Expedition to Walden Woods

July 5, 2009

Headed southeast from Rick’s place, past the beautiful West River and Mt. Wantastiquet looming over Brattleboro. Here’s the view of my morning commute, when I lived in Vermont.


My route to Massachusetts angled across New Hampshire on Route 119 – notice the horrendous holiday traffic:

The day was sunny – after several days of rain and storms - and grew warmer as I neared Concord. After arriving at my lodgings, all I wanted to do was to jump into Walden Pond. WELL so much for THAT idea:

The pond and surrounding woods are part of a State Reservation, and are heavily visited on all summer weekends, but this was Fourth of July as well. Walden Pond is only eighteen miles from Boston. The park has a limit of 1000 visitors at a time, and once that limit is reached (approx. 330 cars in the gated parking lot), no more cars are allowed in.

What I didn’t realize (since I was within walking distance, and on foot) was that once that limit is reached, pedestrians were not allowed in either. Had a nice chat with some of the dnr staff who were posted at every pathway leading to the pond. The were friendly but firm. The ones I spoke with told me the closing would only be between 3 and 4 pm; by then enough people would be heading home that it would be OK to walk in again. I also chatted with 3 pretty-steamed bicyclists, who had ridden all the way from Arlington MA, and had been looking forward to a swim in the pond, before heading back.

Well one door closes, another opens, as they say.

I took the opportunity to walk about a half mile toward Concord (crossing the dreaded Route 2), to explore Brister’s Path.

This is a wonderful trail created along a hill that Thoreau used to frequent. His observations here led him to develop an essay on the succession of forest trees, which was a new way of thinking about the environment in the 1850s.

The trail is roughly a loop (with interesting offshoots) and along the way, there are quotations of Thoreau, etched into granite markers which are laid out on the ground at various places. It’s very effective - you are literally walking through his writings.

One area was a circle of curved granite blocks, with quotations about Thoreau and his ideas – by other people who have been inspired by his writings, such as Wendell Berry and Martin Luther King. Then I came upon this quote which I was familiar with, but after being on the trail and seeing it in this setting, I was powerfully moved:

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?

For a moment, I was lost in one of those transcendental trances … when I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye:

The largest garter snake I have ever seen, was apparently also “moved” by this part of the trail. He had been sunning himself in this perfect spot – nice warm granite - when I happened along.

Along this trail were pipsissewa and spotted wintergreen in bloom, Indian pipes arising from the dead by the thousands (they did tell me it has been raining here for two weeks straight!)

and other cool sights:

a katydid:

Butterfly weed:

The walk lasted over an hour; it was time to head back. By 4:30 the pond was no longer “closed” and my task was now to thread through the many folks on the beach, and walk the pondside trail to a swimming spot. The pond has heavy plant growth all along its edges – clethra and other shrubs – and every so often there is a little break in the vegetation, sometimes just two feet wide, down to the water’s edge. There are natural-stone steps allowing you to have a sort of private spot to swim or just sit and look at the pond.

Today it was so crowded, most of those spots were “taken” – I finally found one at the shady far end, steep but uninhabited. The water was cool but oh so welcome.

Independence Day

July 4, 2009

OK, I'm usually the one to bring up Henry David Thoreau in almost any conversation, (you might as well be warned of my faults up-front) but what, pray tell, is his connection with Independence Day?



From Walden:

When first I took up my abode in the woods, that is, began to spend my nights as well as days there, which, by accident, was on Independence Day, or the Fourth of July, 1845 ….



I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,
to front only the essential facts of life,
and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,
and not, when I came to die,
discover that I had not lived.

I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear;
nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary.

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,
to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life,
to cut a broad swath and shave close,
to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and,
if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it,
and publish its meanness to the world;

or if it were sublime, to know it by experience,
and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

I would not have any one adopt my mode of living on any account;
for, before he has fairly learned it
I may have found out another for myself,
I desire that there may be as many different persons in the world as possible;
but I would have each one be very careful
to find out and pursue his own way,
and not his father's or his mother's or his neighbor's instead.

