When I was sixteen, my boyfriend Ted invited me for an excursion on the North River. The plan was to stage his car at the Marshfield Public Launch and then have his mom drop us off upriver with an inflatable rubber rowboat, two plastic paddles, a jug of Tang, and a picnic of bread, cheese, and grapes. We’d spend the afternoon drifting downstream with the outgoing tide.
It sounded idyllic, but there was something Ted had failed to mention. As we carried the boat through the woods, he told me it wasn’t far to the water. But when we arrived at the edge of the marsh, the river was still a quarter mile away. How would we get there?
“Follow me!” Ted exclaimed, bounding into the grass, which – it being August – had grown at least six feet high. Ted was a foot taller than me and seemed utterly unphased as he hoisted the boat over his head.
This was not the romantic afternoon I had envisioned. We’d only been dating a week, and I was trying to remain positive. Shoving my reluctance aside, I tucked the paddles under one arm and took a few tentative steps into the marsh. Squish!
Salt marshes may appear solid, but they’re not -- especially at high tide. I had to move quickly -- not only to keep up with Ted, but to keep my feet from sinking into the mire. Most of the time, I couldn’t see where we were headed. My anxiety turned to fear when we encountered the first ditch. Long-legged Ted leapt across and kept moving. I balked, huffed, and eventually gave it a go, stumbling up and down the slippery banks. I wanted to cry, but there were more ditches ahead.
When we finally arrived at the river, I was filthy and furious. But Ted – who later became an instructor for the National Outdoor Leadership School -- was beaming. Despite our divergent definitions of fun, we dated for a year before deciding we weren’t a great match. In time, we became good friends.
My appreciation of salt marshes also matured with time. Like many kids, I recognized them first for their sulfurous low tide stink. After my day on the river with Ted, I learned they could also steal your shoes, scratch your forearms and shins, and coat your skin in mud. But two years later, after heading west for college, I realized salt marshes meant something more to me. The Route 3 bridge was a threshold. Those expansive views up- and downstream were a welcome mat. “You’re home now.”
Cultural appreciation of salt marshes has shifted several times over the past 500 years on the South Shore. Native American inhabitants valued marshes for the abundance of life they supported: fish, shellfish, shorebirds, deer; grasses for weaving, medicinal plants. Early European settlers valued marshes as a cash crop: salt hay was used for roof thatch and wall insulation. More significantly, it was low-cost forage for livestock that could be harvested in its wild state and grew back naturally, year after year. By the mid-1800’s, perspectives were shifting again. Attempts were made to drain marshes, to support traditional crops, or to reduce mosquito populations. They also were back-filled with dirt and gravel, to create buildable land. It wasn’t until 1972 that marshes gained federal protection through the Clean Water Act.
Now, we value salt marshes because they nurture and provide habitat for a wide range of species. They also filter pollutants, trap greenhouse gases, and slow erosion along shorelines, absorbing the impact of waves and tides. As sea level rise accelerates, we’re not only protecting marshes, we’re figuring out how to restore them. To learn more, read Alex Mansfield’s article in NSRWA’s Fall 2026 newsletter.
Our local salt marshes are quite beautiful, and they change colors just like the trees – green as summer approaches, gold as autumn begins. Below you’ll find ten public places to view and admire them.
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| Driftway Conservation Park, Scituate |
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| John Little Conservation Area, Marshfield |
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| Stetson Meadows, Norwell |
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Cushman Preserve, Duxbury
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| Bare Cove Park, Hingham |
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| Weir River Estuary Park, Hingham and Hull |
Osprey Overlook Park, Weymouth
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| Salt Marsh Trail at Sailors Home Cemetery, Quincy |
If you enjoy the outdoors, be sure to check out NSRWA’s Explore South Shore program. Every morning, we highlight one of the region’s best public nature places on Facebook and Instagram. Most Mondays, it’s a place where you can just drive up and enjoy the view. Not on social media? We’ve listed all the locations on our website as well!
by Kezia Bacon
November 2026
Kezia Bacon's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to protecting our waters. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. You will also find thirty years of Kezia’s Nature columns there.
