Tag: travel

Apple Picking at Whittle Willow’s Spring Farm in Mystic Connecticut

Thursday was my birthday but I really didn’t feel like celebrating. I have been in a stress-induced haze for a year and didn’t make my goal of publishing another book on my birthday as is the tradition I set for myself. As such I was feeling less like my birthday was about celebrating surviving another year of life and more about marking down I was another year closer to death which seemed a bit grim. And because of this I didn’t give anyone any warning it was my birthday.

I did try to figure out something cool to do but I was coming up short so I did what I always do in these situations – I left it up to the Universe – “If you want me to celebrate my birthday, you figure something out.” And it did! Sort of out of nowhere we ended up getting together with another friend who suggested we go apple picking. I haven’t been apple picking since I was just a wee one so the thought of it definitely tickled my brain. Yes, this would be the perfect way to spend my birthday – and was it ever!

We ended up going to the Wittle Willow’s Spring Farm in Mystic Connecticut. They had a lovely little farm stand set up and both an apple orchard and a pumpkin patch to pick from. They handed us some brown paper bags and off we wandered into the vague direction they were pointing. We were told there were lots of McIntosh, some Granny Smiths, some Red Delicious, and a few Golden Delicious somewhere out there. And so we wandered out into the orchard which was… not marked in any way and the trees didn’t even grow in proper rows but seemed to be dotted at random. We found some Granny Smiths but they too were not in a cluster but rather smattered about in between all the McIntosh. It was pure chaos and only about to get more chaotic.

For here in the middle of the orchard was a neatly groomed stone wall with a tiny old family cemetery within it. There was even a sign dating it to the 1700’s. How ironic is that that we went to probably the only orchard with a cemetery in it?! Obviously I was charmed. Meanwhile my companion was charmed with a singular pair tree just hanging out and chilling.

“They’re just funny looking apples.” My dry sense of humor is sometimes lost on those who have to endure it.

When we all had our paper sack loaded up we headed back to weigh and buy them. It was $1.50 a pound and we all made out like bandits. I’ll be making apple butter and probably apple sauce. There was talk of apple juice, pancakes, and pies.

And then we finished our little adventure playing with some pigs sleeping in a wallow. There were three big sows and maybe a couple dozen piglets and the farm stand was selling lettuce and corn to feed them as treats. The second they heard the first lettuce leaf being plucked off they all woke up and ran to the fence. From there it was just a feeding frenzy with the big mamas grunting in disapproval whenever the treats ran dry. The largest one seemed most insistent nuzzling the fence and grunting. She reminded me of a dog with weirdly human looking eyes. The whole scene reminded me of the happy days I lived on a farm throwing one grape at a time into the chicken pen and watching 50 or so hens all make a mad dash for it. Someday I will return to this life but for now I found it very cathartic to just visit.

Our adventures were just starting for the day because after this we wanted to go to nearby B F Clyde’s Cider Mill where I was hoping to score an apple cider doughnut in lieu of a birthday cake.

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B-52 Crash Site – Greenville Maine

Did you know there are numerous airplane crash sites in the woods you can still hike to all over New England? I have wanted to visit one for a long time now but most of them are pretty intense hikes into the mountains which I knew I couldn’t physically do… but the B-52 crash site in Greenville is practically right off the parking lot so it was the optimum amount of difficulty for me!

And the story surrounding it is more exciting than an Indiana Jones adventure. On January 24, 1963 a B-52C Stratofortress flew out of the Westover Airforce Base in Massachusetts. It was a training mission for six crew members and three observers to learn how to fly at low altitudes over rugged terrain to avoid RADAR detection in the Cold War effort. All was going well until the turbulence became violent enough to rip off the vertical air stabilizer which sent the plane careening into Elephant Mountain. The pilot gave the order for everyone to eject but it’d only be ten seconds between this and the plane hitting the ground. Almost everyone on board died on impact but the pilot and navigator managed to eject in time but there was a big problem here too – the pilot’s parachute didn’t deploy after ejection and he landed without it’s aid the five feet of snow below. Remarkably he only suffered a broken ankle and is the only one in US history to survive an ejection without a deployed parachute. The navigator survived with only minor injury but this was only the beginning of a miserable situation because they were six miles beyond civilization in the thick and untamed wilderness. If that wasn’t bad enough the temperature was at -15 degrees that night with a wind kicking up at 40 knots. With the added wind-chill factor this would have felt like -51F or -46C respectively. They somehow survived the night and were rescued in the morning when they could be reached.

