Tag: historical landmark

Way Too Eventful Covered Bridge Tour -Swanzey NH

Apparently New Hampshire is LOADED with covered bridges – forty-three are registered as historical landmarks and when I found out Swanzey had three all to itself I decided why not go on a day tour and see all three… Sounded like a pleasant little trip and the weather was nice.

I got up early just in case I wanted to go further than just these three covered bridges but I ended up distracted and before I knew it the clock was reading 2PM. I still had time though so off I went!

DSC_0081The first bridge I came to was the Carlton Bridge on Carlton Road. Super easy find! I drove right to it! It was nestled between a lot of farmland and some houses, a really pretty area and there was a turn off to park. It’s a one-lane two-way bridge which isn’t unusual, luckily there was no traffic and better still there was a delightful little path that went down to the bottom of it where I could splash in the water and play with the camera. It was quiet here and quite beautiful. I was delighted by this. You go to one covered bridge and you sort of feel like you’ve seen them all but this one was just so sweet, so serene, that it really made me instantly fond of it. Other people were too. I got a few people slowing down to check out Daisy’s lovely new tatts and just as I drove away an old man pulled in, smiling.

poi_gallery_image-image-641af81a-899c-4dac-83dc-1dc5b33154b4The next bridge was on Sawyer’s Crossing. My GPS didn’t seem to know which road was Sawyer’s Crossing and this area was super confusing, filled with all sorts of winding roads all connecting to each other in what I can only say is the most disorienting rat’s nest of turns I have seen in a long long time. I did eventually find the bridge by looking for a river on the GPS map and going towards it. However by this time there was a sports car behind me, nudging Daisy’s poor ass, so I had to go over the bridge instead of stopping. As it turns out there’s no place to park, AT ALL. There’s no parking lot, no turn offs, you could barely pull over aside the road far enough to let another car go coming form the other direction. It was weird. I found three trails down a nearby road but not their beginning, just their middle which went across the road. My curiosity was peaked but I didn’t really know how to explore that further. Instead I wound over that damn bridge two more times, both times a car appearing out of the middle of nowhere to ride my bumper. I got annoyed, never did manage to snap a photo, though it looks much like the other bridge, just lacking in the quiet charm.

DSC_0104The third bridge is called Thomson Bridge and it is right on Main Street, has a pedestrian walkway right over it, and ample parking! I couldn’t have asked for better! Instantly I liked this bridge too. It was bigger but still only one lane for cars and one for pedestrians. It spanned a lovely river and a dam which apparently doesn’t exist anymore. It was such a drop dead gorgeous day I loitered and took marble photos for quite a while. Some cars passed but not many and going back to the car I was struck by how beautiful the decaying wool mill behind it was. I wanted to explore that further so I hopped in my car, turned it on, drove over the bridge, and turned down a nearby street to see the ruins better.

I wanted to park and just take photos – not bothering anyone – so I did. Just as I switched off the ignition I heard alarms going off all around me. Shit! I must have tripped something off driving in. I put my keys back in the ignition, not really wanting to get arrested for trespassing, only to find Daisy refusing to start. I was dead in the water. Police were probably coming. Shit! Shit! Shit! More fussing with the ignition, more fussing with every other lever, nob, and button I could think of, and nothing. She refused to give my key back, I couldn’t get anything more than the radio to turn on. I was in a fix. I called my mother, “So how do you feel about picking me up in Swanzey?” Obviously this starts panic because my mother freaks out whenever she has to go somewhere she’s never been… “I am not hard to find! I’m right off Main Street!” Alarms still shrieked around me. I continued to fuss before giving up to attempt to give her directions. “Do you need AAA?” “Oh probably… I can’t switch gears so the transmission probably finally kicked it.” Maybe I could have a tea party with the tow truck guy and the cop whose probably driving over here for the alarms! And then as if by magic, fifteen minutes having passed, she let go of the key. I tried again, nothing, but I could get the key out now… one more try and she started like nothing had happened. FINALLY! I drove off and despite the fact I had the time to go to two other bridges nearby or another textile mill I decided to go home. I knew how to take a hint… in the meanwhile I don’t think Daisy likes the heat. Also more people honked, pointed, and laughed as I drove by… so I am off to go add some more art to her!

