Yet another summer has rolled around which means it’s time to go antiquing! And I don’t mean the stuffy sort of antiquing one might expect from Rhode Island. I am not in the market for a 15th century chair or some fine china I’m afraid to breathe on. I do have enough spare change for a good haunted doll though…
And so we found not an antique store but an antique mall. Antique malls are usually large buildings (in this case a 17th century mill) which rent out booths on consignment meaning it’s halfway between antiquing at a little shop and halfway between rummaging through the town yard sale. You never know what you’re going to find! Or for what price. I was in.
Better still this place has a reputation for being haunted – and I mean with this many antiques that seemed like a guarantee more than a speculation but it wasn’t the antiques that were supposed to be causing the unrest. Unusual activity here was said by some locals to be the wandering spirits linked to the shocking murder of Mary Eddy who was bludgeoned to death in 1903 on her way home from working at the mill. The killer was Earl Jacques, another worker at the mill, whose mother claimed he was mentally slow and did not fully grasp his actions. The motive was to get Eddy’s paycheck for the week. Jacques was convicted and received the death penalty for his crimes while Mary Eddy’s fiancée was so distraught over her murder he committed suicide in a house nearby. Since then his ghost is seen on that property while Mary Eddy is said to wander up and down Pig Road where she was murdered and Jacques stays put in the antique store. Quite the story!
I loved the ambiance of the place even before we stepped inside. By the outside it looks grumpy and old. You can see how the cement used on the outside is beginning to crumble from advanced age exposing the rocks within. Nearby in the parking lot there is a river and a structure which I am guessing probably once hosted a big water wheel. Historic accounts of the town say there’s an inordinate amount of factory accidents, drownings, and people run over by horses or cars that has led to this section gaining it’s haunted reputation.
I didn’t know about all that when I walked in. Perhaps I was too distracted by the giant sock monkey being hugged by a Kraken-esque tentacle. Yup, we’d stumbled onto another winner. Right behind that was a cache of great vinyl records – most classic rock from the 60’s-80’s. Usually when I come into a place like this and there’s a record collection it’s 90% dollar records that no one has ever heard of (or just blatantly doesn’t want – I’m looking at you Bill Cosby albums.)
This place was massive and just seemed to go on and on. I was in love with the old architecture and the uniqueness of each booth. There was just everything here – including a bottle of arsenic that gave instructions of what to do in case of accidental poisoning. Somehow I don’t think milk and butter do a hell of a lot but hey, if it worked for grandma…
My travel companion kept entertained finding increasingly scary Santas spread like confetti through the entire store. As fun as that was I had my eyes on the less Christmasy dolls. There was a huge case of trolls… did you know they made PUPPY TROLLS? And they’re just as terrifying as they sound. Even worse was a doll that looked like it might be able to crawl on its own and another in a case with half its head missing – scalped? Lobotomized? One can’t be too sure. Always fun were the usual bassinets full of random doll parts just waiting for some young Frankenstein to come waltzing in. “Ah yes, this’ll do…”
An even more funny image to me was a plastic reindeer situated atop all the cases just looking out over the store. It was missing one foot and seemed… happy about that. And of course there was always a few items here and there to remind us of what racist fucks we’ve been in the past. A mammie doll here, an “Indian Joe” drumming figure there, and can’t forget the odd Chinamen… Still, there was MUCH less of this than in Maine which is what I’m used to.
Did you know that Mr. Potatohead once had a companion, Oscar Orange? I guess he must not have sold as well. Another bizarre find was the entire cast of the Wizard of Oz as cows. At the end of the day neither one of us came home with anything but we both wanted to return at a later date because you just never know…
Being as it’s the beginning of the season and I am still struggling to lose my quarantine weight we decided to find something fun but on the easier side to do. This was an old haunt of my travel companion, but he hadn’t been in years so his memory of which paths and whatnot to take was… more or less like a corrupted file in his brain.
It was an easy little place to find and used to be free but now it has a suggested donation box. If I remember right, it was $7 per adult, $3 per child, to be collected in an honor box as we went in. Nothing too bad. There were a few buildings here, a barn and what I think was an information center, but he was determined to hit the trails so we went off behind the barn and past the little picnic table where a group of young women who work there were chatting merrily. They welcomed us as we made our way to a path that wasn’t quite visible from there.
