It’d been a long day doing random things around Wilton. First it was failing to hike a trail that was blocked off, then it was visiting a nearby cemetery, then it was getting lost trying to find tiny free libraries and having a lively discussion with a vibrant hippie woman and now… now I was in the center of the town at their absolutely tiny but truly adorable park after having deposited a book in their little free library.
Since I was here anyway I might as well look around. There seemed to be two antique stores, a chocolatier, and a cupcake shop. Today was not really the day for sweets but why not look at the antique stores? My mother peered into the Winding River Antiques window which looked super dark.
“I don’t know if they’re open.”
Someone inside waved her in. See, if you’re going to be all creepy about it you’re going to gain someone’s attention. So we walked in. It was a small antique shop, the sort of thing you’d expect on a main street of a small town. Everything was well organized and displayed. But the two shop keeps… oooh boooy. They were throwing off some fiercely negative vibes. I think they had regretted letting us in. My mother with her doddering social inequities and myself with blazing orange hair drenched in sweat from the heat and looking like death had rolled over. The orange hair throws people. In small towns like this it causes a lot of people, and let’s be honest a lot of old men people, to instantaneously distrust and hate me. It’s fine. I find this sort of hilarious because I am the least likely person to cause an actual fuss.
Still they both watched us until my skin started burning from the searing eye contact. I took a few photos and they acted like I was trying to case the place. When my mother took a few photos herself that was apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back because one growled at her to stop taking photos. Like OK dude, was just trying to give you some exposure but if you don’t want that it’s fine by me. I’ll be just as happy to write up how ungrateful you are for customers…
And so we shuffled out without buying (or stealing!) anything. (Not to be bitchy but there wasn’t anything there worth stealing in the first place. It was all very common fare.) My mother was so put off by this experience that we didn’t go into the other antique store which I presume was probably a lot friendlier.
So I was in Wilton today to revisit the Vale Cemetery but also to check out their many little free libraries that live there. I had decided these would be great receptacles to get my name out there if I donated my own books to them. It was one of those days though – one little library was defunct and the second one I couldn’t find. And somehow as I got lost I ended up behind an old wool mill. There were signs everywhere for “artists” and I… wanted to fall down this rabbit hole to see what it was.
As it turns out there’s a little community of artists and practitioners over there. There’s artist studios, massage parlours, tarot readings. Somehow, I had found the hippies in this town. I knew it. I knew they had to be somewhere providing a delightful counter to the tightwads who made the cemetery so… rule bound and uniform. And were they ever!
I walked in and immediately noticed a few cases full of miniatures. I don’t know what it is about miniatures but the well-done ones can really suck you in. And these were definitely that quality. There was also a few racks of gorgeous hand sewn hippie dresses, a display of glittery resin planchettes and mini spirit boards, and a table full of postcards and of course a rock shop vendor that was the only one I could see that was peopled. The woman at the counter was hilarious. She told us this was her last day until September as she was taking her goods on the road before “spooky season” hit. She lamented she was trying her damdest not to have a “real job” and doing every gig she could find vending but that she had learned her lesson that “some gigs are just not for me.” She described for twenty minutes one such event which was laden with country music that “compared women to trucks.” She just had stories to tell about drunk frat boys, terribly formulaic country music, and Christian fundamentalists who probably thought she was peddling Satan’s goods. And she did have some really nice new agey rocks. Pendants, spheres, polished rocks, natural rocks… and one that looked like a bowl of marbles. OBVIOUSLY I had to come home with the orange marble. And an orange fidget rock. But I left the orange pendent and a much bigger orange rock behind for next time. Most people are attracted to shiny things. I am attracted to orange things. Every. Damn. Time.
While talking to this delightful woman she told us there was actually a lot more here. There were three floors to check out as well as more studios on this floor. She pointed at the miniatures and joked, “I HAVE to show everyone the cat poop. It’s super realistic, absolutely perfect tiny little spiral of cat poop in a perfect little cat box. She does amazing work. Intricate tiny lace with such details! But I can’t get over the cat poop.”
