I had already been enjoying a long ride down so many dirt roads, passing old farms, camps, and artist houses, interspersed through miles and miles of trees. It was gorgeous. And I was feeling totally refreshed from my stop at Guaco Pond. A little stop in a cemetery to stretch my legs seemed appropriate. So when I found a quaint little gathering of stones I parked my car and went to explore.
This cemetery was odd in its placement. Although I had traveled on some very rural roads to get here it seemed to be nestled in a little neighborhood of sorts. A house sat to one side, another across the street. People passing by seemed curious who it was in the cemetery. This place was just large enough to be a proper cemetery but not large enough to rule out being some sort of private family plot which are scattered throughout New England. Granted it seemed very well kept. A little stone staircase led into it. As was usual it was surrounded on all sides by a stone wall.
Of course it was the slate stones that drew me to them first, settled to the back left hand side. Most of these stones seemed in remarkable condition. They were legible and groomed although one was broken in half and set against the stone wall, a few others had fallen on their back. I am always happy to see the rough backs of older stones which apparently didn’t have the need to grind smooth the ridges made from quarrying the raw slate.
I found a marble stone from 1879 which had the most unusual name: Dedidamia Bradley Shaw. Died April 20th 1879, aged 80. A remarkable age and a strange name. I looked her up when I got home but she wasn’t in any records online. In fact she wasn’t even listed on Find A Grave which makes me suspect this cemetery has not been archived. Sooooo…. if you’re looking for this long lost relative, good news! I found her! Otherwise this was an odd footnote. It always makes me a bit sad when I find something unusual and then can’t find any more information on it. Clearly this woman led a long life, she must have made her mark somehow… and yet she’s completely forgotten to history. It’s a solemn thought.
Even more curious was a modern stone – seemingly the only one dated 2002. That of Reverend Wilton Edson Cross and his wife Rosella M Cross Bemis. Judging by the name change I think she must have gotten remarried. Oof. Must be weird to be buried next to your ex husband after you’ve remarried… In any event it was time to go back to the car and go to my next destination the Federated Women’s Club State Forest.
From the West Cemetery I continued on and I can’t believe it but I actually wandered so far into the middle of nowhere that I can’t really pinpoint where I was! There isn’t even a Google street view! And since I didn’t have my own GPS today I couldn’t push the “Where am I?” button. I tried to use my cell phone for this but I failed again because there was no internet to be found. I was in No Man’s Land. It’s not surprising. This place was so scarcely populated that I only saw maybe two houses on the entire road. This was the beginning of my tour though a bunch of dirt roads even further into the middle of nowhere.
I turned onto Monson Turnpike Road from West Street and it was just a loooong dirt road surrounded by trees. It was like going back in time. Driving a Prius down these narrow and sometimes flooded out “primitive roads” is not the best idea but I did it anyway. There were signs up saying these roads were closed from November through April. That’s how I knew I was somewhere cool. You know, the kind of remote regions where only the odd camp sits and where hunters and hikers long to go.
Soon I started seeing signs, “wildlife management area” which I thought might mean a trail or two could be found. I was not so fortunate but I did find a turn off to what I believe was Guaco Pond where there was a tiny boat launch and signs saying fishing and hunting were permitted. I don’t hunt or fish but this place was like a little slice of heaven. I parked the car and wandered towards the water to take a couple photos. I got the feeling I was in real proper wilderness. The ground beneath my feet started to leap towards the water – the shore was full of frogs. Here too were so many dragon flies and wild flowers. A few rocks sprawled out over the water allowing for the absolute perfect spot to just sit and enjoy nature. In the water below I could see fish dancing about – some even looked like the fat and edible varieties, though they were still small.
I stayed for quite a while in this one spot just enjoying the scene, listening to the water gush in from the stream that traveled under the road. It was so remote and peaceful and yet so terribly alive with frogs, fish, dragonflies, beavers, and birds. I can only imagine it would have been the perfect spot to actually go fishing or to take a kayak out. Absolutely stunning. I even found a patch of wild raspberries growing in the sun. The whole time I was there only two cars passed by, obviously locals because they sped by on a road I didn’t dare go above 15 miles an hour (with a Prius anyway.) This was a breath taking find and I was feeling optimistic when I headed back to the car to find another little gem. It would be another cemetery – The Northwest Cemetery in Petersham.
