I drove up to Amherst, Massachusetts, on Tuesday, arriving at the DAR State Park campground around 10:00 p.m. Fortunately, the park’s campground doesn’t close at night. I had reserved a spot, so I didn't need to worry about checking in. I just drove to my spot. It's a beautiful park, set deep in the woods next to a small lake. There is a tiny beach for the campers with a section of the lake set off with ropes and floaters to mark where it is safe. There are no lifeguards - it's much too small for that. The beach is just a small patch of dirt cleared of trees with a path leading back to the campground. It's very beautiful, even in the rain. It began raining shortly after I crossed over from Connecticut to Massachusetts. It poured all night. There were only a few other campers in the park, and the place was eerily silent and dark. The tree canopy kept out any moonlight that might have escaped the cloud cover. It reminded me of the dark in the cave I visited in Missouri this past summer. The guide turned off all the lights while we were in there so we could experience total darkness and see what it would have been like to be lost in the cave without any light. This wasn't that completely dark, but it was close.
I slept in the back of my minivan on an air mattress that is much more comfortable than the army cot I used in my other trips, but it is larger, so it takes up more space. I lay there in the almost total darkness, listening to the rain. Rain falling through a forest makes a kind of hissing sound as it slides across the leaves and tree branches. All night I heard that hissing, like static from a radio. Twigs or branches snapped in the woods around me - I suppose animals passed by. I was glad I was in the back of the minivan and not a tent; I'd have been very damp, and the dark made me nervous though more about human threats than animal. I wished I hadn't watched all those episodes of "The Killing" on Netflix the previous week. The isolation and darkness were too much fuel for my imagination. Unfortunately, my back was excruciatingly painful because of all the driving. I think my physical therapist overdid the stretching out of my hip the day before. I didn't sleep much because of the pain, but listened to the rain and the woods all night.
In the morning, I drove over to Amherst - about a half hour's drive on Route 9 from there. On the way I stopped at the Esselon Café, which is a gorgeous café with a wonderful and large variety of coffees, teas, and food. Much of the food comes from local farmers and co-op coffee and tea growers. Customers sit under an extremely unique, gorgeous, ornate tin ceiling. And it offers free WiFi, which I took advantage of before driving on to the town. Amherst is an old, pretty, college town with a lot of history. It was still pouring rain though, so I didn't get to walk around it much. I toured the Emily Dickinson Museum. Photography is not allowed inside the houses, but I did take some of the outside. I was given a guided tour through Emily Dickinson's house. The guide was clearly a huge fan of Dickinson's poetry and very knowledgeable about her history. Some of the artifacts had been owned by Dickinson or her family, but many others were reproductions. Harvard University owns many of the original artifacts. Dickinson's brother's house is next door on the same property, and is also an interesting museum with more of the original artifacts than Dickinson's house contained. It was interesting and educational.
I drove around a bit, but the rain was relentless, and my back was in bad shape, so I decided to head down to Concord, hoping the rain would let up by the time I got there. It didn't. I ended up getting a hotel room for two nights in hopes that a real bed would help my back.
I spent Thursday roaming Concord. First, I stopped at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery to see and photograph the authors' graves on "Authors' Ridge." The cemetery is huge, so it took me a while to find the right place. The graves of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorn, and several other Transcendentalist writers are all buried there, close enough that a visitor can walk to each and see all of them in about fifteen minutes. They are almost all in family burial plots. Many have small stones piled like offerings on the markers or around the grave, along with other offerings from fans like pens, pencils, and even a pumpkin by Thoreau’s grave. The ridge overlooks a pond, and the whole cemetery is still part of the woods with many old trees, evergreens and others, growing around the graves.
Then I stopped by The Old Manse, which was built by Ralph Waldo Emerson's grandfather, William Emerson, and where R. W. Emerson grew up. Nathaniel Hawthorne also lived there for a few years after he was married. He and his wife rented the house. Their daughter was born there. He wrote one of his books there. His wife scratched their names and other graffiti on the thick, leaded windows with her engagement ring diamond. According to my guide, the Hawthorne family left the Old Manse because they couldn’t pay the rent. I took photos of the outside, but had to go back later in the afternoon because it didn't open till noon. The house is older than the American Revolution. The first battle of the Revolution was fought just off that property by the Old North Bridge. William Emerson walked over to the edge of the property to watch the battle. His family watched it from the windows.