And then we started to walk. It was a sweet little place with what seemed a lot of flat hiking trails, some with wooden trellises, and plenty of trees. Despite it looking quite populous from the onset there weren’t any people here. I joked I better see some cool birds being a bird sanctuary and all. That’s when a blue jay flew down and my companion pointed, “There’s a bird!”
A blue jay? That’s not going to be what I write home about. They’re everywhere and they’re assholes to boot, frequently showing up at neighborhood bird feeders to terrorize all the other birds. I even had one stealing cat food at one point. From the cat. I guess they’re pretty if you’ve never seen one… and until you hear the godawful noise that comes from their little beaks. I snapped a photo for giggles but in typical blue jay fashion the whole thing just looked like a big old blur.
We saw a finch of some sort not long after – again my camera decided to focus on the branches instead of the bird beyond – and then we came to a little pond where we met what had to be the friendliest teenage Canadian goose I’ve ever met. He swam up to us with those big baby eyes but looking otherwise like an adult. Probably looking for treats. Sorry bub, no treats here, but you sure are a cutie and what gorgeous pics you take!
We ambled on, into the mugginess and heat, and began to take trail after trail like a deeply confused and highly caffeinated squirrel. I just went along, knowing my companion was looking for something but having no idea what that something was. Useless little facts like these often get lost on these adventures and who am I to say that isn’t part of the fun.
I was doing pretty well but since gaining an extra 30 pounds I overheat like a tiny European car trying to make it up a mountain. Sadly for me I didn’t have a gallon of cold water to combat human vapor lock. I did however have a far better prepared hiking partner who did have water and was now looking back at me huffing and puffing a bit concerned. So embarrassing. With several breaks I was able to make it with what I could have done in half an hour and without breaking a sweat a couple years ago. SIGH. Meanwhile the commotion was scaring off a number of deer at different points, and one birder. I love birders and that look their eyes all scream, “WHY ARE YOU SCARING AWAY MY BIRDS?” They’re perfect introverts, that’s what they are. We continued on, politely, and somewhat quietly.
I had no idea that what my travel companion was looking for was a trail that scrambles straight up a bunch of rocks. So, when I was absolutely tuckered out we finally found it and I pushed my sorry ass to get up there. I haven’t scrambled in a long time. I used to love it, but the rocks were out in the open and away from the shade of the trees and I was dying under the burning sun like a vampire. We took a moment to stare at “The Island’s largest property – that used to be owned by Nicholas Cage!” which was situated below. It was an old looking mansion with a big lawn that looked oddly reminiscent of a cemetery complete with the statue of a weeping woman. Weird. Did see a bird from there – a bird of prey of some sort – probably a hawk. I didn’t have my long-distance lens because I didn’t know I would be doing bird portraits today. Also, that lens weighs like thirty pounds and works best with a tripod which would have added clunky to the heavy.
We continued to scrabble and the view got increasingly pretty and increasingly terrifying as we were now traipsing like goats on a cliff’s edge that looked straight down. One little slip and we’d probably end up dead in the field below. That kept me moving. Carefully. In bellbottoms. Because that’s what all the mountain climbers are wearing these days. During this process he kept looking back at me, assuring me it was close, and asking if I was alright. We’re almost there, just keep on going…
Finally, we got to the lookout, the end of the trail. I think it was called Hanging Rock Point. Or something Hanging Rock anyway. I asked where the hanging rock was and he said we were standing on it. OKaaaaay… It was a gorgeous view. To one side was a big, beautiful wheat field, below were a few Gothic looking trees, and beyond a road wound around us. Beyond that was the ocean. Not bad! I took a shoe selfie and we chilled a bit before trying to back track and find the car – only afterwards having realized there was a map at the entrance. After this we were off to get burritos which were lovely six hours later after my heat stroke settled and the nausea dissipated enough to eat them. Got to love having a half-functional body!
I should also remark that on our way to said burrito place we passed the Hanging Rock so I pulled over into the beach parking lot to take a look and yes, yes it does indeed hang over the road. Also by the end of our little jaunt our bird sighting were thus: One blue jay, several finches, several robins, one very friendly Canada goose, one hawk, one heron, and one woodpecker.
