Between my body not getting the hint it’s go time, and a bunch of issues at home, I have been severely pokey in getting this year’s traveling started, but today I took my first little road trip of the season, and it was goddamn amazing!
I had decided to go to the Flume Gorge in the spring, before the tourist rush and also when all the water from the melting snow is whooshing down the mountains. I asked my mother if she wanted to go and after a bit of convincing she relented. She was sick on Mother’s Day so this was what I had decided to do with her to make up for it. We were slow getting out, getting into the car around 1PM, and then requiring several stops. I typed in the address wrong and after two hours of driving realized I was still forty minutes away. Could we make it in time?? Yes we could! We got there around 4PM, after mother had smuggled a gas station sandwich into the car while I was filling my tank. It was an egg salad sandwich, which you’d think would be a gamble at a gas station… but it was bizarrely great and much needed.
Tickets to the Flume Gorge cost us $16 per adult, unlike most the trails I go on which are in the middle of nowhere and absolutely free. That’s OK, it was well worth it! I guess my mother had been there before, during peak tourist season, and she didn’t remember much of it. This time around, being the spring, we had almost the whole trail to ourselves and it was gorgeous! The water was lively as we walked over numerous bridges to see see different vantage points. There were a few signs along the trail highlighting various features. A good portion of the trail is on a trellis going over the water and in between two rock walls. It makes for a stunning viewpoint, a brisk amount of exercise, and the sound! I can’t tell you how amazing the sound was! As the water rushed by it echoed against the rocks and became louder and louder until you could almost hear nothing else. I felt so alive! And there were a few beautiful waterfalls, one of which sprayed us with a cool and refreshing mist.
I won’t lie, for a first outing this was a bit extreme. It was three hours of driving to get there and much of the trail was steep, either going up hill or up stairs. Still, being as empty as it was we both could take our time and we had a great day. This was one of the most scenic places I have been so far and well worth the visit! The only complaint I have is that my camera hates taking photos in direct sunlight so a good deal of my snaps came out washed out. I still have to learn how to muck with the lighting setting to avoid this in the future. But with that being said I had a fantastic belated Mother’s Day celebration with my #1 mom, who I took a number of adorable photos of but I am fairly certain she’d kill me if I posted them here.
Today Mother Nature decided to bless us with 48 degree weather and a light drizzling rain which did a fantastic job of blanketing the town in dragon’s breath and washing a good deal of snow away. I figured it was the perfect time go out for a little walk, take a few spring snaps, and just enjoy myself. I’ve been cooped up in the house all winter, my health clubbing the crap out of me on the slightest whim, and cabin fever has made me more than a little anxious to return to the woods. So that’s what I did, I took my camera, slung it over my shoulder, and returned to a familiar haunt – The Old Woods Trail in the Betsy Foskett Wildlife Preserve in Rindge NH. Today I hoped to capture the strange and eerie feel it had to it since being clouded in mist.
I heard the water rushing by before I got that far. All this melting snow had added a liveliness to the pond’s tributaries. And the smell! There’s no fresher scent on this earth than the smell of freshly melting snow. It tickled all my senses and gave me such joy. It appears I was one of only two visitors in the recent past, unless I feel like counting all the dog tracks I found. I think it’s kind of sweet these dogs migrate to a path their owners probably walked them down whenever they escape their own confines. The wildlife was clearly used to their cold weather privacy as I seemed to have accidentally startled a gaggle of Canadian geese who honked loudly and upset a duck on the other side of the pond who quacked back just as angrily.
I made it maybe halfway down the path before my body decided to slam me. Just because mentally I am ready to be out running for the hills doesn’t mean the rest of me agrees. I begrudgingly headed back home before even reaching the stone wall I was so intent on visiting. Oh well, there will be other rainy days when I will return! For now I am at peace with what I could accomplish. It feels like going home to be back on the trails!
Acadia is one of my favorite places to go. The park is enormous and has something to offer everyone. It has hiking trails of all levels and capabilities for the athletic among us but it also has a variety of stunning views you can either see directly out your car window or very easily access. If that’s not enough to tempt you there’s also a number of beaches both rocky and sandy and a few other attractions that lure the curious.