I drove into the town square (which is actually shaped like a square) and stopped at the visitors' information center, then visited the book store across the street. It was a nice, large, privately owned store. Then I drove to The Orchard House, which was Louisa May Alcott's home. Unfortunately, no one is allowed to take photos during the tours. It is a beautiful house, and many of the original furniture and other artifacts are still there. We can see the sketching all over the walls, or “doodles” as she called them, of May Alcott, one of Louisa May Alcott’s sisters, who was portrayed as Amy in the book “Little Women.” She was apparently a very talented artist who studied art in Boston and later in Europe, thanks to her sister’s success as an author. Unfortunately, she died young in child birth. Louisa May Alcott raised her daughter until she was about ten, when her father took over custody of her. Daniel Chester French, the artist who sculpted both the Concord Minute Man statue and the Lincoln Memorial in D.C., was a student of hers. One of his first sculptures was of the Alcott sisters’ father, Amos Bronson Alcott. The restored Concord School of Philosophy building, which Amos Bronson Alcott built by renovating a barn, is right next to the house.
Next, I drove up the street to visit The Wayside, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s home. Unfortunately, it was undergoing restoration construction, so I couldn’t go in. I was surprised at how big the house is. I turned around and went back toward the town and stopped at the Concord Museum. It’s small but gives interesting information about the history of the town from the Native Americans who inhabited the region through the colonial period and its role in the American Revolution, as well as in literature and philosophy, especially the Transcendentalist movement. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s house, where he raised his family and wrote most of his important works, is right across the street from the museum. Again, tourists were not allowed to take photos inside. This was true of all the museum houses.
From there I went back to The Old Manse for a guided tour. I was the only person on that tour, so I was able to ask all kinds of questions. Many of the artifacts are still in the house, and much of it, including the wallpaper, has been replicated. It is beautiful and fascinating. There is a long, complicated history in that house of the people and the town. I walked from there to the Old North Bridge and the monuments there to the first battle fought in the American Revolution. I was able to see and photograph The Old Manse Boathouse from the bridge, which gave a distant, but more complete view of it than I was able to get even walking over to the boathouse from the Old Manse. The boathouse was built in 1890, rather late in the history of the house.
After touring the battle ground and the Old North Bridge, I drove to the farm that Henry David Thoreau grew up on. The house has been restored though there are no original artifacts in it. Tours are given only at certain days and times. My visit was not one of them. However, the woman working in the building allowed me to wander around on my own in the few rooms that were open. There was not much there. Outside, the house looks much like it probably did in Thoreau’s time. The most interesting thing about it is that a nonprofit group called Gaining Ground farms on the property. The organic farming organization gives its produce to local food banks and other charities. It seems like something Thoreau would endorse…
The next morning was a sunny, cool, but comfortable day. I drove to the Walden Pond State Reservation. Near the entrance to the park and parking lots, there is a replica of Thoreau’s cabin and woodshed with a life size statue of him in front of the cabin. It shows just how small the cabin was for one man to live in. Then across the street and down a small path is the entrance to the public beach on Walden Pond. A well-taken care of path runs all around the pond with branches that lead to the site where the original cabin was. It was a beautiful day for a hike, so I walked up to the cabin site and then around the rest of the pond. The cabin was built near what is now called Thoreau’s Cove, a little cove that juts into the land around the pond. According to the ranger who was giving a guided tour to a group of junior high kids on a class trip, the trees that surround the foundation of the cabin probably weren’t there in Thoreau’s time. His cabin was built at the edge of the woods. He would have had a clear view of the pond from the cabin. There are markers that show where the cabin and woodshed were, as well as where in the cabin he had dug a hole for a kind of cellar to keep food cold. Next to the foundations of the cabin is a large cairn of rocks built for pilgrims to commemorate Thoreau. In front of the cairn is a wooden sign with a famous quote of his: “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” I continued walking around the pond. The path leads through the woods but close enough to the water that the hiker can see the pond most of the time. There are a few beaches interspersed along the shores of the water. I passed a few men fishing on several of the beaches. It was about a two mile hike. I wasn’t sure my back would let me do it, but the long walk seemed to help it. Unfortunately, I paid for that later that evening with more back pain. I confess that I shopped in the Thoreau Society Gift Shop, then left Concord. From there I drove to Cape Cod.
