By the end of our first day in Maine we’d already been to WAY too many destinations looking for shoes, got distracted by a record shop, and finally ended up with grumbling bellies around dinnertime.
My travel companion was actually more of a romantic interest who I’d “met” just before the Covid plague hit and in the convening months I had allowed for in-person meet and greets and gone on dates of sorts out in the woods (hiking) but I had stayed well away from restaurants. I’d been a good quarantine subject – avoiding these luxuries and only going to peopled places when I had to. But I did mention if he wanted to keep me happy all he had to do was keep me fed and we’d already been goddamn everywhere. I relented, telling him Maine restaurants are usually…. intensely underwhelming. I mean I’ve been served sliced Wonder bread before the meal before. Sliced Wonder bread. This shit just doesn’t fly anywhere near actual civilization.
He seemed fine with this potential failure and picked the Silver Street Tavern at random. A tavern? Oh lord, I thought to myself. I don’t drink so even before the plague came to town I avoided places like these. I also wasn’t one to eat out very often. I’d been food poisoned by large chains one too many times.
It seemed a nice enough place. There was seating outside but it was directly under the blazing sun at this time of day so we went in where a few parties were sitting, all quite far from each other. The waitress had a mask on and so did we as we ordered.
“What do you want for an appetizer?”
“Appetizer…? You already know I don’t eat much. Order what you want.”
“Quesadillas?”
“Well that is a really hard thing to fuck up. Will be interesting to see how they can fuck it up. Go for it.” I smiled.
Despite my cynicism I was enjoying the overly cheerful waitress and the gorgeous tin ceilings. My date was enamored with the black and white photos and little historical timelines littering the place. Apparently this insanely common decorating style hasn’t hit Rhode Island? I shrugged. Enthusiasm does endear me.
At one point he got up to use the restrooms and left me seated suddenly in full view of an old couple across the room. The old man saw my flamboyantly orange, red, and yellow hair and matching dress code and gave me the meanest stink eye I have seen in a LONG time. But I couldn’t help but laugh because in that same second his wife also spotted me and her whole face just lit right up with this big beautiful smile. WOW, I couldn’t have seen a more different reaction from a couple if I tried!
When the quesadillas came out I was shocked. Not only were they good they were really good, perhaps the best I’ve ever eaten, which is weird because quesadillas are one of those foods that are more or less the same everywhere. Like corn muffins. OK, I’m slowly being won over.
The main course was even better. I ordered pasta – again thinking this is something that’s really hard to fuck up – and they knocked it out of the goddamn park! The chicken was moist and delicious, the alfredo sauce the linguine swam in seemed to actually be made from scratch, this was AWESOME. And my date thought his meal of some sort of meat dish was just as great.
Dammit, now I am going to have to put this on the list of places to come back to.
As we were out looking for shoes my travel companion got all wide-eyed and excited by a sign reading “used books.”
“Can we go into the used book store??”
“Uhhh… I guess…” I didn’t really see what was so exciting about this even though I have frequented many used book stores in my day.
“All we have is Borders back home! Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been in a used book store?!”
“OK, OK, I’m pulling over!” I mean how many people could possibly be frequenting a place like this? It should be relatively safe in this era of epidemics.
It was just a little place with three parking spaces in a tiny terrifying parking lot (which you had to back out into a busy street to get out of.) I was paying more attention to this than anything else as we walked through the doors. Inside we found not the promised books on the sign but instead a little record shop. Oooooh, this could be dangerous. I had left most of my record collection behind during a bad break up four years ago and had always wanted to build it back up again.
As my companion wandered off to look at a few shelves of used books I got wide-eyed myself staring at one particular label – Phil Ochs – which seemed to have a bunch of records under it. Now, just to let you know, I have been looking everywhere for Phil Ochs vinyls since I got my record player some 10+ years ago. I’d been in shops in New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, and Maine. I’d sifted through hundreds of milk crates at yard sales, flea markets, and antique venues and had always come home empty handed. And here, in this quiet little practically hidden shop there had to be ten or so records, all different, from Phil Ochs. That was almost his whole discography for his intensely short life. I almost laid an egg. This was 1960’s folk heaven.
And it got better. They had a section for New Riders of the Purple Sage and had an album with Henry and Panama Red on it which I always found hilarious. Jefferson Airplane had a winner with all-too-relevant Volunteers, a replacement to one of the albums I left that I dearly loved, and then something unexpected. As I walked out to the back room there were sections for less well loved record genres but intensely interesting none-the-less even a whole section on international music. I’d never seen records from South America and other exotic locales. I wish I knew something about them but I just didn’t. And then there was a huge section devoted to comedy.