ANYWAY. I did move on and met another lovely artist in a studio full of paintings and little scrap book type things. She’d just moved here from the south and was starting to offer classes on how to make different things. She shared the space with someone else who had some terrific Americana tattoo flash on the wall which I was again very attracted to. It was interesting.
The only other studio open was a jewelry maker at the end who’d been there the longest but I didn’t go in. It just seemed socially odd to wander in (there was a doorbell.) The three floors above… no one was in today. So I got some great exercise and took a photo of their gorgeously utilitarian spiral staircase but that was it for that…
This was a fun distraction. I really enjoyed it but I think you have pretty offbeat to find this sort of adventure worth finding this place. It’s… unique. Perfect for the eccentric.
I hadn’t set out to visit a cemetery on this particular day. Initially I had come to Wilton to check out a trail that was said to have a waterfall and a few pieces of abandoned farm equipment on it. However, when I got there I found “no parking signs” half a mile in either direction. By the time I found the trailhead which had parking for a few vehicles it was covered in warnings that if I were to park there I’d be risking a $100 fine and a trespassing charge. The trail was “closed until further notice.” I know those words, they mean this is a small town and we don’t want to deal with our bored teenagers loitering and littering here so we’re making it a forbidden zone for everyone. But the good news is I found this cemetery really close to it… and it also was COVERED in signs saying that cars “abandoned” here would be towed as well as a number of rules for the cemetery itself including hours and no planting anything directly in the ground.
WOW. In previous excursions to Wilton I had found it a charming place with a delightful little old timey movie theater and a plant nursery you couldn’t beat but this trail and cemetery were making me rethink my fondness for the town and wondering what kind of stick it had up it’s ass out here in the woodsy parts of it.
I don’t know. But I was going to enjoy the cemetery whether they wanted me to or not. Finding it all was just too serendipitous to not check it out. And it had so much character! I LOVE old slate stones in the middle of the woods and this place was FULL of them dating back to the 1700’s. But what I realized right away was that there were also slate stones dating all the way up until 2006. This… is unusual. Very unusual. In fact that whole side of the cemetery was all slate regardless of age and most had the same traditional patterns on them with weeping willows being the most common. Was this another cemetery rule? That everyone could only get slate memorials? Finally, I noted one modern stone had a dove and a dog carved on it and this somehow made me happy… that here, in a cemetery that seemed to have rules about all the stones being made in to match, that someone still found a way to be an individual.
Later I’d find there was a corner of the cemetery with marble monuments, but they were again, done in the same style you’d see on a stone from the 1800’s. Nothing highly polished or funny colored. Very plain. And the little poems were also quite steady in their message – enjoy today because you might not have a tomorrow. Seemed a little bleak.
And maybe that is why this place is supposed to be haunted – both with apparitions and fairy lights. I had noted a few random stones that seemed to be getting negative attention from what I can guess were local teens. I was unable to find if there was any local folklore about them but I suspect these were the stones the teens used to tease and scare each other with. Every small town has its bullshit stories conceived around the proverbial campfire. I was also unable find out why one was covered in pennies which normally denotes a historical figure of some importance.
Even with all these mysteries and the generally anal-retentive atmosphere I still really enjoyed this place.
I’m not going to lie. Mentally I haven’t been doing so great lately and honestly, I am suspicious of anyone who is on top of the world right now. It’s been a rough few weeks and there has been so many people just burned out and screaming into the void as the world burns. I’m right there with them. And I know life is sucking HARD right now for a lot of us which is why I have decided I needed more trees in my life. A LOT MORE TREES. Because trees are good people. They’re quiet, they gives homes to birds, they never say anything mean, and when we’re not watching they make oxygen!
