Before 11:30 this morning, I explored four places I’ve never been, in a total of (so Google Maps tells me) 4 miles.
I biked around Poultney and discovered some new residential areas (which weren’t, technically new, just new to me), took a detour down the way toward Lake St. Catherine (alas, I do not have the endurance, nor the time, to bike all the way to the lake), and flipped back down the Rail Trail, south. I didn’t go far down the trail (not after yesterday’s 4.5 mile round trip up the Rail Trail, north), I just stopped at the bridge.
I’d walked out there before, and biked out even further into Granville, but I wanted to dip my feet into the water. I know I can do that down at the Poultney behind the college, but there would be others there, and this felt, in an odd way, private. I’d stood there before, in that same spot, and soaked my feet on a hot spring day, and I wanted to relive the memory.
Only I couldn’t. I don’t know whether the rocky platform beneath the bridge was washed away in Irene’s rains, or if it was dislodged manually, but there was simply no way to get down there without being swept away by the river. I climbed back up, disturbing a small snake in the process, and swung around the other side. There was a path woven through signs that read NO TRESPASSING. I followed the sandy path until I reached a similar outcropping of stones, and finally, after kicking my flip-flops aside, stepped into the water.
Climbing out was just as easy, but felt less daring, and lacked the adventurous spirit it took to follow the path in.
Instead of retracing my steps out, I took what I believe is a snowmobile trail out. It was another path that, while it didn’t have NO TRESPASSING posted everywhere, gave me that sense of daring again. I could see the houses through the bare trees, and wondered if anyone would tell me I shouldn’t be there. In fact, it is the path shown in the header to this blog.
But then I emerged on the road, and pedaled back to campus, passing familiar roads and houses on the way. I was never more than a mile (or so) away. Sometimes there are new worlds right in your old world.
You don’t have to go far to discover new places.