Should I? I already had an armful. But there could be some old George Carlin records in there… I started to sift through it, throwing Cosby aside with the proper amount of disdain. He was goddamn everywhere here but then I started finding gems. There was an old Carlin record. There was also a cache of Tom Lehrer records! I’d been listening to Tom Lehrer in the car on the way here! They had to go home with me. And then I found the most delightful random thing. It was a record by Lord Buckley. Who is Lord Buckley, you may ask, and well… he was a nudist and Beatnik in the 1950’s who had one of those waxed mustaches that made him look like he just got back from tying a woman to the train tracks. Totally bizarre human being and here was a record of his telling the story of Jesus in so much vibrant Beatnik slang as to make it nearly incomprehensible. It may not be everyone’s thing but I HAD TO HAVE THIS. I mean when would I ever see this again?!
And I wasn’t the only one finding treasures. Across the room my travel companion had a number of books and CDs including George Carlin for the car. Because you can’t beat George Carlin. And after we cashed out (with me parting with a painful $64) we realized there was a whole upstairs we hadn’t seen! So we headed up there. There were a lot more books up there and another room filled with dollar records. Helloooo Barry Manilow! We left before getting ourselves in further trouble but I shall be back! What a great find this store was!
For funsies here’s some YouTube clips of my finds. First up is Phil Ochs with the closest thing he ever had to a hit. A scathing ragtime commentary of the political climate sung with chilling sarcasm.
Next up New Riders of the Purple Sage also singing with cheeky sarcasm about driving certain illegal goods across the border.
And to continue with the spirit of protest is Volunteers – a powerful rock number from Jefferson Airplane.
And onto an older sort of humor that’s no less still quite political. Tom Lehrer’s My Home town always amused me because nothing’s changed…
And of course the weirdest thing you will probably ever listen to – a rambling recollection of Jesus’ story wheezed out in colorful Beatnik slang by Lord Buckley…
What did I learn from this collection of audio? Only that I am more political than I let on and comedy really is the other side of tragedy. I laugh so I don’t cry.
I know what you’re thinking. In the middle of a pandemic what on earth am I sitting here blogging about a general store? And usually I’d agree with you…. but these were special circumstances. I was already in Maine, with a passenger in tow, and we were all set and ready to spend a few days responsibly hiking. The only problem was that before we even got to that point his shoes gave out on him and here I was trying to come up with where to buy shoes in the middle of nowhere. You might think, “Just Google a shoe store” but this is Maine… the closest actual shoe store was 40 minutes away. So instead I went to a few general stores which are everywhere. For those of you unaware of what a general store is just think of an old Woolworths. The sort of thing pioneers shopped at long before Wal-Mart existed. And in doing this I remembered the biggest and most amusing of these stores was also about 40 minutes away so why not?
It’s name, Hussy’s, is already reason to raise an eye brow or two but this place is actually a bit famous. They have quite the gimmick you see – as they sell “beer, guns, and wedding dresses.” Everything you need for a shotgun wedding! And I can testify women absolutely do buy wedding gowns here. It’s somewhat of a local tradition. Obviously, if they had all these things they must have some shoes…
I’ve been to Hussy’s before but I never got the chance to take photos or blog it. This time I made sure to take a photo of the sign out front. My travel companion for the day loved this place. It had “character.” He’s a city mouse and used to large chains and an endless strip mall of soulless corporations. Coming here – to this quirky roadside attraction – was apparently quite the experience. There was just so much to see! The usual collection of country chic brac-a-bracs, a whole section dedicated to old timey toys, lots of soda, beer, and dry goods. And of course when we wandered upstairs things got even more odd. I stopped by a display of rabbit furs. Nearby there were fox heads, various pelts, and genuine coonskin hats. On the walls there were moose heads and taxidermied coyotes and then we ran into the guns… I was tranfixed for a second because they were oddly beautiful. It was a whole display of old classic revolvers, the sort of thing you think might be dug out of old attics or randomly out of the ground.
“They look so old.” I scratched my head.
“They do.”
But then around the corner was a huge counter full of more modern arms. A little bit of everything. The man there asked if there was anything he could do for us and I tried not to laugh. I’m not a gun person but I have seen it all before however this was the first time my companion had ever been to a gun shop and the variety threw him off, I think.
“You even have knives!” Oh yes, so many pretty knives. And tools. And camping gear. And yes, wedding dresses. I was intent on finding a bottle of Moxie to feed my unfortunate guinea pig. I mean you can’t go to Maine and not try Moxie… that’d be blasphemous.