On the Cape, I first went to Woods Hole. I drove around the small community looking at the university there. Then I stopped and went through the aquarium, which is small, but free, so worth the aggravation of finding a parking spot there. The boats along the harbor make a beautiful sight. I drove through several small, pretty towns with their narrow but pleasant beaches. Unfortunately, I left the good weather behind in Concord. The weather got cloudier and colder, and finally it rained. I ended up in Hyannis, where I got a hotel, because my back was giving me trouble again, though it was more expensive than it should have been since it was Hyannis, home of the Kennedys. The next day I saw the JFK Memorial there in Hyannis, and wandered around the town, which is pretty, but not spectacular. Then I began the drive back home because I couldn’t afford to stay in another hotel on the Cape, and my back was growing worse again.
I slept in the back of my minivan on an air mattress that is much more comfortable than the army cot I used in my other trips, but it is larger, so it takes up more space. I lay there in the almost total darkness, listening to the rain. Rain falling through a forest makes a kind of hissing sound as it slides across the leaves and tree branches. All night I heard that hissing, like static from a radio. Twigs or branches snapped in the woods around me - I suppose animals passed by. I was glad I was in the back of the minivan and not a tent; I'd have been very damp, and the dark made me nervous though more about human threats than animal. I wished I hadn't watched all those episodes of "The Killing" on Netflix the previous week. The isolation and darkness were too much fuel for my imagination. Unfortunately, my back was excruciatingly painful because of all the driving. I think my physical therapist overdid the stretching out of my hip the day before. I didn't sleep much because of the pain, but listened to the rain and the woods all night.
In the morning, I drove over to Amherst - about a half hour's drive on Route 9 from there. On the way I stopped at the Esselon Café, which is a gorgeous café with a wonderful and large variety of coffees, teas, and food. Much of the food comes from local farmers and co-op coffee and tea growers. Customers sit under an extremely unique, gorgeous, ornate tin ceiling. And it offers free WiFi, which I took advantage of before driving on to the town. Amherst is an old, pretty, college town with a lot of history. It was still pouring rain though, so I didn't get to walk around it much. I toured the Emily Dickinson Museum. Photography is not allowed inside the houses, but I did take some of the outside. I was given a guided tour through Emily Dickinson's house. The guide was clearly a huge fan of Dickinson's poetry and very knowledgeable about her history. Some of the artifacts had been owned by Dickinson or her family, but many others were reproductions. Harvard University owns many of the original artifacts. Dickinson's brother's house is next door on the same property, and is also an interesting museum with more of the original artifacts than Dickinson's house contained. It was interesting and educational.
I drove around a bit, but the rain was relentless, and my back was in bad shape, so I decided to head down to Concord, hoping the rain would let up by the time I got there. It didn't. I ended up getting a hotel room for two nights in hopes that a real bed would help my back.
I spent Thursday roaming Concord. First, I stopped at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery to see and photograph the authors' graves on "Authors' Ridge." The cemetery is huge, so it took me a while to find the right place. The graves of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorn, and several other Transcendentalist writers are all buried there, close enough that a visitor can walk to each and see all of them in about fifteen minutes. They are almost all in family burial plots. Many have small stones piled like offerings on the markers or around the grave, along with other offerings from fans like pens, pencils, and even a pumpkin by Thoreau’s grave. The ridge overlooks a pond, and the whole cemetery is still part of the woods with many old trees, evergreens and others, growing around the graves.
Then I stopped by The Old Manse, which was built by Ralph Waldo Emerson's grandfather, William Emerson, and where R. W. Emerson grew up. Nathaniel Hawthorne also lived there for a few years after he was married. He and his wife rented the house. Their daughter was born there. He wrote one of his books there. His wife scratched their names and other graffiti on the thick, leaded windows with her engagement ring diamond. According to my guide, the Hawthorne family left the Old Manse because they couldn’t pay the rent. I took photos of the outside, but had to go back later in the afternoon because it didn't open till noon. The house is older than the American Revolution. The first battle of the Revolution was fought just off that property by the Old North Bridge. William Emerson walked over to the edge of the property to watch the battle. His family watched it from the windows.
I drove into the town square (which is actually shaped like a square) and stopped at the visitors' information center, then visited the book store across the street. It was a nice, large, privately owned store. Then I drove to The Orchard House, which was Louisa May Alcott's home. Unfortunately, no one is allowed to take photos during the tours. It is a beautiful house, and many of the original furniture and other artifacts are still there. We can see the sketching all over the walls, or “doodles” as she called them, of May Alcott, one of Louisa May Alcott’s sisters, who was portrayed as Amy in the book “Little Women.” She was apparently a very talented artist who studied art in Boston and later in Europe, thanks to her sister’s success as an author. Unfortunately, she died young in child birth. Louisa May Alcott raised her daughter until she was about ten, when her father took over custody of her. Daniel Chester French, the artist who sculpted both the Concord Minute Man statue and the Lincoln Memorial in D.C., was a student of hers. One of his first sculptures was of the Alcott sisters’ father, Amos Bronson Alcott. The restored Concord School of Philosophy building, which Amos Bronson Alcott built by renovating a barn, is right next to the house.