Currently the wreckage is still six miles beyond the borders of Greenville up a series of logging roads. Having learned my lesson from my last logging road adventure I left the Prius behind and took the RAV4. This was the right idea! Several parts of the road were nearly washed out from recent rains and it got rough at points but unlike the abandoned trains the journey was relatively short and very well marked. There were signs pointing to the B52 memorial site all along the route and afterwards there were signs to guide us back to Greenville which was great because the GPS is useless on logging roads and shouldn’t be relied on in such a situation.

We weren’t the only ones there that day as several families with an inordinate amount of children were bounding out of the woods. They were respectful though, everyone was. I was shocked at the sheer carnage. You’d think that after so many decades in the wilderness that there wouldn’t be much left but actually there were pieces of metal and rubber everywhere, scattered over a disturbing distance, some pieces were still in trees. We could identify some of the wreckage but most of it was just lumps of shrapnel at this point. And that’s where the deeply unsettling thought comes to mind that airplanes are basically just tin cans we’ve convinced to stay in the air for a while.

I found the memorial to be as interesting as it was sobering and would definitely recommend it to anyone with an interest in these things. It’s near Moosehead Lake and there are a bountiful number of other things you can do in the area – hiking, camping, kayaking, and that sort of thing.

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Cliff Walk Newport RI- Part II – From Hiking Point 7-15

I told you we’d be back to take another shot at Cliff Walk. This time we almost accomplished the whole second half! But I’m getting ahead of myself…

First we figured out where we’d left off and then parked as close as we could to it in a spot that neither one of us felt was legal but you know… sometimes you just have to take the chance with the meter maids. We started near hiking point 7 – The Breakers. We’d already seen a lot of this on our first crack at it so we basically speed walked our way through all the sights and the cool egg-shaped tunnel in the rocks. This end of Cliff Walk was MUCH less populated than the other end and we were more or less alone for most of the journey with only an old hippie woman ahead of us – again beating my ass at this whole exercise thing. Damn she could ankle! SIIIIGH.

It was a hot day but there was a refreshing sea breeze coming off the water that for the most part kept me going. At other points it just smelled of rank and rotting seaweed. We were horrified to find some hikers had wandered off the path at one point to one of these little mini beaches and were swimming in the same fetid seaweed water that was giving off such an ungodly stench. It was two young women, one with a cigarette, each almost waist deep in the water squealing whenever the sea vomited up more half fermented seaweed to tangle around their legs. The chick with the cigarette raised it above her head every time the crashing tides came in. It was… a sight. And a smell!

“Oh man, they’re going to smeeeeeelllll when they get home…” Even the many dogs we had seen hiking with their masters weren’t rolling in that water – in fact they were panting off in the opposite direction – which really says something.

Newport is FULL of beaches. Most of them do not smell. In fact there were a couple other little semi private inlets on this walk alone that would have provided a better option… but to each their smelly own!

This stretch of the Cliff Walk was definitely more intense than the first half. There was a lot more scrabbling, a lot more rocks, a lot more antiquated staircases crumbling under the stresses only salt water can provide. But with these rocky stretches came new and beautiful sights. We could still see the sea angrily rushing towards shore, sometimes bringing with it piles of rocks that clacked and rumbled in the most whimsical way. There were a lot fewer birds but in their place we found a whole host of tide pools which are fun in their own right. I didn’t see too much life other than algae in them but I’m sure if I spent the time I may have found some periwinkles or itty bitty crabs or something. It’s been a dog’s year since I have gone tide pooling. It’s like looking into a little micro world you knew nothing about.

My hiking companion asked what the sea birds were. I hadn’t a clue. He’s the one that lives next to the sea! “But all I know are sea gulls and they suck.” Google later answered the question of what the big black birds having a meeting on a rock were – cormorants. Here ends all knowledge I have of said birds. They seemed chill. Certainly more so than sea gulls which let’s face it – are indeed the mosquitos of the bird world – being both obnoxious and somehow everywhere.

