Winding into Winter

Technically it's not winter ... but it's winter. Any more hiking this year will likely be a solo effort. But I wanted to catch up on the rest of fall, which unfortunately didn't have too many weekends in the woods but had some nice, reflective outdoorsy moments nonetheless.

Jordyn and I spent one particularly warmer-than-usual November Sunday afternoon at Purgatory Chasm again. Just can't get enough of that place. We didn't make it all the way to Little Purgatory, which was one of my goals, but we did take the high road back after heading out through the chasm. We also took a few turns heading down the mammoth slide rock that we somehow missed on our visit earlier this year. My little girl is couch-bound this weekend feeling feverish, so just thinking back to this and our other hikes this year puts a smile on my face.

In October I spent a "guys weekend" up in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and had pretty much a perfect Saturday doing a grand loop of driving, sightseeing and hiking. The highlights (pictured below) were the mile hike that led out to Ripley Falls, and the drive up to the Cathedral Ledges for some amazing panoramas that got us incredibly close to being about one foot between safety and plunging down the ledge. Actually, at the base we were able to see some climbers who were making their way up the face of the ledge - something that is always incredible to witness in person, no matter how many times I've seen photos in magazines. I'll stick with keeping my feet to the ground.

Ripley Falls is about 100 feet of cascading waters, and well worth the outing if you're in the area. Hopefully next year Sara, Jordyn and I can go back up there as a family. I drove through a covered bridge, did another hike that straddled some cascading water, and even spent a few minutes gawking at Madison Boulder (the largest known "erratic" in New England). Yeah, it's a big rock, but it is one hell of an impressively big rock whose pictures don't do it justice.

The other quick mention is an otherwise unremarkable hike our family did on a Saturday morning off the parking lot at Algonquin Regional High School in Northborough. However, I found this little jaunt on the Stirrup Brook Trail uplifting, because it was set up in the community as a story walk featuring Dr. Seuss' "Ten Apples Up on Top" - and gave confirmation of what a fantastic idea a story walk is to get kids excited about hiking. Jordyn's eyes lit up every time she came to one of the signs posted along the way, reading it to us and then quickly setting off to find the next one. With hiking being such a hit-or-miss suggestion no matter how many times we wind up going out and having a good time, I'll be sure to keep an eye out on the community calendars next year for more of these story walks. The Mass DCR page and Audubon Society pages are good resources. In the meantime, we'll have to start collecting our own ideas for weekends in the woods in 2013. (Arlen)

Ascending at Arcadia Wildlife Sanctuary

I love the Mass Audubon organization and its quaint nature centers and hiking trails. One of the main reasons for the Mass Audubon's existence is protecting and promoting the array of bird life in our state, especially all that can be found in the numerous wildlife sanctuaries under its auspices. I'm no birdwatcher, but I could easily see getting into this as a hobby in my retirement years, perhaps. For now, I'm content to catch the occasional falcon or hawk or roadside turkey when the opportunity arises, and get a glimpse of whatever flies near me while I'm on hikes.

We've visited the Broad Meadow Brook nature center and sanctuary that's virtually around the corner from our house here in Worcester on many occasions. It's a wonderfully peaceful way to spend a Sunday morning, especially when there's hardly anyone else on the trail. Recently I got to do the same on a solo stroll through Arcadia Wildlife Sanctuary in Easthampton. After stumbling up on a sign for it while driving on Route 10 out of Northampton, I followed the winding roads to the entrance, which features a great visitor/nature center complete with stuffed animals along the walls -- well, not the stuffed animals of Jordyn's bedroom variety, but full-on taxidermy specimens. There's also a whiteboard in the center citing the sanctuaries latest sitings in the 723-acre sanctuary.

As with Broad Meadow Brook, the hiking is easy and relaxed along Arcadia's many trails, of which I walked several. Some lead out to fields, others into the forest and others along the Mill River, which feeds into the nearby Connecticut River. There are several ponds as well as a vernal pool to check out -- I made my way to the Wood Duck Pond, whose namesake is also the image of the stamp that you can mark in your Mass Audubon "passport" that you can fill every time you visit a Mass Audubon locale. And yes, I did catch a few mallards minding their business in the pond.