It’s weird how you can live somewhere almost your entire life and have no idea what is actually in the town you live in. Maybe it’s because being raised in a small town tends to make eccentric people a little… desperate to escape. I admit, I may have had some blinders on but really, I just noticed this path for the first time despite driving by it thousands of times. It seemed the perfect place to go check out – close by, easy to get to, and an easy path for my unfit body to absolutely crush so off I went!
First off I must say there’s no parking and it’s a busy road (the 119) so you want to be well off it unless you want to cause an accident. I managed to park the Prius directly in front of the trail and there was a little piece of shoulder there probably big enough for two cars if I wasn’t terrified of getting stuck in the mud… but you know, Priuses be Priuses. ANYWAY…
I was a little shocked how well maintained this path was. It was wide – maybe an old road? And it had a bulletin board not far in with maps and information which it looks like no one has looked at in a long time – but it was well stocked none the less! After that though… it got a bit hairy.
The first fork in the path went off in three different directions but only two were on the map… and the map wasn’t color coded so I was a bit thrown. I decided to walk straight. From there I found a few lovely large clearing type areas which would have been fantastic to run a dog if I still had one. And then the trails became super jumbled. There were blue markers, red, markers, yellow markers, and even the odd white marker. I had no idea where I was going or why but luckily I had come early and wasn’t disturbed by the idea of getting lost – I knew I could follow the sounds of traffic to get back to the 119 and my car.
Although this was supposed to be a wetland trail there wasn’t much water.. until I ended up in someone’s back yard which I am pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to. There was PLENTY of mud though and I highly suggest bringing your boots this time of year!
All and all it was a sweet little path – almost completely flat and quite short – but lacked a lot of character. I wouldn’t really suggest it unless you happen to live in Rindge or really close by in which case it still needs someone to love it, right? Better still the maps on the bulletin board let me know about three other nearby paths (but weirdly not the Betsy Foskett which is almost right across the road??) Suffice to say I will be going out and checking these other trails soon.
Sometimes I get tired of finding new locations or I just lack inspiration. It’s at these times I like to hand the torch over to my travel companions and tell them to pick a place. I’m always happy to drive and the surprise of these adventures ticks off my ever expanding need for novelty.
On this day the choice was to go to Gay City State Park – a location in Connecticut that came up as a FaceBook suggestion to my travel companion. Let’s go!
Gay City State Park was easy enough to get to but they were taking trees down at the entrance when we drove up so we had to wait for them to move it out of the way. From there there was a really large parking lot for a park. This place was sort of huge. We followed several other people who were already out walking their dogs. They all made their way to a shut off road that goes straight into the center of the park. It had a toll booth and all. To the side there was a campground and signs were up for swimming holes, By Scouts, and various other activities. I am glad I didn’t come to this place during the summer season. It looks like it’d be flooded with children escaping the city. In this sense it was a lot like Rangeley, just bigger. What were we here to see again?
“The remnants of a ghost town.”
OK then! We took what looked like the main trail and began to hike into the woods. It was a pretty easy trail, a few mild inclines here and there but nothing too bad. Since it was gray and threatening to rain on this day the bare trees took on a bit of a foreboding appearance. When we came to a fork in the trail we just started walking down random branches of it. I have no idea how my travel companion can find his way back after doing this – I never could. One wrong turn and I’m screwed. We did eventually come across the foundation of an old house aside the trail. Ferns grew out of the walls and gave it a bit of a Secret Garden kind of feeling. Still, we’re a both a bit jaded at this point having seen quite a few ruins, we had to ask was this it? We continued to hike. Luckily it wasn’t raining yet and the temperature was perfect for a brisk walk through the leaf litter.
Eventually we made our way back to the main path which was supposed to have a ruined mill on it and sure enough it wasn’t long before we found it. I’ve seen lots of ruined and abandoned mills but this one was old! Only part of the foundation remained (after the structure burned down on three separate occasions) and it was not messing around. I’m pretty sure it’ll still be there in another 100 years! It made me wonder what it looked like when it was fresh and new and how many people worked here. I took some time wandering around taking somewhat artsy photos. It was worth the trip!
There’s rumors of a few weird terribly New England-y murders happening here back in the day when the town was thriving. Some people pay for permits to camp so they can ghost hunt at night. We did not… for we had other places to go!