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


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Artist’s Covered Bridge – Bethel Maine

While I was driving to Screw Auger Falls I came across a sign reading “covered bridge” that I decided to follow for a fun little detour. It brought me deep into the woods to a beautiful bridge that is either called The Sunday River Bridge or the Artist’s Covered Bridge depending who you ask, although don’t expect it be marked, as there were no plaques or any other identifying features on the ground here and I had to look this up after leaving. I parked the car and took a series of shots as I stretched my legs from the long car ride. It was rather wide for a covered bridge and still terribly beautiful. A teenager swam underneath it in the river – apparently a local swimming hole. Legend says it’s nicknamed the artist’s bridge either because it was favored by a local artist or because it’s inherent beauty. This proved a wonderful photographic detour, definitely worth seeing if you’re in the area.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

 

 

 

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Fort Edgecomb – Edgecomb Maine

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For this trip I had brought my mother and her friend up to Maine so we could attempt the Waterfall Tour but things didn’t really go as planned. For one my GPS thought it’d be hilarious bring me two hours out of my way and dump me in Booth Bay. Booth Bay?! This was the coast not the little bit of Maine nestled between NH and Canada which is where we were supposed to be! This place was buzzing. Tourists everywhere. There was a beach but it was $7 parking, I didn’t know what kind of a beach it was, and we were all way over dressed for sun bathing as we were expecting to hike into the woods! We had driven for an hour and a half to get there and it’d be another two hours to get back to the beginning of the waterfall tour but we still had plenty of time to do so, so why not? I turned the car around and headed back in the same damn direction I came from!

We had passed signs for a fort and figured it might be worth checking out since we were here anyway. It turned out to be Fort Edgecomb, a big round wooden fort that was apparently a strategic point during the War of 1812. So here was a weird relic from a time when we were fighting with the British… Sadly it was boarded up so we couldn’t peer inside but the surrounding grounds were nicely manicured and provided a nice taste of the ocean – at least Maine’s ocean which is surrounded by jagged rocks which have their own untouchable beauty. I was having fun still learning my new used camera.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

 

 

 

 

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Driving Around Northfield MA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYesterday I got the wonderful opportunity to go to a farm in Northfield MA and take a bunch of adorable photos of cows, goats, and Vizlas. It was an amazing experience. Totally worth the sunburn! Afterwards I decided I was in the area anyway, might as well drive around…

I turned off my GPS and took my own instruction, turning down any road I thought might turn into a lingering dirt road. I was immensely rewarded. This are was in the middle of nowhere, a bubble of pristine wilderness between civilization. These roads brought deeper and deeper into the forest and farther from any kind of settlement. It went from houses to hunting camps to absolutely nothing. And then I found a derelict of some sort OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAaside the road. No one was around for miles so I decided what the hell, let’s take a few black and white snaps and maybe poke around a bit. It was a shed, an ordinary shed, filled with ordinary crap you’d normally find in a shed but clearly abandoned for many many years and bizarrely not near any house anywhere. I was slightly concerned I might find a hobo in there but I didn’t, instead I stumbled upon something that made my whole week – it was a river just behind the shed. I decided to explore. I knew this was probably someone’s property but they’d never know and I wouldn’t go far…

This river was only a few inches deep and easy to climb across. There were all sorts of rocks and fallen trees and it was just absolutely gorgeous. Being as it was a VERY hot day it was a wonderful detour as I splashed about and cooled down. The lighting was just right and it threw dappled reflections of the water back onto the trees. It seemed that no matter where I looked there was something even more beautiful with the next blink of my eyes. I must admit I stayed down there playing in the river for quite a while! In that whole time not a single car drove by. In fact upon leaving I didn’t pass any other cars for the many miles it took to get away from this decidedly gorgeous forest.

Eventually I found civilization again and found myself staring into a cemetery. Well, I couldn’t just drive by… so I stopped in. I have no idea what the title of the cemetery was but it was small, had very ordinary marble stones, most from the late 1800’s and was fairly unremarkable except for the gorgeous view of a mountain behind it. As I was driving out I noticed one monument at the entrance and for whatever reason I read it… Somehow I had stumbled upon the grave of a man of science who died in the late 1800’s and was responsible for finding dinosaur footprints in the nearby area. Dinosaur footprints?? I had no idea there were any… and I was super into fossils growing up! Shocked and delighted I wanted to know more. Google said there were more around but where I could see them remained a local mystery. I drove around at random but didn’t find any parks or trails as I went along. Pity. I would have totally found one…

 

From there I ended up driving by a jungle of some sort so of course I had to pull over and take a few shots of what I can only describe as a sight more befitting of Georgia than New England.

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And upon entering Rindge again I decided to stop by yet another lake to take this pretty little snap as well… All and all it was a wonderful day filled with a lot of happy surprises!