So I struck out on my own. I know for the past couple of years almost all my adventures have been with travel companions and that’s cool, I still enjoy it, but that doesn’t change the fact I still need to submit myself to the solitude of the forest on my own every now and again. So I shall be doing more hiking – as much as my angry body allows.
Today I started driving to an actual hiking destination (which is more planning than I usually put into these things) but then I got completely and utterly distracted when I found the entrance to this trail on my way. Clearly it was calling me so I had to go in. In the rain. Because it was also raining (yes, I’m that desperate to go play in the woods.)
And I must say skulking through some swampy woods in the rain was exactly what I needed. I spent two hours wandering from the route 123 entrance to the other side of the park at the Condy Road entrance. Along the way I took sooo many photos of raindrops on leaves, found a whole swarm of orange newts and said hi to every one of them, and somehow didn’t get lost even though the trail was not marked and diverged at several points. That being said it was for the most part a very flat trail with only a couple mild inclines at the beginning. I could hear cars for most of the trek but also tons of birdsong and a couple bullfrogs to boot. Someone had even brought their horse down here at some point as I found their leavings and some hoof prints. And of course, I had to pick up two dog ticks along the way. BLECK. All and all it was a nice little find and fed my soul. So if you happen to be in the area and needing a little tete a tete with nature I would suggest this happy little trail.
I have been trying to do the Harriskat Trail since Easter… but it was pouring rain on Easter (with just a touch of hail for good measure) and when I tried to climb it a couple weeks ago I didn’t get very far… As I am very out of shape and apparently the entire trail is uphill because, get this, it’s a mountain. I didn’t know that until I was back in the parking lot today. Leave it to me to accidentally climb a mountain.
ANYWAY, today was attempt number two. I found the place really easy this time having been there only a few weeks before but the trails are… oddly located… across the street from the Harris Conservation Center. Earlier on in the day I was feeling pretty damn good seeing all the Black Lives Matters signs out here in the middle of nowhere… but that’s not to say my guard was entirely down. I was still quite cautious when I was crossing the road to get to the trail when a truck pulled up and was debating whether to talk to me. I figured it was safe enough as I was on the opposite side of the truck as the driver.
“Is this the trail up Skatutakee Mountain?”
Errrr…. Luckily, I had taken a map from the bulletin board at the head of the trail. I looked at it and said, “Yep, there is a Skatutakee Mountain on here!” And I handed him the map. He was clearly an old hippie out here on his own, looking at me like I was a little nuts for also being out here on my own. I get that a lot. The last time I attempted this trail a whole chorus line of elderly folk came by and the last woman in the queue, who had to be in her 80’s, stopped for a second to look at lonely little me and tell me to be careful. Sadly, it’s still very unusual for a woman to go hiking alone in this day and age. Especially after news of a couple being slaughtered on a similar trail about an hour away not so long ago. This is another tidbit of information I did not have at the time. Not that it would have stopped me. That couple was in their 60’s and I suspect got on the wrong side of same racist asshole (as they were a biracial couple.) Hopefully they’ll track down whoever was responsible and make sure they never get to mingle in society ever again.
That’s not to say I don’t ever get scared. In fact not far up the trail I spied what looked like a very large and very not native snake sunning on a fallen tree and I have to admit it made me jump! Turns out it wasn’t really a snake, it was a carved sculpture of a snake just making use of the local resources. Across from it lie a giant newt. Together I guess they are doing pretty good job guarding the woods. I have no idea who left them there or why but I was endeared to the whimsy which continued when not far up the trail there was a dragon! Or at least a dragon’s head coming out of yet another fallen tree.
I want to say that on this second attempt I made it to the end buuuut… I did not. I made it maybe halfway up the trail and after numerous long breaks I was still winded and embarrassing myself as I watched others hike past me including children and the elderly. Those fuckers… just can’t keep up with them! And I mean usually when I go out in groups I try to take someone who’s fat, or a chain smoker, or something so I can at least feel good in keeping up. This always backfires when I can’t but I haven’t learned yet. Unless you count going alone. I haven’t done many solo trips in the past couple of years and I have come to realize I need them. I need to trek deep into the woods on a regular basis, all by my lonesome, so that I can feel nature to it’s fullest and quench this desire within my soul to be totally balanced and at peace. That’s what this trail represented even as I was huffing, puffing, and heaving.