Next, I drove up the street to visit The Wayside, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s home. Unfortunately, it was undergoing restoration construction, so I couldn’t go in. I was surprised at how big the house is. I turned around and went back toward the town and stopped at the Concord Museum. It’s small but gives interesting information about the history of the town from the Native Americans who inhabited the region through the colonial period and its role in the American Revolution, as well as in literature and philosophy, especially the Transcendentalist movement. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s house, where he raised his family and wrote most of his important works, is right across the street from the museum. Again, tourists were not allowed to take photos inside. This was true of all the museum houses.
From there I went back to The Old Manse for a guided tour. I was the only person on that tour, so I was able to ask all kinds of questions. Many of the artifacts are still in the house, and much of it, including the wallpaper, has been replicated. It is beautiful and fascinating. There is a long, complicated history in that house of the people and the town. I walked from there to the Old North Bridge and the monuments there to the first battle fought in the American Revolution. I was able to see and photograph The Old Manse Boathouse from the bridge, which gave a distant, but more complete view of it than I was able to get even walking over to the boathouse from the Old Manse. The boathouse was built in 1890, rather late in the history of the house.
After touring the battle ground and the Old North Bridge, I drove to the farm that Henry David Thoreau grew up on. The house has been restored though there are no original artifacts in it. Tours are given only at certain days and times. My visit was not one of them. However, the woman working in the building allowed me to wander around on my own in the few rooms that were open. There was not much there. Outside, the house looks much like it probably did in Thoreau’s time. The most interesting thing about it is that a nonprofit group called Gaining Ground farms on the property. The organic farming organization gives its produce to local food banks and other charities. It seems like something Thoreau would endorse…
The next morning was a sunny, cool, but comfortable day. I drove to the Walden Pond State Reservation. Near the entrance to the park and parking lots, there is a replica of Thoreau’s cabin and woodshed with a life size statue of him in front of the cabin. It shows just how small the cabin was for one man to live in. Then across the street and down a small path is the entrance to the public beach on Walden Pond. A well-taken care of path runs all around the pond with branches that lead to the site where the original cabin was. It was a beautiful day for a hike, so I walked up to the cabin site and then around the rest of the pond. The cabin was built near what is now called Thoreau’s Cove, a little cove that juts into the land around the pond. According to the ranger who was giving a guided tour to a group of junior high kids on a class trip, the trees that surround the foundation of the cabin probably weren’t there in Thoreau’s time. His cabin was built at the edge of the woods. He would have had a clear view of the pond from the cabin. There are markers that show where the cabin and woodshed were, as well as where in the cabin he had dug a hole for a kind of cellar to keep food cold. Next to the foundations of the cabin is a large cairn of rocks built for pilgrims to commemorate Thoreau. In front of the cairn is a wooden sign with a famous quote of his: “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” I continued walking around the pond. The path leads through the woods but close enough to the water that the hiker can see the pond most of the time. There are a few beaches interspersed along the shores of the water. I passed a few men fishing on several of the beaches. It was about a two mile hike. I wasn’t sure my back would let me do it, but the long walk seemed to help it. Unfortunately, I paid for that later that evening with more back pain. I confess that I shopped in the Thoreau Society Gift Shop, then left Concord. From there I drove to Cape Cod.
On the Cape, I first went to Woods Hole. I drove around the small community looking at the university there. Then I stopped and went through the aquarium, which is small, but free, so worth the aggravation of finding a parking spot there. The boats along the harbor make a beautiful sight. I drove through several small, pretty towns with their narrow but pleasant beaches. Unfortunately, I left the good weather behind in Concord. The weather got cloudier and colder, and finally it rained. I ended up in Hyannis, where I got a hotel, because my back was giving me trouble again, though it was more expensive than it should have been since it was Hyannis, home of the Kennedys. The next day I saw the JFK Memorial there in Hyannis, and wandered around the town, which is pretty, but not spectacular. Then I began the drive back home because I couldn’t afford to stay in another hotel on the Cape, and my back was growing worse again.