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***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!***

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


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“Persecuted for wearing the beard” Gravestone – Evergreen Cemetery – Leominster MA

Evergreen Cemetery had eluded me previously. Little was I to know I had made it here once but I came in through the upper gate which wasn’t labelled with the cemetery’s name. Even funnier still I was within eye shot of the stone I was looking for that day and had no idea. Today I went with a few “before you go” tips.

I wanted to find the stone of Joseph Palmer who was a man after my own heart. He died in 1873, with great humor. He ordered a stone to be carved in his likeness with the epitaph, “Persecuted for wearing the beard.” Apparently in his day and age men didn’t wear beards in New England, especially ones with any status. It was considered brutish, unclean, and the men who did wear beards tended to be the same people we liked to harass at the time – minorities like the tiny Jewish population that was probably somewhere (in the cities perhaps?) The church wasn’t any happier with his dogged insistence on facial hair than the community was and he was harassed here too. When the local pastor asked rather unkindly why he didn’t shave Palmer replied, “… Jesus wore a beard not unlike mine.” which has to be the best answer ever, if not the reason he was eventually excommunicated from the church.

In May 1830 things got even worse when he was attacked in the streets of Fitchburg by four men armed with scissors and razors who had plotted to shave the beard off themselves. They hadn’t realized they’d be in for the fight of their lives. The old farmer wasn’t terribly patient with such things and he pulled out a knife and began slashing, wounding two of the four assailants. To add insult to injury he found himself arrested after this for “unprovoked assault,” known today as self defense. He was found guilty and fined by Judge David Brigham. Palmer refused on principle to cough up $750 for his fine, court fees, and bond, and was sent to prison for fifteen months.

Prison life didn’t treat him any better than the outside world. Other prisoners continued to try and shave off his beard and prison officials kept coming up with increasingly cruel and sadistic punishments for him. He kept a detailed journal of the whole charade and eventually left…. beard in tact and free… if not with a slightly bruised ego. He only gained his freedom by paying his $10 fine after the judge who sent him to prison begged him to.

His life after that got even more interesting as he befriended many intellectuals and writers of the day. He even ended up being the basis of the character Moses White in Louisa May Alcott’s Transcendental Wild Oats. In 1843 he even joined a commune called the Fruitlands Experiment and when that failed he even tried to run his own commune later in life. He remained active in politics, religious reform, abolitionism, and of course beard activism until the day he died — which funny enough was the same era where beards had once again become fashionable. So now you know the twisted and strange story of Joseph Palmer.

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I must admit the cemetery Joseph Palmer is buried in is gorgeous. Clearly people of great wealth had been buried here for quite some time. I spent a few hours walking and snapping photos of the angels and Cherubs who decorated many stones. Another stone of interest was found in the new part of the cemetery where a woman had been buried with her beloved pet cat Dr Pepper.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

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Three Covered Bridges – New Hampshire

I drove for another half an hour before I came to the next GPS destination – again in the middle of nowhere. I drove around where I thought this bridge might be, looking at the rivers illustrated on my GPS map, and just driving towards them. Eventually I hit pay dirt with the Rowell Bridge in West Hopkinton. This bridge was completed in 1853 and still sees a good deal of traffic – from both directions even though it is a one lane bridge. I have to admit the idea of crossing it with my car made me a bit skittish but it didn’t rock, or sway, or do anything strange, and I made it across without a fuss. However despite there being signs pointing the way to the bridge there are no parking spaces and being one lane it wasn’t particularly pedestrian friendly either. I pulled over aside the road the best I could next to what may or may not have been a primitive road to somewhere else. I walked down there a bit to get a better shot of the side of the bridge and I poked around taking photos. The locals here kept slowing their cars and staring at me like I was some sort of circus attraction. Surely, others must come to walk and photograph their bridge??

 

 

I was back in the car and heading towards the next bridge on my agenda – Waterloo Bridge in Warner New Hampshire. This one was a fun one to find! My GPS decided that half the roads in the area were imaginary and for most of the trip there it said I was floating in mid air. Again it was not at the address listed and I had to just drive circles in the area crossing over the river again and again until I got the right road. Boy was I happy when I found it! This little beauty was built in 1859-60.

