This entry is a little different than most. It’s not an advertisement for some great place to go it’s more just a story about getting lost in the woods and finding myself both physically, and perhaps more metaphorically as well, through only the most ridiculous of means.
I must admit I haven’t been taking the greatest care of my health lately. Instead on days when I feel great I WAY overdo it and then crash for a week and repeat! This time around I was so accustomed to the crash I wasn’t even aware I was in a downward spiral until today when I woke up and was suddenly able to focus and move without pain. WOW. That’s different! This led to a morning filled with me bouncing around listening to oddly aggressive music and finishing painting my Droog Cockatoo sculpture.
My music these days might be a bit alarming to those of you who knew me in the past. I have somehow morphed from this terribly pleasant, quiet, shy, feminine, little house mouse to someone bouncing around swearing like a sailor, wearing garishly awful costumes on a weekday, singing loudly to increasingly aggressive and offensive music, and denying everything I was ever brought up to be – ladylike, prim, proper, well spoken. Every day I inch closer to the real me and every day I am more excited to learn it all anew. And shit, I wish someone had told me all 90’s music didn’t suck. I was always forced to listen to shitty boybands and Britney Spears by my bestie at the time. Fuck, if I knew how beautifully twisted Marilynn Manson, how deliciously sarcastic My Chemical Romance, or how delightfully dysfunctional Placebo was I think my teenage years would have been so much more interesting! So onward I go listening to a delightful clusterfuck of angry, dysfunctional, deeply sarcastic, and utterly gender fucked music.
I only mention all the above to show you what kind of kick ass, loving life, sort of mood I was in when I decided to fill my pockets with random baubles and head into the woods, a camera slung over my shoulder like someone who knew what they were doing…
I hadn’t been up the trail in several months. It’s halfway up someone’s driveway and they were letting their driveway grow in so bad I could barely find that much less the trail. More tactics to get people to fuck off (even though this makes no sense – dude knew the trail head was there when he bought the property! But whatever.) I got on the trail and noticed it too was pretty damn overgrown and a lot of the trail markers were just gone… but I knew where I was going… or at least I thought I did.
There’s a big logged out clearing near the dam. I decided to go through to the back of it where there was a nice stone wall to sit on. I wanted to take a few crystal photos with the wall and the lake as its backdrop. This I did before deciding to follow the deer path that ran along the wall to the dam. I made my way to the dam just fine. I spent some time playing in the grass here, snapping photos, enjoying the sun, just relaxing and having a good time. Once I had felt well rested enough I headed back whence I came but found the path I was supposed to have taken in was…. grossly 
overgrown and lacking in any trail markers. I walked in what I believed to be the right direction sometimes where there was an obvious trail (or two, or three) and other times when I was just clomping through underbrush. I did not end up back at the trailhead. In fact I have no idea where I ended up… but I did find some ruins of some sort… some granite had clearly been quarried here, or placed here. I snapped a photo and wondered before getting back on a trail which led me into a loop three times. It was starting to get dark, I had walked way farther than I anticipated and I still couldn’t find my way to the right path. I had to start making some decisions. I decided to keep walking until I hit a road but I didn’t hit a road. I hit an intersection of two joining lakes and no more path. Fuck!
I wheeled back around, by now it was getting dimmer and darker by the step. I was practically jogging – sweating, overheating, starting to get a headache from dehydration because it was hot and I didn’t bring any water with me. I passed the same trees, mushrooms, and various other landmarks again and again before I finally came to a stone wall. The stone wall. I could get back from the stone wall! But the stone wall didn’t lead me back to the right trail, just the same bizarre loop path I kept getting on. I was frustrated. I gave up. I found the stone wall and followed it in the opposite direction of home knowing it’d lead me to the dam and from the dam I could wander through some nice people’s backyard back up to a road. I knew how to get home from there (although it was a hell of a walk.) I stopped by a roadside lake scene, snapped a few more photos, and continued walking in the heat and the sun.
I walked down the road with cars zooming past me at 50 miles an hour, my camera still slung over my shoulder, feeling like I fucking owned this place, this moment, my life, anything that was to be had. My “I Don’t Give a Duck” shirt added to this playful yet fierce glory and at least one motorcyclists took the time to smile, nod, and laugh, as he drove by. I smiled back – and for a second we shared a moment of pure ridiculousness. It was wonderful.
I can barely feel my legs… but I’m alive! And so happy! The week ahead is going to be full of adventure and I cannot wait!
