My 8-year-old son George and I recently finished walking 38 Joshua’s Trust properties- all of those that have a linked trail map on JT’s website, plus Mason’s Mill. We started the project when Coronavirus shut down his school and my office and cancelled everything we had planned. We needed an adventure that would take us afield, but not too far afield.
March was unseasonably cold, and so we hiked Coney Rock in the snow. It’s hard to believe that the steep and rocky terrain would have held any appeal for farmers, but the stone walls that wind through the preserve show their sweat and strain. George splashed through the brook at the end of the walk as I looked for signs of spring. In what would become a common theme for our adventures, I found a pair of wet socks frozen to my floor mat the next day.
Some preserves were especially fun. Church Farm’s twists and turns led us to an old road and cliffs, climbing trees and a cool bone to examine. Utley was a hit, particularly if you like things to be neat and orderly. We walked Pigeon Swamp on one of the hottest days of the year and spent a rare quiet few minutes looking at the marsh and wondering about the trees out there. It seems so unlikely, but lovely Elizabeth Couch connects to a trail that takes you to the Eagleville Dam.
There were some properties that scratched a particular itch. We ran around Owen’s Mere in the middle of doing something else. We both got sick one week and dragged ourselves through Dunham Woods for some fresh air. The Gristmill provided a lovely hot day swim with little cousins. Hemphill just happens to bear the names George and Margaret.
We noticed some things that can really make a property. Good rocks, for one. We spent a while climbing up the rock face and in and out of a cavelet at Dorothy Goodwin. A river, certainly; Iron Mine’s shady babbling kept us longer than we had planned. Variation is interesting, too. Knowlton Hill is four or five different ecosystems all jammed into one. Things to avoid include prickers, people looking at you when you want to swim in your underwear, confusing trails, and roots that someone must have put there so you would trip.
It wasn’t all cattails and chipmunks. I was asked at least once if hiking was supposed to be fun. The right of bugs to exist was called into question on numerous occasions. But I was always glad we did it, sometimes just because it was over.
My favorite was Preston Nature Preserve. We weren’t expecting the river to be so cool and clear and spent the first weekend of Spring splashing around and watching birds on a rock. George’s favorite is, naturally, Whetten Woods. He’s been walking the trails and playing with boats under the bridges there since he was a baby. Now, he leads his littlest cousin over the same logs and rocks that challenged his fat little legs.
Coronavirus left us grinding the same old rut every day, banging around the house together trying to check off the same tasks requiring hours of screen time. I looked forward to each JT outing for something new to see, something else to talk about, the opportunity to drive somewhere to do something. George looked forward to the gas station ice cream cone I bought him when we finished the last walk.
~ Maggie Ferron