Mark my words I WILL BE BACK AND I WILL CONQUER THIS TRAIL! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but definitely sometime before it snows this year. Meanwhile I learned there’s a ton of other trails on the opposite side of the center that do not appear to be mountain trails. If I were one for researching, or just generally being better prepared, I would have started there….
All and all this is a great trail if you are in shape and especially if you like scrabbling over glacial rocks. It’s a beautiful and serene trail and well worth it.
My mother told me recently she’d never been apple picking so I decided to take her today. She’s been super observant of social distancing and really needed to get out of the house. Apple picking seemed like the perfect outing after being cooped up for so long.
I looked at the reviews of local orchards and the one in Mason peaked my interest. It was an odd deja vu adventure that transpired from there. Imagine my surprise to find it was a farm I actually knew about and played on when I was a small child. I couldn’t have been more than four or five when I spent at least one day there playing with the little boy who lived there. I don’t even remember his name now.
Everything was as I remembered. This place was down a long dirt road smack dab in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forest, with a few shady paddocks where some horses happily loitered.
I had to follow signs to get to the orchard. The Prius already wasn’t happy with me driving it down a dirt road. It was even less pleased when the parking turned out to be a grassy patch of free space behind a stone wall and well off the road. Judging by the looks I was getting this may have been the first Prius to visit…
We were the only ones there besides the woman who owned the property. I knew it was the end of the season but I was still hopeful. She directed us towards the trees that were still fruiting. A few pear trees were present with a sparse smattering of fruit still left. Behind them was a row of Red Delicious. I’m not a fan of Red Delicious so I went towards the Golden Delicious that were still heavy with apples. The rows were marked with the types of apples – Mccoun, McIntosh, Golden Delicious, Red Delicious, Courtland, and Honeycrisp. However, being so late in the season most of the trees were bare. My mother picked some small Mccouns which she favored for being so hard. I filled my bag with Golden Delicious before she found three or so Honeycrisp trees that still had some apples. Score! I was happy! Now I got the apples and the Mason jars I am going to be making apple butter for Christmas!
This orchard was perfect for someone looking for a little known place with few people. Their prices were VERY decent too – cheaper than their competition for sure! And I was told that had we come at the end of September we would have also found peaches to pick. This is unusual for New England. All and all it was a lovely little adventure off the beaten track, well worth the visit!
It’s weird how you can live somewhere almost your entire life and have no idea what is actually in the town you live in. Maybe it’s because being raised in a small town tends to make eccentric people a little… desperate to escape. I admit, I may have had some blinders on but really, I just noticed this path for the first time despite driving by it thousands of times. It seemed the perfect place to go check out – close by, easy to get to, and an easy path for my unfit body to absolutely crush so off I went!
First off I must say there’s no parking and it’s a busy road (the 119) so you want to be well off it unless you want to cause an accident. I managed to park the Prius directly in front of the trail and there was a little piece of shoulder there probably big enough for two cars if I wasn’t terrified of getting stuck in the mud… but you know, Priuses be Priuses. ANYWAY…
I was a little shocked how well maintained this path was. It was wide – maybe an old road? And it had a bulletin board not far in with maps and information which it looks like no one has looked at in a long time – but it was well stocked none the less! After that though… it got a bit hairy.
The first fork in the path went off in three different directions but only two were on the map… and the map wasn’t color coded so I was a bit thrown. I decided to walk straight. From there I found a few lovely large clearing type areas which would have been fantastic to run a dog if I still had one. And then the trails became super jumbled. There were blue markers, red, markers, yellow markers, and even the odd white marker. I had no idea where I was going or why but luckily I had come early and wasn’t disturbed by the idea of getting lost – I knew I could follow the sounds of traffic to get back to the 119 and my car.