Fourth-of-July Eve

As I write this, I hear the distant pouf and boom of fireworks not too far from here.
While walking this morning with Jackie, we discussed how many of the flowers we see at this time of year seem to evoke memories of firework displays from days past –

Such as those sort of dull ones in the first part of a fireworks show,
that just went pop pop pop and you said, is that all there is?



Or those little star-like streamers that would drift back to earth going Eeee – eee- eee ?

Or those favorites of the backyard pyromaniac, the Roman candle?

Me, I always preferred just running around the yard with sparklers!

Here's wishing you all a happy Independence Day –
May you find your own unique ways to celebrate the

Red

White

and Blue!

Hello my friends,
Please bear with me as I try to figure out why I cannot reply to your comments - I DO treasure them! I'm blogologically-challenged, it seems. When I figure out how to do more than just post, you will be hearing from me ...

Meanwhile it's time to pack for a weeklong visit to Walden Pond, where Thoreauvians gather annually to spawn - no wait! I mean, to attend fascinating lectures and meet friends from all over the world who admire Henry David Thoreau for one reason or another, and to walk and paddle in his beloved Walden Woods and rivers.

Somewhere in the middle of stuffing clothes, kayak and tent into my car, I will work up a Fourth of July entry to before I leave home.

Checking on the Chestnuts

(belated entry for June 24, 2009)

(I'm catching up!)

Last September, while paddling with Rick on the section of the Hudson River which flows through Moreau Park, I saw a tree with long, toothed leaves along the shoreline. It was larger than any of the American Chestnut sprouts I have ever seen.

Then I saw the brownish burrs.

Of course I knew what it was, from pictures in an old old tree identification book, though I had never seen one before. Lots of people have never seen one – since the chestnut blight has all but wiped out most of the species. Small trees still arise from stumps, but most never live long enough to flower, or produce nuts.

And there they were, hanging over my head like forbidden fruit.

I read of a naturalist who said, “it’s like looking up and seeing a passenger pigeon flying by.”

I was pretty excited about it that day. Since then, we’ve located more mature trees within Moreau Park. Unfortunately, this flowering can be a sign of a tree in distress – the next year, they may be dead. I am just beginning to learn about these trees, once called “the redwoods of the east.” Many knowledgeable people are working on ways to keep the chestnut from going completely extinct, such as the folks at the American Chestnut Foundation.

June is the flowering time for chestnuts (so that old old book said,) and Jackie offered to accompany me on a river paddle today. I am pretty much of a weenie on big open water, even a pondy section of river like this. So I appreciated her company. It sure was a nice day to be on the river!

We wanted to see if we could spot any blooms on the trees along the river.

Or if there WERE any trees still alive.

Happily we found several in that stretch of shoreline.

Delicate dreadlocks of flowers.

As you drift downriver, passing under a pageant of green banners - oak, ash, hornbeam and maple -- there's another whole forest scene under the water. Long swaying grasses - something that looked like raccoon-tails - little floating plants with gear-like flowers - and unfortunately, the feathery beautiful (but invasive) Eurasian milfoil.

(Jackie ID'd this later. I thought it looked like peacock feathers.)

We continued downriver to a place very dear to Jackie, a beautiful sheltered cove.

In the winter, I had walked across its frozen surface, on a group hike to watch the wintering bald eagles. It was love at first sight, & I vowed to come back in the summer, to explore it by kayak.

This first watery visit was all too brief. It seemed that as soon as we arrived, it was time to leave. I kept apologizing and saying, "sorry, I really have to head back now..."

But you can be sure that I’m planning another visit soon!
Complain as I will about having to stop and go in to work - at least I am grateful that my schedule allows me to be floating in a quiet cove on a sunny day, at an hour when many people are stuck indoors behind a desk.

Friends in High Places

(belated entry for June 23, 2009)
Today, instead of a solitary walk, I went back up to the Spring Overlook with Jackie. We had planned on getting a hike and a paddle in sometime this week; my limitation was that I would have to be back both days by noontime, since I work in the afternoons. I am jealous of her retirement freedom!
The wind was already brisk by mid-morning, so the paddle was put off for another day.
We saw plenty on the way up to the Overlook, and came back again a slightly different route.

