DuVal trail, South Kingstown

Friday, November 20th

My sister celebrated one year of sobriety and asked if I would attend a 5:00 party in her honor. I get out of work at 2:30 so I skipped Karate and picked up some party goods. She lives just over the line in Pawcatuck, CT. Along the way there are a couple South Kingstown Land Trust properties just off of Route 1. I had planned possible visits of these properties back before my Friday schedule was juggled on me.

Somewhere jammed in the back seat of my car I had a trail map for the DuVal Trail, which crosses SKLT and DEM property. 2.4 miles is manageable enough. Neither too long or short for my purpose. I didn't spend much time looking at the map prior to setting off.

There is parking in front of a historic cemetery. I assumed the path to the left was the start of the trail. I wound through the cemetery and passed out the back. Sometimes when hiking my thoughts turn to the macabre. What if I happen upon a crime in progress? At that moment, a giant dog with a kerchief around it's neck appeared running right at me. Quickly behind it was a woman jogging. She called the dog off, who clearly had no bad intent. My heart was beating fast. I asked if this was the DuVal trail. She didn't know but said it was the blue blazed trail that heads towards Gravelly Hill Road. Well, what do you know. Blue Blazes. I thought for a moment. She came from the left. I wonder where that trail lead. As she ran off, I took her picture. I wonder why she isn't in it.

The weather was perfect for a hike, and while the sun was low in the sky, I didn't pay it much mind. The trail was more than clear. I dallied. Made a phone call that could have waited. The path split. Clearly I was to take the left, but I wanted to see where the right lead to. I walked that for a bit when I decided to double back. Taking the left fork, I found that it went around a stand of mountain laurel and followed the exact same path. I continued to walk without incident.

The path crosses Gravelly Hill Road at the 0.7 mile mark, then continues for 1.7 miles to Red House Road. It was about that moment that I realized that I had to double back. This isn't a 2.4 mile trail. It's a 4.8 mile hike. I wasn't carrying a flashlight. My hiking stuff was long been removed from my car. I wasn't concerned, though. The sky was bright and clear, the trail well marked, and the weather was wonderful. Hey, and I had a cell phone with Google Maps on it.

Not long past Gravelly Road is a scenic overlook where you can see the ocean. I wish I took a picture here. The path wound around and from time to time I would see a gorgeous house off in the distance. The sun grew lower in the sky.

There were several places where the trail was diverted. The land trust made it very clear what was expected of you. I did my best to follow their directions. I came across a forest road, wide and flat enough to drive a car. The path follows it briefly.

Occasionally I would pass through a maintain laurel grove. I saw where a horse has passed through. I came to a split where the way to go wasn't clear. I took the right path. I noticed the path had six inch tall plants indicating this was a little used trail. Despite this, I continued.

Eventually I did turn back and take the other path. I thought about the seedlings on the path and thought the information may be useful. The sun was below the trees, but I wasn't going to turn around. Red House Road might be just ahead.

More than several minutes later, I finally come upon the end. It was about a quarter past 4. What time did I start? A quarter past 3? I neglected to check. If it took me an hour to get here, I should make it back in 45 minutes. No exploring side paths, no dalling. I walk quickly towards the setting sun.

The sun has dropped below the horizon but the sky was still bright. 4:30 I realize, man I'm tired and hungry. The sky grows slowly darker. I notice that the sliver of a moon was very sharp. It took a moment for me to realize what that meant. Not uncomfortable now, but the clear sky meant it would grow colder. The almost new moon meant there would be little moonlight.

I increased my pace. I passed by familiar landmarks. Wrong turn, horse poop, mountain laurel grove, forest road, dead raising from the grave to feast on the living. No, wait. That's just a weird stump. Funny how I hadn't noticed it before.