A couple of features at Arcadia deliver interesting reminders of the past. There's a path called the Old Trolley Line Trail that bisects the sanctuary, which obviously played a traffic role back in the day, and there's also an observation tower. The tower is kind of like a tree house, and presents views of the marsh and swampland. You take a spiral staircase to reach it, and the most fascinating part is that you pass a pair of signs on the neighboring tree that mark how high two historic floods reached in 1984 and 1936 -- you can only shake your head at just how monstrous those floods were when you see how high up the signs are. I made my way back along the well-marked trails, whose blazes are conveniently color-coded to let you know if you're heading toward or away from the nature center (why can't every place do that!). I didn't see any wildlife out of the ordinary on this day, but that certainly gives even more reason to return at different times of the year. (Arlen)

Waterside Walking in Newport & Whitehall

There are plenty of reasons why Newport, R.I., is a hot tourist destination during the summer -- beaches, sailboats, mansions -- which is why we waited until the end of summer to head down there. It's a short ride from Worcester (thanks for being so small, Rhode Island!) and I really wanted to hike the famed Cliff Walk that runs along its eastern shore. Sometimes I'm not the greatest planner, though, and aside from heading there over Labor Day weekend it also happened to be move-in time for students at Salve Regina.

That didn't phase me, but unfortunately Jordyn was already a bit mentally exhausted from the car ride (thought we didn't hit any traffic until we actually reached town). For most of the cliff walk portion we did accomplish, she was perched on my shoulders as you can see above. Still, my pained shoulders couldn't take away from the awe-inspiring views that this hike yields. Sara and I both enjoy hikes that come across water in whatever form -- streams, rivers, cascades, falls, ponds, lakes -- and Newport serves up ocean views with the best of 'em.

Every now and then the trail offers some steep pathways down near the water, but we took some nearby steps -- an area called Forty Steps (yes, that's how many there are) -- down for a closer view on the ledges. The one drawback to the trail is that there's no cover from the sun, and on our walk there were few clouds to provide a break and little ocean breeze; we just couldn't last too long. Eventually I'd like to head back and walk more of the 3.5-mile trail, because it's certainly an East Coast treasure, with hiking riches befitting the enormous wealth on which Newport made its reputation.

The following weekend we kept things closer to home for more trekking along the water's edge. This time it was Whitehall State Park in Hopkinton, Mass. The views were not as majestic, and those darn trees got in the way a lot, but the quiet, peaceful morning by Whitehall Reservoir was refreshing -- and provided a nice taste of the coolness that quickly arrives when the calendar turns from August to September.

I have no idea how many miles the entire circumnavigation of the reservoir is, but I'm pretty sure it would entail an entire day of hiking. We probably did about a mile and a half round trip, turning around after getting a good view of the Whitehall Dam in the distance. After a hot summer, during which our hiking schedule is interrupted by things like heat and birthday parties, it felt good to be back in the woods. (Arlen)

Heavenly Hiking at Halibut Point

Where to go on our 10-year anniversary? After contemplating things to do on our own, without Jordyn ... New York City, Foxwoods Casino ... we decided to take our little girl with us wherever that might be. We settled on Newport, R.I., for a day of cliff walking and kite flying -- only we had to nix it when we discovered that it was Folk Festival weekend. So now where? Eventually, after considering museums, aquariums and what not, I surfed the Massachusetts DCR page and found Halibut Point State Park in Rockport.

Part of what attracted me was the drive -- I love road trips and I'd never visited this remote-looking area that juts out from the North Shore outside of Boston. Sara had been to the scenic seaside town with her family, but it had been years, and she was all for it. We could hit another state park on our Weekends in the Woods quest and then scarf down some seafood.

I do love the way this sort of "checklist" travel brings me to places I might otherwise overlook. It's not a spot where Sara had gone on her family's visits to Cape Ann. Halibut Point is a true beauty, though definitely not in the woodsy wonder sense of a typical state park. Nope, instead it combines a serene pool, bordered by massive granite ledges of what used to be a 19th-century quarry, with the rocky Atlantic Ocean shore.

A renovated World War II fire tower serves as the visitor center for this state park gem, which is managed by the DCR and the Trustees of Reservations, and you can pick up a map for taking the self-guided loop tour around the quarry. There are nine stops that provide some historical reference into the granite trade, and if you're a dork like me you take time to read the history blurbs aloud to your embarrassed wife and daughter. The cooler thing to do is embrace the danger of standing right at the edge of the granite ledges and trying not to lose your sunglasses as you look down to the water. 

Even better than the stroll around the quarry was the lookout point over the Atlantic, where you can see New Hampshire and Maine (not so much on the hazy afternoon we went), and walk down to the shore. Halibut Point has an incredible rock cairn garden, where visitors have constructed the most elaborate cairn formations I've seen, like the arch shown, a rock penguin and other architectural sculptures -- Jordyn really dug this area and added her own stone bridge. After that we hopped along the big, barnacle- and seaweed-covered rocks by the water, where Jordyn plucked snails (pictured at left) from the crevices. Her day was made when she lured them out of their shells by humming -- a trick she learned about only a couple of weeks earlier. A modern-day siren of the sea! (Arlen)

Relaxing, Rejuvenating at Rock House Reservation

When it comes to weekend hiking excursions, this one really rocked.

