Station house at the beginning of our walk.
You have to try different things, meet different people, and travel to new places to grow.
— Kunal Kapoor
Today, I decided Waldo and I would mix it up a bit. There is a portion of the Mass Central Rail Trail, newly paved, that runs from Sudbury to Hudson, about 7.5 miles. We have walked it before, including when it was choked with weeds. The last time we were out here, a bit over a year ago, construction was still going on and the path was compacted dirt with spots that had large muddy puddles. The trail crosses Rte 20 in Sudbury, near the Lotus Blossom Restaurant, and whenever I pass by there, I look both ways to see how the construction is coming along. From what I can tell, it has been finished for the better part of the last year.
We park at the Lotus Blossom, cross Rte 20 and head east. It’s only 1.1 miles to the eastern end of this section of the rail trail, so the plan is to turn around there, then head west past the restaurant and go until we’ve gone far enough that we will have gone 6 miles by the time we turn around again and get back to the car. The temps are in the low to mid 60s, the air is a bit muggy, the sky is completely overcast and there is next to no wind.
Just on the other side of Rte 20 is a small, wooden B&M (Boston and Maine) Railroad section house, the only one known to still exist in New England, built circa 1890. The trail is now asphalt and it takes a shallow turn to the left into a heavily wooded area. Here and there, there are newly built wooden fences. There is even a place where the railing has been taken out by a fallen tree, now cut up, with its pieces cast aside of the trail. There are two signs erected that give a bit of the history of the railroad and the surrounding wetlands.
Waldo is genuinely happy about being out here and he trots out to his usual place at the front end of the leash. The trees are all small bore and I see none that have been there for more than 100 years. Lush green weeds grow up close to the tarmac and seem quite healthy from the heat and rain we’ve gotten this year.
Waldo loves to walk in the weeds, I think he misses bushwhacking, and purposely goes close enough that he rubs his head and side up against them. We haven’t gone a half-mile and I look down to see his right side covered in panicledleaf ticktrefoil seed pods. The plant grows about 3 or 4 feet tall and, at this time of year, has long strings of triangular burs, that look like tiny green rip saw teeth, dangling tenuously on thin delicate stems. The seed pods have little hairs that reach out and grab your clothing, or fur, with the slightest touch. There’s so much of it stuck in Waldo’s fur that it looks like he’s in camouflage. It even covers his face. Sigh. Soon, he is biting at his fur, trying to dislodge the stuff. There’s not much I can do to help until we get back home, to a brush, so we continue on.
The trail skirts by a swampy area, off to our right, that we can see through the trees. It is now a conservation area, but was once a site for many mills. The mills used the river that feeds the wetlands for power, but are all now gone.
Further along, we pass by an old signal light, in the middle of nowhere (God knows what it was signaling), that I remember from previous visits out here. It is now turned into a rusted vine trellis. Off to our left, surrounded by new-growth trees, is an old car, rusted and stripped to its bones. There is no obvious way it could have been driven in there through the trees. It must have been sitting there for decades, given how big the trees are.
We pass a man walking his dog, a toy golden doodle. I tell him, “This is Waldo. He’s in camouflage.”
He gives me a knowing look. “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” he says.
“I know,” I say, sighing. “I know.”
We continue to the eastern end of the trail, where it meets s street in a T intersection, as per plan. On the other side of the street, the railroad bed continues, but there are two poles, one on each side, holding signs that have large red circles bearing a white bar in the middle. Around the circle is the message, “Do Not Enter.” There is a well -trodden footpath that runs between them that makes it clear that people do not take this seriously. Waldo and I have been down there at least three times and never had an issue. It’s unclear who put them there, or why. I would certainly ignore them, but we turn around and head back west.
To be continued…
Waldo in full camouflage.