Darker still. I occasionally break out into a light jog. I kick a root or rock and slow my pace again. The blue blazes were all but invisible now, but the leaves, trampled flat by foot traffic, almost glowed. The clearness of the path renewed my confidence. But soon I'd enter a section where the canopy is thicker and the path disappeared. I remember how my son would use his tracfone as a lantern. No chance of that for me. I have a Blackberry. The batteries suck down faster than warm ice cream on a hot day. Oh, the batteries. They're low.

I pick a direction that proves correct. Shortly I realize I haven't even reached Gravelly Hill Road yet. The sky is darker and I noticed that when I take a picture the flash is needed. I start thinking about the possibility of staying the night. I have a pocket knife. My clothes are somewhat warm. I could improvise a shelter. Nothing to start a fire with, however. I did see several rich people's houses. Would I find one and knock on the door? I doubt it.

I jog, hit a rock, go back to walking fast, and concentrate on keeping sight of the trail. I think back to the lady I came across. I entered the path at a 90 degree angle. Would I be able to find the turn in the dark? I come across the overlook where you can see the ocean. I take a picture, not that it mattered much.

Reaching Gravelly Hill Road was a relief. There is the occasional car, and I saw a man walking his dog. I'm not as far from civilization as it sometimes seems. I follow the road for a couple hundred feet and turn back into the forest.

It's almost 5 now and darker still. I enter another dark spot and lose the trail. I pause, looking around. Again, I choose a direction without knowing why. Again, I chose the right path. I believe that many people who die in the wilderness must at some point think to themselves "I'm such a stupid moron." I come to a point where the trail continues, but I find the turn I am certain goes back to the graveyard. I guess where on the map I must be. There is something labeled ahead called the Polly Matzinger Memorial. Maybe this is for the Playboy bunny/fearless scientist. I'm guessing no because memorials aren't usually made for the living. I wonder if I can find it. I count my paces and head off past my turn. I think to myself "I'm such a stupid moron".

52 steps later, I decide I cannot find it, and turn around. 52 steps later I find my turn. Maybe I've learned something. I expect to arrive at the back of the cemetery. I don't. Instead I am on Old Post Road. I turn left and quickly find my car. It's ten past 5 and completely dark. I guzzle a strange flavored SoBe drink and open a bag of chips. I congratulate my sister at 5:30.

Cub World, Pascoag

Saturday, November 7th

It's been a while. Back in the spring my schedule changed so that I got out of work at 2:30 and had until 5:30 to walk a natural place. Well, my Karate was rescheduled to 6:30 and my son's was moved to 5:30, which meant I had to drive home to Cranston, then back to North Kingstown with my son. This left little or no time for hiking.

This past weekend was our pack's annual sleepover. Cub World, a theme style overnight camp in Burriville, has become a favorite. This year we slept at Pease High Seas, with two pirate ship style cabins. A heated lighthouse provided a place for breakfast. Only eight scouts attended. This year we left for camp the same day as Scouting for Food bag pickup, which meant we got a late start. I was the first to arrive around 2:00 pm.

Part of my agenda is a quick hike. Running short of daylight, five scouts and a sister followed me around the campground. I took no pictures. We spoke of the buddy system, the ten essentials, and the six points of Leave No Trace. Yea, I know, there are seven points, but for cub scouts there are only six.

If the walk was more than a half mile, I'd be surprised. I haven't found a good marked trail that crosses Cub World. If somebody knows of one, I'd like to do a couple miles. Assuming, of course, that I manage to book the site before daylight savings time ends.

North South Trail, Ninigret to Kenyon Hill Road

Saturday, September 5th

This hike was supposed to be the previous Saturday, but weather got in the way. In the meantime I developed a chest cold that I hoped would clear up in time. It did not. I hiked anyhow.

We drove down before 7 in the morning and put my wife's van on Kenyon Hill Road, about 17 miles from our starting point. Piling into the other van, Scoutmaster Kelley, my son Peter, two other scouts, and I drove down to Ninigret. We parked on East Beach Road. It was about 8:30 before we started walking. The trail markings were exceptionally clear.