We wandered back to the car to explore a second destination. There was supposed to be an abandoned missile silo from the 1950’s hidden just eight miles away. However the GPS just brought up to a random neighborhood and there was no indication there was a trail, an appropriate place to park, or anything else you might think would go with such a destination. We didn’t even bother getting out of the car. Instead we headed to our third and final destination of the day – the Ballard Institute and Museum of Puppetry.
On the way to Holy Land USA we passed a sign reading Gillette Castle which sounded familiar. I decided if we had the time and I noticed the sign on the way back that I was going to check it out, but I didn’t tell my travel companion, instead letting this detour be a spontaneous surprise. Coming home and a mile from the exit I saw the sign again and asked him to look it up to see if it was anything worth it because I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was.
After a moment he looked down at his phone and yelled, “YEP! Worth it! Take the exit!”
I just smiled. Most people I travel with get a bit flustered with me being so unpredictable. Going to a specified destination is always fun — going to a completely random one on the fly is arguably more fun. Besides when you’ve been kicking around the road for as long as I have you start remembering things you might like to see and like a moth to flame you just end up there at random…
So far my visit to Connecticut showed me a state that more or less just felt like a huge suburban backyard for NYC. Maybe this why even people in New England seem to have an indifferent attitude towards Connecticut… it feels… different. But now I was driving through a little town it was feeling a bit more familiar. Everything here was super well kept and quaint. A little Mayberry if you will. I however was once again back to scaring the shit out of my passenger because we found ourselves in the Prius going up a 90 degree hill which was also a hairpin turn.
“TWENTY-FIVE! The speed limit is TWENTY-FIVE!”
“Yes, but if we dip below 20 this car is going to slide back down the hill and there’s a car behind us!”
“Oh my God!”
We were lucky we went before it snowed. The Prius would have never made it up, going 27 MPH or not.
I followed signs (and my travel companions phone suggestions) to the park, again not knowing what to expect. As we drove in there was a nice little paved road through the park like you’d see in a typical city set up. However, we were both caught completely off guard when we drove up to this profoundly beautiful (but dry) manmade lake/fountain overshadowed by a little hobbit bridge. So quaintly pretty! It was like being in an English countryside!
“Where do we park?”
“Just wait, there will be parking at the end I’m sure…” And indeed I was right. There was parking just behind a huge castle!
We hopped out of the car, knowing we were on a two hour time constraint before the park was closed and gated up. This place was grand! I was not expecting anything quite so massive but here was what looked like a real castle…. overlooking a serene riverside scene. To add to the Gothic flair two turkey vultures circled overhead. I immediately wanted to attend a Gothic wedding here. I didn’t even care whose. Just a big Gothic wedding.. with at least one black-clad bride. Yep. I’d be so happy to attend.
The 24-room, 14,000 square foot castle is apparently furnished and normally open to the public but has been blocked off since the Covid pandemic. We both immediately decided that we would be back to peer inside when this whole thing blows over. In the meanwhile we wandered around the outside taking photos and admiring the dragon gargoyle jutting off the side.
The castle took 5 years to build and was completed in 1919 costing a cool million dollars at the time (that’s over 15.5 million dollars today.) It was the creation of an eccentric stage actor by the name of William Gillette who retired here with his seventeen cats. He was apparently quite the character and built into his home a series of secret passageways and spy mirrors to help him make a “dramatic entrance” when entertaining guests. Unsurprisingly he died in 1937 without any heirs and left a bizarre will reading the estate was not to go to any “blithering sap-head who has no conception of where he is or with what surrounded.” Somehow this resulted in the state of Connecticut buying the property in 1943 for the low-low sum of five thousand dollars. It languished in ruin until a four year eleven million dollar restoration project allowed it to reopen to the public in 2002. And boy is it worth it!
We wandered off after thoroughly checking out the outside of the castle. To the side of it was an old train platform. Apparently at one time it ran a private rail 3 miles onto the property.
“This is the kind of place we could fortify for the apocalypse.” My travel companion plotted.
“Well there is a huge root cellar, access to the river, and my God it’s peaceful up here.”
We found ourselves a trail and tried to make our way to the weird hobbit bridge with nothing but our broken sense of direction. This resulted in a delightful face-paced walk through what seemed an enchanted wood. There were lovely slate outcroppings, some nice view of the bogs, and random ruins such as disused wells smattered about. We found our way to a tunnel, perhaps part of the old train rail? We walked into it. It was super dark and cold. Had a weird feel about it but I suppose any place like that does. On the way back I’d joyfully suggest we go through it without our phone flashlights. I found this more enjoyable and less creepy!