“It’s like cola right?”
“Hahahahaha!”
Sadly, I didn’t find any Moxie… or else there’d be an attached video of the tasting. Sigh. We also didn’t find any shoes that were up to snuff so we left empty handed. It was a nice little detour but the place made me nervous as no one was wearing masks… not customers, not even staff, so when I left I basically bathed in hand sanitizer when I got back to the car. Off to an actual shoe store!
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 admit most of the time I am a lone hiker wandering the woods in search of spiritual inspiration but on this day I decided to be a little more amicable. I went out, clad in my mask, with a family – two small children in tow. We needed to go somewhere they would not die of exhaustion and need to be carried home so Simmons Pond it was, apparently an old favorite haunt. I was all the happier to tag along.
I admit this was out of my comfort zone because during the corona epidemic it was more peopled than I am used to… there was a large parking lot and it had quite a few cars in it. Hikers passed by at will and some were masked although others were not. But they say Rhode Island is one of only two states to have a decreasing risk of Corona so I tried to relax my newly acquired germaphobia just enough to at least enjoy myself out here in the open air.
It’s been interesting. I wasn’t even 200 feet up the trail before I saw something dark black in color move on the ground at the side of the path. I thought it might be a salamander or something so I looked a little harder. I didn’t see anything. So I shuffled my feet until I saw it again. It wasn’t a salamander. It was a baby ringneck snake. I had a brief discussion with myself, “Should I pick this little cutey up? The kids might find it interesting. This is your first outing with them – for the love of god don’t go all Crocodile Hunter on them. Be NoRmAl. Nooooormaaaaalllll”
Obviously I had no choice but to pick it up and then yell, “HEY! LOOK WHAT I FOUND!” Which caused some unrelated hikers to walk up from behind to check the situation out.
“Oh my God, that thing is TINY. HOW DID YOU SEE THAT?!”
The kids toddled up. I let them pet it before releasing it back into the bushes – forgetting to take a photo. We walked a ways down the path which was quaint and well maintained with all sorts of informative plaques about the local plant life and the various ruined foundations that were smattered about this once-farm. I was told this was the job of the local Boy Scouts to maintain. Wow. Where I am from the Boy Scouts whittle sticks… if they’re lucky. And that’s way cooler than what the Girl Scouts are up to — which is why I always wanted to be a Boy Scout. AH! Childhood memories of disappointment and confusion!
When we got to the pond we all sat down on its banks and enjoyed a wee picnic. The kids seemed to be lethally allergic to food in general so this was a bit of a circus but I was enjoying it. It was the perfect day for this sort of thing. After lunch had concluded mama wanted to stay behind with the kids and read a book so I wandered off with my remaining hiking companion to a little loop trail nearby and explored that for the next 20 or 30 minutes. The farther I went the less people there were and the calmer I became. I enjoyed poking around another large cellar hole that was overgrown with ferns. It provided a nice opportunity for photos even though I’d forgotten my actual camera and only had my cell phone.
It was a nice short walk – perfectly level – impossible to get lost on. When we got back the kids wanted to show me “a really huge scary bug” so I walked with them to a bench next to the water leaving the other adults behind. The bug had gone but the kids were thrilled to have me around. The little one got really close to the water’s edge and I pulled him back the first time but realizing it was only two inches of water and I was standing right there in case he toppled in I just let it go. I save my policing for matches and knives. This is likely why I don’t have children. On the way back the little squirts fought over who got to hold my hand.
“Is this…. usual?” I had to ask. “Your kids wanting to hold a stranger’s hand?”
“Well I mean I haven’t really had any female friends around them in a long time sooo….”
All and all this was a very pleasant place full of history and charm and I would highly suggest it to anyone who needs an easy amble. Or a place to walk the kiddoes. Or perhaps just someone who wants both a nature walk and to see a tiny old family cemetery which sits at it’s entrance.
I was so delighted with the unnamed trail I found in Petersham that I decided to go back and do a far more known trail – one that hooked to where I had already hiked. It was also on Quaker Road, with a small parking lot, lots of signage, and a cellar hole right out front attached to the parking lot. Here I found 4 people parked HORRIBLY which forced me to park bizarrely in return but I figured it out…
It was a gorgeous day to go out and I was super happy to be back once again. Although the trail started through a meadow it wove through the woods in a very clear path. This was the sort of well-kept trail you often find closer to cities with lots of people on them but on this day there were hardly anyone else out there – just another couple of hikers on one of the adjoining trails and two women on horseback. This would be a LOVELY place to horseback ride!