But the rocks were only the beginning of what delighted me about Rock House Reservation in West Brookfield. This was one of those outdoor gems where as soon as my foot hit the trail, as soon as I smelled the heady mix of fragrant fauna and fresh earth, I knew I wanted to return again and again.

I'd never heard of Rock House Reservation until a few weeks prior, when I was scrolling through some recently logged photos at the newspaper where I work. At first glance, I thought the pictures of children climbing on gargantuan rocks were taken at the popular Purgatory Chasm in Sutton (see our blog post from April 17).

Managed by the Trustees of Reservations, the 196-acre RHR features a natural rock formation -- 20- to 30-feet high -- that was exposed after a glacial retreat 10,000 years ago. The cave-like structure is believed to have been used as a winter camp by Native Americans. The property features three miles of hiking trails, a man-made pond, a butterfly garden, and a small museum (which turned out to be empty but whose elevated deck offered a lovely view of the water below).

After a leisurely and scenic drive from Worcester to West Brookfield, we arrived at a small parking lot, where we greeted by no less than four dogs. Fortunately, as I was not in much of a dog mood, they were the only canines we saw that day. (We didn't see many other hikers at all, for that matter. Lucky us!)

A short uphill jaunt from the parking area led us to a lovely pond. A nearby sign explained something about the ecosystem, but I was smitten as soon as I saw the words "painted turtles." Jordyn and I examined the water from several vantage points on shore; alas, no turtles were to be spotted that day. However we did see a snake wend its way into the water, proving to us novices what skillful swimmers snakes can be.

Looking for painted turtles. Or as I like to call them, "teer-tles."

Off to our left was the unmistakable rock house. Jordyn was eager to find the butterfly garden, but we assured her she wouldn't regret making a pit stop at the rocks. As we approached, I was overcome by a feeling of awe. It was the rocks, yes -- but it was something more, something in the air. Let's call it a perfect combination of serenity, song (the birds provided a virtual chorus!) and satisfaction -- satisfaction that nature's perfection could so quickly bring one back to balance after a perfectly crappy week. 

As we meandered through the natural shelter, we spied myriad "chairs" and "tables" provided by ledges and nifty little "hallways" between rocks. It took me back to my grandfather's steep, rocky backyard in Malden, where I used to spend hours climbing and looking for secret hiding spots.

I believe I could have spent hours among the rocks, but Jordyn was eager to find butterflies, so we pressed on. It was a good choice, as I found the trail we traversed every bit as pleasing as the rocks. Something about the particular feel of the earth under my shoes, the delicious coolness provided by the tree canopy and the aroma of dozens of white flowers dotting the ground made it just about the most perfect walk ever.

Soon we approached a sunny clearing that was the butterfly garden. Jordyn was momentarily confused, as she likely had been expecting the type of indoor butterfly haven she had visited before. But this was cool -- really, really cool. We didn't see too many winged wonders, but the ones we did see were dazzling in color and teased Jordyn just enough to make her think she could catch them. After a few minutes, I started to get hot and told Arlen I would be waiting in some nearby shade. While he watched Jordyn in her futile attempt to bag a butterfly, I sat down on the forest floor and took out my journal. Those were a wonderful few minutes, ones I wanted to shove into a bottle from which I could sip during my next stressful week. It was bliss. It was ... real.

But sometimes reality bites -- reality, in this case, being a hungry group of mosquitoes that soon had me covered in welts while my companions remained delightfully itch-free. Such are weekends in the woods (Sara)

Jordyn finds her heart's delight in the butterfly garden,

For the love of rustic language.

Backtracking Through History at Blackstone

Yosemite, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Rocky Mountain ... these are the names that come to mind when you think America's national parks. But the U.S. National Park Service encompasses more than just protected wilderness areas, weaving in many areas of historic significance among its vast roster, albeit to much less fanfare outside of the realm of elementary school field trips.

Actually, for anyone interested in the outdoors, history and our country's "greatest idea" as noted filmmaker recently documented, it's certainly nice to have these sites especially here in New England. We're not as spoiled with the great traditional parks as the West, with Acadia National Park (where Sara and I honeymooned, by Bar Harbor, Maine) the closest option.

So I loved the idea of a quick trip down Route 146 to hit a few of the spots that comprise part of the Blackstone River Valley National Heritage Corridor, which runs from Central Massachusetts into Rhode Island. Plus it's also a notch on our Massachusetts state parks and forests tour. Granted, Jordyn's not quite old enough to appreciate the importance of the Blackstone Canal and mill culture on early-to-mid 1800s society, but being able to combine some hiking and history lessons (okay, I'm partial to the latter as an undergraduate history major and trivia buff) doubles the reason to visit.