We followed East Beach, crossed route 1, then entered Burlingame State Park. The bugs were ferocious. As usual, I resisted putting repellent on. While in Burlingame we saw a strange ant. Very large (about an inch), and orange and black. I'd never seen anything like it. I let it crawl on my hands to get a better look, and maybe a picture, but it moved too fast and quickly dropped off the other side. Eventually I got it to cross the back of my map and got a shot of it. The picture wasn't much, but the following Tuesday at work I googled it to find out more.

What I learned was that what I let crawl on my hand was a Velvet Ant, which is actually a female wasp. It also goes by the name Cow Killer Ant because the sting is so painful, it is said to kill a cow. And I let it crawl on my hand. It won't actually kill you, but if it's a painful as I'm told, it would have ended the hike real fast. I stole this picture because it matches the bug we saw.

We continued through Burlingame. We spotted a couple deer. Somewhere near the half way point, we stopped for lunch. I ate too much, but the mosquitoes seemed to eat more. After Burlingame we were walking on roads for what seemed forever. A jeep stopped and asked us directions to the campground. I was tempted to say continue driving, then turn right into the woods, but that wouldn't have been very helpful. I did the best I could. Later a man stopped to ask us if we were hiking the North South Trail. I said yes, up to Arcadia. He eagerly told us how great the trail was. The man who stopped behind him was less enthusiastic.

After walking through Wood River Junction, we finally reentered the woods near the Carolina Management Area. Here there are corn fields, high as an elephant's eye. This is where the trail markings finally let us down. We continued following a farm road when I noticed three things: the grass on the trail was very tall, we hadn't seen a trail marker in a while, and the sun was now in our face. We were off the trail. We came to a point where we could see landmarks we passed earlier that clearly indicated our location, so we turned around. There is a jog in the trail that is perfectly obscured. This is described in the book, but I don't hike with a book in my hand. They could have prefaced the paragraph describing the turn with CAREFUL: or some other words of warning. Two woman on horseback happened to be coming out of the wood on the trail we needed to follow.

Back in the woods, we continued through Carolina. Evidence of horse traffic was in great quantity, if you catch my meaning. We watched our step. We banged a left on Pine Hill Road and passed a hunter check station. We crossed the road for the final mile and a half of the hike. The trail turned into a forest road, then a dirt road, then a paved one. We walked by some very interesting houses. Soon after that, we came upon my van. I have never been so happy to see it. It was about 4. We hiked for about seven and a half hours, including lunch.

I expect to do another leg of the trail, maybe in the 12 to 14 mile range, but I have no plan to do it soon. With the additional off trail walking, I estimate we hiked around 18 miles, much further than I ever have before. I've done more strenuous hikes that took longer (Katahdin back in '07 took twelve hours), but this was different. My hips hurt, my feet hurt, my shins hurt, my thighs. A couple advil later and some extra rest, and I am fine, but boy oh boy was I sore on Sunday. And I've been dreaming about expensive hiking boots.

Thewlis Woods, South Kingstown

Friday, August 21

Off of Route 1 in South Kingstown is Thewlis Woods, a South Kingstown Land Trust property. I drove down after work on Friday.

The trail is called The DAR Friendship trail or DAR Freedom trail, not sure which. The trail map available online says Freedom, but the sign says friendship. DAR refers to the Daughters of the American Revolution. The trail was created and maintained by Troop 1 Kingston. There is a .1 mile walk to a .7 mile loop. Not much of a trail, but I had other things I wanted to do before karate, so I didn't mind a short stroll.

I found the trail head fine. There wasn't much room to park. I walked the 500 or so feet to the main loop. When faced with a loop without a reason to go in a particular direction, I always go counter-clockwise. I don't know why. I turned right.

Straight away I was taken uncomfortably close to private houses. The blue blazes were few and somewhat indistinct. Having been created by Scouts as part of an Eagle project, the blazes were very nonstandard. They appeared to have been made using spray paint without any template. Also, they were a bit lower than you normally find. but the trail itself was clear and I trudged on fearlessly.