Although this was supposed to be a wetland trail there wasn’t much water.. until I ended up in someone’s back yard which I am pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to. There was PLENTY of mud though and I highly suggest bringing your boots this time of year!
All and all it was a sweet little path – almost completely flat and quite short – but lacked a lot of character. I wouldn’t really suggest it unless you happen to live in Rindge or really close by in which case it still needs someone to love it, right? Better still the maps on the bulletin board let me know about three other nearby paths (but weirdly not the Betsy Foskett which is almost right across the road??) Suffice to say I will be going out and checking these other trails soon.
I got up early this morning and was bright eyed and bushy tailed hoping to hit the trails before the mugginess and heat got too bad. I had just the place to go – back to the Sheldrick Forest Preserve in Wilton. This time I am in a little better shape and I thought I could hit the loop I missed the last time I was here.
Swift Way entrance from parking lot
I noticed a different trail than the one I had taken before jutting off the driveway to the parking lot. It seemed like the perfect place to start and the map on the bulletin board made it look super simple. I’d take the Swift Way Trail until the intersection and if I still felt like walking I’d head up the Charles Davisson Trail, swing round, bypass Margaret’s Meander (which I have already done) and take Helen’s Way back to the car. One big loop. Easy peasy.
Heading onto the trail it was a relatively cool 74 degrees and I was all set with my water bottle. I was happy to note this trail was simply crawling with salamanders. I couldn’t tell you why but I always love to see them and beyond the salamanders there was a pretty meadow before the path took me into the old growth woods.
This path seemed like it was less travelled than the one I had taken last time but it was just as quiet and far prettier. To either side, and sometimes to both, there were traditional New England rock walls which were covered in moss giving them a primordial look. I felt like Robin Hood and his Merry Men might be just around the corner here! It was gorgeous! And better still there were mushrooms of every variety scattered about. Some of them were quite colorful!
downed trees on trail.
But then as I walked I noticed the trail was just going and going and going without the turn I had seen on the map. Surely, I must be close to it! This path was super obvious and I was still on it. But then I came to a point where it looked like a bunch of trees had been taken down and here on the path were two large piles of said trees blocking the way. Odd, but maybe a mud slide had taken them down and no one had cleaned them up? I could see where the ground was worn down where people had made their way around the obstruction.
A truck on a logging road…?
I was starting to get edgy. I was still on an obvious path but the markers seemed… less professional. Instead of little yellow arrows pointing the way all I could see were ribbons on random trees which could have meant I was on a path or could just as likely meant those trees were being marked for removal. Still… I had seen this sort of thing before. Sometimes new trails are marked poorer. But then the trail abruptly dumped me onto what appeared to be a logging road. A truck with no owner in sight was parked here. AGAIN I had to wonder, am I going the right direction? I mean some paths do take roadways for a little bit but you would have thought that’d be on the map. Still I continued on because this road didn’t seem like a real proper road… but then it dumped me out onto Russel Hill Road – or at least that’s where the “Where am I?” button on my phone said I was. I was suddenly in a little village and as much as I felt this was wrong there were STILL ribbons on the trees. By now I could hear the traffic from the highway and wondered if I’d end up hitchhiking back to my car. This COULDN’T be right!
So I turned around. By now my mostly level little jaunt had turned into an uphill hike in 81 degree weather. I was sweating buckets, so sticky I could have crawled up a wall like a gecko. How did I get this far off course?! And where was the turn I missed?!
As I made my way back to the logging road I noticed a gap in the stone wall near the truck. Was that my turn?? I wandered into the woods but what looked like a path wasn’t. Back to the road. Not far from there was the downed trees which I could see from this side had all sorts of ribbons on them – this time blue. The end of a trail?? But this was supposed to be a loop! I crawled around them.