Today I wanted to go exploring in the Petersham area because I don’t know it very well but the few times I have been through it seemed like a gorgeous local. So I packed up the car and hit the road not having the foggiest idea where I’d end up. I drove to Main Street in Petersham just so I’d have some direction and ended up taking a right at the church onto West Street which is how I came across the West Street Cemetery.
It was a small cemetery with a few older stones in the back so I figured I’d check it out and see if there was anything interesting. Years ago I know I helped archive a cemetery nearby although it wasn’t this one. I was delighted to find that in the very back of the cemetery there was evidence someone else was doing similar work – one of the stones had sunken in the ground making the prose at the bottom unreadable but someone had tried to dig some of it up. The stone was of Fanny Hildreth and was ornately carved and made from marble unlike surrounding stones. I never figured out why.
I’m happy to note that according to Find a Grave 97% of this cemetery has been photographed and it appears to be thoroughly archived. I did not come across any stones with pennies on them and I didn’t see any stones that alerted my curiosity further but it was still a sweet little resting place out in the woods for a lot of the oldest families in this town. There was at least one revolutionary war soldier (Moses Sanderson) who served a month in Connecticut.
This cemetery had a few of the old slate stones I adore so much. The prose was as beautiful and at times humbling as I expect these things to be. I noticed a great deal of them had the same carvings as other cemeteries I’d been to which usually means the stones were ordered from carvers in Boston Massachusetts rather than created nearby. I was however pleasantly surprised to find a new design I’d never seen before on two stones, both of children. I do not know its significance, if any.
This is the first of three cemeteries I randomly visited today (including the Northwest Cemetery and the South Cemetery) but first I visited a nice fishing hole and a hiking trail in the middle of nowhere. As such this was a great start to my day.
So today I actually did some research before bumbling into the woods in 84 degree weather. I looked up the trailhead I had passed on my way to Sarah’s Hat Boxes the other day and low and behold it actually sounded pretty interesting. The property the trail runs through used to be an old farm in the late 1800’s on and there were a few whispered rumors about there being ruins of the old farm still on the property. What kind of ruins? It didn’t say but I was picturing maybe some old farmhouse foundation or something. I’m all into that.
There was a hitch though. My mother was on her way out and currently I have been sharing her car. Suffice to say both her and her friend ended up coming with me in the dastardly muggy heat but that’s OK because I also read this was an easy .9 mile hike through the shade of many trees. Doable.
The trailhead sits right off route 123 a few miles past the center of Hancock. There’s a little bit of space for parking which is easy to find because of the sign reading Welch’s Family Farm & Forest. The path itself has a gate across it.
My first impression was this place was not frequented by too many people. The path was very wide but grass was growing over most of it. It was forested at first but gave way eventually to a scene of rolling unmanicured pastures framed by the mountains in the background. My mother was thrilled as this reminded her of the paths she rambled down as a youth. Luckily it was an easy trail with gentle slopes and inclines here and there.
We came to a ruin of a sort – an old hay machine. It was hard to date it exactly but it was neither very old nor particularly modern. It was however sitting upright and well rusted. Also on the trail I found evidence of owls (owl pellets were spat on the ground at one point) and what I think was fox or coyote scat. Someone also had taken a turkey feather and poked it into a tree stump. Clearly this place was alive with wildlife. It was said to be a great place to see a bobcat in the winter. Also I fully expected to run into a flooded trail as beavers were said to be constantly washing it out with their activities.
We walked about 3/4ths of a mile before we passed a sign on the opposite side of the trail marking a property boundary. We had gone from being on a completely unmarked trail to the red trail. We then walked to the .9 mile we had been promised. By now we seemed to be walking past a more active looking pasture with what seemed to be an access road in the background. A sign read, “Red trail exit” and gave a two way arrow. We decided to head back rather than go to the end. I didn’t see any ruins, only whispers of wildlife, and no water or beavers. Maybe they were on one or more of the trails that jutted off of this one. Who knows. All and all I wouldn’t really recommend this path unless you’re looking for something easy and happen to live in the area. It was pleasant but pretty boring. There was however more stone walls than I could count so it might be a nice slice of New England scenery for someone who doesn’t live here as well.