At some point I realized I hadn't seen a blaze in a while. There are a lot of paths that seem to have been made for cutting timber and I may have stepped onto one. The main path became occasionally overgrown. I checked my Blackberry for my location and headed the way I thought I should have. I got back onto the trail, this time going clockwise. That's when I discovered that the blazes were far more numerous and distinct in that direction. I passed by the access path back to my car, but continued on to see where I got off the trail. I found it in short order. Instead if turning back, I decided to continue and do the loop again, clockwise.

I walked back past many nice South Kingstown homes, noticing more and more "service" paths, for lack of a better term. Once again, despite my best effort, I was off the trail. I came to a familiar intersection, turned around, and hunted for the access path yet again. In doing so I walked by a rock on the trail with scat on it I had passed maybe three times. I again found the access path and headed back to my car. I had spent 50 minutes in the woods.

There was a pure stand of mature white pine, with the tell-tale denuded understory. Little other than greenbrier will grow. But much of the rest was oak, beech, and maple, will some pine. Greenbrier, fern, and a holly tree made up the understory. There was also a fair amount of poison ivy on the trail.

It's a nice walk but clearly needs a lot of maintenance. When checking my facts for this entry, I noticed these red letters:

NOTE: Thewlis Trail is temporarily unavailable for public access due to trail maintenance work underway at this site.

Was that new or had I simply missed it before? Astounding. I'll see about visiting again once it's done.

Mount Monadnock, Jaffrey, NH

Sunday, August 9, 2009

I took a long weekend and brought the family camping. In addition to my wife and 7, 9, and 13 year old boys, I brought my 15 year old niece. My boys adore her. Since a trip with her grandparents to Utah, she had been itching for a real nature hike.

We camped, for maybe the forth time, at Greenfield State Park, in Greenfield, NH. Despite the large number of campsites, each one is clean, spacious, and distant from each other. It's my favorite campground, anywhere.

I chose to climb Sunday so that we can participate in camp lead nature activities on Saturday. Phil gave a fairly short lecture on Black Bears that I think the kids enjoyed. There also was a nature hike and ponding event, but we didn't attend them. After 8 pm we did a night hike, which was fun. I got some ideas for our cub scout pack sleepover in October.

I had climbed on Monadnock three times prior and been to the summit twice, and each time using the White Cross trail from Monadnock State Park. I toyed with the idea of doing a different trail, but I was overruled by the wife. Play it safe, we have a new hiker with us.

Monadnock State Park is about 25 minutes away from Greenfield and we got a late start. Parking at Monadnock cost us $18, which was a bit of a surprise. They charge per person and 15 years old is an adult, apparently. We used the bathrooms at the trail head and started up.

The climb was mostly uneventful and we were going rather slow. It was overcast but the rain wasn't predicted until much later. My 7 year old, despite having done this hike two years ago, was certain he couldn't make it. I spent some time trying to boost his morale.

There is no water on this trail, which is too bad. The water on Moosilauke and Little Haystack make those hikes memorable. There was mud, and we will likely remember it, but it's not the same. I wonder if other trails do.

At some point above the treeline we entered the clouds. Goodbye scenic views. Here we went VERY slow. I wore my work sneakers again. Everyone got to the top and we could barely see past our outstretched hands. It was cold and the wind was whipping. Some of the other climbers were not prepared for that, but having been on top of Washington and Katahdin, I've seen wind 30 mph faster in weather 20 degrees colder. We didn't linger long.

The summit is bald, not because it's above the tree line, but because fires lit by farmers in 1800 to clear land for pasture got out of control and burned the mountain. Maybe someday the forest will retake the summit. Monadnock is 3165 feet above sea level, but chiseled into the top is the number 3166. Let's dismiss survey error or erosion. Back in 1959 the size of the inch was shortened a tiny bit to make metric conversion easier. I'll refer the units nerds to this article for a better explanation than I can muster.

