A Tale of Two Lodges

November 12, 2011
The Fen near Glen Lake, NY

I derive more of my subsistence from the swamps
which surround my native town
than from the cultivated gardens in the village.
    HDT Walking


It’s been waaay too long since my last blog post, so today we will zoom forward in time, to more recent days.
Never fear, there will be posts to come that speak of the days between – those golden autumn days – but for now, come with me to a local place called The Fen.

Inspired by my friend Jackie’s recent paddling excursions, and the return of unseasonably warm weather, I dragged the ironically-named “Swifty” kayak back out of his den in my storage bin.

Jackie and I had tried to paddle the Fen in August, but there was a bit too much plant life growing in the channel, making paddling a strenuous exercise.


Today, we decided to give it another try.  Much of the growth has died back, curled up, or sunken below, making a fairly clear pathway into the Fen. Still a little messy in places, but it was better than last time.

Water willows are now brown arches, sheltering new construction by one of the local muskrats.

It was indeed a beautiful day, if chilly at first. I was thankful that I had put on longjohns and gloves against the morning breeze.


The sun was out, though the rays were weakened and at a low angle.
It made all the swamp plants glow wonderfully.
Thoreau was particularly fond of leatherleaf:

these little leaves are the stained windows
in the cathedral of my world,
he wrote in his Journal on April 19, 1852.


We made our way toward the area where the fen begins, where it curves around Route 9 and originates on private property. It is not wilderness, but a little wild-spot nestled between an amusement park, roads and houses.


Unfortunately, it is downstream from said amusement park (in the summer you can hear people screaming on the roller-coaster), and downstream from their newest addition, an indoor water-park/hotel. Said hotel is styled like a big faux-Adirondack “Lodge.” Oh well, I suppose the tourists like it well enough.


Meanwhile, we puzzled over this mysterious aqua-colored pool of water, in the middle of the stream, as we headed in that direction.

It was definitely a strange swimming-pool color. (Any ideas, Al ??)

We pressed on, further into the swamp than I have ever gone. We rounded a bend and drifted out into a secret pond. Here was a TRUE Adirondack Lodge !

We turned about at a small beaverdam, where the flow seemed to peter out, and went back to poke around in the pondy area. There was one active-looking lodge, and several older ones nearby.

Here on a floating log, mounds of mud seem carefully patted into place. At the near end, what looks like some plants, purposely set out to dry in the sun. Maybe it will be used for bedding in the lodge?

No sign of the residents, however. It sure looks like prime turtle-basking territory as well.
Can’t wait to come back here in the spring.


As we headed back the way we came in, we saw several rustic duck-blinds in the reeds (but no hunters,) 
bog rosemary,

a dead cormorant, a live osprey,
bunchberry growing in a new place,
some cool fungus,

a still-red pitcher-plant,

And possibly the last lily-bud of the season.

It’s great to have a pal who doesn’t mind putting gloves on and going out into a swamp in November!

Sometimes I Stay

September 24, 2011
Cape Ann, Massachusetts

My life is like a stroll upon the beach,
As near the ocean’s edge as I can go;
My tardy steps
its waves sometimes o’erreach,
Sometimes I stay to let them overflow.
[From The Fisher’s Boy, a poem by HDT]

Before I come back inland to the wonders of Autumn in upstate New York,
there's time for one more entry about those days along the Shore !
I linger now as I lingered then,
on the morning we left for home.
Here are a few more photos of what I saw in our last two days on Cape Ann.
Let your other senses add in -- the smell of the air, the touch of the constant breeze, and that continuo of the waves which underlies all other sounds.

On our rainy museum-day in Salem, this sign outside of a church caught my attention.

Ah yes, the wonderful story of when the Lion lies down with
... the Gazelle.

And there's time for a visit to Gloucester too.
This is Half Moon Cove in Stage Fort Park.  You could hear the foghorns mooing in the distance on this foggy day.

In Gloucester, the Boulevard runs right along the edge of the sea. It's where the famous Man at the Wheel statue is, and other interesting sights.
After bending down to read this plaque, I straightened up --
and saw a ghost ship drift by.

I'd never seen a boat with such a peculiar-shaped stern before.

Turns out it was the Ardelle, a pinky schooner built in the historic shipyard of nearby Essex. They've been building vessels over there for about 300 years.  You can learn about her and her builders here and see a fascinating of her side-launch here.
She certainly looked splendid on the water.

In the outskirts of Manchester, I discovered a wonderful county trail system to explore on future visits. One went across a swamp!

Back in foggy Rockport, here is just another charming dooryard, this one by the inner harbor...