Throughout the trail there were several cellar holes and other historical artifacts that may be of interest. The wildlife was buzzing that day as well – which sadly meant there were quite a few black flies and mosquitoes but that’s all part and parcel to coming out here. What I loved about this place is how quiet it was. There was no human noise what-so-ever. No traffic, no music, no people talking, no kids playing… it was like being dropped out in the middle of the wilderness, a beautiful retreat for the introvert in all of us. And there was moderate inclines every so often – not too bad even though I am woefully out of shape.
About halfway through the trail there’s a little spot where it juts off to another trail and there’s this awesome bridge which I stood on an enjoyed a view of the river for a while before sneaking back to the original loop I was on.
On this particular day I was huffing and puffing from being so direly out of shape, so I decided to only walk the first yellow loop on the map although there’s a bunch of other trails and even loops that attach to this one. In fact there’s an X of trails in between the loop trail, all named Tumble Down, which I am told I must go back to investigate, but we shall see about that! With a name like Tumble Down I have to wonder if it’s all ghastly hills and no scenery. I don’t know… I’ll leave that for a different day!
So after taking a detour from the closed road and getting distracted by the Ledgeville Cemetery I finally made my way to the other side of Quaker Drive and turned in. It wasn’t far up the road that I came across a tiny parking lot of sorts in front a trail right before the first bridge.
I wasn’t sure I had found the trail I had come for but I guess it didn’t matter. There weren’t any signs marking what trail this was but there was one that said, “Hikers welcome!” so I knew I wasn’t on private property and decided to give it a go.
It was a well maintained trail, nice and wide, and someone apparently comes down here on horseback pretty often as there was evidence of such every fifty feet or so. At first this trail wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was pleasant but not unusual… but then I realized just how quiet it was. I was the only car parked out there and although I could hear traffic nearby at the beginning of the trail eventually this noise pollution stopped altogether and I was left with nothing but the sounds of nature and my own thoughts.
This place was magnificent. There were moss covered trees and rocks everywhere giving it a lush and green appearance more like the sort of thing you find in an English fairy tale than a local hiking trail! And the trail itself kept getting close to the river which I could see below from a nice ledge.
This was an easy walk that was mostly flat – the sort of thing this beat up body can really appreciate. And I wasn’t totally alone. As I neared a little marshland I could hear crows… so many crows, all so very loud, squawking at each other! I took a short video.
I walked quite a ways with the thunder growling behind me. I didn’t know if or when it was going to start to pour. It was an odd weather day where I spent a lot of time driving here through dry patches and downpours alike. Good thing I brought an umbrella!
I walked until the path ended at a T with another even wider path which seemed to have a gorgeous bridge to the right. Of course I played on the bridge awhile and skipped ahead in the other direction when I saw a plaque that I thought might tell me where I was. It did. This was a loop trail and oh! did I want to keep going and see where it went but it was already nearing 4PM and with the rain clouds it was getting dark. I’d have to do this other loop trail (which was likely the one I set out to find today) at some other point. Shame!
By now I saw my first people on the trail, an old couple with three dogs who accompanied me all the way back to the car when I set back. It was actually really nice. I know a lot of people complain about loose dogs but these ones seemed well behaved and it was actually kind of nice to pretend they were mine for the hike. I do miss having my own canine hiking companion. And they were unperturbed when it finally started to POUR. I threw my umbrella over my shoulder and enjoyed the whole thing. There’s nothing as relaxing as a rainstorm! It was the perfect way to end the day. This trail was downright magical. It was the picture of serenity and exactly what I needed today.
After crawling back from under the bridge on Quaker Road I continued on my journey to find a good hiking trail. However my attention was distracted by an adorable little historic cemetery off the road. There was a little driveway of sorts into the cemetery that went to the back but it had no sign up anywhere. I had no idea where I was… I *think* I was at the Ledgeview Cemetery based on a Google search.
Coming in there was a structure I thought was a well preserved crypt but it had an inscription which made me wonder if it wasn’t a tomb of some sort? It was interesting whatever it was.
This cemetery was decently small and nestled in a scenic little spot surrounded by stone walls and forest. Above it on a hill sat a huge farmhouse and a cornfield looking down. To the side, where the road was, there was another farmhouse, this one much older looking, maybe from the late 1700’s. Quaint. Beautiful. The perfect spot to catch one’s breathe. .. or have a Gothic picnic.
Most of the stones were from the early 1800’s with a mix of slate and marble, none of which had aged well in such a humid environment. Still, it had its charm, and weirdly enough there were several modern plots – one reading 2007. I guess there’s space left so why not?
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.
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.