It was warm and sunny the morning we went to the Blackstone River and Canal Heritage State Park visitor center (pictured above), so we stayed in the lovely shade along the canal's Towpath Trail for a peaceful walk, where almost everyone we passed exchanged greetings in good spirits. That always puts a smile on my face, as did the abundant wild (and domesticated) animals we spotted: a snake, a beaver, fish, birds, turtles sunbathing on rocks, and dogs on their morning trots.

After our walk we headed south for two more suggested stops on the corridor tour: the Millville Lock and Blackstone Gorge. I took a solo walk in the woods to reach the lock, which is billed as the best preserved one from the era and felt like a nice little transport back in time to see and think about the barges that passed through it. Then we went to the Blackstone Gorge (pictured below) and checked out the impressive falls that drop the tranquil river into the rocks where it swiftly goes on its way, far removed from its time one of the region's chief transportation hubs. (Arlen)

Celebrate National Trails Day!

Well, the hiking has slowed down a bit this month, but Saturday we have a really good excuse to get back onto a trail ... and so does everyone else. It's the annual National Trails Day, courtesy of the American Hiking Society, and there are plenty of events to choose from no matter where you live.

Here in Central Massachusetts we're leaning toward attending the grand opening of a new hiking trail, which I figured would be very apropos for the occasion. It's the Walnut Hill Trail in Southborough, overseen by the Sudbury Valley Trustees.

That leads me into a couple of points/recent discoveries from this continually wonderful experience of the outdoors. For one, I continue to stumble upon cool trails right here in the heart of Worcester, which as Sara pointed out is often overlooked as a major city -- the second largest in New England (yeah, we're looking at you, Providence and Hartford). One of Saturday's events is a roundtrip traverse of the East Side Trail, which winds its way from a city park on "hip" Shrewsbury Street all the way to Lake Quinsigamond ... but at more than 6 miles we'll be skipping that, perhaps saving for a one-way trek another time.

The other nice recent finding is the Trustees of Reservations. Just to add to an already-packed state parks and forest bucket list of destinations, the Trustees oversee a ton of great places in its aim to "preserve, for public use and enjoyment, properties of exceptional scenic, historic, and ecological value in Massachusetts."
That includes cool spots like Doane's Falls and Royalston Falls in Royalston, along the 22-mile Tulley Trail Loop that I'm keenly eyeing. Maybe a solo hike as a birthday present to myself. (Arlen)

Chasing Waterfalls at Cascades Park

There were two surprises, and I can't decide which was greater:
1) That we had lived in Worcester for eight years (12 for me, counting college) without any knowledge of the Cascades Trails System.
2) That my 5-year-old daughter could be the model of resilience and bravery in the face one scary-steep hill, numerous rambunctious dogs, and being forced to hike sans pants for most of the afternoon.

A friend who heard about our weekend hiking jaunts suggested we check out the Cascades, a series of trails in Worcester's northwest corner managed by the Greater Worcester Land Trust comprising Boynton Park, Cascades West, Cascades East, Cascades Park and -- the main attraction -- Cascading Waters. We first headed over there on Easter Sunday, but our hike was quickly aborted after Jordyn got a traumatic leg injury, aka a scratch. Several weeks later, we managed a hike in earnest, accompanied by my sister, aka Auntie Massachusetts-California-Massachusetts-California-Massachusetts, who was thrilled to be outside on this glorious spring day after being welcomed home last week by so much New England rain.

Our plan was to park at the Cascading Waters entrance, check out the falls, and then follow a loop that led along the Cascades, the Silver Spring and Meadow Ridge trails.

We were lured by the sound of falling water almost as soon as we hit the trail. After a short jaunt by a stream and across a road, we were greeted by the breathtaking sight of water tumbling down dozens of rocks (left, the BlackBerry photo doesn't quite do justice to the steepness). It's what we had come to see, and we were awestruck. From there was a daunting hill leading to the trail heads. A sign posted on a tree warned hikers that this hill was closed due to erosion, but we decided to tackle it nonetheless. (Heeding the sign would've meant approaching the trails from a different entrance and prolonging our start.) Needless to say, it didn't take long before we discovered the sign was -- as most warnings are -- there for a reason. This hill was steep, slippery and scary, with plenty of rocks, roots, and both slippery dry and slimy wet leaves to impede any climber's efforts. Arlen and Jordyn went first, and made it up OK, she holding his hand and seemingly undaunted by the steep drop behind her. Coffee cups in our hands made for slower going for my sister and me; we clung to branches and grabbed hold of roots to steady ourselves as we made our way up. Finally, we reached the top. Glancing behind me (yikes!), I wondered how I -- how WE -- had managed that.

Moving on! We found ourselves on a lovely, easy-to-follow trail. The birds were singing, the brooks were babbling ... leisurely hiking at its best. After we'd been going for about 15 minutes, Jordyn announced she had to pee. No matter; I had gone in the woods a little while back, and I assured her she could do the same. Unfortunately, even though she's a voracious reader, she hasn't yet gotten around to "How to Pee in the Woods," and she soaked her pants. I assumed she'd insist on leaving, but no! She was perfectly willing to shed her pants and hike in her underwear with her hoodie tied around her waist.