I have been to Acadia two or three times already, always off season, and I didn’t pay anything to get in because of this, but I guess I was either too early this year or they changed their policy. Some of the park remained free – like the drive up Cadillac Mountain, but by the time I got close to Thunderhole I approached a toll gate and had to fork over $25 for a week’s pass. That’s OK though, it was worth it.
This visit was a short one as I was busy socializing for most fo the day and only arrived at 2PM but I still packed a lot into a few hours! I especially wanted to drive to the summit of Cadillac Mountain to get a few nice foliage photos and enjoy the fresh mountain air. I was shocked how many people were here! But I guess when the weather is a freakish 70-some-odd degrees people are more likely to come out and enjoy nature at its finest. I stopped at several points to take a few snaps and enjoyed the summit as well as the Overlook at Blue Hill the most as far as the mountain went. I ended up shuffling out onto the bare rocks at the summit and enjoyed a bit of time just soaking in the view – which included all the colorful trees I could wish for, a delightful pond, a few islands off the coast, and unseasonably blue skies. It was hard not to stay here forever. Unlike many parks Acadia is open 24/7 all year long…. Obviously this means I must return once more… at night. The view must be amazing then! I wonder if you can hear loons or if wolves exist in the park…
Anyway, that flight of fancy erased from my mind I continued onwards, driving back down the mountain. On my way I had to stop the car to let a deer pass and took a shot out my car window of a second that was staring at me from a few feet away. I got one good snap before another car barreled by in the travel lane scaring them both off.
 I wanted to see Thunderhole – which is this rock formation at the coast that makes a thunderous noise when the waves from the ocean rush through it. I have been told about it for years from all sorts of relatives ad friends and had yet to check it out… but first I passed Sand Beach, the main sandy beach in the park, and had to get out to amble for a bit. It was low tide. I had never been here during low tide. I must say all the exposed rocks gave it extra character! There wasn’t too many people there at this time of day, or year, certainly no polar bear swimming club to be seen, but there were a few families playing with nerf balls and kites. I’m surprised there weren’t any dogs – as they are allowed in the park.
Truth be told these people were probably all here to take advantage of the sunset which was closing in soon. It was a good vantage point for that – though not the best conditions today. It was a bit gray out.
Well! I must admit October has been rough for me, and it always is, if I’m to be honest. As much as I wanted to do a TON of traveling this month my body keeps slamming me. My last little jaunt into the woods, which wasn’t far at all, laid me up for two days afterwards, and although I feel great today I knew I shouldn’t be pushing it. That’s why instead of hiking up Pack Monadnock like I’d prefer I instead decided to be a total sissy and drive the auto road, taking my foliage photos mostly from the parking lot. That being said I had a blast!
Right off the bat I had the guy at the toll gate laughing at me as I handed over my four dollars (I summarized my desire to just drive up to the summit for a few snaps, but I guess in a humorous way. I often have no idea I’m being funny but that’s the joy of life, isn’t it?) From there the drive up the mountain was one long groan coming from the Prius. If that car could talk it’d be screaming, “WHHHHY?! JUST WHHHHHY WOULD YOU DRIVE ME UP A MOUNTAIN?!” Because Daisy is still laid up. That’s why. When I finally reached the parking lot the place was packed! I found one space at the very end and like a pro parked the worst I have ever parked in my life. You know the kind of parking an old lady would do while plowing through someone’s front porch… This happens every time I know I am being watched by strangers. I couldn’t save face so I just hopped out and owned it. “WOW, why do I suck so bad at this?! Let me try again!” I was guided in by a nice hippie gentleman who I conversed with for a few minutes. I gave him the impression I was young and new at driving, though not intentionally. My way of not dying of embarrassment I suppose.
I was a bit sad to find visibility today was really poor even though the foliage wasn’t half bad. Figuring that out I decided to check out some trails. The trails were scattered and strange. Immediately, while I was still a bit skittish from parking, a group of college kids asked me if I could take their photo. I obliged and they complimented me on my T-shirts and hair. I smiled and said thank you and had I not been totally overstimulated in that moment maybe I would have held a slightly longer conversation with them but alas! My mind was drawing blanks, a lot of them. It does that.