Just when I feel like I know where everything is and there’s no new places to explore I get another giggle from the Universe. Lyndeborough is only thirty minutes from where I live and I had no idea this town even existed. I have never heard of it which is a shame because apparently that’s where the devil makes beans. Or something. I may have gotten that one a bit wrong… but what I do know is that Lyndeborough is one of many purgatories you’ll find scattered through our deliciously Puritanical New England. This time it comes in the form of waterfalls.
I was told by a few different people it was somewhere I needed to check out so I looked it up vaguely online for an address. There were numerous people who claimed the parking lot was hidden, that it was near impossible to find, and that the GPS will only lead you to a sign across town reading:
OK, so let me explain the sign. It’s placed on Purgatory Falls Road which being the clever thing I am I figured was the home of Purgatory Falls. So I let my GPS take me there because it was being a total jerk today and wouldn’t acknowledge that not only Purgatory Road was a real place but also the entire town of Lyndeborough. SIGH. Now here’s the trick. Purgatory Falls Road is NOT correct but plain old Purgatory Road is. And the parking lot is indeed really frelling easy to miss. The signs out front are worn right off the trees and it doesn’t even look like a trail head. I had to drive in and find a single 8 by 11 sign hanging above a trash can that let me know that yes, I found the right place (by following good old fashioned print directions.) But I’ve made it easier for you. While I was in the parking lot I took a snap of my GPS coordinates which your GPS should not fuck up!
Alright, now that we have that cleared up… I was only one of three cars there when I arrived. When I entered the woods I was greeted by the usual path although there wasn’t a damn marker anywhere and the trail kept having other little partial trails jutting off it. Sooooo I was already hesitant but I did manage to end up at Lower Purgatory Falls which was perhaps a quarter of a mile in. I was lucky to show up early enough that no one was here. I had the whole waterfall to myself. It’s apparently a popular swimming hole with a nice area below and above the falls to take a nice ice cold dip. There were missing items of clothing and random trash scattered through the whole area. I had done a very shitty amount of research before I left and knew that this was Lower Purgatory Falls but that there is also an Upper Purgatory Falls somewhere. Stupidly I thought this was a loop trail. And I was feeling a bit brazen because I saw the first trail markers at the falls. I’m already in the woods why not? I took the yellow trail, whatever that is, but it wasn’t long before I realized every goddamn trail was marked with yellow markers. They all led into each other sure but… whew, that was confusing.
It was a hot out today and I didn’t really feel like dying out here so I tried to stay near the riverbank figuring it was likely the river attached to the other falls and definitely was the river attached to the Lower Falls should I need to get back to the car. It was a pretty little hike with lots of little inlets and river scenes. I was enjoying myself. But then I had to turn away from the river and that made me get a bit fidgety. Up until then I’d only seen two other hikers who I thought were an army. Christ were they a loud bunch. I was shocked to find they were a young couple and not a circus troop of small children (the only kind of people I’d expect so much noise from!) From here the trail was… sketchily marked, at times getting pretty overgrown and hairy and at two places surrounded by “NO TRESPASSING!” and “Security cameras are on!” signs. Not very welcoming. Those were attached to the properties of two mansions and I just can’t help but wonder what is wrong with those people. You bought a house almost built directly on a popular public trail did you not expect people to be wandering by? Idjits. Oh what I’d do to live on a house attached to such a nice hiking trail! I’d be HAPPY.
And I kept walking. And walking. And walking. Deeper into the woods. The trail markers are now mostly yellow with a few white ones mixed in to keep me guessing and offshoot trails are appearing with orange and blue markers. Finally I was back at the river bank. I immediately looked for a spot to stop and rest. Heat exhaustion was starting to make my head hurt. And then I saw the PERFECT little spot. A rock stretched out over the water and allowed for a nice semi-secluded spot to sit so I crawled out there, lobbed off my shoes, and splashed in that COLD COLD water like a small child. It was shaded and the water was so cold it actually hurt to put my feet in it but I was desperate and it did make me immediately feel better. I dithered about there for a while before passing hikers make me feel a bit self conscious so I moved on.