...Where the fishermen's skiffs brighten up the day.

Last morning. One last sunrise over the town. You can see it from the balcony of the hotel (on the right), but I've already strolled over to the beach.

One last walk along the beach.
In addition to the far-off scenery, there's so much to see close at hand, if you stop to look. All sorts of strange new life-forms have been cast up by the waves.

Now it's really time to leave. Can't put it off any longer.
Time to brush the sand off my toes, and put on shoes again. Sigh.

Back at the beach, I heard an echoing sigh.
Seems I'm not the only one who wants to stay...

Halibut Point

September 21, 2011
Rockport, Masssachusetts

Rockport well deserves its name--
several little rocky harbors
protected by a break water.
The houses at Rockport village
backing directly on the beach.
  HDT Journal, September 23, 1858

Despite being up for an hour conversing with the Moon last night, I awoke promptly just before dawn. At sunrise here, the sun beams right onto your pillow!

It’s only a short walk to town proper and a good breakfast.
Past the quiet inner harbor.

Then it’s up to the Headlands -- to look out to sea,
and glance back at the village of Rockport.
Eider ducks were ready for a break,

while lobstermen were just beginning a day's work.

Today Mom and Dennis went their own ways, while Jackie and I visited Halibut Point State Park.

It’s a former quarry, which must have been a noisy, steamy place in its heyday.

Now it is home to many interesting trails, and only the sound of the sea remains.

Near the Visitor Center, there are sculptures made from hunks of granite that were formerly cast aside.

We called this one "UTI Man," for reasons of our own.

We looked forward to botanizing in a new type of environment, so we headed out on the trail that circles the deep quarry-lake.
Right away, Jackie found a grass she had been searching for – here she is getting up close to it.

Her eyesight may be weakening, but her Vision certainly is not.
(As one can see by visiting her beautiful blog.)

A few steps away were some Ladies’ Tresses,

 (the Nodding variety, according to Newcomb’s.)

Meanwhile I was off chasing butterflies -
cabbage whites and yellow sulphurs were everywhere.

Among the goldenrods, still in hearty bloom here, I saw an equally hearty bee - a Neanderthal version of our little bumblebees. It was much larger, with thick hairy legs and a bald spot on the back – the Eastern Carpenter Bee.

Roses were long-past, but the bristly hips were pretty in their own way.

At an overlook, we met some visitors from Great Britain, who were botanizing, too.


We turned onto a trail that led down through
bayberry,
barberry,
blueberry
and briers

To the sea.

I thought I espied our British acquaintances, lolling on the rocks like contented seals, watching the tide come in.

That seemed like a great idea. So we took pause to look out over the endless sea, as we sat among giant slabs of granite.

Here we are, at the farthest tip of Cape Ann herself !
To paraphrase Thoreau in Cape Cod:
A woman can stand there
and put all of America behind her.

Cape Ann Expedition

September 20, 2011
To Rockport, Massachusetts

A clear cold day-- wind N W
Salem to Cape Ann expedition
Leave Salem for the Cape on foot  
    HDT Journal, September 22, 1858

We travel along the back roads as much as possible, and today we were on our way to Cape Ann for our annual September vacation. As you can see by the quote above, Henry Thoreau also visited here in late September.


He took a train to Salem, then walked from there to Rockport, on the first day of what he called his “Cape Ann expedition.”


Our usual route takes us through southern Vermont. Just three weeks ago, Tropical Storm Irene caused much havoc, turning placid brooks into raging torrents. The waters have receded, but the brooks sure don't look like they used to.

It’s remarkable how quickly some roads and bridges have been repaired. Well, most of them. This is the detour around the Main Street of Jamaica, Vermont.

Besides the urgency of getting basic services restored for its residents, Vermont is also thinking of the upcoming Foliage Season, which is a large part of her economy.
Despite the damage, people seem to have kept their sense of humor (from the Halloween display at a popular farm stand)

Unlike the weather for Thoreau's expedition, it was unusually warm for this time of year. It was raining lightly today. 
When we finally arrived in Rockport, Mom and I were ready to sit and relax, after driving most of the day on pleasant but winding roads.
Jackie and Dennis would be joining us for several days,
for their first trip to Cape Ann.
Jackie and I were looking forward to some seashore botanizing.


They had taken another (faster) route, but arrived moments after we did.

Let the vacation begin !

We got settled into our rooms at the hotel, which sits overlooking Front Beach.

Rockport is indeed rocky, but this small stretch of sand is a great place for beachcombing.

Our lodging is a small room at an older sixties-style motel, but it is kept beautifully by the owners, who are friendly and helpful.

