Sometimes, the trail is as wide as an old unused road.
Walking is man’s best medicine.
— Hippocrates
Waldo’s and my journey continues on, adding about another 3 miles south to the running total of our trek on the Midstate Trail, from New Hampshire to Rhode Island. We’re still doing round trips, so today, we park our car well south of where we turned around on our last walk, 3 days ago, and head north. I left a doggie poop bag on a trail marker then, so I would know when we get to where we left off. I know from experience, if I didn’t do something like that, I might not be sure just where we turned around.
The sky is partly cloudy, with little breeze, and the temperature is in the low 60s. The ground is dry and the sun is bright. We parked on a wide spot on the side of a road, so we have to follow a paved street for the first 10th of a mile. The path then turns left onto a dirt road and heads off into the woods. This is Waldo’s kind of weather for a walk through the trees and he is pulling at the leash, eager to go. Hs gait is normal and there’s no sign of a limp.
The forest we first walk through is the same mixture of new growth oaks and birch with white pine that has swaddled us since we left the mountains up north. After a mile or so, the broad path narrows to a typical footpath and, here and there, I see older trees, some with trunks thick enough to be 100 to 150 years old. The trail is well marked and Waldo does not lead us astray. Birdsong is rare and I only hear a bluejay and a northern cardinal out in the bush. I see no ground-pounding animals at all and insects are at bay, although an occasional mosquito does dive-bomb past me now and then.
After about 2 miles, we pop out of the woods into large grassy fields, bounded by trees and brush as windbreaks. Up ahead is a parking lot and there are 3 people there, looking at a sign. “Where you headed?” I ask, pleased to finally pass someone else out on the trail.
“We’re going to Burncoat Pond, if we can find out how to get there,” came the reply.
Burncoat pond is part of the Audubon Sanctuary Waldo and I visited on our last hike and I remember it. I look at the sign and then the possibilities. In addition to the Midstate Trail, there is another trail that the sign says leads to Burncoat. “Either trail will get you there,” I say, and Waldo and I continue on our way. They must have chosen the other trail, because we don’t see them again.
Our trail follows along the edge of grassy fields for another mile or so. We come across a trail marker that looks a whole lot like the one where we turned around on our last walk, but there’s no doggie poop bag there, or anywhere around it. I have no idea if it blew away or someone took it down to maintain the pristine nature of the trail. I’m pretty sure that’s where we turned around before, though. The problem is, my phone says we haven’t gone quite as far as I thought we should have. So we continue on, just to be sure, until I tire of seeing familiar territory and we turn around.
Just after we turn around, we pass an elderly couple going the other way. “How far are you going?” I ask.
“Oh,” said the man, “for about an hour or so. We’ll walk until we get tired. We’re in our 70s, so we do what seems reasonable.”
“We’re walking the Midstate Trail,” I say proudly. “I’ll be 78 next February and we started up in New Hampshire last spring and we’re headed down to Rhode Island in 6 mile, or so, trips.”
“We did that a couple of years ago and now just come out here for the exercise. Hiking is great exercise, you know.”
“Indeed it is,” I say. “That’s why I’m here. Waldo,” I point to Waldo, who has stopped up ahead and has turned around to watch me for signs he should continue, “on the other hand, needs this kind of thing to fend off cabin fever.”
“Me too,” says the man.
We say our goodbyes and continue on our respective ways. Wow, we passed 5 people out on the trail today.
There is a difference between physical distance and psychological distance, just like there’s a difference between clock time and psychological time. You can’t see very far when you’re deep in forest and that alters your perception of how far you’ve gone. On the outbound leg of a hike, it feels like you’ve gone a mile when you’ve only done a 1/4-mile. It seems like it takes forever to make any real progress. On the way back, though, you pass through familiar territory and the map you’ve unconsciously built in your head serves as a truer advisor of the distance you’ve gone and have yet to go. Compared to the outbound leg, it feels like progress is fast. I mean it literally, then, when I say we are soon back at the car. We did 6.12 miles in 2 hrs and 49 min, with 486 ft of elevation gain and are on our way to home, recliner and balcony.
After a day of rest, we’ll be back at it, with only about 30 more miles to go.
At other times, it is a narrow footpath that passes under old, thick-trunk trees.