The trail ahead was not the “easy” beginner trail I was told it’d be online. Jagged and often slippery roots, steep hills, and terrifying cliffs dotted the entire route. My knees were screaming bloody murder at me. And now my head and stomach were kicking in. Heat. And then I came to a clearly marked trail junction that pointed to whence I came “Lower Falls” and another path “Purgatory Brook Trail” which I think leads to the other falls. So I kept going even though by now I was toast. I’d WAY overdone it. I needed to be at the car not 4 or 5 miles into the woods. I still kept going before reaching a bridge that both had trail markings and yet another Private Property/No Trespassing sign. I sat down, pulled out my phone, turned the mobile data on, and started to figure this out. First I tried “Where am I?” which resulted in a map…. of literally nothing no matter how much I zoomed out. Fuck. Now I’ve done it. I’m in no man’s land. Then I tried looking up where the falls were on the trail. One source said 5.1 miles apart, another said the whole trail was 15 miles. All said they started in one parking lot and ended in another. NOT A LOOP. And I didn’t have any kind soul to pick me up at parking lot #2 because I was too stupid to plan this out better.
I turned back and started marching. It seemed like forever before I found that rock plank over the river again and when I did I stopped and dunked myself. In fact I wandered around a bit splashing water over myself as much as I could. A hiker sneaked by me as I was probably looking like a lunatic prospecting for gold. I’d seen very few hikers out today but ALL of them caught me doing or saying something nutty. One caught me muttering, “Yellow trail my ass! These markers are shit!” A second caught me cursing again at myself when I twisted my ankle going down a hill, “Fucking no! I am NOT breaking my goddamn ankle out in the goddamn woods!” Luckily no one came upon me with my ass in the air taking a macro photo of an adorable mushroom I found on a ground but that is usually when people do pass… This has all taught me 1) I curse a profound amount and 2) I’m probably pretty embarrassing to be around.
When I gathered myself up from the river I decided to dunk my socks in the water so I’d at least have something cold and wet around my ankles keeping me sorted as I made my way back. Another egregious trip back. This time when the trail weaved away from the water I sort of freaked a little bit because in this direction it was marked even worse. Would I ever get back to the car?! Every now and then I’d notice something to keep me somewhat distracted like a half-made fairy house made of birch bark or a grackle. We have grackles in New England?! WHY IS IT MOCKING ME?!
Eventually I heard my phone ringing. My mother had noticed hours after taking her car that I was missing. I’d arrived at 10:30. It was 3PM before I finally found my way to the parking lot. This time the waterfalls themselves were filled with people but I was less than thrilled to walk from the falls back to my car in a rat’s nest of unmarked trails and half trails. Just keep walking. Just keep walking.
I made it. What a glorious sight the car was. It was however hotter than hell when I opened it up and as it burped out that 140 degree stale air I was dooooone. I’m home now. Already in pain. Going to be paying for this one for days to come! But although I know I will be in a coma for the next couple of days I am still happy I went. And heeeeey, maybe I can drive to the Upper Falls parking lot and see the upper falls and the devil’s bean pot from there. Then I can say I did the whole trail and stop feeling like such a hiking wuss.
So after spending a nice bit of time at Sarah’s Hat Boxes I took my mother out on part two of today’s adventure: Willard Pond. It wasn’t that far away and was super easy to get to. I’d heard about Willard Pond many times but hadn’t made it out there. I was told it was however beautiful – it’s a small protected lake in Antrim NH which has no houses on its shores and does not allow motors of any kind on the trails or in the water, basically a preserve.
The entrance to the lake is located at the end of a long dirt road that drags you pretty far out into the middle of the woods before it just ends at a dirt parking lot. It was here that I found a portapotty which I thought was a bit odd until I realized it appeared to be a popular swimming hole or if I am being more accurate a series of swimming holes which would explain the squealing delighted child running towards the parking lot – towel flapping in the wind until he lost it, a gaggle of women all giggling over the little scene, a series of other small children taking no notice.
We passed two trail heads before reaching the lake itself and yes, it was beautiful. Today was a gorgeous day out, not too hot, not too humid, and there was a most refreshing breeze coming off the blue-blue water. I took a couple snaps of the swimming hole before deciding to check out the trail to the right which I figured must go around the whole pond. It went up a small hill where a nice rock outcropping was before leading us through a wild blueberry patch and to small dam. There was no bridge across but the two people ahead of us just walked right over it, splashing in an inch of water. I figured I’d try going across with my shoes on. That probably wasn’t the wisest idea… As the trail went on we discovered a series of smaller more private swimming holes, many of them occupied by small groups of people. As we hiked deeper into the woods the trail got increasingly hairy. Personally, if I were alone, I would have kept trucking right through it until I couldn’t anymore. My mother on the other hand said something about not getting her somewhere where I couldn’t get her out. I sighed, she’s probably right, and so we headed back. I will likely be back to check out the two named trails between the parking lot and pond.