As we descended deeper into the woods, it did start to feel a little chilly. Jordyn did mention her legs were cold, but at no point did she ask to turn around. Nor did she bat an eyelash when several of the dogs we met on the trail slobbered all over her. (My sister and I, on the other hand, pitched a minor fit when one large canine deposited copious amounts of slime on our pants -- ironic, since we are both basset hound lovers, and they don't come much more slobbery than that.)

After another half hour or so, Jordyn's pants had nearly dried. It was then that  my thumb accidentally punctured the cup I was holding, spraying Dunkin' Donuts coffee all over the pants and soaking them anew. At this point Jordyn was so used to be being pants-less that it didn't much matter.

After about an hour and a half, we stopped to ask passers-by how far we were from the next trail. Turns out we had more ahead of us than we realized at this point, so we didn't end up completing the loop as planned. By this point Jordyn's pants were nearly dry and she was relieved to have them for her now-chilly legs. As we backtracked along the trail we came on, we bided our time looking for things we had passed amusing ourselves with silly songs. Well, I did. Pretty soon, we heard the sounds of the falls and knew we had made it.

As for getting back down that crazy hill, each of us had our own method. Let's just say I "fell" a bit "behind." (Sara)

Proud Times at Purgatory Chasm

It's never easy as a parent knowing when to loosen the leash on your child. You always want to protect them from harm or getting hurt. But kids are such adventurous creatures - it's part of why hiking should have some natural appeal for getting them to spend time outdoors!

At Purgatory Chasm State Reservation in Sutton, there's "danger" at just about every turn. Maybe that's why it's about the most fun yet I've had hiking with my 5-year-old daughter, Jordyn. But it wasn't easy. I had to keep telling myself, "It's OK, let her go - there's no way she's not leaving this place without some scrapes."

Purgatory is one of the coolest natural wonders in Massachusetts. It would certainly rank high if there were a vote. The main attraction is a quarter-mile corridor of granite rock formations and stone walls as high as 70 feet, perfect for kids who like to hop, climb and scramble over the potentially treacherous terrain. And I'm lucky enough to live about 15 minutes away from it, only I hadn't been there in seven or eight years. On a day off from work during school vacation, I took Jordyn there.

The place's popularity was evident by the packed parking lot and swarm of parents, teens and kids on the trail. There are actually some quieter peripheral trails through the woods, but I was particularly looking forward to feeding Jordyn's fondness for rocks. Plus the trail was truly cool -- there were a half-dozen or so spots whose cave-like features made standing there about 15 degrees cooler than the rest of the way.

The funny part is that Jordyn did her biggest damage before we even began the trail, tripping over a root. After shaking that off, she was good to go, and I did my best to hold my tongue as we trod along. Some of the time I held her hand or arm, but mostly she had free reign and most of the time, she wanted to take the lead -- even when we took a path all the way up to the area that overlooked the chasm (trails lead around its rim, as well, but we quickly went back down).

Well somehow we managed to go through the chasm and back without any fractures, breaks, bruises or cuts. Some minor scrapes and some dirty hands were well worth it for the fun time. I couldn't have been prouder of my little girl! Even though we're trying to hit as many state parks and forests as possible, we'll have to head back to Purgatory soon ... just not during school vacation. (Arlen)

Winding Down the Road at Wells

Sometimes hikes don't turn out as planned. That was the case last weekend when we went to Wells State Park in Sturbridge. Oh, it seemed like a pleasant place to go hiking ... only we tired ourselves out before we got there.

It started out good enough. We met up with my parents and had breakfast at a nearby cafe, and they were ready to join us for our latest Weekends in the Woods outing. I'm very fortunate to have parents who are still in great shape -- and exuberant -- at their age.

And they probably got in a little more walking than they bargained for. You see, when we pulled onto the road that leads to the park entrance, it was blocked off by some cones and a "road closed" sign. It was beautiful out, though, so I figured we could walk to the park. Unfortunately I hadn't checked the map too well -- it was at least a mile, maybe more, down a windy road to get there. We saw a couple of cars pass by, too, which was slightly annoying because 1) obviously some people were just dismissing the closed sign and pressing on and 2) there were a couple of other roads off Route 49 (the major road to get there) that also led to the park entrance, more indirectly.

Still, we were all in good spirits following our version of the yellow brick road. Jordyn posed with Grandma and Papa for an action shot (above). But when we got to the entrance we were pretty pooped. Jordyn was not about to head into the woods for a loop trail. In fact, my dad, Sara and Jordyn stayed behind while my mom and I trekked back up the road and got the car -- the little girl was begging to be carried up the hilly way back, and that wasn't gonna happen.

