The Road Taken/The Poet Remembered

 

     Robert Frost lived here, there...seemingly everywhere. San Francisco and Florida, New Hampshire and Massachusetts. I learned of the poet's peripatetic ways from reading author Jay Parini's biography: Robert Frost - a life. This led to the revelation that several of the places that he called home were in nearby Vermont. Close and convenient to visit. And, over the course of several rewarding day trips, visit we did. As Frost writes in Directive, we went:

"Back out of all this now too much for us

     Back in a time made simple by loss..." 

     Curiously, the place to begin might be where Frost ended. The Centre Cemetery in Old Bennington, Vermont is where he is buried. The grave lies behind and downhill from the stately Old First Church. There are small signs that guide the many pilgrims who visit this site every year. Appropriately, a clump of birches shade the flat stone with the enigmatic inscription: "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." Consider picking up a copy of Phil Holland's book Robert Frost in Bennington County which has many interesting details about the grave and other nearby Frost landmarks. 

 

 

 

 

Scenes from Frost's gravesite 

     Sunday services are still held in the Old First Church and it is open for viewing afterwards. When we were there a delightful 94 year old lady was giving tours and she entertained us with stories of the church, of Frost and of Hedges Lake where she lives (we both remembered The Oasis!). I'm sorry I didn't get her name. The church and the cemetery, with its scenic view, very old stones and graceful fence will reward your exploration. Also note the gothic looking building across the street (slated for restoration) and the imposing Bennington Battle Monument a short walk up the hill.

 

 

     After leaving Old Bennington you might want to consider stopping at the Blue Benn for some great diner food (like we did) before continuing up Rt. 7 to South Shaftsbury and the Robert Frost Stone House Museum. This was his home base from 1920 to 1929, the place where he and son Carol farmed when he wasn't teaching or giving readings. At one time the farm totaled almost 90 acres with orchards and red pine plantations. Today the house and several barns sit on seven remaining acres owned by Bennington College with the rest of the land being preserved by the Fund for North Bennington.

Frost's apple trees at the Museum

     You can tour the house with its well stocked bookstore and revolving exhibits (currently Walking Project: Animal, Vegetable, Mineral by artist Judith Belzer) for a nominal fee. The grounds are free to stroll and there is a two mile trail thru former farm lands to Lake Paran which will take you past some of the apple trees Frost planted. The museum is open Thursday - Monday from 10am to 4pm and the grounds are open dawn to dusk.

The Robert Frost Trail with the Museum in Shaftsbury on the right

and North Bennington's Lake Paran to the left

     While I haven't visited them there are several other nearby Frost related spots that might be of interest. Dorthy Canfield Fisher was a friend of Frost and she helped him find the Stone House. The building needed renovation, so while that was happening the Frost family stayed in a home that Fisher owned just up the road in Arlington. True 'Frost detectives' could search out that house (The Manse) and also the 'Shingle Cottage', currently on the campus of Bennington College.  Frost rented this as a quiet retreat from hectic family/farm life.

The English Major and the Poet discussing literature

On the grounds of the Stone House Museum 

     It is also interesting to note that Frost, along with some of his kids and their friends hiked the Long Trail in August 1922. Plagued by boot troubles, Frost still managed to complete 120 miles of the rugged route while four members of the group were among the first to do all 225 miles from Massachusetts to Canada. The trail runs along the crest of the Green Mountains which are seen as an abrupt wall to the east of Shaftsbury. 

Historical photo 

Not Frost's group but the way it used to be

Dig the pack basket and those boots!

     There is one other area property that needs to be mentioned. Frost purchased the 153 acre farm he called 'The Gully' in 1928. He and his wife lived there until her death in 1938. It's not far from the Stone House Museum but is now a private residence and not open to the public. The house sits at the top of a long drive and when we stopped by the roadside a neighbor from across the street walked over to relate memories. While we were chatting several members of the Lear family (the current owners) drove up and it was fun to share Frost stories with them. 

The Gulley as it looked in Frost's time 

A more recent photo of The Gulley

(Both B&W pics from the Web)

         Following a series of personal losses, including the death of his wife Elinor in 1938, Frost found it too painful and lonely to be in Shaftsbury by himself. He had a long association with Middlebury College's Bread Loaf campus in Ripton, Vermont and when he found a 150 acre farm nearby he decided to buy it. This property with its farm house and detached cabin became his summer home for the remainder of his life.