 

I was doing well today! Why not go for a third bridge? I drove off and got onto the highway, the same highway I felt I was becoming a little too familiar with, when I noticed the RAV was thirsty. I needed to find a gas station… and as usual when you ask a GPS to find one for you it’ll inevitably lead you on a wild goose chase, which is exactly what it did. I took an exit and followed directions only to end up… nowhere. I tried the next nearest gas station and again ended up in a residential neighborhood with not even the faintest hint of a gas station. I was starting to get punchy when I tried for a third time. This time it said “main street” so I figured it was a good bet. My hunch was right — and even better the gas station was right across the street from another covered bridge! A completely accidental find! This one was attached to an old train station turned park so I wandered across the road to take a peek. It was called the Contoocook Railway Bridge and Depot. It was a big one! And boy did it take nice black and whites! And unlike the other bridges there were people around this one playing just as I was.

 

From here I continued to Merrimack where there was a cluster of covered bridges but it was getting late and I kept hitting closed roads and construction. Plus by this time I really needed to pee and was getting hungry so I decided three bridges are good enough for one day and I came home… stopping only once more to take a photo of my favorite paint horse farm in Temple…

***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!***

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


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Historic Shaker Village – Harvard MA

This took three tries (and I have no justifiable defense for this) to find the lollipop cemetery which was set up by Shakers who for whatever reason decided that grave stones should be made of cast iron lollipops. They were a weird bunch.

There’s a trail nearby that might go behind these places but I ran out of time (with the sun setting and all.) Instead I was overjoyed to find there were ruins just up the road of an old Shaker church. Also viewable from the road was what used to be their living quarters, a HUGE house now privately owned which I would not be surprised to find out has twenty or thirty rooms… I mean seriously, that’s practically a castle. I felt weird snapping a photo of this house as it was private property but I didn’t hesitate to take a few snaps of the ruins and the graveyard.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

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Wachusett Dam Clinton MA & Surrounding Area

I apologize for the lateness of this post considering I went here last Thursday! But that led to forty eight hours of being awake which I paid for dearly with three days worth of a migraine… and here I am, back to tell the story without barfing, so it’s all good! And even with that little set back this was a great find that I found by happenstance.

Initially I had gone to a small town I had never heard of – Harvard, to find a cemetery. As with every entry I have written on cemeteries I did not find it. Instead I grabbed a friend living nearby and said, “Let’s drive!” My intent was to pick a series of roads neither one of us were familiar with… and to visit the next cemetery we came across because why not? It was raining, cold, and miserable, but I was overjoyed to find a cemetery near the school that had some old slate stones with a series of unusual designs on them. Generally speaking slate stones are very plain, while they do sometimes have designs, doodles and geometric insignia are more than a bit odd. Clearly this artist was marching to the beat of his own drum.

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And then I came across something truly peculiar – a set of two slate stones that looked like they had been put up yesterday. As it turns out they were dated to 1900. This is very weird considering slate stones were used in the 1700’s. And yet here they were, more than 100 years past the time they should have been put up – with the same classic designs on them. Makes me wonder.

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From the cemetery we drove down some rural road that went on for miles past farms and woodlands alike. That’s when we came across this crazy house that looked like it was built by Pablo Picasso – doors jutted out at odd angles and windows were piled on top of each other to make a geometric jumble of strange. I literally turned around so I could stop and take this photo of this poor unsuspecting house.

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We continued to drive. I had decided at some point we were close enough to Clinton to check out an abandoned train tunnel but this was merely a suggestion. In all honesty I was in it for the drive today – which I desperately needed.

“You’ve got to see the dam!”

“OK, where’s the dam?”

“You can see it from the road, we’re near it.”

“Wait, there’s parking spaces… let’s walk.”

And that’s how I found myself at the Wachussett Dam. There is indeed a tiny parking lot adjoining the road and it belongs to what is now a park. You must climb down A LOT of stairs but it’ll take you to the bottom of the dam where an old gorgeous water works building is, as well as a fountain, and what looks like a nice bike path for a less rainy day. I was having a ton of fun photographing this place… too much in fact. We were kicked out by a park ranger, sort of… he said we were free to stay if we didn’t mind heaving ourselves over the gate he was closing. I wouldn’t mind. My friend was less than athletic sooo…. we just said thank you and ambled back up those 300 steps. The ranger was a super nice guy though. He told us all about the history of the place. Apparently five towns had to be taken down and resettled so the area could be flooded. This was a water reservoir that fed all of Boston, including the more famous Quabbin water reservoir. I had NO IDEA. Also the water works down below shut down in the 40’s but before that it produced electricity for the town – and pretty much all the equipment to do that was built into the building back in those days which meant it was still there. Maybe during my next visit I will peek in the windows!

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

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From the Dam we ended up going back on the road and driving randomly until we hit a shop that sold grave stones. Some of their wares were in the parking lot and I found this the perfect opportunity to take a few creepy snaps… in the rain…. in the dusk…. of some gravestones. My only advice, don’t blink!