From here I made my way to the little observation spot that was set up for birds of prey. There was a big grease board denoting which birds had been seen today. I had no idea we had so many damn varieties of hawks. No wonder those little SOBs were so problematic when I had chickens! There were three sightings of eagles today. I had seen my last one a couple weeks ago while driving around Mason somewhere so I knew they were still in the area. People seemed kind of grumpy and bored here so I wandered off to where the vibes were better. I went down a few trails here and there, following some red dots, and got a few more little views. It was a nice mountain and the foliage was great but the visibility today was piss-poor. Too much humidity clouding up around the trees! Ah well, I did try.
Once I got to the feed store I decided to take an equally ridiculous route home. That’s how I ended up in Sharon, a town I had no real reason to be in. As I drove down some beautiful rural streets I noticed a cemetery smack dab in the middle of nowhere. (My GPS claimed it was 80 McCoy Road. I just discovered the “Where am I?” button and am bouncing with delight at that one!) And when I say smack dab in the middle of nowhere I mean it. It was a small cemetery surrounded on all sides with forest, contained within the boundaries of a stone wall. From afar it didn’t look that interesting – very typical marble stones from the 1800’s. White marble ages poorly and that’s why I tend not to have any interest in them but it is still October and I did promise more spooky places so off I went.
There was a little white gate facing the road. It wasn’t open but there were no locks on it either. There was also no markers telling me which cemetery this was but Google figured that one out for me. I opened the little gate and walked in. There wasn’t much to see at first, this was a small cemetery of maybe 100-150 stones, none drew me to them but the feeling of this place was surreal. It was like I was walking into a bubble where time was lost. The stones here had once been repaired, a few split in half were fused back together with supports and propped back up, but even this effort seemed to have been a long time ago. Moss grew over the supports. This place felt utterly forgotten. That’s when I noticed something weird. Off to the side of the cemetery, past a little stone wall, there were new plots and they were really new. It was if most of the cemetery was the 1850’s or so and then 2017. Hmmm. I headed over to check them out.
These new stones were scattered like confetti on the grounds. They faced all directions and made no sense what-so-ever. Stranger still were the stones themselves. While most were rather ordinary there were a lot that were… odd. The most normal of which was a very modern stone with a modern etching of a lighthouse, a beach, and an old Studebaker driving down the road in front of it. It read, “On the road again.” That just made me shiver a bit. Why had I approached this one stone in particular while trying to take photos for a travel blog? A message from beyond… perhaps. Or just a coincidence. The next stone however was even more startling.
It was on the very edge of the cemetery and didn’t even look like a gravestone, it looked more like building debris. It was raw cut granite, very raw, with the tool marks used to quarry it still visible. It also had an engraving… of a mouse or a rat. I’ve seen a lot of gravestones and many of them have remembrances of cats and dogs on them, sometimes horses or birds, but this is the first mouse/rat and it belonged to an old couple. I might expect to see this on a young Goth’s stone, you know someone who died in the 90’s at age 25, but an elderly couple?! This seemed to be another possible message from beyond… as I used to breed fancy rats and mice many years ago. They brought me such joy I had often joked about getting one as a tattoo or memorializing them on a cemetery stone. I smiled. I liked these people, whoever they were.
Back in the old part of the cemetery I noticed a bizarre corner that seemed more confetti-like than the rest. I noticed those stones were also new and even had a bench overlooking them. They seemed even more raw than the rat/mouse stone. In fact one of them appeared to just be a rock that was already in the area, engraved thusly. Here there were a whole row of educators, scientists, mathematicians, and a few house wives scattered between them, though one was very sweet in stating, “Wife, mother, and a great woman.” She wasn’t going to be left out with the three descriptions! This also made me smile. I bet you these were some damn interesting people. At the very back another natural rock was affixed with a plaque remembering “the angel woman.” I wondered what this meant…
ust as I was leaving I noticed two stones which had been scrubbed clean. They were from the 1800’s and had been so thoroughly cleaned up they looked brand new. I wondered why these two stones? Before I reached the car I also found a tiny orange grub-like caterpillar. I tried taking a photo but he seemed incensed I was trying to handle him , rolled into a hedgehog ball, and clenched all his tiny feet together. There was no unrolling him.