Meanwhile we were having fun with the more decrepit parts of the walk. We kept finding crumbled walls, bricked up stair cases, a few flits of graffiti, and random broken pipes and metal bits jutting out of the rocks off shore. It was an interesting contrast to the mansions which continued to line the path.

“Who owns that one?”

“I don’t know. I think Jay Leno has a house out here somewhere.”

“OK, I’m officially picking that one as the one the town witch lives in.”

“Why?”

“Every town needs a witch and that place looks old and beaten down.” (It did however have far more character than the better manicured mansions.)

It was wild out here – who knew that so much landscaping went into having a mansion next to the sea. We both got a good whiff of moo doo. But hey, it sure was green!

I was super proud of myself for only having to take a few very tiny breaks – and those were all due to overheating which was a vast improvement over exhaustion and pain. I still drank like a camel on leave but hey I made it! When we found ourselves at another street we decided to turn back even though the end of the trail was probably within spitting distance and you KNOW we’re going to have to go back a third time just to finish the damn thing. Point was my car was still illegally parked and we sorta needed to get back so whoosh! We waved to our new hippie friend (who had met with her family at this little cragged beach and was joining them fishing) and turned around.

All and all it was another lovely walk – this time a little better for an introvert such as myself as there were less people out here. I would still strongly suggest it if you’re in the area… just uh… be mindful of the parking situation. (And if you’re wondering – no, I did not end up with a ticket. We managed to ninja our way out of there without so much as a fuss.)

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“The Bells” Abandoned Stables Newport RI

“The Bells” were on my list of things to check out for quite a while, long before I knew a local who wanted me to go see them. That being said it was perfect going with someone who actually knew about them.

I had learned about them from Atlas Obscura and I couldn’t help but feel like the ruined and possibly haunted stables of a once grand estate sounded like a terribly fun place to check out. It’s surrounded by public land and little trails so after parking we made our way through a field to the trail which led directly to the stables with very little walking. The whimsy was overwhelming from this angle. To every side there were trees clawing their way into the structure and lush greenery creating an oddly tropical looking trail by it. It was magnificent but we were just starting.

Down one of the paths nearby, and not very much of a walk at all, there was a tower also on the grounds which you could climb to see an even more stunning view of the stables from above. From here the stables had the feel of a Gothic horror – just a castle slowly crumbling back into nature.

Afterwards we came back down and looped back past the structure. The view from the ground was a lot less dramatic but still whimsical in it’s decay. It was surrounded on all sides by a fence. Even though I am not usually one for trespassing curiosity killed the cat with this one and I too waited until no one was looking to follow aforementioned local into this enticing mystery.

Here I found a great deal of graffiti from ceiling to floor covering every inch of space. There were indeed stalls inside for once spoiled horses, including two box stalls at the end which makes me think there may have even been the occasional foal born here – though don’t quote me on that.

What I do know is that the stables are the only thing left from what was once a grand and majestic 1876 estate that fell into disrepair before burning down in 1960. While I enjoyed reading the graffiti I was regaled with tales of ghost horses galloping in the mist that surrounds the property at night. It was a delightful story in a gorgeous setting. Even the parking lot was sort of amazing – a nice view of the coast with a lighthouse standing stoically in the distance and waves anxiously lapping the shore.

Being such a gorgeous day a lot of people were out with their dogs and children but almost everyone was masked and courteous and this was not as populated with people as some of the other trails I have ventured this year. All and all it was a wonderful little adventure and well worth poking around a little bit.

I took A TON of photos which I will display below in sections. First up is The Stables:

Next up is the tower/view of the stables from above:

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Brooks Woodland Preserve – Petersham MA

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.

  • I point at where I parked
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Ledgeville Cemetery – Petersham MA

After crawling back from under the bridge on Quaker Road I continued on my journey to find a good hiking trail. However my attention was distracted by an adorable little historic cemetery off the road. There was a little driveway of sorts into the cemetery that went to the back but it had no sign up anywhere. I had no idea where I was… I *think* I was at the Ledgeview Cemetery based on a Google search.