Meanwhile the trails in the woods eventually did bring us to the fountain and bridge which made for a lovely photo opportunity and I am sure would have been far prettier in the summer when it’s full of water and not swamp mud and dead leaves.
On our way back we found an old wooden trestle that had partially collapsed and took a few photos. By now it was getting late and we had our nice little walk. It was a fun day and this was the perfect detour to add to it. When we found ourselves back to the car the turkey vulture swooped very low above us and showed its immense size. And then a stairway on the hillside caught my travel companion’s eye so up we went to check out this last little nook. Up above there were a series of picnic tables and another strange little ruin. I am not sure what it was but it was fun to poke at. Maybe it was a tower? Who knows.
When we drove out of that place we were WELL satisfied but the day wasn’t done with us yet because only a few miles down the road I found myself forking over $5 to drive the Prius onto a “historic ferry.” I’ve been on a car ferry before… in Europe…. but never in the US! And this was a hell of a ride. The expanse between the river banks was shockingly wide. And what do you know – I am still phobic of boats. I was fine until it started moving and then I wasn’t so fine. I know, it’s a ferry, chill. I calmed down but it took me a moment. I was still happy to get to the other side… feeling accomplished. Exposure therapy? Something.
ANYWAY, I’d highly recommend the castle and even the ferry ride to other explorers, travelers, and lovers of the strange and unusual.
UPDATE:
Last week we realized the castle was once again open for visitors to see the inside so of course we had to go for a repeat trek. We were not disappointed!
There weren’t many people there that day – just a few families and a tour of elderly including an 84 year old man who looked great for such an advanced age and a woman he was travelling with that had the Muppets theme song for her ringtone (how adorable is that??) ANYWAY… we parked in their super sunny parking lot, slipped on our required masks, and went inside the information center to buy tickets to the castle. They only allowed 15 people at a time in at any given point and tour guides stood in various locations to answer questions. The first was a young woman with a lot of enthusiasm for her job who delighted in showing us all how cat-proofed the castle was since it was more or less dedicated to the seventeen felines that shared Gillette’s life. Cute little froggy knickknacks were literally cemented to the fireplace so the little furry bastards couldn’t knock them off. An ornate table nearby clacked to life when it was realized it’s elaborate wooden skirt was actually built to be a cat toy. This place was awesome just for that but it got better…
The doors were all unique contraptions with complex steam punk mechanisms carved into them. The light switches matched. And if that wasn’t enough to love the wonderfully weird mind that came up with this then the description of his life here really settled it. On the balcony overlooking the first floor there were mirrors placed everywhere so he could tell who was in the house and where. If it was someone he didn’t like he’d retreat to his bedroom and pretend not to be there (and introvert’s dream!) Or if he was in the mood to be playful, which seemed to often be the case, he could lock wandering souls into the adjoining bar. The only exit was obviously a trick door – I mean at that point, why not? And watching them scratch around like rats in search of an escape probably amused him more than it should have.
Gillette grew to be an increasingly intriguing figure as we made our way through his castle. He was a stage actor in NYC whose claim to fame (and fortune) came from his performance as Sherlock Holmes. He was even cited as being the one who added the line, “It’s elementary, my dear fellow!” (which was later changed to Watson.) The castle was so far into the middle of nowhere he had to build his own train line to get there. Some of the stations still remain. And if all of that isn’t impressive enough he also wrote a popular play at the time about the Civil War and wrote a novel as well – a mystery novel with that I can only guess had intensely flowery language. If it were still being printed I would sooo have bought one from the gift shop but alas, there is only a copy in his little second floor art gallery in a little glass box. And that’s the other thing – a whole little art gallery full of paintings, books, and local history! The architecture equally as baffling as the rest of the castle. It was amazing. I love eccentric historical figures. They’re never boring. In fact with renovations still ongoing there was this odd playful feeling throughout the whole second floor. I pondered if maybe he wasn’t still lingering the halls. A copy of his most unusual will was displayed on the wall.
