June 11, 1992 - A New England Serendipity SojournL
June 11, 1992 • The Suffolk Times • 7A
A New England Serendipity Sojourn
By Paul Stoutenburah
We just had to get away and so with
some quick preparations — like putting
the camper on the pickup and dewinter-
izing it — we were ready for a few days
camping. Where? We hadn't the slight-
est idea. We drove to the Orient Point
ferry, which brought us through some of
Long Island's finest scenery, and then
headed north.
Once aboard the ferry we headed east
and rounded Orient Point Light where
there was only one lonely fisherman
trying his luck for blackfish right off the
rocks at that historic light. The sea was
calm and the trip uneventful. At New
London we disembarked and headed
along Route 9 and then north on 91. Our
water scene had quickly changed to new
green growth. To me this new foliage
always seems to have a special radiance
about it that disappears as the season
wears on, but for now it was glorious
under a bright sun and blue sky.
Connecticut seemed to have so many
wooded areas; mile after mile we trav-
eled along fine roads lined with this new
greenery. Much of Route 91 passed
through this splendid forest cover with-
out so much as even a house or sign of
man. Before we knew it we were in
Massachusetts and found ourselves driv-
`We were alone
except for one
other couple and
a lone fisherman
on the lake'
ing slowly through Northampton, a
town anyone would be proud of. Old
stone buildings, gracious homes, sweep-
ing parks, all the good things that make
a place stand out. By now we were
scanning the map for a campsite. A state
park caught our eye just outside
Goshen. Soon the brown - and - yellow
signs told us we had arrived at a place
not planned on but one most welcome at
this time of the day. As we tunneled into
the forest on a fine road we could feel
the trees close in around us. Great white
pines lined the roadside, wildflowers
sprinkled here and there where the open
light could nourish them into their shy
but beautiful wonder.
Tired and Hungry
We were both hungry as we pulled
into Site No. 3 and popped up our
camper. In no time Barbara had a
gourmet feast: lobster, fresh asparagus,
a giant salad and one of Long Island's
finest wines to top off the occasion. We
dined in the luxury that engulfed us, the
scent of the woods and a stillness that
was almost unreal. We had brought a
portable radio along but thoughts of it
were much too intrusive. With our
stomachs satisfied and the sun setting,
we would have to take a walk to the
lake we had seen on our way in. Being
the off -season we were alone except for
one other couple and a lone fisherman
on the lake. Occasionally a fish would
rise to break the mirrored water, leaving
its telltale ripple of an evening meal.
Barbara's eyes picked up the dainty
Painted Trilliums growing alongside the
footpath. Then we saw a small white
flower, which proved to be one of our
spring's first blooms, the delicate
Focus on
Nature
Starflower. Unlike the trilliums, this
low, early bloomer is found throughout
our own East End. Later we'd even find
another familiar wildflower, the Lady's
Slipper, its pink almost faded to white
in the deep forest. Ferns were every-
where. Their masses filled the wet spots
along the lake.
On our way back to the campsite we
passed whole sections of the roadside
covered with the blue and fading For -
get-Me-Not. There were thousands upon
thousands of these tiny flowers bright-
ening our way and this was just a little
spot in the 1,500 -acre forest preserve.
Further back off the road edge were the
familiar fern-like Horsetails, those relics
of an ancient time when the first trees
grew without leaves. These miniature
reminders were the only thing in the
woods to tell us of our early beginnings.
We have these Horsetails at home and,
like here, they grow in a damp area.
Before we'd leave we'd see both blue
and white violets, the familiar
Sarsaparilla and carpets of Canada Lily,
Princess Pine, High Bush Blueberry, the
yellow - flowering Cowslip and Pinkster
Azalea. All of these can be found out on
our East End.
Short Evening
Nightfall found us content and as the
gaslight hissed on the table we both
made a feeble attempt at reading but it
was no use. Without a word we both
rose and climbed into bed. I couldn't
even remember lying down. Sleep, that
wonderful pacifier, had claimed us both.
Early to bed, early to rise proved it-
self once again and in the crisp, early
morning we ate and were anxious to be
off on the road. "Let's head for Ver-
mont. It's but a short ride away." And
so we headed north for Vermont where
we enjoyed a day and night in a won-
derful state park in the Green Mountains
and then on to New Hampshire. Lunch
at the Otter Brook picnic area couldn't
have been nicer. Great clumps of Pinx-
ter Azalea bloomed in its soft radiance
along the river bank. I had pho-
tographed it years ago on Long Island
but that didn't compare to the profusion
of it here. I had to photograph it again.
We also found a clump of low -grow-
ing poplars that were fruiting now. In
some areas as we drove along these air-
borne seeds gave the impression it was
LADY'S SLIPPER —This is probably Long Island's best known orchid.
With more and more cleared land we see less and less of this delicate pink
wildflower.
snowing in June. The tufted seed pods
floated everywhere and, like snow, col-
lected in drifts along the curb edge. We
stopped briefly here and there to visit in
the many beautiful towns and villages
on our way to Bear Brook State Park.
When we arrived it was about five in
the afternoon and we selected a spot
right on the water. We ate dinner in
rather a rush so we could get our canoe
off and christen it in Beaver Pond.
We shoved off and drifted on its mir-
rored surface. Paddling was almost ef-
fortless as we moved along the lush,
green banks. Big, circular sandy spots
on the pond's shallow edge told us fish
were busy guarding their nesting sites.
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Kingbirds (flycatchers) dropped down
to capture insects that were just emerg-
ing as adults from their underwater
nymph stage. The huge bass rushed out
in front of the canoe and in the shallow
water we could just see the fin as it
charged away. In one section the yellow
Spatterdock water -lily filled a cove.
Canoeing would add a new dimension
to our camping from now on. It would
be another way of seeing the world
around us. We almost held back on
paddling for we didn't want to end the
spell, but thunderheads were building
and so with a new cool breeze behind
us, we slid back across the pond, con-
tent with our day.