The hike down was also fairly uneventful. We continued to move slowly. It would sprinkle from time to time, but nothing too concerning. My 9 year old took the lead and complained constantly how slow we were going. He was completely done with the mountain and wanted out.

Back at the trail head I noticed that I had drank very little from my hydration pack. My youngest drank his dry and as such had to stop for frequent pee breaks. We used the bathrooms again and headed back to camp for dinner.

I had to remind the boys to be smart about what path they chose and where they put their feet, but all in all I'd have to say they climbed like champs. I don't know if I'd plan a harder trail for my younger two (or my niece) but this hike was well within their abilities. Maybe we'll do it again next year and choose another trail. There are rumors of caves and abandoned structures. I'll have to read the book to find out more.

Queen's River Preserve, Exeter

July 31, 2009

Off Route 2, a bit south of Schartner Farm, is Mail Road. Less than a mile down Mail is School Land Woods Road. Less than a mile down there on the left is the trail head for Queen's River Preserve, a Nature Conservancy property.

It had rained earlier in the day and threatened to do so again, so I didn't know if I would get this one in. I didn't know how muddy the trail would be. Worst case was I would at least find the trail head. That I did around 3:30 pm. There were three other cars parked there. I did my best to not block them in.

The trail is a barred forest road. I brought shorts, but it wasn't very warm, so I walked in jeans. First order of business was to walk off the trail for a relief. Through a clearing and back into the woods I found a private place. There I found half buried debris. Some of it looked very old, maybe dating back to before the preserve was declared.

Duty done and back on the main trail I saw foot and paw prints. I passed another clearing declaring a forest restoration project in effect. Fire is an integral part of forest health, but we simply do not allow them anymore. Instead, the conservancy selectively cut some species of tree to allow, if memory serves, pitch pine to grow. This was very important to the tiger beetle. I'll have to take their word.

Soon I came to the end. This, I presume, is Queen's River. I had passed two side roads on my way. I turned back to try one of them. I passed a small cemetery. The stones I could read dated to the early 19th century. Soon I came upon three woman, each with large, friendly dogs. I'm not a dog person, but their sight was not without welcome. I didn't continue too far before a narrow side trail beckoned me. I turned right off of the road into the woods proper. The foliage was still wet and passing there made we as well. The way zig-zagged through mountain laurel and rhododendron. The path became more distinct then ended at another forest road. Left or right? I chose left.

I wanted to see what was to the right, and I also needed to know where the other forest road led to. I'd simply have to come back. So, off I went down the road. Eventually it ended at a field. There was another sign there announcing the preserve. I turned left down a road that seemed to skirt the property. I don't like to rely on my innate sense of direction, but no trail map was available and I didn't bring a compass, and I had the feeling I was walking back towards the original road. After a while I landed at the restoration clearing! I had looped! I turned back towards my car.

I passed the other side road and took it. I was doing ok on time. In short order I ended at a clearing with parked tractors. I doubled back and went back to the car. It was time to change into hiking shorts. Conveniently after changing, another car pulled up. In it was a woman with two greyhounds. She seemed to be waiting. The other three cars were gone.

I made hast on the path again, now free from cotton. I turned down the side road, then down the path. This time I turned right. It couldn't lead back to the main road or I would have seen where it comes out. It ended in a clearing near the river. I poked around, seeing more dog prints in the mud. I doubled back. Time was growing short.

Back on the main road, I still felt the urge to dawdle on side paths. There is a patch of moss that looked like a great place to nap. A side path led back to the agriculture field. I finally got back to my car right at 5:00. A second car was there, this one with a bumper sticker declaring their support for Chocolate Labs. Popular place for dog lovers. I had just enough time to get to North Kingstown and get into my Gi. We did heavy bag.