I took a long winding nonsensical route home and passed a bunch of other things that I am going to put on my list to check out later – everything from other quirky local businesses to hiking trails and farms. Mother wasn’t as keen on going 4 wheeling with the RAV as I was and twice yelled at me to not listen to the GPS and just stay on main roads. Her sense of adventure isn’t as deep as mine, clearly. I did however pull over to read a random historical marker in Stoddard – I guess the town used to be known for glass. Who knew!
This area was so sweet and rich in things to see and do that I know I will be back soon.
When life gets too chaotic sometimes it’s nice to just set some time aside to enjoy the whimsy of the completely random. Today I decided to return to the place that sort of inspired the second beginning of this blog a few years ago. It’s a quirky little place called Sarah’s Hat Boxes. I had stumbled in there out of curiosity one day wondering who in this day and age was trying to make a business out of selling something as antiquated and obscure as hat boxes? I mean I knew what hat boxes were but there aren’t too many Jackie Kennedys running around in dire need of such a thing. I was as happily surprised then as I was today even though the location has changed.
Currently Sarah’s Hat Boxes is located in Hancock NH, which and of itself is a beautiful area to explore. It sits alone in a somewhat hidden location but with a very obvious sign out front to greet visitors. I had brought my mother with me to enjoy today’s outing because I figured as a crafter herself she might enjoy this little gem. Upon entering we were surrounded by all sorts of colors and patterns of fabric boxes in all sizes. Everything from the delicate to the gigantic which I had mum stand next to just to show how grand the largest really were. A few new things adorned the walls – fabric memories of some of the more notable customers who had bought from here in the past. I got to have a long chat while I was there and got the whole history of the place. It’s a 35 year old business that started as innocently as buying a kit to make a single hat box. From there it grew and gained a reputation at craft fairs before settling in a brick and mortar store.
I know what you’re still probably thinking – but who is buying these hat boxes and why? And the answer is pretty simple. These hat boxes are gorgeous, really well made with a love and attention to detail and on top of that they weren’t all for hats. In fact the business really seems to have evolved with the times. Here were boxes used in tiers for wedding donations and cards, boxes with padded covers to stick pins and needles into for all the seamstresses out there, boxes made to fit two different sizes of wine bottles (accompanies by two glasses) and of course my favorite were the knitting boxes which had 4 compartments and holes for separate yarn. I WILL be back for one of those if I ever pick up my knitting needles again! And they were very decently priced – the knitting boxes were $38 each which I found more than reasonable considering the size and sheer quality. They were made from chipboard and fabric – really made to last.
Knitting box – four holes lead to four compartments for easy yarn use.
And some of the boxes had little histories. Several displayed images from Norman Rockwell paintings, yet another well known New England personality. Another had a map on the top dedicated to the adventures of Indiana Jones. Apparently the guy responsible for his hat came here for boxes. And the funny and strange thing about all this is just the amount of people and arts that crossed here. I would not have thought musicians, other artisans, prop designers, photographers, and other famous individuals would have ever come out to the boonies or known about this place but there it was – a pedigree of customers that spanned over seemingly every artistic field. It was fascinating and a bit inspiring to know that sometimes these little mom and pop shops that really do care about the products they’re creating can survive in the age of WalMart and Amazon.
Sewing boxes with padded covers for pins.
Of course I couldn’t really leave without taking home one of these charming little creations and so I chose the one that had caught my eye immediately upon entering the store – a little 70’s chic box with geometric designs and colors only weird people like me would probably appreciate. Even here among so many different styles it seemed a bit out of place nestled next to all the more traditionally pretty designs but it’ll have a happy home with me and should anyone need a present for a wedding, anniversary, graduation, birthday, or Christmas I’ll be sure to recommend this lovely little place.
So I realize with the chaos of my current life and my tedious health I haven’t been able to go any gorgeous faraway destinations but sometimes I can find immense beauty practically in my back yard. When I had to run some errands in Peterborough I decided to take a long meandering route home and of course this meant ending up in Sharon NH for no reason whatsoever. I wanted to spend some time riverside so I parked aside a bridge I chose at random that happened to have a place to pull over and park. According to my GPS I was at “25 cross street.” I took a photo of the coordinates if that’s not good enough.