So the paved road turned into our hike for the day. We did manage to do some frog-spotting just past the entrance, in the marshy area of one of the ponds, a celebratory occasion for Sara since she'd been keeping her eye out for them since we started our outdoors initiative, only to come up empty on every previous outing. We'll head back at some point for the real trails, but for this trip we'll settle for being grateful of the guest appearances, both human and amphibian. (Arlen)

 

Quiet Time at Quinsigamond State Park

I can't say that Quinsigamond State Park is my favorite state park in Massachusetts, but it's definitely my most visited, specifically the Lake Park portion. You see, Lake Park is virtually across the street from our house. There's another portion of "Quinsig" farther down the road, on the other side of where Route 9 divides Lake Avenue in Worcester (and that area, Regatta Point, is essentially just a beach front and head of the many regattas that Quinsig hosts). But Lake Park is on our side, and I'm glad it is -- it's a perfect place to walk laps along the oval that circumnavigates the park about 1 1/4 miles around, with almost half of it a stone's throw off the lake and its pleasant views as you go.



For almost five years, it was the perfect place for me to walk our basset hound Izzy every morning, with full laps on weekend mornings. Many times before work it served as a placid locale for viewing pink-hued sunrises. I've traversed Lake Park hundreds of times, so that alone makes it a special state park destination.

But last Saturday, Jordyn and I took a different path on a morning walk in Lake Park. We carefully tread down the woods path that led right to the water's edge. There's also a beach area at Lake Park, and my hope was that we could "hike" along the edge safely to the beach about a quarter mile away.

Unfortunately, we couldn't. About halfway there, the path disappeared so we took a detour back uphill through the woods. Jordyn wanted to get to the beach, so we kept going on our little journey, and I decided we would work our way back along the water's edge and see how far that took us (I was hoping to reach one of the natural paths that lead from the highland walking trail down through the woods). Again, we started out well but Jordyn decided we should head up to the trail -- only there was no path to do so where we stood. So in essence, we bushwhacked it, on our hands and knees, clinging to branches, roots and rocks as we made our way up.

All in all, it was a quick adventure and our grand total distance didn't even equate to the full loop around the park. But it was a path we'd never taken in a place we visit all the time, and going that much closer to the water and its little islands made this go-around that much more peaceful. Just goes to show, there's always room to explore what's right around the corner. (Arlen)

Sunday Serenity at the Sanctuary

Arlen's and my move to Worcester in the spring of 2004 was a poignant one. We had been living out of state, and I hadn't been happy. Then came a job opportunity in the city in which I had attended college, a city where I never envisioned myself. Yet once we arrived here it felt almost like a rebirth -- a feeling that was echoed in the signs of spring bursting forth on the "country living in the city" property where we rented an apartment. Once we were able to stop swooning over the turtle pond (oh my god, turtles!) at the entrance of the complex, one of the first places we had the pleasure of discovering was a nearby (at 1.42 miles away, make that very nearby) National Audubon Society property called Broad Meadow Brook Conservation Center and Wildlife Sanctuary.

These 430 acres nestled in a residential neighborhood on Worcester's east side quickly became one of my favorite places to visit -- though I realized recently it had been quite some time since I had been there. Thankfully, last weekend presented the perfect opportunity to return. With rain in the forecast for our hiking day, we decided to stick close to home. (Indeed, our current home is less than three miles from the sanctuary.)

When we arrived at Broad Meadow Brook at 8:30 Sunday morning, we weren't surprised to find the parking lot empty and the nature center locked. No matter; we were happy to have the place to ourselves. As we paused at the information booth to reacquaint ourselves with the trail maps, I breathed in the crisp early spring air and was reminded why I love this place so much: bright, easy-to-read displays; neatly labeled plants and flowers around the visitors' center; easy-to-traverse trails punctuated by babbling brooks, plenty of benches and the occasional wooden footbridge; and no shortage of beautiful bird songs. Let alone Broad Meadow Brook's power to make visitors forget they are anywhere near New England's second-largest city.

As we descended the path away from the nature center, we were greeted by the sight of lovely sculptures ("Portals" by Carolyn Lewenberg) hanging on trees. Crafted from vines, tires and stainless steel bowls, these quirky creations were nothing short of fabulous. After pausing for photos and a go on one of several wooden glider swings, Arlen and I decided to take Jordyn on a loop from the Holdredge Trail to the Sprague to the Frog Pond Trail -- three of 12 from which to choose. (Sadly on this visit, no amount of searching would yield any frog sightings; but peering into the water with high hopes is half the fun, anyway.) While the trees were still bare, the woods were bursting with greenery that Arlen and I dubbed cabbage (come to think of it, it probably was cabbage). The birds' chorus was as loud as I've ever heard, rivaled at points only by Jordyn's chatter and the rude awakening of a dirt bike motoring (illegally) down the trail ahead of us.