I’m super happy we went to this castle – twice. I will probably go again just because it’s so damn weird and beautiful. And outside the hiking trails around the property are just as quaint as can be and you can find tiny train stations and tunnels strewn about still, although the tracks are long since gone. I sort of naively hope maybe they’ll be replaced someday.
September 30th was my birthday so I decided to celebrate by releasing my first fiction novel Achilles in Heels and going on a bit of an adventure to find whatever remains of Alice’s Restaurant. It’s that time of year after all.
It was a two hour drive into the Berkshires at the height of the fall foliage season and I must admit just the colors alone made me super happy to be on this journey. My intention was to find the restaurant and church mentioned in the song Alice’s Restaurant heard below:
However while I was down there I might as well go for a little hike. My travel companion had found photos of a trail that looked gorgeous and seemed to end in a observation tower that looked out over the mountains from Stockbrdge’s highest point. Perfect.
And so we headed to Laura’s Tower. It was a trail at the end of a sweet little residential street that had a sign reading, “residents only.” After two hours of driving I wasn’t about to listen to it (sorry) and parked the car in the little parking lot at the head of the trail where there were other non-resident vehicles. At the beginning there was a sign describing the trails which neither one of us read until afterwards, much to the chagrin of our bodies…
I’d read reviews of this trail before coming out and one woman claimed to have brought her three year old which had an easy time of it. I’m currently sporting a quarantine bod and am pathetically out of shape but I figured if a three year old could do it I’d be OK.
And so we crossed this adorable little stone bridge and found ourselves on the most whimsical trail I’d ever seen. It was bordered by these windy fences and walked alongside the Housatonic river. Beautiful. Quaint. But we walked the whole loop in a matter of minutes and there was nothing in the shape of an observation tower anywhere to be seen. Hmmmm. I enjoyed this little jaunt but I was feeling a bit unsatisfied. This was indeed a scenic little walk but maybe a bit anticlimactic without the tower. There was a second path branching off this one at the very beginning that went over the train tracks just over the bridge. We decided to poke at it and hope that’s where the tower was.
Now I have to admit the day before we went to Sherri’s Castle again, somehow wound off the trail there, and I ended up in the indignant position of sliding on my butt down a deer path because wet leaves, a steep hill, and Converse sneakers are a terrible mix. I was hoping this wasn’t going to end the same way.
Still, we trekked into the woods, and began up this path which at first was a slow but steady incline. Even so it was becoming straining. About halfway up we stopped and took a rest on a rocky outcropping. We’d neglected to eat lunch before this and we were both hungry, tired, and unsure if we wanted to go on but according to my trail app we were already halfway up. I didn’t know if I could handle that much more hiking but we tried anyway.
This is when the path went from pleasant little incline to an absolutely punishing upward grapple that weaved in every direction like a mountain road with no ending in sight. Two thirds of the way up I thought I was going to die. My legs were not having anymore of this. I gasped and panted in a most unflattering way. I was taking breaks every 250 feet or so. My heart was trying to leap out of my chest. My resolve was dissolving. I seriously considered just accepting I was defeated and going back down but two thirds of the way up is almost there and after driving two hours to get here I was unlikely to come back. I’d always blame myself for being too much of a wuss to make it to the top. My travel companion was fairing a little better than me but not by much and felt the same.
So we took a lot of breaks. By now my legs had gone from sore to outright painful with every step. Sharp stabbing pains. I knew if I could keep going the endorphins would kick in and I’d eventually go numb. So I pushed forward, leaning on trees at every break, watching the people who took the trail at the same time as us make it to the top and then pass us on the way down. Embarrassing. They did claim it wasn’t far though and that it was worth it!
I braced myself on a tree to puke at one point and came very close to losing the precious little water I just swallowed. Puking is my body’s answer to every problem. Luckily it was really just around the corner that time and I made it to the observation tower. Our reward for taking this punishing hike came in the form of a steep terrifying stairway to the sky. Uuuuuuughhhh.
I took a breather as my travel companion braved the stairs. When he got to the top all I heard was, “Shit!”
I frowned and yelled upwards, “What?!” thinking he’d dropped something to the bottom or some other terrible thing was happening.
“It was worth it!” He yelled back.
Oh OK, I’ll take my sorry ass and see what’s up there. I grabbed ahold of the hand rails and slowly made my way up trying not to look anywhere because I’m not great with heights.
