Walking with Friends

The trails at Norwell's Norris Reservation are wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

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While attending a memorial service for a friend in August, it occurred to me how walking together – and the conversation that usually takes place while we’re on foot and side by side – tends to enhance relationships. It might be two friends, or it might be romantic partners, or it might be some other configuration, via family or work. But especially when these walks become a regular happening, when they provide a weekly (or monthly or quarterly . . . ) time to check in with one another, the two people involved not only grow closer to each other, but also gain valuable insight into their own selves.

One of the eulogists for my friend related a story along those lines. She and our mutual friend had gotten to know each other when their children were infants -- new mothers pushing their strollers together around town. In later years, they would meet for walks in the woods, or on the beach, and their “walkies” (spoken in a British accent) became a steady and reliable way to keep in touch, and help one another remain grounded as they navigated the various channels through which their lives led them. I was touched by the story, and – since I too have been fortunate to develop a number of friendships by walking together -- it got me wondering if this is universal theme.

I suspect that it has something to do with one’s mind being dually occupied. Walking requires a certain amount of energy. The conversation often fuels the steps, but at the same time, the steps fuel the conversation. It’s different from sitting and enjoying a cup of coffee together. Perhaps it’s because we’re not looking at each other – instead we’re watching where we are going. There is a sense of freedom – to let the mind wander, to try out new ideas, perhaps saying them aloud for the first time. Some of my most memorable -- and revelatory -- conversations have taken place on foot.

Autumn is probably my favorite time for walking. It’s neither too hot nor too cold. It’s neither muddy nor buggy. And the fields and forests tend to be really pretty – at least around here, as the leaves and grasses turn color and begin to fall.

The list that follows includes some of my favorite places to walk with a friend. These spots feature trails that are – at least some of the time – wide enough for two (conversation can become awkward when there is a leader and a follower). And they are large enough that one can take a decent, hour-long walk without retracing one’s steps. All feature beautiful landscapes as well. Pavement – while often convenient -- has a distinctly different feel from sand or grass or the forest floor.

Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary - Winslow Cemetery Road, Marshfield. Fields, forests, boardwalks through a red maple swamp, plus the Green Harbor River. Managed by Mass Audubon.

Norris Reservation - Dover Street, Norwell. Numerous views of the North River and Second Herring Brook, with both cart paths and woodland trails. Managed by The Trustees of Reservations.

Nelson Memorial Forest/Phillips Farm Preserve - Union Street, Marshfield. Wide logging trails and narrower paths through forest with views of the salt marsh and the North River. Managed by New England Forestry Foundation and Wildlands Trust of Southeastern Massachusetts.

North Hill Marsh, Duxbury – Mayflower Street, Duxbury. Woodlands, wetlands and varying types of trails around bogs and a large, bird-friendly pond. Managed by Mass Audubon.

Willow Brook Farm Preserve – 99 Barker Street, Pembroke. A former farm, now mostly wooded, with boardwalks and also a meadow trail. Managed by and Wildlands Trust of Southeastern Massachusetts.

Luddams Ford/Indian Head River trails - Elm Street, Hanover. Follow the trail along a former railroad bed up one side of the Indian Head River. Take short detours toward the water for spectacular views. Managed by the Town of Hanover.

Whitney and Thayer Woods – Howes Lane, Cohasset. A huge network of cart paths and wooded trails, featuring glacial erratics (huge boulders) and some truly impressive rhododendrons. Managed by The Trustees of Reservations.

World’s End – Martin’s Lane, Hingham. This place has almost everything. Views of the ocean, the marsh, and Boston. Trails through the woods and across fields and along the shore. Wide trails, narrow trails, cart paths. Managed by The Trustees of Reservations.

Humarock/Rexhame Beach – Scituate and Marshfield. Many local beaches, due to geography, tidal restraints, or property lines, don’t permit much of a walk. But whether you enter from Humarock, near Fourth Cliff, or Marshfield, via Rexhame Beach, you will be able to cover a lot of ground.