The trail marker/turn I missed. Notice the #15 wooden post. TURN HERE.
I seemed to walk forever when I finally came across a marker on a tree noting I was entering the Sheldrick Forest. Notice, the side of the tree facing the exit had no such sign which is why I had previously walked right out of it! I was SUPER agitated by this point. It’d be an extra HOUR of walking in peak heat and humidity before I finally found the turn I missed. It was insanely poorly marked – with a short wooden pole – the sort I’d seen every so often with numbers on them. After turning I went straight down hill and pleaded with god I was on the right track because I didn’t have it in me to backtrack up anymore hills!
By now the trail was marked again pretty well with yellow arrows but it’s obvious no one was taking this trail on the regular. Forest vegetation was taking over. There was barely a path left. I’d gone from loving this hike and having fun taking pictures to just wanting to be back to my car. By now I was suffering heat sickness and I knew if I didn’t remedy this I’d be in some serious trouble. I could feel heat emanating from my body like a radiator. I was getting dizzy.
Which way is the right way?? Straight.
I found a tree with smooth cool bark and stopped to take a break next to it. Realizing how cold it was I hugged the damn thing like a five year old. It helped a little. I continued on. Trudging. Finally I came to an intersection in the path with two markers pointing in different directions but no labels telling me which was which! I knew if I went up one I’d be taking a grueling hike uphill on Margaret’s Meander, an additional loop for no reason. OH FOR THE LOVE OF…. I chose one and walked a little ways where I finally found a sign post. I’d chosen the right path, thank god.
By now I came across a little brook and decided dipping my hands in shouldn’t hurt. I would never drink from a little gully like this – the water is far too slow moving and is likely to have all sorts of pathogens – but I didn’t see the harm in using it to cool down. Kneeling I put both my hands in and it was ICE COLD. It felt AMAZING. It made me feel instantly better. I splashed around and dipped my arms in for a little bit before getting up.
I didn’t remember Helen’s Way having hills but it did… Now I know why the last time I was here there was an Asian couple muttering forebodingly, “WE MADE IT!” while looking half dead. Had they also taken the same path and gotten lost like I did??
You have no idea how happy I was to see the parking lot and my car, now cuddled up to a second hiker’s car. I opened the doors, scrambled for my keys and turned on the AC while I waited for the heat to come belching out of the open doors. I texted, “I MADE IT TO THE CAR!” And then I drove off… and went straight home even though I’d planned to do more exploring in the area.
Had I not gotten lost this would have been a very pleasurable and totally manageable trail to take. But seeing how easy it was to just walk right off of it and still think I was on it… I seriously don’t suggest it unless you’re really paying attention!! If you have made it to the downed trees TURN BACK, you’ve gone way too far!! I’ve marked on the map here my trek… including where I wandered off…
I know I am still on the younger side but since quarantine I have started Sunday driving to keep myself sane. I like to wander off and find myself some nice dirt roads in the middle of nowhere – you know the sort I am talking about that are surrounded on all sides by trees and dotted with hunting camps and farmhouses from the 1700s. Roads that have enticing names like Stagecoach and Snakepit. I mean how could I not want to explore that??
Today was no different. I decided to go towards Wilton in an ambling drunken beeline weaving to and fro at random. It was fun! But as usual I was on the lookout for a nice trail to hike down. I passed by so many but they all either had “No Trespassing” signs or were just trails crossing the road with no parking anywhere in sight. I basically had lost hope when I decided to return home. I was almost back when I noticed a sign I’d never seen before that literally read, “hiking trail” with a little arrow pointing towards a road I’d never been before. Universe, are you talking to me again? Because it’s working.
The road turned to dirt and I found myself crawling at 14 miles per hour down it hoping the sign didn’t lie. I was almost to the end and believing it was all indeed just a rouse when alas I came across a big sign reading, “Sheldrick Nature Preserve.” SCORE! I took a quick turn and found myself in a grassy parking lot of sorts with two other cars, a bulletin board, and no real trail in sight, though I knew it had to be there somewhere.