And when I got to the top – WOW. Brilliantly colored trees were in all directions. This was a bird’s eye view of Autumn and it was spectacular. I took a few snaps, made a few off handed comments on FaceBook and Twitter, and then we made our way back down which was actually even more terrifying than going up!
Of course the trail back was all going down hill so was way easier and we were back at the beginning just as the forest was going dark for the night. Perfect timing. Now to find that restaurant… only it apparently doesn’t exist anymore, even under a new name, and the church? It was somewhere beyond a closed bridge and my brain was too melted to want to figure that one out so someday I will have to come back…
It was still an awesome birthday. And it can be even better if anyone buys my book Achilles in Heels, wink wink, nod nod. (I’ll stop mentioning it after this, I promise. I am just so excited for it!)
In the meanwhile I’m sorry this entry is lacking in photos. My phone has been throwing temper tantrums about storage space and I accidentally deleted all the photos I took which were not backed up in trash in any way. So all I have are a handful I posted to FaceBook the day of and my travel companion’s snaps. All below.
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.
Alright! Having been sufficiently engaged with the Pleasant View Cemetery I was all ready to go find a hiking trial… one that was a little more user friendly than the last one I tried! It didn’t take long before I stumbled onto the Mason Rail Trail.
I was a little disappointed. I wanted something a little less… popular… but it probably was a good thing I ended up here. I am hideously out of shape and the rail trails and nice and flat! And go on for miles! And since it was later on in the day there weren’t too many people, although more than I would have liked considering quarantine and whatnot. However, there were few enough of us to really spread out and even so one older couple had masks (so did I, matching my orange hair of course.)
I was happy to note there was not only a bunch of cyclists but also much evidence of horses along the trail. Rail trails are lovely places to go out riding if you are so inclined.
Today’s trail seemed very polite, it even had signs warning of washed out areas! And the people all seemed in a great mood. It was the perfect weather to be out – cloudy and 66 degrees. I walked at a fast clip trying to get myself a decent work out. A cyclist noticing my camera told me that if I walked in the opposite direction, across the road, I would come to a little swampy area where an “oblivious pileated woodpecker” lives. I had to laugh. Thanks for the heads up!
I walked for about 45 minutes before getting winded and deciding to find a place to sit. This turned out to be on a little detour off the mail rail trail where I found a rock to sit and listen to people going by overhead. That was kind of amazing in it’s own way. Most had no idea I was there, though one guy took a double take at something colorful in the woods and upon seeing what it was, or rather who, he smiled and laughed. I know these little interactions are brief and meaningless but they pick up my spirits. I like to know that my mere existence can make a stranger smile. I sat for quite some time enjoying this little serene spot before heading back at a leisurely pace. Rail Trails are wonderful for late day hikes because they are very wide and straight and literally impossible to get lost on so if you get caught out there after dark – no bigs! You’ll still get back to the car just fine! And I did… and I was the last car to leave the parking lot…
If you would like to check out this trail please know the Uncle Sam House (and adjoining trail) are also right up the road!
As I was driving around aimlessly looking for a hiking trail I was distracted by a sweet little cemetery on a hill. It had a little brick crypt (fancy!) and even an iron gate reading “1790.” Well, that’s all I needed… I’m in! I parked the car aside the road and grabbed my camera.
This was a well manicured cemetery but it was clearly old and out of use. I didn’t see any stones past the mid 1800’s. The vast majority of them were slate with the usual decals and a few oddities. If you read this blog often you know I have a deep fondness for slate stones but today my attention was drawn to the few marble memorials that were sitting near the gate. One was a little lamb, dedicated to a toddler. It’s always sad seeing these but the marble lambs age so interestingly. This one was completely intact (frequently the lambs loose their heads or ears) and was covered in lichen. Little spooky, nice for an artsy photo, and then I saw the big memorials behind it. One was of an open book, again so covered in lichen it was unreadable, and next to the book on alter was one of the most heart-stopping and unique memorials I have ever seen. It belonged to a boy named Johnnie whose bust I can only assume it was, lying as if asleep, forever immortalized in marble. It evoked a profound sense of grief and sympathy for the loss of a child. I was unable to track down any information on the poor soul but his stone reads:
HERE LIES THE REMAINS OF THE BELOVED CHILD OF J.&.E. HARTNOLL JOHNNIE A. BORN IN DEVONSHIRE ENGLAND MAY 11 1868 DIED IN MASON N.H. JULY 14 1878 AT REST
The other notable stone was on the opposite side of the cemetery and was where the remains of the first president of Harvard college Henry Dunster was laid to rest. There are also a number of revolutionary war soldiers here, mostly fatalities from Bunker Hill. Oddly no one left pennies on their graves. I take it this place is not visited often.