Mount Moosilauke, White Mountains, New Hampshire

Beaver Brook trail
Saturday, July 25

This will be a long one.

A co-worker, Lou, has a family cabin outside Plymouth, NH and none of his friends are willing to go hiking with him. I stuck a bargain. He supplies the cabin, my bro-in-law Mikey and I will supply the food and beer. Weather reports didn't look very promising, but worst case we spend the weekend in a cabin in the woods with a lot of beer.

At 4802, Mount Moosilauke is a fairly high peak, and the closest 4000 footer to the cabin. We got a late start driving (my fault) and landed in the Whites around midnight. We unpacked some of our stuff, set up sleeping arrangements, and crashed. We woke late.

After a leisurely breakfast, we packed up and went looking for the trail head. I realized my AMC maps were left back in Rhode Island, so we stopped at an information center. A kindly, old, toothless man suggested a trail and gave Lou the directions. After an hour of driving, we found the trail head. $3.00 to park. It was ten past eleven when we hit the trail. The weather was gorgeous.

Beaver Brook trail resembles the Falling Waters trail to Little Haystack. For both that and this hike, nature provided plenty rain to ensure the mountain streams had extra vigor. The photos do not do it justice. The trail was strenuous and we had to take frequent breaks to catch our breaths. Normally I hit the gym treadmill twice a week to prepare for my high peak, but with a shift in my work schedule, I haven’t been able to make it. Lou, younger than I and somewhat fit, was unaccustomed to this level of hike. Mikey, on the other hand, had quit smoking and lost over 25 pounds.

There were 6X6’s cut diagonally, and attached with rebar to the rock to make an effective stairway. There was also rebar hand-holds along this stretch. We walked out onto the rock to marvel at the waterfall. Without warning my feet slipped out from under me and I landed flat on my stomach. I gripped the rock to keep from falling back, but with my feet over open air and the rebar out of reach, I couldn't climb back up.

In a calm voice, I said “Hey guys”. They said “Yea?” without turning around. “Little help?” They turned around, confused why I would choose that moment to lie down. Mikey realized the situation and jumped to my aid. He helped me up and I stepped to a safer location. “Nobody got a picture of that?” I said.

I was wearing my work sneakers. My hikers are old Timberlands that hurt my feet. I thought I could get away with something more comfortable. Maybe, had the treads not been worn out. Almost became an entry in Hiker Hell. I took this picture on the way down.

The roaring river slowly shrank away. Soon we found a side trail for use by AT through hikers. There were a couple tent platforms, a privy, and a hut. That provided a nice place to rest and refuel. The rest of the way up was mostly uneventful. The trees grew shorter, when suddenly we were on a rocky plain. We followed the cairns to the top. The remains of the Tiptop house were visible. A steward from the Dartmouth Outing Club was there providing some education to small children. Apparently they came up an easier path.

Ok, so here is the fancy book-learnin’ about Mount Moosilauke. Moosilauke is a Native American word for Bald Place. Bullwinkle and his kin have nothing to do with the name. Dartmouth College owns the summit and the Dartmouth Outing Club provides education and trail maintenance. The Tip Top House kept being broken into by snowmobilers. One day they took the stove so Dartmouth decided to close it. There is some disagreement to the proper pronunciation. According to Ada, the DOC steward, Dartmouth had a vote many years ago and choose Moose-a-LOCK, while the AMC and Forestry Service chose Moose-a-Lockee.

Ada was very nice. I would have liked to chat with her longer, but I felt I was detracting her from her duties. I wish her luck in medical school. It was 20 past four when we started back down.

We made better time. Five hours up, I was hopping for two hours down. We took a break at the hut. Now two people were sitting in it. I asked if it was ok if we lingered there with them. Lu Lu and Chris were north bound through hikers. They were happy to see that they had only 390 miles left. Our miles were about six for the day and my legs were burning. A south-bounder arrived called Face Plant. They had a lot to talk about, one having just come from where the other will go. I pestered them with questions.