I love going to the feed store – mostly because I rarely ever end up there without distracting myself first. Today was no different. I took a long, winding, and nonsensical route to my destination trying to find prime foliage for a nice snap or two. Indeed I got a good look at the mountains but the foliage was pretty dismal. After waiting weeks for it’s late arrival we immediately got rain afterwards… for several days. Now the trees are mostly bare. SIGH. Still, I did manage to find a trail…
I’m struggling to figure where it was exactly but I believe I just found the tail end of the Common Trail off of Grove street. There was a turn off right next to the bridge so I decided to check it out. As usual it was where I needed to be, a serendipitous and joyful experience. It wound close to the river and provided a wonderful flat walk for most of the way.
Rivers have become a source of great spiritual connection for me. Whenever I am down, hesitant, or anxious I seem to serendipitously find a river to play in. There’s nothing like a good river. Today I found a little bench halfway up the path that denoted a sweet little spot to while away the hours. There were some rocks jutting out clear to the middle and I forsook the bench to crawl out upon them. Here I sat with the gurgling of the water blocking out all other noise, the smell of the crisp autumn air mixing with that of the fresh cold water, allowing the sun to kiss my cheek as the water flowed beneath my feet. Nothing else mattered anymore, I was instantly overtaken by a sense of absolute zen.
It has become a custom of mine to splash in the water of any river I come by, reciting the closest thing to a prayer I will ever utter as IÂ bathe my arms and hands in the brisk churning waters. “May you take away all negativity in my life and wash it down stream. May only positivity flow towards me.” Perhaps this is why rivers have gained such spiritual meaning for me. Rivers don’t stop for anything. Whenever they come across an obstacle they still a find a way, making a space for themselves even when there isn’t one. It’s a lesson I try to keep close to my heart as I overcome obstacles in my own life.
I watched the river for probably an hour. No other people came by but a squirrel and a chipmunk did visit for a while and a frog tried to commit suicide darting under my feet in the same second I was stepping down. How he escaped that I don’t know but I nearly took a header into the river trying to avoid crushing the poor little beast!
I had such a wonderful afternoon scrambling on the rocky coastline at 
I arrived just as the sun was starting it’s weary retreat but when I was still bright enough and warm enough to really enjoy a cool sea breeze. Having reached the beach at low tide there were shells aplenty to find buried in the sand and plenty of wide open spaces to walk as the sea retreated ever farther. And since it was off-season this place wasn’t packed with people sunbathing like beached sardines. Instead a few pedestrians ambled lazily from one place to another and five people on horseback enjoyed the tepid waves slipping to shore. Two horses caught my attention for their behavior. A white horse clearly loved the waves and kept running directly into them, getting as deep as his flanks before his rider kept dragging him begrudgingly out. His friend, a young black horse, trailed behind him acting like the water was perhaps made of lava. He kicked and fumbled and tried to avoid it at all costs. When the water finally swooshed by his hooves he revolted with high kicks and terrible grimaces. I could tell he though the white horse has lost his mind.
Once the horses rode off I was left with some sea gulls. I took a few really sweet snaps of them scoring dinner – a crab they had beaten the tar out of. However when they realized what I was up to they beat a huffy retreat leaving the emptied out crab shell and showing me nothing but their glorious feathery butt as they waddled into the ocean and got smaller and smaller. Such is the fickle nature of a sea gull but hey! At least they were foraging for nature food and not dive bombing tourists for French fries and doritos. So there is that.
Popham is quite large at low tide and I took quite a walk in the dusk light. Someone had taken driftwood and built fun little structures. I thought they made the perfect subject matter for some whimsical tinted shots. I didn’t really want to leave but it was getting dark and I wanted to go a half mile up the road where Fort Popham was still waiting for me.