 

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Monson Ghost Town & A Random Cemetery- Hollis/Milford NH

Today was a day of blunders… I had to go to the DMV so I decided what the hell let’s go to a weird DMV and make it an excuse to go on a day trip. So I looked up interesting places to go in Milford NH. Came up with a few things but two caught my attention. The first was a cemetery where a woman was buried with what one might consider the longest diatribe ever written onto a stone – a long blathering story chuck full of probably made up drama about how her local church murdered her and such, put up by her apparently equally insane husband. I mean inscribing this thing must have taken a fortune and I don’t even think there’s any relevant information on it (like date of birth and death…)

Sadly, just like the other times I have tried to find an old cemetery I ended up at the wrong one… even worse I could not find a name for the one I did end up strolling through, all I can say is it was on Union Street in Milford. Unlike previous cemeteries this one really looked like it’d been through the wringers. The stones were mostly from the 1800’s but they were almost all marble and in a damp and somewhat shady setting which made them erode and decay far faster than they should have. Here letters wore completely away leaving nothing of a whisper of what had once been. However some were intricately carved and therefore merited me snapping photos… so I took a few.

After this I wandered off to go find what I heard was one of New England’s hidden treasures – the Monson Center, otherwise known as a preserved ghost town dating back to the 1700’s. I had driven through a number of abandoned mining towns in previous years but those were out west and seemingly more recent. I didn’t really know what to expect of this place. All I knew was that it’d be exceedingly difficult to find. So I drove up and down the entirety of Federal Hill Road twice trying to find it and let me tell you, that is a long road! It starts paved, has a long dirt middle, and ends paved. The Monson Center looks like a ditch to anyone driving by. It’s a little after the road turns to pavement and right next to “Adam’s Road” which my GPS did not register (and it looked like a driveway to boot.) There were two random parking lots here in the woods right at the Hollis town line. The entrance was just a bar gate, the sort of thing you see keeping hikers off of pastureland and private properties. I parked not knowing if the parking lot was even public. Nothing was marked.

From here I started on down the trail and before I knew it a couple of signs emerged – a welcome and a map. OK, so I am in the right place but still feeling a bit weird. There was no one else around and the more I walked the more this seemed like a driveway. The forest opened up and there before us was a timeless pastoral scene. Stone walls bordered the drive and beyond them were crisp clean cut pastures, up ahead a tiny 1700’s farmhouse with a car parked next to it. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. The scenery instantly put me at a deep ease. It felt ancestral. It felt somehow just right. I wanted to live here! It was so quiet and peaceful! Still the house threw me. Is this someone’s property? Did I get lost again?? As it turns out I did not. The house serves as a museum and welcome center of sorts. It holds a number of artifacts and the man who owns the place is all the happier to explain them to you. The house is really small but very typical of a house from that period. I was loving it. The old man there even showed us a picture of a ghost. My young eyes just saw some dude wearing vibrantly colored Western wear reflected in the glass, camera and all, but I didn’t feel the need to kill the dream…

Outside of the house there’s a number of trails that lead you through the woods and back in time. The main path was once a road going straight through the center of this now extinct village. There’s no houses left but a few scraps of foundation lie here and there behind neat little plaques. There was something about these paths that was so dreamy and whimsical. It felt downright magical. I was so happy just to be walking through the trees, past the stone walls I had seen in every other corner of New England. The path led to a rookery and beaver dam, which is a very polite was of saying swamp. Even here I was inexplicably happy. The heron nests were easy to see but the birds must have been off foraging. Atop one of the two beaver lodges a daft Canadian goose sat on some eggs. benches were placed strategically throughout the property and I could have while away The whole day sitting on any of them, even here in the swamp!

This was not a particularly difficult path and it did not have anything terribly unusual about it… but for some reason it immediately became a new favorite place. I have every intention of going back now I know where it is!

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Birthplace of Johnny Appleseed – Leominster MA

Well, since I was in town anyway, a mere two miles down the road if my GPS tells me right, I decided to swing by the birthplace of Johnny Appleseed. I must say this is the most underwhelming roadside attraction I have ever witnessed. It’s a little ditch, with something that looks like a gravestone marking his birth and right next to that there is a bulletin telling you who he was and a dollhouse replica of the cabin he was born in. All these are under a No Trespassing sign but if you turn a blind eye to that you can walk around the dollhouse and find an immensely underwhelming diorama! Seriously, this is not worth driving to but if you happen to be there anyway….

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