***I apologize for any missing photos and galleries as I continue to work getting Catching Marbles fully migrated to a new host. Please come back soon for restored photos and thank you for your patience!***
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Screw Auger Falls was another one of the waterfalls listed on the
But with that all said and done Screw Auger Falls was an awesome little spot. Besides having two waterfalls within easy walking distance the smaller of the two allowed for a local swimming hole where children splashed about in the shallow water. Adults mostly loitered around the edges because this place was made of natural granite which had been worn very slick and smooth by the erosive nature of water and perhaps by retreating glaciers before that. On top of that algae grew over many bits which made for an intensely slick surface. None-the-less I had been driving all day and it was in the 80’s. Despite my lack of swimwear I decided to roll up my jeans, lop off my trusty Converses, and wade right in! The water was just above where I had rolled up my jeans at the deepest point across the river where I had started. It had taken me a good ten minutes to get this few feet because of the slick nature of the rocks. Children here knew how to navigate this danger as they slid around on their bellies like joyful seals. It was a sight to see! When I managed to get into this somewhat deep spot I bent down and splashed in the water letting it whoosh over my face and arms, essentially bathing in the river with my clothes still on.
The ice cold water felt almost baptismal in a way. I’ve been playing in a lot of rivers these past few months and every time it’s the same – the healing properties of the waters come from the psychological boost you get when you can almost feel all the negativity in your life just washing over your skin and tumbling down stream never to be seen again. At long last I was encouraging my true hippie nature to come out and play. How joyful I have been getting back in touch with the beauty of New England, and cranking up the radio as I go – singing along loudly and badly to Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and all the music I had stopped listening to over the years when I never should have. The raucous screaming guitars and belted out rhythmus soothing my soul. At night I escape into another long forgotten guilty pleasure – beatnik literature, now with far more bite and meaning with my age and life experience. It’s interesting to almost reach back in time and touch another generation with such a powerful wanderlust. In addition to this seeing all these new beautiful places and meeting so many wonderful people had relit something powerful and intense in my heart – such a strong feeling of connection and wonder. In remembering who I am I learned who I need to be.
So after taking that little detour to 
Still, the trails that headed over to the falls were short, easy to walk, and provided far more beautiful a scene than I had expected. Apparently the falls were named after Captain Snow who had a camp set up just about where the picnic tables are. He was a fur trapper at the time living out in the wilds of Maine pretty far from any real white settlements. This may be why he ultimately died during a brutal Indian raid – easy pickins’ I suppose. The tale tells of an Indian chief leading the raid wearing an entire eagle over his head, it’s wings outstretched, and it’s beak agape. Quite an image! This happened sometime in the 1750’s or 60’s, as several historical accounts contradict each other.
On my list of destinations I had several “castles” and estates that have been turned into public spaces for whatever reason. This was one of them and was situated at the end of a trail. There was supposed to be a trail head behind a local restaurant but there was also another entrance down a nearby dirt road – again a hard find. It was a set of steps aside the aforementioned road with a tiny cut off on the other side. Though it was poorly marked it was marked so we headed into the woods not really knowing what we’d find. Turns out hills. We found one steep hill after another that went deeper into the forest before dumping us out into a pasture and then at the top of the last hill a phenomenal view of everything below – a beautiful pastoral scene sprawled out ahead of us framed in the distance by the blue ridges of a mountain. A tractor plowed back and forth and a field of lilacs added additional color. I was already happy and we hadn’t even found the castle yet!
and cows. Wow, had a blast there! And came home smelling of cow, but that’s quite another story! It was an hour and forty-five minutes to get there and NH being what it is, very little of that was proper highway. This was my second time up in this direction in the past month and I had passed by a couple things I wanted to check out.
hour in direct sunlight with a bunch of cows only to shove myself back into my car which doesn’t have a working air conditioner… or transmission for that matter. I tell you, you drive a lot more carefully when you’re afraid your tranny is about to flop out on the highway! I’ve been told it’s a matter of time. SIGH. Poor Daisy. Anyway, the bridge wasn’t that spectacular but the water was wonderful! I washed my hands of all the cow dirt and grease and splashed about for a few minutes to cool down. Been doing this a lot lately. It almost feel baptismal – a completely refreshing thing to do for both body and soul.
almost two hours away from home, with no ride back should this happen until 9PM, I decided to play it safe. I drove the normal route back home but I did make a couple stops. The first was a very short detour to see the Hopkinton Dam which was… not much to see. The second was far better, it was the McCabe Forest. I had seen a sign aside the road and figured I would check it out. The beginning of the trail starts in the parking lot of an abandoned auto mechanic garage. Though I had passed by at least four times I hadn’t noticed any cars. Today was no different. I love places like these. You never know where you are going to end up or what you are going to find! So I locked Daisy up, pulled out my new used camera, and off I went into the forest with a big gulp.
play with the camera a bit. I wasn’t particularly successful – I really need to purchase a good macro lens for this sort of thing (and I’ll be absolutely honest, a macro lens would be used on mushrooms and bugs far quicker than flowers!) Eventually I tired of this and walked on. The path was poorly marked in the sense it was marked but seemed to diverge with no markings pretty frequently. I didn’t really know where I was going but as usual I took a snap at every intersection as a record of where I had come from – photographic bread crumbs should I need them.
