Alongside the railcars.
Was it my fault that the most entertaining things to do also happened to be illegal?
-Michael J. Heil
The Mass Central Rail Trail “proposed” route runs from southeast of the town of Ware, over the Ware River, then continues alongside a railroad that is currently being used. After a couple of miles, the trail then heads east on a part of the old railroad bed that is no longer used. I was warned that if anyone saw us walking alongside the active rails, there are people who would not like it. However, the satellite view on my phone shows there is no real option. It’s also Sunday, which, I hope, means there is unlikely to be any unwelcoming folks around.
The satellite view also shows there is a bridge, still standing, that crosses the Ware River not far from the active railroad. That’s a good thing, except I can see daylight shining through crosswise on the bridge. I’m guessing that means that there is no flooring underneath the ties. If so, that would mean there is nothing but air in the gaps between them and all the way to the water. The gaps must be large enough to let reflected light from the river shine through, though I can’t tell just how wide they are. If they are as wide as those on the ground, Waldo could fall through them, all the way to the water. So, I brought a dog harness that I can hold onto and support him, if needed, when we cross the bridge.
The rest of the trail looks like a bushwhack, but I can’t tell how bad. All in all, today’s walk will cover right around seven miles, about half of which could be a real slog through massive undergrowth. We wait until the day is as warm as it’s going to get, in the low 50s, and we start at 2 PM. Sunset is scheduled for 5:45 PM, so we will have almost 4 hours before things start to get dark. We’re cutting it close, but we should be fine.
The area that has the active railway is flat and broad, having up to two sidings in addition to the main line. On the sidings, at various places, are long strings of railroad cars, coupled together. They look like what’s used to carry grain or liquids. The rails on which they sit are quite rusted, so they haven’t seen a lot of use in the recent past. The rust is solid enough that I’m guessing the cars haven’t been moved much in years. In between the three sets of rails, and sometimes on the sides as well, are broad aprons of tarmac. That makes for easy walking and Waldo and I make good progress. As I hoped, there is absolutely no one around.
I thought it might be hard to find just where the trail leaves the active railroad and heads east. I needn’t have worried. Not only are there rails that still run on the old bed, there are more parked railcars on them. After an eighth of a mile or so, the line of cars stops, but the unencumbered rails continue on to the bridge. At the bridge abutment, however, someone has built a chest high dam of tree trunks, branches and large rocks. Peering over that, I see that I needn’t have worried about the holes in the bridge. They are there, as I suspected they might be, but they are only about 2 inches wide. Wide enough for a doggy paw to go through, but not the whole Waldo. Now we just have to get over the damned dam.
I decide the easiest way is to go is around the barricade to the left. There are some big rocks there that will support my weight and it should be an easy clamber. However, the bridge itself is a wide-open lattice of steel girders, with inadequate railing to keep one from falling through to the water some 30 feet below. I carefully brace myself against the girders, step over the rocks and onto the ties on the bridge beyond. I then lean against the girder nearest the bridge end of the dam and block the only hole Waldo could fall through. Now it’s just a matter of convincing Waldo he should follow me. That takes some convincing.
Waldo, who characteristically leaps over obstacles in our way with abandon, climbs to the top of the dam and plants his paws in a straight-legged forward brace and effectively says, “Uh-uh! No way in hell!”
“It’s okay, Waldo. I’ve got you covered,” I say, and pull on the leash, being careful to keep myself between him and oblivion.
Waldo stares down at the holes in the bridge and through the wide-open spaces between the girders and whines. I softly encourage him some more and pull on his collar. Finally, he decides I am not going to give up on this completely foolhardy, and totally unnecessary, venture and reluctantly climbs over the rocks and onto the bridge ties. We move over, closer to the middle of the bridge, and he seems to decide that, hey, it’s not as bad as he thought, and we continue happily on our way, tail wagging and all.
Until we get to the other end of the bridge. There the tracks and ties continue on, but they are buried under a thick copse of new-growth trees, weeds, small bushes and vines. None of the trees are wider than 4 inches in diameter, which means they are no older than about 20 years. I look at the mess that lies in front of us and realize that we’re in for a hard slog. With no old-growth trees, there is no good, solid canopy overhead and that means there’s plenty of sunlight on the ground to support the proliferation of bushes and weeds. And it surely looks that they have proliferated with a fury.
To be continued…
The bridge and the damn dam.