When you stay there, you realize the truth of the old saying,
“Location, location, location.”


We sat awhile on the balcony, drinking in the view, and being entranced by the splashing of the waves that are a constant on this beach.
The sound usually keeps me up the first night, and by the third night, you can’t imagine being able to sleep without it.

Just before we walked down to the Square for dinner,
the clouds parted, and a bit of sunshine peeped through.

Later, I awoke in the middle of the night.
The little waves were still tossing themselves down,
and the stars were out.


What woke me was the moon's light shining on my face.
It was just rising over the part of town called Bearskin Neck.

There’s no escape possible from Nature here.
Nor would it be wise to ignore her, for those who venture out onto the Ocean.

The Sun may rule the land, but it is the Moon who rules the sea.

Windfalls

August 28, 2011
Queensbury NY


When I awake
I hear the sound of steady heavy rain.
A southeast storm.
Our peach tree limbs are broken off by it.
It lasts all day, rains a great deal,
and scatters many elm boughs and leaves over the street.
The wind does damage out of proportion to its strength.
The fact is, the trees are unprepared
to resist a wind from this quarter and,
being loaded with foliage and fruit,
suffer so much the more.
There will be many windfalls,
and fruit will be cheap for awhile.
   HDT Journal, September 16, 1858

The Hurricane arrived on schedule Sunday morning. Thankfully, she was downgraded to "just a Tropical Storm" at that point. True to form, she was different than what everyone expected, in every way.

A gentle but steady rain was falling. I sat indoors, luxuriating in the possibility of electricity -- for as long as it was going to last.
I thought I would be catching up on lots of things, but what I ended up doing was sitting glued to the TV watching the Weather Channel. There were occasional couch-based forays later in the afternoon, to Channel 10, our only local station to stay on with weather coverage.
The others contented themselves with a mildly-intrusive crawl section at the bottom of the screens.
Despite being employed in the TV-listings business, I don't watch much TV. But today I could not look away !

For a while the rain got heavier. In my part of town,
we had no concerns about flooding. I was more concerned about high winds, and when things got gusty during the afternoon, I scurried about unplugging my computer. But we never lost power, even for a moment.

The trees out back thrashed around, but held steady.
[Meanwhile, a few miles on the other side of town, a microburst was destroying a large section of trees near West Mountain, causing heavy damage to houses and powerlines.]

Once or twice I peeked out the back door, trying to catch the essence of the storm with the camera.

I picked up the phone, and tried reaching my friend Rick back in Vermont. For many years we lived together, and the best years were in a village just north of Brattleboro. No answer. Hmm. He’s not one to get easily excited over things like weather forecasts. Of the two of us, I was always the Chicken Little.

And today the sky really WAS falling, at least on Vermont.
That beloved, rocky, hilly land.
That place where all the roads pretty much follow streambeds,
which makes for some fabulous scenic Sunday drives.

Hours later, Rick finally called back. He had been on a very interesting Sunday drive himself, almost getting stranded between washouts along the way. I’m still mad at him for taking such a risk.

In his defense, he said that he had no idea the conditions were so bad when he left the house with his pal Floyd, and headed for a shop in a village to the north, by way of the road to Saxton’s River. [Apparently neither of them watch tv or listen to the radio.]

But they could have both gotten into big trouble! That’s how Hurricanes, as big and obvious as they are, kill people – people underestimate them.

He and Floyd got back safely, but had to make many detours just to get home again, as the little brooks turned into raging torrents, moments after they passed by.

Rick, having seen some of this first-hand, is now catching up on all the media coverage. He just emailed me a link to a video of a car being swept down a river in Vermont.
That could have been you, ya fool ! I’m still mad at him.
But happy he’s alive.

That evening, things settled down, but it was still too gusty to risk taking a walk down the road to check on little Halfway Brook. Too many trees and wires to walk under. The power was still on, so I turned on the laptop, and worked on my backlog of photos. It was indeed a Dark-and-Stormy night.

OK, to me, that’s just the name of my latest favorite cocktail.
Such was my good fortune today, to be able to sit and enjoy a mug of it, while watching disaster unfold on TV in the comfort of my own apartment. Just before sunset, the sun peeked out for the briefest moment,
as tattered storm clouds sheared away.

Other folks meanwhile, were having a truly dark and stormy night.

By now, if you read or watch even a minimal amount of the news, you know what happened in Vermont.

Not to downplay what happened in other states, including my own
– the wind and water has affected millions of people along the East Coast –
plucky little Vermont seems to have gotten the worst of it.
My heart and prayers go out to all who have suffered the effects of this storm.