What caught my eye today was how colorful things were.

Off to a flying stop: we started seeing wondrous sights about twenty feet from the trailhead.

Wild basil in delicate bloom
While walking along a ferny easement, hermit thrushes on our left and right played catch with phrases of their flute-like song

Whirled loosestrife, whirling

At what moment does a blossom become a blueberry?

A lilac-colored mushroom.

Despite all the stops, we did eventually get to the ledges, and stopped for lunch. This cafe has a wonderful view, to put it mildly.

Along the ridgetop behind the ledges, we saw boulders and mushrooms and a friendly woodfrog. There were also lots of burned-looking stumps (I found out later that there had been a large fire up there several years ago, caused by humans.)
There was evidence of another possible cause of fire – a lightning tree! A red oak, with a long vertical scar running down to the ground. There were thin strips of wood that had peeled down along the scar. All in all we saw about 4 or 5 trees in that condition, all oaks. I could not help but look upward nervously, despite the clear skies above.

Maybe my instincts were right, two days ago, when that storm cloud swept over & I scurried to a lower elevation.

Body & Solstice - part two

(belated entry for June 21, 2009, continued)

It being Sunday (all day to walk if I want! ) AND the Summer Solstice,
I took a huffing and puffing pilgrimmage up to the Spring Overlook on the Hudson River side of Moreau Lake State Park.

It's a magical place, up there - with rocky ledges at your back, and before you a terrific open view of the Hudson as it bends northward. On a previous visit, I'd been sitting there admiring the long green view, when a turkey vulture glided past, BELOW my stony seat.
That bend of the river is our number one place to observe bald eagles in the winter months.
They frequent this part of the river, with its dams which create sections of open water even in the dead of winter.

There are all sorts of large stones scattered here and there on the forested tabletop behind the outlook. Perhaps I would meet some post-modern druidic folks up there, celebrating the solstice ? Or some Naked Hikers, doing same. (see previous post.)
It certainly was warm and humid enough to make clothing seem redundant. Conditions were good for a sighting!

Alas, I met no one else on the trail that day, even though it was a Sunday when lots of folks are out and about doing fun outdoor things. That's the great thing about Moreau Park, it's very large - something like 4000 acres large. And, as a ranger once told me in describing Yosemite National Park: "About 95 percent of the visitors here visit 5 percent of the park."

Once at my destination,I had not been out on the ledge five minutes when I looked northward - hey, there's a pretty dark cloud, and it looks like it's raining across the river!

Then: hey! it's coming this way!

And before you could say Weather Channel, a big sheet of rain swept across the landscape rapidly in my direction.

I got off that ledge fast (thinking of the possibility of lightning.) Once down by the powerline which crosses the trail halfway up that side of the mountain, the rain eased up, and I took my time coming back. Everything looked fantastic after the drenching - the colors were all, er, more saturated.

Also in my travels to various places today, I found a flower that was new to me - even after all these years of admittedly casual observing, it's amazing how many remain out there to be discovered anew ...!

The Red Lily -"it belongs not to Spring" according to Thoreau

Glowing bright orange against the tender green sea of delicate ferns - it was a Wood Lily. Spotted like a tiger lily, but pointing straight up at the sky. According to my knowledgable pal Jackie (who looked this up), it is not too common and also somewhat endangered in New York State. What thrilled me was to learn that this is a true native lily. (The common day-lily that lines the roadsides this time of year is an introduced plant.)

To celebrate the Solstice, I dined on what the trail had to offer:

Le Menu

Solstice Café

Appetizer - sorrel leaves and strawberry

Clover Salad Buffet - all-you-can-eat Red, Pink Alsike and White Sweet Clover, garnished with Ox-Eye Daisy foliage

Side - fresh new wintergreen leaves.

Dessert - blueberries and huckleberries.

After-dinner mint - tender new growth of Eastern Hemlock tree needles (once you get used to that "just-scrubbed hardwood floor" taste in your mouth, it sort of grows on you.)