Sure enough, as I looked at the map on the bulletin board an elderly couple wandered out from the back of the parking lot’s field and I knew that must be where the trail was – beyond a vast wild strawberry patch.
As I walked I came across the second couple whose car was in the parking lot right off the bat. OK OK, so I was out kind of late, still this meant I had the whole trail to myself! And it was QUIET. This is one of those trails out in the middle of nowhere that feels a bit like going back in time. I needed this bit of serenity. As of late I haven’t been feeling myself. I’ve been pretty drained and down in mood and well… this little bit of serenity fed my soul like nothing else. Almost immediately I had found some huge really weird mushrooms growing on a felled tree. They were waxy in texture and took some pretty wild forms. I was fascinated by them even though I haven’t the foggiest idea what they were. Probably something that could kill legions. I’m good at finding that sort of thing… and thinking it’s cute until told otherwise.
Anyway there were several trails here that connected to each other. I snapped a photo of the map with my cell phone before entering so I’d know where to go. It was fortunate. The path is at first all down hill and easy but what goes down must eventually come up and I am still flagrantly out of shape. I walked down Helen’s Path and then turned taking Margaret’s Meander which is a loop. This led me up some very steep hills which left me embarrassingly gasping for air. I can’t believe I let myself get this bad!
Still I was very much enjoying how quiet and peaceful it was here. The only noise I could hear were chipmunks skittering about here and there and a single crow watching me dubiously from the canopy. If only I had a place a beautiful as this in my back yard!
I’ll admit that after Margaret’s Meander I was too exhausted to do the rest of the loop… which if the internet is right had a river somewhere on it. I decided to leave that adventure for another day now that I know this place exists! And so close to home! Yep, it was the perfect little introvert’s escape.
Alright! Having been sufficiently engaged with the Pleasant View Cemetery I was all ready to go find a hiking trial… one that was a little more user friendly than the last one I tried! It didn’t take long before I stumbled onto the Mason Rail Trail.
I was a little disappointed. I wanted something a little less… popular… but it probably was a good thing I ended up here. I am hideously out of shape and the rail trails and nice and flat! And go on for miles! And since it was later on in the day there weren’t too many people, although more than I would have liked considering quarantine and whatnot. However, there were few enough of us to really spread out and even so one older couple had masks (so did I, matching my orange hair of course.)
I was happy to note there was not only a bunch of cyclists but also much evidence of horses along the trail. Rail trails are lovely places to go out riding if you are so inclined.
Today’s trail seemed very polite, it even had signs warning of washed out areas! And the people all seemed in a great mood. It was the perfect weather to be out – cloudy and 66 degrees. I walked at a fast clip trying to get myself a decent work out. A cyclist noticing my camera told me that if I walked in the opposite direction, across the road, I would come to a little swampy area where an “oblivious pileated woodpecker” lives. I had to laugh. Thanks for the heads up!
I walked for about 45 minutes before getting winded and deciding to find a place to sit. This turned out to be on a little detour off the mail rail trail where I found a rock to sit and listen to people going by overhead. That was kind of amazing in it’s own way. Most had no idea I was there, though one guy took a double take at something colorful in the woods and upon seeing what it was, or rather who, he smiled and laughed. I know these little interactions are brief and meaningless but they pick up my spirits. I like to know that my mere existence can make a stranger smile. I sat for quite some time enjoying this little serene spot before heading back at a leisurely pace. Rail Trails are wonderful for late day hikes because they are very wide and straight and literally impossible to get lost on so if you get caught out there after dark – no bigs! You’ll still get back to the car just fine! And I did… and I was the last car to leave the parking lot…
If you would like to check out this trail please know the Uncle Sam House (and adjoining trail) are also right up the road!