Green Harbor/Duxbury Beach – Marshfield and Duxbury. High tide will impede your progress from Green Harbor, and without a sticker you will have to park at the inland side of the Powder Point Bridge, but if you time it right, you can walk for miles on what is probably the area’s most beautiful beach.

by Kezia Bacon

August 2014 
 

Kezia Bacon's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. To browse 15 years of Nature (Human and Otherwise) columns, visit http://keziabaconbernstein.blogspot.com

Lost in the Woods

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A view of the Indian Head River from the Hanover side.

 We had been walking in the forest for more than an hour. We were still on a trail, but it did not seem to be headed in the right direction . . . or in any particular direction. A few times we’d had to retrace our steps: either the trail would end in a No Trespassing sign, or in someone’s back yard, or it would disappear entirely. We were lost in the woods.

Not that we were entirely lost! We had followed a very clear path up one side of the Indian Head River in Hanover. We had crossed the river at State Street in Hanson, and followed a trail back into the woods in Pembroke, with the intention of finding our way into the Wildlands Trusts’s Tucker Preserve, which wasn’t all that far downstream. But we never found it. So we sort-of knew where we were, but not really.

This was a familiar predicament. I’d walked the inviting, scenic trails along the Indian Head River before. At least once, I’d found my way back to the parking area on West Elm Street, via the 78-acre Tucker Preserve. But once or maybe twice before, I’d been similarly lost: on a trail, but not the right trail.

The landmarks were familiar – I’d been there before. But I couldn’t be sure if they were the right kind of familiar. Just because we recognize something doesn’t mean it’s what we’re looking for.

I went away recently for a long weekend: a yoga retreat at Kripalu, in the Berkshires. I spent my afternoons on the hiking trails in the mountains behind the retreat center. I’d been given a map when I arrived. It included not only the mileage of various trails, but also the level of difficulty and an estimation of the time required to complete each hike. Map in pocket, I was far from lost.

Looking out on Monks Pond.

 The first day, I chose the trail to Monks Pond. It was a steady uphill climb, and rather muddy. I really had to pay attention, so I wouldn’t slip. One of my objectives for my time away was to gain some perspective. What would I like to achieve, going forward, and what would I need to change, in order to get there? The muddy uphill path seemed like an apt metaphor. I tend to choose the more challenging routes. I make things harder for myself than they need to be. And thus over time, certain kinds of suffering become familiar. It’s like being on that trail that leads to nowhere: it’s not the right trail, but it’s familiar, so it takes me a while to figure out that I need to find a different route.

Standing in a stream, attempting to clean the mud off my boots.

Back to the Indian Head River. So we were lost in the woods. We had at least two options. One was to attempt to retrace our steps, and hope to find the trail we’d missed before. At worst, we could cross the river again at State Street and go back the way we came. Another option was to consult our smart phones. I’d been meaning to download a trail GPS app, but I hadn’t yet. However I did have several, more general, street mapping apps. Quickly we determined that while we were nowhere near the Tucker Preserve, we were quite close to houses and roads. We chose a back yard and very quickly passed through it, to the street. It wasn’t quite so pleasant, walking at the roadside instead of in the forest, but at least we knew where we were going. And twenty minutes later, we were back to our cars. I have since downloaded a map.

On the South Shore, we can get lost in the woods, but how lost are we really? We don’t have any wilderness here. Even our largest conservation parcels aren’t all that big. We follow a trail, and even if we lose your way, we eventually come upon  a house or a road. As soon as we find civilization, we can find our way back home.

I’ll be heading back to the Indian Head River soon. Now that I’ve been lost there at least twice, I am determined to get my bearings and learn the layout of the intersecting conservation properties that line its banks. Next time I’ll start on the Pembroke side, though, and walk from the fish ladder, into the woods where I know there’s a plainly-marked trailhead for the Tucker Preserve. Also next time, I’ll be sure to bring my map.

 by Kezia Bacon

April 2014

Kezia Bacon's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. To browse 15 years of Nature (Human and Otherwise) columns, visit http://keziabaconbernstein.blogspot.com