Initially I was just going to take one quick snap of the river from the bridge, maybe a little video, but when I saw a path going down to the water I grew curious and decided to see what was down there. As it turns out there was a delightful little scene. There was of course the customary graffiti under the bridge, a suspicious lack of a troll, and of course a beautiful river scene. I couldn’t tell for sure but this slow moving river seemed to have a few somewhat deep parts and I got the sense this might be a swimming hole for someone. It was certainly hot enough to enjoy such a spot but of course I did not have a swimsuit on me so I had to linger mournfully along the banks. Just kidding. I sat down on some rocks and just enjoyed the sound of the river gushing by me as it echoed under the bridge and as I did so I started to notice all sorts of tiny wonders. There were two incredibly chill frogs I took a shoe selfie with, a starter swarm of of newts just doing their little newty thing, a school of minnows so small I could barely see them, lots of water skaters, and a bubble popping at the surface every few minutes suggesting a turtle was somewhere in the weeds. I was so relaxed I stayed there just observing for probably forty-five minutes – even taking two short films, one of the water on one side and one of the little newts on the other. In that whole time only three cars passed by. This was a wonderful little detour and I hope to go on a proper road trip very soon!
It was another one of those rare sunny days we seem to get once a week now. It was a good day to go out and have lunch with a friend at the local diner followed by a brisk hike into the nearby woods. Lunch at the Hometown Diner was as mediocre as I remember it the last time I attempted. I have no idea why this place is so so popular. The first time I went I got what tasted like pancakes from a box and this time around they served what was clearly mashed potatoes made from powder. You can always tell when it looks only vaguely like its supposed to with a sort of sick translucent sheen… I mean from a DINER which is supposed to be freshly made easy food. Where is your pride?! But hey after I got done eating the saltiest turkey sandwich on the planet I was ready to go!
The Rails to Trails goes through a pretty big area and has multiple spots to start and or end at. We decided to drive up towards Wal-Mart and take it from there. I was happy to see that this time around they had added all sorts of signs to adjoining paths to local eateries and businesses including the Hometown Diner! If only we had known. No wonder I never see the college student from Franklin Peirce, they must be skittering like squirrels through the woods whenever they go out to eat!
It was VERY bright out, my camera was less than enthusiastic about this so my photos are pretty washed out. This trail is nice in the fact its very flat, very wide, and makes for a great place to start out the season – all easy! We came across several other people but they were all cruising along on bicycles. In fact one politely dinged at us to get out of the way, which is such a sad little tinkle of a noise that everyone was looking around to see whose phone was chirping but alas… when we finally moved to the side the guy just laughed at us. Or maybe he was laughing at me… as flamboyantly dressed as I usually am.
We walked past the Hometown Diner, across the street, and continued to walk all the way until we reached the little park where the town’s farmer’s market is. I wanted to go further (where all the water and pretty scenery is) but my walking buddies were getting tired… so we headed back. One of these days I will explore more of this trail…possibly by myself.
In an unlikely turn of events I ended up with several family members coming down from Maine for a visit and they wanted to spend a day checking out the Boston Aquarium so I decided to go with them. I have been to the Boston Aquarium more times than I can remember now but I’m always happy to return especially with people who have never been.
It was a beautiful day to be out and we all got our walking in that’s for sure. I pointed out the Old North Church which we passed on our way. It’s a big tourist attraction attached to the whole Paul Revere legend. In its tower a lamp signaled that the British were coming by land. It was also the sight of the Boston Massacre. We took a few quick photos. This was quite a day out for everyone and being sisters my traveling companions spent much of their time teasing each other and giggling which they certainly deserved to enjoy after one very long week. Plus, I rather enjoyed it all too!
The last time I was at the aquarium they were making a lot of changes and even the main tank was being worked on. This time around everything was in order. We walked in, had our photos taken, and then proceeded to the Touch Tank where visitors are allowed to pet passing stingrays and baby sharks. This exhibit has been up for a while now and it’s a big hit. At least I always enjoy it. The stingrays are weird little creatures with a slimy rubbery texture who swim by quite quickly. There’s now a shark exhibit adjoining where they have nearly ready to hatch shark eggs held up to the light so you can see the babies flipping around within them as well as a few tanks with smaller sharks. They’re kind of cute!