Face Plant admitted she walked the 100 mile wilderness in Crocks because she didn't want to get her new hikers wet. I couldn't imagine it. She pulled her now-wet hikers off and I was struck how white her feet were from moisture. She better take care of those dogs. I gave them the last of my smarties and bid them goodbye. We lingered longer than planned and I didn't want to end the trail in darkness. Two of us were carrying flashlights.

My going was slow. We were all tired, but I wanted to take extra care at the cascades. Lou and Mikey went on ahead. Eventually the trail flattened out and we grouped up again.

We walked off the trail ten past seven. Exactly eight hours from when we started. We could have taken an hour off that at least if we were going for time, but we weren't. Dinner consisted of chicken and vegetables, marinated steak tips and shrimp, Johnsonville Brats, and lots of beer. I slept well. In the morning we breakfasted at Plain Jane’s diner then went to Polar Caves Park.

Frenchtown Park, East Greenwich

Friday, July 17

July is Scout Camp and this year was no different. I intended on spending my time better than in years past, so I planned on taking a hike around Yawgoog Pond and becoming Wilderness First Aid certified. I found no time for the former, so no hike to report there. As far as the second is concerned, I am now certified to apply first aid, provided I drag the victim into the wilderness first.

I asked a co-worker where I should hike this Friday. He told me of a property owned by the East Greenwich Land Trust. Despite being assured to the contrary, I had low expectations for this hike. A fairly small piece of land, broken up by housing developments. I didn't expect to be able to spend more than a half hour looking around. Happily, I was wrong.

Frenchtown Park is on Frenchtown Road, west of route 2. There is parking behind a building that appears to have been an elementary school in a previous life. Here is a shot of the trail map I SHOULD have taken BEFORE the hike so I could refer to it. I thought I got more of the map. There is another wide area North of what the photo shows. The narrow part it between two housing developments. I stepped on the trail at 3:15.

You start south of the beautiful mill pond and walk over two dams. I went east to view the ruins of former mill buildings that are popular with people who drink "Natural Light" and enjoy burning trash. I lingered for a while and crossed the stream. There are a lot of side trails here, many of which lead nowhere.

I headed back to the pond then continued west on a wide and flat trail that lead out of the forest. Doubling back, I walked north to see the other half of the property. At this point I was very close to private property. Unfortunately, water soon made the way impassable to me and my work sneakers, so I turned around.

I dawdled on some side trails. I didn't have any difficulty judging my location. Using the streams, the mill pond, and the forest road as landmarks, I was always certain of my position. I helps that I was carrying my work Blackberry which has Google Maps.

Back at the dam I turned onto another side trail to kill more time. Here I found this little friend making haste. It's quite difficult to take a clear photo of a fast moving beetle while holding a cell phone camera. This is about the best possible.

Back to the dam I ran into the first people I saw, two boys on bicycles. I soon saw more walkers. It was 4:30 when I got to my car.

It was cool to see the mill ruins and rivers always make hikes more interesting. I sent a couple photos to my co-worker, but he didn't reply. I'll find out Monday if he got them. Next weekend I go to the White Mountains. Can't wait.

Pawtuxet River

Saturday, June 27, 2009

There was a "Tree Walk" the RI Tree Council either sponsored or was somehow involved in. With my 13 year old, we met at the Farmers Market in Pawtuxet Village. The talk was a little dry but it was what I expected. It wasn't what my son expected. He was painfully bored. After a half hour, we ditched the talk and walked around the village.

I live only a couple miles from Pawtuxet and I seldom visit. It's gorgeous. The river is gorgeous. Too bad it's polluted.

After a short walk and a drink (ice cream shop didn't open until noon - what gives?) we headed for the river walk.

I did this walk maybe in '07 with all three boys. It is quite nice and a great respite from the city. Unfortunately too many teens find it a great place to burn trash and drink beer. In spots the teens like to linger there is significant damage. The trail was widened by the chopping down of bow timber trees for use in the fire. Some trees were spray painted. Trash was everywhere.

