Rambling

 A morning of yardwork, tuna on toasted bread, soulful eyes of dogs left out of an adventure and Wayne and I left for the woods donning orange hats and a hiking pack. Upon our arrival I noted a Colorado plate and patiently waited for the young man to emerge from his car. It must have been awkward for him with me waiting there. He was from Denver, only 50 miles from where I used to live and with the ice broken, I found that he is attending college in Brattleboro. He said that his class was meeting at the forest the next day and he wanted to take a look around the swamps beforehand. How strange that the next person we bumped into was a professor scouting for a class to be held at the forest in two weeks. Though I would love to attend a college class on the forest, I understand that being open to learning in many different ways has served me well over time.

Three walking sticks from which to choose were left leaning against the kiosk by some good neighbor. I gratefully selected a smooth stick as Wayne had forgotten to pack our trekking poles. This promised to be a challenging afternoon as we were hiking through multiple successional stages of woodland growth with little more planning than previous experience of being turned around out there and Wayne's need to follow a hunch. We were heading over the border (again) in search of  the elusive Bald Mountain Road connection to the Vernon Town Forest. 

Seth who had been out Canada Goose hunting one morning, showed me an app for Wayne's phone. He explained that for thirty dollars a state per year, we could end Wayne's rambling days once and for all. Though a sure thing is tempting (and arguably a safer), I can't help but think about all that we might have missed had we skipped our trial and error ways. 

Most great adventures begin by heading the wrong way, so when Wayne pointed to the "trail" opposite of the arrow, who was I to break ranks?

Clearly this was our trail, or then again perhaps a swamp? We skirted the swamp heading south along its western edge

then hiked up to a ridge to take a look around.

We found something in the way the land was mounded that should have looked familiar; but in the moment it escaped us.

We hiked down the other side through the Mountain Laurel before hiking up to another ridge.

And so it went

pushing south

searching for clues as to where we possibly were.

Across the open trail of blueberry, ticks

and old logging roads

Until we heard a hawk overhead screech, prompting us to head westerly.

Where we found a view and heard rushing water.

Just past the sweet fern

 up over yet another hill

and down into the valley

we came across "the" road.

and decided to continue over the bank to the water instead.

Here we found that place in the woods where many brooks meet to form a single brook before continuing on it's way.

Upon taking time to reflect, Wayne concluded that this very book is the one that travels south along Bald Mountain Road, and so he decided to follow it north. 

Suddenly and just two hours into our hike,

We found a familiar landmark albeit the south facing side of it.

In the fourth photograph of this blog, I mentioned that we should have recognized the way the land was mounded in that location. This is because in October when we first located this state line marker we also found in that area a similar berm. 

Our multiple ramblings through these woods had to our minds satisfied us, that at long last we had found a logging road that could eventually connect us with Bald Mountain Road; and best of all, it was less than thirty minutes south of this state line marker. Some methods of learning it seems, take longer than others, but all in all it's important to note, that sometimes our best learning happens when we aren't all that aware of the fact that have begun to learn in the first place -Norma Manning