From here it was onto the penguins! As of late I have become rather fond of these birds – mostly because I have learned of their promiscuous nature which breeds just the right amount of scandal to keep my interest. Most of the “infertile” bonded pairs of penguins in captivity turned out to be gay and lesbian couples have been noted as well although they do tend to borrow more from their neighbors than sugar in order to lay fertile eggs, continuing to raise the chicks with their chosen female companions. And if that isn’t enough to raise a few eyebrows perhaps their history of prostitution is. In some species females are known to exchange quickies for rocks to build their nests and who are we to judge? I kept all this hidden penguin knowledge to myself today but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying the visit! It was about here, barely into the building, that my freshly charged camera battery up and died. I’d use my cellphone for the rest of the visit which is fine because it actually took better photos! I’m not sure why but my camera hates aquarium lighting while my smart phone could care less.
There was a lot to see for someone whose never been. There were seals splashing about out front where the ticket booth was, a tank of ADORABLE baby cuttlefish being fed, a very full tank filled with a colorful array of fish, a jellyfish exhibit, an anaconda, some piranhas, a HUGE arrowana, a calico (chimera?) lobster, blue lobsters, my favorite electric eel, some leafy sea dragons, some other sea horses, some flounder and trout for the foodies out there, and of course two enormous octopuses, one of which delighted everyone when it decided to climb from the back of the tank to the front, it’s arms reaching in every direction with suckers everywhere. It’s hard to describe but the movement was so foreign to land animal such as myself and so bizarre that I couldn’t help but feel a primal fascination with it. I refrained from yelling, “RELEASE THE KRACKEN!” but I was totally thinking it. I took a few snaps, others in my party took a video.
Then there was the main tank which makes up the whole center of the building. A long ramp winds around it so you can peer into it at all levels and angles. In there I found all sorts of big sea fish, some sharks, and at least two beloved sea turtles, one which was sweet enough to emerge from the depths to surface at the top of the tank while we were up there. I didn’t think think turtles grew that large but he or she was a monstrosity! Just GIGANTIC. I swear it was the size of a Smart car. It was breathtaking.
Sadly I did not find the deep abyss tanks, nautilus, or the lump suckers I had come to know as being at the aquarium. Perhaps they no longer have an exhibit? Hard to say. We had spent a few hours there and were hungry but the cafe was egregiously overpriced and contained only the shittiest of fast food. I was looking for fish sticks to see if that’s what happened to the failed exhibits but alas, I only found chicken. We didn’t buy lunch there, nor did we buy our novelty photo which they were asking $33 for three copies. $45 if we wanted a magnet and a key chain with it. All of this was sprung on us as we were exiting. There was no option for a single copy of the photo nor any other affordable choice. This is one of the things I find irritating about the Boston Aquarium. They are super overpriced – the tickets, the food, the photos, but weirdly the gift shop seems to be regular pricing. I don’t honestly get it because after turning down the photo like everyone else they just threw it away. It’s an odd way to go about things – forcing guests to take a photo upon entrance with little explanation and then asking at the end of the day if we’d like a copy for an exorbitant amount…
In any event I had a lot of fun and so did the other girls. On our way back we wandered through Quincy market, witnessed Ted the Bear playing keyboard guitar on the streets, and then rode the T because one in our party had never ridden the subway before. She was thrilled! Even after the usual assortment of shifty characters got aboard – you know, the Guy Who Inexplicably has a Hand Down his Pants as well as another Favorite Dude Talking to Clearly Imaginary People. To be fair he talked to me too. He asked if I was a woman. I said, “I should hope so!” To which we all got a good laugh though I am sure went over our new friend’s head.
It was a LONG day and I am EXHAUSTED. And my knees are suuuuuuper pissed at me. The other thing about the Boston Aquarium that isn’t great is it has the BARE MINIMUM of things they need for disabled access… which means there’s a lot of stairs, a few hidden elevators, and almost no benches to sit down on. Add more stairs at the subway and my shot knees and yeeeah… I’m not in good shape today but it was worth it! Totally worth it and I’d do it again. So until next time… enjoy a few snaps in no order what-so-ever due to uploading issues.