There's much to do at Broad Meadow Brook beyond hiking: indoor art and photography exhibits, the annual bird-a-thon and butterfly festivals, summer camp; and myriad volunteer opportunities. Now that we've rediscovered this local gem, we plan to take full advantage of all it offers. Country living in the city, indeed! (Sara)

Cabbage?

Jordyn found many rocks to climb along the way.

Up and at 'Em at Upton State Forest

OK, so maybe a 3.3-mile hike wasn't the most prudent choice for just our third outing as a family ... but, hey, 3.3 for hike No. 3? I like the numbers.

Then again, I had no idea really how long our hike into Upton State Forest was going to be. Sure, I could have eyeballed it using the small half- and quarter-inch scale on the PDF I printed out. But the hike looked innocent enough, being the main recommended path in the park. Loops are always nice, and this one was also marked as a "road" rather than one of the hiking trails -- wide enough for usage by bicyclists (saw a few of those) and horses (saw plenty of fresh "evidence," though no actual animals).

The loop that took us out to placid Dean Pond and back was relatively painless, unless you want to count the back pain that's been nagging me for a week now. I wouldn't let that slow me down, though, since walking helps ease it much more than sitting. For the most part, Jordyn was a good sport about the longish route, including finding a killer walking stick that I used toward the end. The highlight, for me at least, was when the two of us climbed up a good hunk of stone for a photo opp.

Actually, I would have loved to check out the real "Mammoth Rock" that lends its name to one of the offshoot trails, but we passed that trailhead toward the end and were ready to hit the parking lot. Overall I got the impression that Upton has plenty to offer, maybe not so much in exciting visuals, but in the sheer number of hikes available (there were many trails off the main paths) and the accessibility especially for family hiking.

Oh, and one more "3" related item -- Upton was great for dog spotting, including the three-legged canine we passed who was missing his right hind leg. Now there's a trooper. (Arlen)

Sources of Inspiration

I resisted Twitter as long as I could. Then all of my co-workers and I signed up so we could try to push traffic to the websites of our magazines -- Electronic House, CE Pro and Commercial Integrator (check 'em out, especially if you're into cool electronics!). I was very skeptical of what I thought was a fad and simple means of the Kardashians of the world to get even more attention.

After a few weeks of getting the hang of it, I was hooked. That's because if you use Twitter the right way (OK, well there's no right way ... but what's right for us) it's an extremely useful conduit for discovery. In my case, my feed is catered to reading opinions and articles about the things I enjoy most -- sports, music, trivia and hiking/travel. Plus work-related stuff, which sometimes overlaps with the music.

It's the hiking and travel aspect of Twitter that has really made my mind dizzy lately with daydreams and planning ... and just plain inspiration. I follow people who visit places and accomplish things in the travel and outdoorsy world that I can't possibly imagine doing, but I'm nonetheless envious. What it really makes me think about is how mine and Sara's outdoors initiative for ourselves and our daughter can be our little part of exploring this inspirational and aspirational pastime -- hopefully for many years to come.

Every day I'm finding new people and reading things via Twitter to fuel this growing fire. Here are a few to really get you going: @AndrewSkurka, the ultimate solo adventurer who recently completed a first-of-its-kind Alaska-Yukon journey that covered thousands of miles; @WheresAndrew, National Geographic's "Digital Nomad" Andrew Evans, who does a phenomenal job documenting his globe-spanning assignments (he's currently on a "Cape to Cape" trek between South America and Africa; @NomadicMatt and @EverywhereTrip, who, respectively, have been traveling around the world as a lifestyle for the last half decade; and @HikingTheTrail, Adam Nutting, who is preparing for an Appalachian thru-hike next year.

Of course the beauty of Twitter is in daily discovery, and just today I found someone whose blog completely inspires me to work harder on this one -- hers is Tales of a Mountain Mama (the last word crossed out to make Mountain Family on the page). Her real name is Amelia Mayer, (@mtnmamatales) and she and her family appear to share very similar ideals and goals as Sara and I. And the cool thing about Twitter is that sometimes when you follow someone, they follow you back, so I look forward to sharing tales from the woods (or songs from the wood, as Jethro Tull might say) with her and others as we continue on this wonderful path. (Arlen)

Slowing Down in Spencer State Forest

When we told Jordyn about our weekend plans to visit Spencer State Forest, she was less than thrilled. “I want to stay home and work on projects,” she whined. When we suggested that a nature scavenger hunt could be a project, she perked up. When we reminded her she could continue the previous weekend's hunt for woodland fairies, she was on board.