And then I ended up near a very colorful sandy bottomed river. It was still in the 80’s and I was sweating bullets even though it was cooler under the trees. Another river seemed a godsend but this one couldn’t be reached unless I wanted to just jump in. It was a tempting thought. No one was here… I could totally skinny dip and hope for the best…. but alas I was too chicken for that. I was however suffering from heat exhaustion as well as regular exhaustion from two weeks of insomnia. After taking all sorts of photos with the new camera and old I lay down on some soft moss, listened to the soft gurgling of the water going by, and stared up into the canopy above. I felt like I could have melted into the ground right then and there and been completely happy having just become part of the forest. I may have even nodded off for a bit. When I got back up I didn’t realize how much I had needed that little break! WHEW! Starting to feel better already!
path so I continued on only to run into a sign that pointed the directions I was coming from. It read, “entrance.” Hmmm… I heeded it’s advice and went back the way I came, found Daisy still sitting there melting in the parking lot, and hopped in. It was a long hot ride and by the time I got home I was absolute toast! I fell asleep and three hours later woke up to the worst migraine I had ever had in my life. The dizziness and nausea were so intense I literally couldn’t move and my whole body felt like I had the worst flu ever. I did have the phone next to me though and literally called for help… For my efforts I received an ice pack, a swig of Sudafed (as this seemed to have started with my sinuses) and a small bowl of macaroni which took me four attempts to eat. Even with all that the day was completely worth it and when I woke up the next morning without the migraine I counted my blessings fiercely and felt once again at total peace.
Rochester MA. It was well worth the two hour drive! And I was already glowing when I got back into the car and decided to go on another adventure. I had driven by Fall Rivers to get here so I decided on my way back I’d swing by and see if I could get a photo of the Lizzie Borden house. I’ve been by it before (though I couldn’t tell you why) and I figured it was possibly interesting enough to merit a blog entry so off I went… but while I was still driving through Rochester I saw a tiny sign aside the road and a three car parking lot promising there was a trail nearby so I stopped on a little detour…
Massachusetts. Upon getting out of my car all I could see was a field. Where was the path?? I might not have figured this out if it weren’t for a guy coming up it, across the field, with his adorable boxer puppy. After the usual greetings of, “Hey! Another living soul knows about this place!” I was on my way. It’d been a long time since I had trekked across a grown field. This is a fun activity if you’re a kid but slightly terrifying if you’re an adult as it’s very disorienting and probably absolutely infested with ticks. Still, this path was worn enough I knew I wasn’t going to get lost in the proverbial cornfields.
enchanted forest was a row of rustic benches overlooking what I think was the entrance to Avalon. It was a sandy-bottomed river, very odd in New England, that had ice tea colored water that got darker as it got deeper until all you could see was the dancing reflections of trees on pitch black water. Immediately I hopped down the shore and splashed about like a small child. It was over eighty degrees out and my hands were greasy from petting a stallion a few minutes before. This little wash-up was perfect! And it was QUIET out here. Despite being very close to a busy roadway you couldn’t hear a single car going by or any people, just the occasional birdsong. This place was absolutely enchanting. I wanted to build a hobbit home on the other embankment and stay here forever. Since I couldn’t do that I instead took out some marbles and started snapping a few photos. I must have been playing out there for quite some time before I decided to make my way back – something I managed to do by remembering various rocks and trees. I also found an adorable mushroom along the way! By the time I got back to the car I felt refreshed enough for the two and a half hours of driving ahead of me (and no.. I never did manage to take a photo of the Lizzie Borden house although I did drive by. Traffic today was utterly insane!)
Today I decided to check out some prison camp ruins rumored to be in Rutland State Park in Massachusetts. The directions said they were on Prison Camp Road, which was easy enough to remember but what they don’t tell you is the park is FULL of primitive dirt roads going in all directions, most of which the GPS does not recognize, and they aren’t labelled either. So this place was somewhat difficult to find but not too bad. It was a lucky day and the road I needed wasn’t gated off due to seasonal flooding as many were. The prison ruins are visible from the road and since you can only drive five miles an hour without breaking an axle it’s hard to miss.
Hikers who knew where they were going seemed to be using the roads to amble down rather than drive – which is a wonderful idea if you have a map! I drove around for a long time and passed several bridges and rivers and a few rock formations that were just to die for. This place seemed to have it all and we were out in the middle of nowhere. For as peaceful at it was there was also a very wild and untamed sense about it – maybe this was because of the occasional bits and pieces of other ruins that dotted the roads here and there – like a staircase to nowhere which was probably someone’s house at some point in history.