Coming in there was a structure I thought was a well preserved crypt but it had an inscription which made me wonder if it wasn’t a tomb of some sort? It was interesting whatever it was.

This cemetery was decently small and nestled in a scenic little spot surrounded by stone walls and forest. Above it on a hill sat a huge farmhouse and a cornfield looking down. To the side, where the road was, there was another farmhouse, this one much older looking, maybe from the late 1700’s. Quaint. Beautiful. The perfect spot to catch one’s breathe. .. or have a Gothic picnic.

Most of the stones were from the early 1800’s with a mix of slate and marble, none of which had aged well in such a humid environment. Still, it had its charm, and weirdly enough there were several modern plots – one reading 2007. I guess there’s space left so why not?

This was the perfect little detour before going on to find the Brooks Woodland Preserve.

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Sheldrick Forest Preserve – Town Farm Road Wilton NH

I know I am still on the younger side but since quarantine I have started Sunday driving to keep myself sane. I like to wander off and find myself some nice dirt roads in the middle of nowhere – you know the sort I am talking about that are surrounded on all sides by trees and dotted with hunting camps and farmhouses from the 1700s. Roads that have enticing names like Stagecoach and Snakepit. I mean how could I not want to explore that??

Today was no different. I decided to go towards Wilton in an ambling drunken beeline weaving to and fro at random. It was fun! But as usual I was on the lookout for a nice trail to hike down. I passed by so many but they all either had “No Trespassing” signs or were just trails crossing the road with no parking anywhere in sight. I basically had lost hope when I decided to return home. I was almost back when I noticed a sign I’d never seen before that literally read, “hiking trail” with a little arrow pointing towards a road I’d never been before. Universe, are you talking to me again? Because it’s working.

The road turned to dirt and I found myself crawling at 14 miles per hour down it hoping the sign didn’t lie. I was almost to the end and believing it was all indeed just a rouse when alas I came across a big sign reading, “Sheldrick Nature Preserve.” SCORE! I took a quick turn and found myself in a grassy parking lot of sorts with two other cars, a bulletin board, and no real trail in sight, though I knew it had to be there somewhere.

Sure enough, as I looked at the map on the bulletin board an elderly couple wandered out from the back of the parking lot’s field and I knew that must be where the trail was – beyond a vast wild strawberry patch.

As I walked I came across the second couple whose car was in the parking lot right off the bat. OK OK, so I was out kind of late, still this meant I had the whole trail to myself! And it was QUIET. This is one of those trails out in the middle of nowhere that feels a bit like going back in time. I needed this bit of serenity. As of late I haven’t been feeling myself. I’ve been pretty drained and down in mood and well… this little bit of serenity fed my soul like nothing else. Almost immediately I had found some huge really weird mushrooms growing on a felled tree. They were waxy in texture and took some pretty wild forms. I was fascinated by them even though I haven’t the foggiest idea what they were. Probably something that could kill legions. I’m good at finding that sort of thing… and thinking it’s cute until told otherwise.

Anyway there were several trails here that connected to each other. I snapped a photo of the map with my cell phone before entering so I’d know where to go. It was fortunate. The path is at first all down hill and easy but what goes down must eventually come up and I am still flagrantly out of shape. I walked down Helen’s Path and then turned taking Margaret’s Meander which is a loop. This led me up some very steep hills which left me embarrassingly gasping for air. I can’t believe I let myself get this bad!

Still I was very much enjoying how quiet and peaceful it was here. The only noise I could hear were chipmunks skittering about here and there and a single crow watching me dubiously from the canopy. If only I had a place a beautiful as this in my back yard!

I’ll admit that after Margaret’s Meander I was too exhausted to do the rest of the loop… which if the internet is right had a river somewhere on it. I decided to leave that adventure for another day now that I know this place exists! And so close to home! Yep, it was the perfect little introvert’s escape.