 

     Gwenne and I were aware that Frost had connections to the Ripton area when we planned a day trip earlier this summer. Still, we didn't anticipate just how rewarding the trip would be. Ripton is located east of Middlebury on Rt. 125. As you drive thru East Middlebury look for The Waybury Inn, a favorite Frost hang-out where he had a reserved table and enjoyed a daiquiri before his meal. You can have a drink, eat dinner where he did and even stay in The Robert Frost Room. If the place looks familiar it's probably because it was used for exterior shots of the Newhart Show which aired on TV back in the '80's.

     Rt. 125 follows the Middlebury River thru a scenic gorge up into the Green Mountains. Check out the hamlet of Ripton and then continue a few miles to the Robert Frost Interpretive Trails on the right. Here you will find a mile long loop thru Forest Service lands. Frost's poems are mounted on pedestals along the path which includes a wetland boardwalk and a bridge over the South Branch stream. Stopping to read the poems turns this into a slow stroll and a surprisingly moving experience. As a bonus it is wheelchair accessible, dog friendly and can be skied in winter. 

Along the Robert Frost Trail

     A short distance further along 125 is Forest Road 396 (aka Robert Frost Road) on the left. Drive up this dirt lane to the former Homer Noble Farm where Frost spent summer and fall for the last 20+ years of his life. There is a white farmhouse where his close friends Kay and Theodore Morrison often stayed and a rustic cabin reached by a short walk up a stone wall lined, maple shaded lane. This cabin with its mountain views was Frost's retreat. While it isn't open to the public you can peek in the window to the writing chair by the fireplace where he set words to paper.

     One last not to be missed stop is the Bread Loaf campus just a short ways up Rt. 125. This stunning array of yellow and white buildings has long been a Mecca for writers with its summer School of English and August conference. Bread Loaf is what brought Frost to Ripton and he was a long time honored guest here every summer.

Frost (2nd from right) and other dignitaries at dedication of Davison Library at Bread Loaf

Davison Library at Bread Loaf

     After a busy day in Ripton we had to head home for chores. If you have more time, walking trails abound in the area and you can even hike up Robert Frost Mountain a few miles to the north. Then there are the Robert Frost Mountain Cabins, perfect for an overnight stay. Great place to chill on the porch...with a drink and a book of good poetry.  

The porch on Frost's cabin with its mountain views

(web image)

   

Yours, Mine, Ours?

 

Historical photo of the White Creek Pool

     Exciting news!

     I've found something on Facebook actually worth following. That would be the posts of old photos by local historical societies and civic groups. Whitehall, Granville, Hartford and Hoosick Falls have recently caught my attention. There may be others. Take, for example, a photo of the White Creek Pool on the Hoosick Falls NY Past & Present page with thoughtful text by Rick Ferrannini and a ton of nostalgic comments.

     In Washington County you have a smorgasbord of White Creeks to chose from. One gathers in the Rupert Vermont area and flows thru Salem before joining Black Creek and eventually the Battenkill. Another originates up in Black Hole Hollow, skirts the Village of Cambridge and merges with the Owl Kill. Finally, there is the inferiority complexed Little White Creek, another drainage of the Taconics that crosses the southeastern corner of Washington County before emptying into the Walloomsac, which in turn adds its waters to the Hoosic River a short distance downstream.

This White Creek is in back of the Evergreen Cemetery in Salem

A different White Creek from the bridge leading to the Cambridge Community Forest

Little White Creek

The word 'limpid' was created to describe this beautiful stream

     I've canoed in some of these streams and swam too. Even swam when I was supposed to be canoeing! I'ld like to explore each from source to sea, then do a post comparing them. Maybe someday. So many White Creeks, so little time. But for now let's focus on the one with the White Creek Pool swimming hole. The pool was on private property and that seems to have been its downfall as it is no longer open and judging from the comments, it is sorely missed.

     The loss of such a beloved community gathering spot is a window on our relationship with place, our ideas about what's public and what's private. Most people expressed a wistful sense of sadness, a feeling that a treasured part of life had been taken away. Jennifer Fisk summed it up with "Those were the days my friends and we thought they would never end but here we are." A few suggested that somehow the pool should come under public ownership and be open to all again. Others bristled at that option claiming it was private property and the owner could do what he wants with it. Since when do we expect Americans to agree on anything?

     Washington County is notorious for being peppered with  'NO TRESPASSING' signs and we've even had cases of innocent people being shot for mistakenly pulling into the wrong driveway. But just as often the WELCOME sign is out. Rexleigh and White Creek may be closed but people still swim at Pooks and the Georgi and I have fond memories of cooling off in the river after hot days in the hayfield. A bunch of us guys would pull over along Skellie Road and jump in with Ernie often walking down to join us.