A sampling of items she hoped to find in the woods:

Squirrels

Mooshrooms (her spelling)

Shaving cream (don't ask)

Her note to the fairies:

Dear Fairies: I'm visiting today. Love, Jordyn

Armed with list and note, we set out for the 965-acre park on a record-warm late March day.

After pulling into a moderately full parking area, we walked over to a small waterfall at the head of Howe Pond. We agreed to hike a trail around the pond, but decided first to try one through the woods. Our map showed wooded trails dotted with streams, which would give me ample opportunity to look for frogs. Sadly, none were to be found. No matter; we all enjoyed pausing and listening to the soul-soothing sound of the water rushing over rocks. (Bonus: Jordyn found her “shaving cream,” in the form of foamy water collecting in a stream.)

As we continued along the mostly empty wooded trail, we were jarred out of serenity by the sound of gunfire. After several intermittent shots, we spied a farm beyond the edge of the trail and determined that someone was either practicing their shot or getting a head start on dinner. We told Jordyn it was firecrackers. A little farther on we found ourselves face to face with an imposing downed tree, effectively blocking the way back to our starting point (but providing a perfect notch in which Jordyn could tuck her fairy note). We turned around and headed back to the parking area, where we paused for lunch. A nearby plaque reminded us that Spencer was the birthplace of Elias Howe, inventor of – among other things – the sewing machine.

Next up: A hike around the pond. We started out in a grassy knoll in which Jordyn decided to lie down and attempt to commune with her fairy friends. After some prodding on our parts, she agreed to press on, wistful that her winged creatures might make an appearance in her absence.

The hike around the pond was pleasant enough: The trail populated by hundreds startlingly straight trees that appeared to stand at attention, and the pace punctuated by frequent Jordyn stops. She wanted to read signs. Pick up sticks. Sit down. Peek into the pond. Throw sticks into the pond. Contemplate moss. Arlen and I found ourselves torn between wanting to let her explore and wanting to get some actual hiking (read: exercise) into our day. It's ironic, really: We wanted to get Jordyn outdoors to teach her to slow down and be more mindful, but when she actually does that, we get impatient. Hmmm, maybe it's we who need to hone those skills …  (Sara)

Milling Around at Moore State Park

To add to what Sara said, we're going to do our best to make hiking -- family hiking when possible -- part of our family culture. This is not easy with a 5-year-old who would rather spend her outdoors time at a playground. On the plus side, she can pretty much be as loud as she wants to in the woods without the threat of too much embarrassment. And she tried her best during our short hike at Moore State Park in Paxton on March 11.

It's a quaint little state park with easy trails as part of the "Healthy Heart Trail" circuits. This first venture was more about getting fresh air and, for Jordyn, trying to summon the woodland fairies. The eye-pleasing attraction in Moore is the old gristmill area that serves up a small waterfall below a covered bridge.

At the end of the trail it was also encouraging to see that work is being done to re-forest an area of chestnuts that had fallen victim to disease. Overall, our first woodsy jaunt was a success. We kind of winged this one, with Sara and I having been there before, and it's already been fun to scout out the next location for this Sunday's hike. Plus this weekend it'll help take my mind off Missouri's upset busting my NCAA bracket. Moving on ... (Arlen)

What's in a Name?

We “wordy” types (Arlen and I are both editors) agonized over the title of this blog. I wanted something punny; he wanted something alliterative. Arlen flat-out nixed “Hiking Schitck,” my idea for a comedy take on weekend hiking. He suggested “Leaving the Living Room”; I said it makes us sound like a couple of couch-potato losers: “Look at us! We actually get off our butts!” And while we certainly do spend our fair share of downtime planted in front of television crime dramas, there was a time when we did spend more of it exploring the outdoors. In fact, when we met, Arlen had never been on a bona fide hike; it was I who encouraged him to give it a try. Well, he tried it and loved it, and eventually came up with a goal of hiking every high point in the U.S. So far, so good; he's conquered nine. But high-pointing, as it's known, is not so feasible with our busy lives, and we can't exactly afford to travel to far-flung peaks as often as we'd like. And while our 5-year-old daughter Jordyn may have the stamina to join her dad on such adventures, I am notoriously unfit for hard-core vertical climbs. (Though I do have a few under my belt.)

So here he were, eager for a way to put some regular outdoor time back into our own lives while attempting to get our daughter hooked on the wonders of nature. Thus our plan was born: Visit every state park in Massachusetts, ideally one each weekend, weather permitting, beginning in March 2012. Thus, “Weekends in the Woods” was born.

While Arlen and I have visited several Mass. state parks over the years, we decided to start from scratch, so our daughter could be in on every bit of the fun. We thought about doing it alphabetically, but decided we would need to let other factors dictate the order. For nostalgia's sake, Arlen chose the site of our first state park hike upon returning to our home state of Massachusetts in 2004, Moore State Park in Paxton. One down, so many to go! (Sara)