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Casalis Marsh & State Forest – Peterborough NH

I know I have gotten a late start in my traveling this year, suffice to say my body has not been happy with me lately so it’s made my little adventures quite difficult but I desperately needed the tranquility of the woods so today I went for a drive and meandered around until I found a trail head at the –  Casalis State Marsh in Peterborough NH. As usual I have never heard of it and had to drive by it four times before I actually managed to get my car in the parking lot! The driveway was pretty damn hidden by foliage and there was quick traffic always behind me… but I made it!

I slung my camera over my shoulder, packed the extra lens in my new kick ass hip bag, and headed in. It seemed to be an old access road or maybe even a current one. The first part of the trail was beautiful but typical – just a lot of trees. Still I cannot tell you how good it felt to be out there again! I found a little garter snake sunbathing on the path and stopped to take some macro photos. It was 73 degrees out today, plenty warm enough, but he was in no hurry to get away from me, in fact besides a curious flick of the tongue he allowed me to get super close with my camera and take a few really lovely snaps.

And from there I came upon a small marsh with one bird house seemingly inhabited by a red winged blackbird. Despite being a marsh there weren’t too many bugs about and I was at complete peace here as I took photos of dead trees, dark waters, and the reflections of clouds on gently rippling water. No one else was on the trail today and I was thoroughly enjoying the solitude. When I finally picked up and continued on the trail I wasn’t sure where I’d end up or how far I’d go. I’d already passed one fork in the trail shortly after the marsh (I went straight and ignored a left turn.) Before long the trail was bisected by a gorgeous gurgling river. Another path ran upstream. Should I wade in and cross the river? It looked as if the water would be a little above my knees and I knew river rocks have a tendency to be insanely slick. Decisions. I usually don’t take any turns but I decided the photography would be stunning just following the river upstream so that’s what I did but not before playing in for a while!

Since I forgot to bring my marbles I instead took a couple shoe pictures on the banks before stripping them off and wading in barefooted. The water was cold and so refreshing. I splashed my legs and arms and muttered my usual prayer, “Please wash all negativity away from me and bring towards me only positivity.” Going on walks into the woods is a sacred ritual for me especially when I come to a river – it’s sort of like going to church. Maybe this is why I forsook my socks and shoes and when I left the river’s banks I continued to hike barefooted. Feeling the often muddy and mossy earth underneath my feet felt so right, so calming, and I once again was utterly connected to this place and moment in time. I was transfixed which is probably why I didn’t notice two joggers coming off another trail. They seemed alarmed to find me. Their black lab bounded in the water, an older German man made a precarious crossing over the river from stone to stone, and a younger American man tried desperately not to make eye contact with me which just wasn’t going to be possible when we were both heading the same direction! He was panting, trying to catch his breath, and I was refraining from making a joke about running away from bears. Instead I just said a cheerful, “Hello!” and went on my merry way. The German was far more entertained by me, he said hello back, smiling. I know, I must have been quite a sight, my hair now completely orange wearing psychedelic orange bellbottoms most people would not chose for hiking, a hip bag, and bare feet dragging my shoes at my side. I realize I must have looked ridiculous, possibly insane. I laughed. The two jogged ahead of me and I didn’t see them again. It was a wonderful little stroll back to the car. Today’s outing has made me feel whole once again.

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Ice Cream “Lady” – Douglas MA

Imagine you have just moved to a tiny idyllic town in rural Massachussetts and you’re settling into your new happy home when you decide it’s time to see what the town center has to offer besdes the inexplicable six pizza parlors. And you’re driving along Main Street when you see this terrifying and weirdly confusing roadside attraction just standing there outside a gas station.

That was exactly how I met “the ice cream lady,” who if I may respectfully say gives off more of a queen than a lady vibe. She’s gloriously bizarre to the point you’d almost expect to see her in a David Lynch film. And in case you want to bring some of that kitsch home the gas station/ice cream parlor sells T-shirts with her image!

If you live near by she’s a must see and the ice cream is also great. The perfect way to wind down after taking advantage of the many hiking trails in town.

Sadly, I no longer live in Douglas, but when this came up as a FaceBook memory I just had to share anyway. She’s still there I’m sure, has been for god knows how many decades. Meanwhile I am very much looking forward to this year’s travels as I am preparing myself and my Sharpie doodled car Daisy to take advantage of this deliciously snowless season. See you around fellow trekkers!