However if you’re into history the Uncle Sam house is less than a mile away. And on this day I decided to close out my day by enjoying the Mason Rail Trail nearby.
It’s funny. It seems I have been all over the place – this blog started when I went to all the lower 48 states, and then Europe, and then decided to explore all corners of New England, but what I haven’t done in all that time is pay any attention whatsoever to the town where I was raised and spent the majority of my life: Rindge NH. And what a perfect time to explore a deserted cemetery so close to home than when we’re all still being super cautious about the corona virus.
So that’s how I ended up in the center of Rindge at the Meetinghouse Cemetery. I parked at the church because I had a foggy recollection that there was a gap in the fence I could walk through at the corner of it. Indeed there is, as well as a proper entrance adjacent to the current town hall just down the street a little ways where the old crypt still stands. Parking at either is easy and doesn’t bother anyone.
I hadn’t visited this place since I was probably 12 or 13 years old and had a friend living nearby. We’d walked the cemetery and played in the town center – once giving the dog officer a hell of a scare as we bounded through the snow in the common on one particularly dark evening. But happy childhood memories aside, this is the heart of the historic parts of Rindge and it’s got a lot of stories to tell. And what a better day to tell them than on a rainy day like this?! The perfect activity for those of you going nuts in quarantine – no one walks through old cemeteries in the rain… well, except for me and a handful of other delightfully weird people.
I have to say I don’t remember this being the most hill-filled graveyard I have ever been too. WHEW! There was no effort whatsoever put into flattening the ground here but I must admit that adds to how dramatic it feels with slate stones dating back to the 1700’s and creepy barren trees on all sides. Still it was super peaceful and welcoming to the photographer in me. (Though people driving by absolutely did notice me there. Probably thought I was the Ghost of the 1970’s with my orange plaid bellbottoms.)
A Little About the Stones…
I’ve learned a few things over the years about these old graveyards and cemeteries. The first is the difference between a cemetery, which is just a generalized burial ground, and a graveyard which is the consecrated ground surrounding a church. The slate stones that were favored in the 1700’s were mostly mass produced in Boston. As such many have the same designs on them. Today I saw mostly Death Heads (a symbol of rebirth and resurrections) and weeping willows. As usual the stones closest to the church were both the oldest and frequently the most wealthy. You can tell by how large they are as they range from little more than a foot tall to five or six feet. People of wealth in those days often were tied to either religious institutions or the military. You can see several Minute Men buried here who usually have metal markers aside their grave.
Was there anyone of particular note residing here? I actually don’t know. I suspect there are a lot of people that were important to the town back in the day but this was a while ago. I didn’t see any stones that dated any younger than 1901. This… is a forgotten place.
Other Things to See Nearby
That being said there are a few other things to see nearby if you’re there anyway. Directly across the street is the ruins of an old foundation that used to be our old town shelter for both abused animals and battered women. This was not unusual as the Humane Society functioned more as peace officers for domestic abuse situations than they did as animal rescuers although they fulfilled both roles. How much of a need did we have for this little building I have no idea but suffice to say if you were in need you’d be kept there…
Not far from the ruined foundation there’s a tiny park dedicated to our veterans. There’s a few benches, a little memorial, some flags. From here you can look over the town common which used to be used as a livestock exchange and open air market. Today it holds a gazebo used for weddings and one of only two antique livestock scales left in New England which we proudly use every year for the great pumpkin weigh-off. So how big can a pumpkin get? apparently over 2,500 pounds… and let me tell you moving these giant orange beasts is a challenge. Worth coming out just to see that!
And so that’s my little town center. Thanks for stopping by to enjoy it with me. Below are five galleries of photos I took, organized by topic.
Gallery One: Super Dramatic Multiple Stone Photos
Gallery Two: Some Individual Stones
Gallery Three: Artsy Close Ups
Gallery Four: Other Things to See
This structure was used to house carriage horses during church services.