Pooks

Georgi serenity

      The D&H rail trail is another interesting case. It's open in Vermont but closed on the New York side of the border, thus denying the Village of Salem the economic benefits that other communities are reaping from bike tourism. Snowmobiles seem to fare better than walkers, bikers or equestrians with a county wide trail system that crosses private lands. And we all take car/truck travel so much for granted that no one questions the hundreds of miles of roads that have been carved out of private property. 

The D&H railbed comes into Salem in back of Stewarts.

It could be bringing cyclists into town for food and drink 

but the rail trail stops at the NY/VT border

The rail trail is used by snowmobiles in the winter

     The idea of 'the commons', of things we all own together has been with us since the beginning. Native Americans didn't seem to have private property but even they had reserved hunting areas that were understood to be for the use of a certain tribe or family. Most reasonable people feel that clean air and water are something we all have a right to but I have huffed and puffed up a hill on my bike while having to suck in smoke from smoldering plastic in someones burn barrel. Does private property give you the right to poison the air someone else breathes, the water that they drink? And what of our system of National Parks? Probably Elon Musk has enough money to buy all of them and turn them into private getaways. Does anyone doubt that the current administration would consider selling them if it could get a cut?

Saratoga Battlefield National Park

(web image)

Idiots were here, ruining it for the rest of us

     Trash, rude behavior and legal liability are all given as reasons for closing off access. Believe me, I understand. I deal with ATVers that turn the clear trout stream on my farm into a mud bog, that leave their drunken party debris in my woods, that ride haphazard across my hayfields. You have to wonder who raised these kids to have so little consideration, kids with a vocabulary limited to 'F' this and 'F' that. But are we ready to surrender our enjoyment of the world to a few miscreants? If I POSTED my farm how does that affect people who walk their dogs, ride horses, birdwatch or X-C ski? All those who respectfully enjoy my property, people who I'm happy to see? The right to own property is cherished in this country. As it should be. But the right to enjoy natural beauty should belong to all of us, not just to those with the money to buy it. I want to live in a world where kids can have summer fun in a swimming hole, just like their parents and grandparents did before them. Is that too much to ask?  
   

What's the Hurry?

      

     Adventure racing has come to (and gone from) from our area. Earlier this summer Rootstock Racing hosted the Endless Mountains Race that began in Ticonderoga, then continued thru northern Washington County before moving on to Vermont and eventually Massachusetts. It involved five days of travel on foot, by bikes, in water and even over cliffs! It was a little like a triathlon on steroids with navigation skills required and team work essential.

     I'm all for adventure as long as it's preceded by the words 'little' and 'slow'. These races are anything but. The course covered somewhere between 300 and 350 miles. That's if you managed to stay on course (no small feat). Comes to between 60 to 70 miles per day. Sleeping and eating seem to be afterthoughts. But what struck me is how much simple, fun adventure there is in and around Washington County. Even for us non-racers. There's a good reason Rootstock chose this area for their event.

     You can see the route traced on a youtube video but it unfolds rapidly (and unbelievably), a little hard to follow if you are not familiar with the terrain. The race started at the summit of Mount Defiance and wound down thru the streets of Ticonderoga. A short paddling section brought them to Fort Ticonderoga where there was a running loop. Then came the long canoe and kayak paddle up thru the Narrows of Lake Champlain to the far end of South Bay.

     The racers then beached their boats and did a trekking route in Whitehall's rugged Saddles State Forest, trying to find a number of checkpoints in the dark, rainy night. Back on the water they quickly made their way to a transition area at the Rt. 22 boat launch. From here it was mountain biking into Vermont along the rough road that parallels the Poultney River in West Haven. After hitting a checkpoint in Fair Haven they spent some time on the Slate Valley Trails near Poultney before turning south with a trek on Dorset Mountain and a scary cliff jump/swim stop at the Dorset Quarry.

  

     That was just the first couple of days. Beyond Dorset/Manchester came endless trekking, mountain biking and packrafting in the vast Green Mountain National Forest before a finish in North Adams, MA. Following the route left me with a deja vu feeling as I have been to most of the places the racers traversed. The difference is that I visited them as leisurely day trips over the course of a life time. I was reminded of the one semi-adventure race I'ld done years ago: the Adirondack 90 miler canoe classic from Old Forge to Saranac Lake. At the end I remember saying to Gwenne "That would have been fun if we took three weeks instead of three days to do it".  There are those who savor life in the fast lane and then there are those of us who favor the off ramp leading to more relaxed adventure. How lucky to live in an area that can accommodate both. 