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Swamp Road Trail and Turn-Off Sharon NH

I tried to be good today and plan where I was going – but the Fates had other ideas. I was going to go conquer an old foe – Mount Monadnock. I even picked a trail, the Dublin Trailhead, but try as I may to find an address I just couldn’t get anything more specific than “Old Troy Road.” So off I went! I found Old Troy Road just fine but the farther I ambled down it the more signs popped up reading, “Private Way!” In previous travels I learned this usually means somewhere at the end is a pissed off dude with a shot gun. This is ‘Murica after all. So I turned around and decided to just drive around until I hit something else of use…. sort of like using the Prius as a dowsing rod for good hiking trails. It worked!

Somehow I found myself driving by Swamp Road, an old dirt road I never noticed before. A big sign read it was closed for winter and if there’s anything better than a dirt road to explore it’s one that’s so ill-used it’s closed for winter. Plus I have a fondness for swamps. I flicked on my directional and started to crawl into the woods at the usual 15 miles an hour, if that. There wasn’t a house anywhere in sight but there were a lot of trees! And then right after crossing a little bridge I noticed something odd. it was either a very long driveway or an unmarked trail. Turns out it was a trail that entered the Sharon Bog area. I parked, grabbed my camera, and headed in! Emboldened by a sign I found requesting no dirt bikes or off road vehicles.

The trail was pretty wide at most points and pretty obvious it was a trail but it wasn’t marked, or named, or even frequented, as far as I could tell. It was SO QUIET out there, not a soul in sight for miles, the perfect little escape for even the most ardent of introverts. I could hear a great horned owl in the distance asking, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?” And I was super happy to find a little salamander just living his little salamander life on the trail. He was pretty grumpy with me, didn’t want to turn his adorable little face towards the camera but I made due.

The first part of this trail was COVERED in wild strawberry plants. Too bad it was the wrong season or I would have been eating them by the fistful! But Autumn has its perks. For one the weather wasn’t oppressively hot as it had been, or particularly muggy, and the mushrooms had started sprouting. It was a little too early for the leaves changing colors, although a few tried. And despite being on swamp road I didn’t really find any swamps. Probably for the best, the mosquitoes seemed to be elsewhere today.

Eventually this path went into a field and I had to cross it halfway to see if it continued and from there I passed a number of different forks, again, completely unmarked. This was an adventure after all, though not one for people who need the reassurance of markers. I made it pretty far into the woods on that path before I was stopped, by a HUGE German Shorthaired Pointer. I stayed still. I knew that breed is known to be neurotic. It barked and barked, and backed off, and then came back to bark at me. Eventually it gained the courage to come sniff me. I stood still as I could and it seemed to go from a bit fearful to very playful, this time trying to run off with my macro lens. His owner and a MUCH older canine companion loitered behind. I had a brief chat with his owner, who said he was a dog of impeccably high energy that needed to be allowed to run like this EVERY day or he’d be too insane to handle. Made sense. Pointers aren’t pets. They’re working dogs… but in any event she was doing a great job with him (she even said she’d continued to walk him in the winter with a pair of snow shoes!) That’s hardcore, especially for a woman who looked like she was of retirement age. I bid her adieu and continued on. That’s when I came to a very obvious Y in the path. Did I keep going straight or should I turn? the turn looked more interesting but was also riskier being unmarked… plus I’d already been walking for at least a mile, maybe even two. I went straight and not long after that found myself at the end of a dirt road staring at two houses. HMMMM. I didn’t know where I was… so I turned around and went back to the car.

Eventually I’d meet up again with the dogs and their owner. This time since the dog recognized me he zipped around running full speed around me for maybe thirty laps. It was impressive! Besides this I didn’t see or hear any one else the entire time. And then when I got back to the car I decided to keep going and explore the rest of Swamp Road. I am glad I did! Because not far up ahead there was a GORGEOUS turn off where you could stand on the rocks and watch whooshing white water crash by you. I could feel the cool coming off the water and feel the noise engulf my being. I LOVE rivers! I took a few snaps before returning to the car feeling super happy about today’s little outing.

THE TRAIL: 

 

THE TURN-OFF

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