I wish I could speak directly to those kids and have them listen. First off, beer cans don't burn. You can stop trying. Secondly, a fire, even a small one, over shallow roots and under low overhanging branches is dangerous. If the season is dry, a root fire could spread and burn the area down. Good thing the area is as wet as it is.

Natural places are special because they don't stink of civilization. Bringing our stuff and making our mark there makes it a lot less special. The trash and damage doesn't ruin the area, but it does diminish it.

There are quite a few side trails and we followed a bunch of them. The entire walk couldn't have taken more than a half hour, but it certainly recharged my son's mood. Maybe not as much as ice cream would have, but we do what we can.

Big River Management Area

Friday, June 26, 2009

Big River is over 8000 acres of forest and wetlands, mostly in West Greenwich. I was completely unfamiliar with it, largely because the guidebooks I use don't mention it. I saw it on my Greenways map then picked up the Great Swamp Press map. Apparently, many years ago, the state decided to condemn the land to built a reservoir. Some 200 houses once existed there. That reservoir was never created and instead we got ourselves a nature area.

I set foot on the property a couple weeks ago but haven't found time to hike it until today. I had driven by a parking area in the eastern side near Tarbox Pond, but today decided to park on Congdon road. I was a little put off by the No Parking sign, but decided that they just didn't want me parking by the river near a pipe. With the exception of water, my pack was ready to go. I started following Sweet Sawmill Road, picking my way to Sweet Pond. It was 3:10 pm.

Many trails are former roads from when this was a neighborhood. The map also shows many side trails. What the map does not show are the many, many other side trails, some of which go nowhere. Mapping them all would be futile and make the map even more busy than it already is. Much of Big River is mature white pine. There were the usual oaks, maples, beech, and birch you see most places, but pines dominate the landscape.

The forecast called for thunderstorms, but the skies were clear and it was hot. Coming from work, I was wearing blue jeans. Shorts would have been in order, but I didn't think of packing a change of pants. I had deet in my pack, but I made the decision not to use it. Perhaps I should have. The bugs were bad. When I sweat up, and boy did I sweat up, large flies were dive-bombed my head.

I found a Eastern Ribbon Snake on the way that seemed to want to be photographed. Of course I obliged. At the pond I banged a left and came upon an old cemetery. Someone had been by not too long ago to leave plastic flowers and American flags by some of the stones. I couldn't read any of them.

The path was well worn with the signs of mountain bike tracks. It appears as if there was some sort of race there in the recent past. There are arrows nailed to trees pointing the way. The area is off limits to ATV traffic and there was a sign saying so at the parking area. Clearly it went unheeded as I saw some ATV tracks as well, some with serious tread on them.

I didn't see a single person on my walk, but I certainly saw evidence. Trash everywhere. Shotgun shells, snickers, beer cans, and the leftovers from a trash fire. I kept an ear out for gunshots. On the first sign, my legal orange would have gone on and I would have picked the fastest path out of there. I don't recall if hunting was allowed, but clearly that point is irrelevant.

I followed Burnt Sawmill back to Sweet Sawmill and started back for my car. Then an 'aw what the hell' feeling came over me and I doubled back to continue on Burnt where it crossed Sweet. Here I found less small trash, but more large trash.

The truck is not native to the New England mixed forest. I don't know if you can tell, but that light bulb is huge. It could not have been there very long.

I heard the call of birds above me. At first I thought they were crows, but saw them and knew they were hawks. They were clearly angry, maybe at me. They continued circling around. I didn't think I could get a shot of them, but they persisted. So I pulled my phone out, put it into video mode, and they were gone. Go figure.

I took another side trip to an unnamed pond. There were side trails away but the map did not show them, and I was eager to get back to the car. I was hearing rumbling from the North. I got to my car, happy to be in air conditioning and away from the bugs. it was 5:30.