 

     * All the images are from Rootstock/Endless Mountain websites. They may be from previous year's races. I included them to give you an idea of what adventure racing is all about. There are YouTube videos on the web that do show local scenes from this years race. They are fun to watch.

Women who float...Women who fly

     Maybe my wife doesn't need to know about this but I've been hanging out with some wild women lately. But that's not as risque as it sounds,  since they all came to me safely enclosed between the covers of a book. In this post I'ld like to introduce you to several female adventurers whose exploits ranged from Africa to the Grand Canyon to the Adirondacks.

     Beryl Markham's West with the Night is a whoosh of a ride on horseback and in airplanes.  She was born in England in 1902 and moved to East Africa with her father while still a toddler (Her mother went in a different direction with a different man!) She grew up free and unfettered by convention...think hunting warthog by spear with the local Murani. Along the way she learned to tell really good stories.

     Her dog's name was Buller and "He fought anything that needed to be fought, and when there was nothing immediately available in this category, he killed cats." One night a leopard slipped into Beryl and Buller's sleeping hut and dragged the dog into the bush. Buller, though badly chewed, managed to survive while the leopard got the worst of the encounter. In another 'only in Africa' incident Beryl was "moderately eaten by a large lion" and lived to tell about it. Then came the warthog hunt and, well, you've got to read it to believe it.

     Those adventures all happened while she was still a young girl. As an adult she became a trainer of race horses and then a bush pilot in the early days of aviation. As you might guess these pursuits led to more stories of thrilling 'by a nose' races and 'by a hair' close calls in the air. What West with the Night is not, is a tell all. She never mentions her three husbands and numerous lovers. You'll have to look elsewhere, for example, to find the story about her affair with Prince Henry, Duke of Glouchester, where she had to hide in a Buckingham Palace cupboard when Queen Mary came into the room!

Beryl up there

On horseback and in a plane

     You might think cataloging the botany of the Grand Canyon to be a rather staid achievement compared to flying solo over Africa and across the Atlantic. Don't be so sure. Not when you consider that the only way to access much of the canyon was in a raft when the Colorado river had been run only a few times. Brave the Wild River tells the story of two women, Elzada Clover and Lois Jotter, who took on the challenge in 1938. 

     The 2023 book by science journalist Melissa Sevigny tells of the  half-baked 43 day expedition and its colorful cast of characters. There are personality conflicts, near catastrophe's and a lot of interesting history, geology and botany. While not considered 'women's work' at the time it should be noted that the plants they collected and the notes they took are still an invaluable resource for botanists and land managers to this day. A fun and inspiring read.

Along these lines...a few related books of interest:

* Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine De Saint-Exupery is the lyrical classic of the early days of flying.

 

* Amelia Earhart's The Fun of It and Jean Batten's My Life are two books by famous women flyers.

* Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen shares time, geography and bedmates with Markham's book. Made famous by the Robert Redford/Meryl Streep movie.

     You don't have to go out west or to the other side of the world to find remarkable women adventurers. Doc - Orra A. Phelps, M.D. - Adirondack Naturalist and Mountaineer is Mary Arakelian's biography of her aunt Orra, who lived in Wilton just a little north of Saratoga Springs. This book resonated with me because of personal connections on several levels. My mother grew up in Wilton just a short distance from Orra's Parkhurst Road home and she often spoke of her famous neighbor. In the book there's a chapter on Dr. Phelps service in the Navy during the second world war. My grandfather ran a store in Wilton during those years and knew everyone in the community including the Phelps family. He was drafted in the final months of the war just before he aged out of eligibility and was killed in action in Europe as the fighting was winding down.

The Phelp's Homestead on Parkhurst Road

This is privately owned and not open to the public

The public preserve is on the opposite side of the road

     After the war Orra returned to Wilton and the Adirondacks, taking a job with theVeterans Administration. Upon retirement she devoted herself fully to the mountains and natural history education. She had previously written the first two editions of the Adirondack Mountain Club's guide to High Peaks trails. In retirement she became the club's first ranger-naturalist at Heart Lake. When I joined ADK in the mid-80's there were many people who had known Orra personally and held her in high esteem. Finally, I visit the Phelps Preserve frequently. This is the part of her family farm that has been preserved by Saratoga PLAN. Walking the trails Orra walked, beneath oak and ash, alongside several headwater streams of the Snook Kill is my way of connecting with both an amazing person and the community of my family's heritage. 

Gwenne's photos from a hike at the Phelp's Preserve this spring