will it make a sound?” was one of the Bishops who gave sermons here. Legend says he came up with that question while meditating on a nearby beach. The church has kept much of its historic charm – including box pews and nodding rods once used to poke people awake during services. People still worship here and I guess they still give tours as well. We didn’t check this out but we did pop around the back to amble through their adorable historic cemetery – also known as Historic Newport Cemetery #10. As far as I can tell the only person of note to be buried here is US senator William Hunter – 1774-1849. That being said it was a small and well maintained cemetery with a lot of wonderful slate stones, worn by the salty weather on the coast here but still legible. A very nice introduction to this sort of graveyard.

Bowen’s Wharf

By now we were wandering by the wharf which… I’m sure my companion was sick to death of but probably got to see through new eyes on this particular day. I am not 100% sure associating with Benedict Arnold is the best selling point they could have thought up but there it is proudly displayed on the sign. People were everywhere on this gorgeous summer day. The place was bustling. And the smell of delicious food from the local restaurants wafted through the air. I’m told seals exist somewhere in the water which is news to me. New England has seals?! OK! We didn’t poke any further instead deciding to walk on by the wharf to the end of the street where I found this terrifying statue of a child being eaten whole by the ocean.

The Sailing Museum

We didn’t go in the sailing museum but I was brought by it because it looks like a castle and well… that’s kinda cool. But hey, if sailing is your bag then by all means I’m sure it’s lovely.

Saint Mary’s Parish

From here it was a mere hop to Saint Mary’s Parish which is where John F Kennedy got married to Jackie Bouvier. It’s pretty. And in a very active part of town. I took a bunch of photos all while telling my travel companion this whole street looked haunted. He told me all the churches were supposed to be and that’s the exact moment I took this photo with a weird white mist. Take from that whatever you want.

The International Tennis Hall of Fame

Next we walked to the International Tennis Hall of Fame which is situated next to a building that looks distinctly out of place with what to me looks like Bavarian architecture. The Tennis Hall of Fame was no less bizarre. I couldn’t even put my finger on what style it was supposed to be built in. A lot of the ornamentation looked vaguely Asian but the building itself looked like… a lot of people added to it over time. It was odd. We walked through to the courtyard. It was a nice restful stop away from the hustle and bustle of this tourist town. Out here there were numerous tennis courts and several people of varying skills whacking the ball back and forth. it was surprisingly chill. There was even a bunny here just wandering around chewing on the grass, oblivious to the humans. I very much enjoyed the beauty of the buildings as we walked around. “Is tennis a big thing here in Newport?” “I don’t know… I guess?” And that’s when we came to the old theater which had a plaque out front stating some famous thespian had played Sherlock Homes there back in the day… I knew nothing of the guy but I guess he is the one who started wearing a deerstalker hat for the character and it really caught on. Whether that happened here in Newport I have no idea but it’s a fun little story and I’m sorry I forgot his name. Basil something. Basil Rathbone. Yes, the most Englishy sounding name ever. Thank you Google!

Christopher Columbus Statue

After wandering like a deranged squirrel for a while we ended up passing a statue of Christopher Columbus which seemed… odd and out of place. I only make note of it now because I think it won’t be long before we take down all depictions of this genocidal dipshit. There are a lot of better historic figures to worship.

Newport Art Museum

The Newport Art Museum is as whimsically adorable as it is beautiful and I really enjoyed talking a photo of it coyly hiding behind a big flowering tree. We didn’t go in – I’m not even sure if they’re open considering Covid and all. It didn’t really look very lively… but it might be a nice place to poke at at some point.

Redwood Library and Athenium

As we made our way back to the car we passed our final curiosity – the Redwood Library and Athenium established in 1747. They have historic books and records and were currently inflating a huge silver alien to place on an equally giant rocking chair in the front yard. Two women caught sight of me and happily burbled, “Hello!” That’s the perks of having crazy colored hair. Other weird people are so excited to meet me. We both really wanted to check out this place but it closed at 4 and we didn’t get our lazy butts around in time. Perhaps another adventure for another day. It does look super interesting!

Miniature Occassions and Dolls

Oh! I lied! There was one more totally weird stop I forgot about – Miniature Occasions and Dolls. When we walked by it we just had to go in – you know, to see if they had any haunted dolls. Keep in mind I’ve never been into an actual doll shop before so this was quite the experience! It was a tiny little shop crammed to the ceiling with dollhouses and miniature treasures to put in said dollhouses. It was all at once terrifying and fascinating. On a couch sat two antiquated ventriloquist dummies and above their head, I kid you not, was a ceiling full of hanging naked headless baby dolls. I have no idea why but I could not for the life of me resist taking one quick snap when the shop owner was looking away. CAN YOU BLAME ME?! Anyway – all serial killer vibes aside this looks like a great place to buy such novelties if you’re so inclined. And so ends this adventure… until next time!

June 22, 2021 0

Cliff Walk – Newport RI

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.

After staying a moment we went back up the steps and continued on. The breeze coming off the ocean felt amazing as I was beginning to overheat again… By now we had started to come upon the mansions. Some of which my companion knew what they were – others not. I was however most impressed with what turned out to be a college campus. The building had a delightful Gothic flair, with the most ornate gates I had ever seen (which is impressive because most of these properties had flamboyant iron gates so far.) But what really tugged at my heart was an extensive widow’s walk on the roof. It’s a common thing to see on old houses built on the coast. It was for people who were left shoreside as their loved ones went to sea. Whenever they were supposed to return home their loved ones could make their way to the roof and watch for their ship’s arrival. They’re called widow’s walks because there were an awfully lot of women who watched in vain, their fiancés or husbands having been taken by the sea. It’s a morbid bit of local folklore and I love it.

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.

Now to enjoy my twilight photos…

June 12, 2021 0

Rams Tail Trail and Mill Factory Ruins & Nearby Haunted Bridge – Foster RI

How to get there:

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.

June 8, 2021 0