I navigate the long, windy trail behind the water tower. Many trees and branches are down. I experience childhood delight in seeing the texture of pine tree needles. They were a happy memories growing up. The trail is inverted, as it winds around a hill - on the left a swamp with swans.
I come to the open field, my thoughts interrupted with my worst fear; the sound of a dog. This sound is usually whistles or barking. This time the girls softball team is only jogging. I guess it is all those jiggling wrist bands. With the demeanor of a serial killer, I slyly travel a different path. I go unseen, even as it means choosing a path I have never been down. I follow the XC (the sport of Cross Country running) signs and come to an open area with two buildings. I see the door of the main barn is boarded up. And I see a newer trailer, an old truck, and old trailers scattered. I am, I now realize on private property! This means that in MA hick country a land owner might have shot guns or rottweilers. Across the long expanse of cranberry bogs, I see houses. One dominant property has white fences and giant RVs. Stupidly, I loiter down the path away from the main house but further into the private property area. But around the corner, I hear dogs barking. I turn around and reenter the woods. It is like I am an animal,
"My greatest fear is humans, I can't rely on primitive survival instincts when some douche might sick their dog on me, or shoot me for trespassing. I have an arrowhead rock I will use to take out an attacking coyote if need be."I am more comfortable in the woods with animals than in public with humans. I know there are more paths to take without repeating previous explorations. I enter down a long path with brush and trees that has a tunnel quality. I am constantly stopping, taking off the hoody, in this freezing weather to listen to rustles in the brush. I think about the time I was chased by a man with an ax for simply walking through his property. However, I walk over a wooden bridge that crosses a giant stream. The water is roaring and I am able to see any approaching attacker. The trails go in three directions. Some of the trails loop around the the twenty foot entrenchment that the stream centers. The brush makes visibility down these trails impossible.
I venture the right loop trail. I see one house that is across an impossible impasse for attackers -thick brush stretching a 50 foot hill. I feel protected from mankind. I soak up the beauty of the trees with childhood joy. I come to a place where I can hide for a minute and take care of nature. I always go right, further into the unknown.
Finally, I come to the apex of the loop trail. Across the other side of yet another stream comprising silver lake is a train track. And civilization is on the other side- dogs barking. I forge ahead on the path away from civilization. The trail is brightened along a bog. Parts of the stream cross perpendicularly under the path, I walk. I think of how cool it would be to own all this land. But I can enjoy this public land. I am sweating profusely- no refuge from the sun. My mind starts playing tricks on me; convincing me I have been to this spot before. I haven't. I am tired.
I come to a place that I recognize. So, I know how to get back. But this doesn't diminish the creepiness of this place! The rusted pipes on the edge of the trail looked untouched in years. The power lines seem non-maintained. The telephone insulators are mad old. A grounded wire flings up and down, blown by the wind. I know from a survival book1 touching this wire might be dangerous. Thank God I don't have a kid to scold about going near the wire. I think about nicely asking the kid his knowledge about the wire's danger, so, I keep the kid safe- without insulting. An abandoned shack with power equipment and beer bottles inside will provide my only hideaway from a coyote attack. The coyotes or wolves in Kingston MA are unceasingly howling. On both sides, of the narrow strip of elevated land, is water. Water has its own spiritual significance; whether good2 or evil2a. On my right side is a pond (might be Silver Lake). On my left side is a dam separating a raging river from the stagnant water of this giant pond. Twenty feet below me, giant tires hold the dirt from falling into the river. However, 30 foot trees have now grown in this pot.
Persisting on the familiar path back home, I gradually pick up two more arrowheads. The first one injures the coyote, the second and third arrowheads finishes him off. The howling becomes blatant, as nighttime falls. I begin to run. I come to the abandoned building decorated with graffiti. The abandoned structure creeps me out. I walked through it during the day, but now, I would never consider that! Light posts with devil looking horns appear to the side of the path. Yet another downed power line confronts me, the wire swinging repeatedly against the pole, making a loud eerie noise. This place is much creepier at dusk and could probably now garner an EVP or spirit voice! I walk by yet another abandoned shack with an industrial vacuum, Cumberland farms wrappers, and beer bottles inside. Understandably, I choose the exit path that goes through the giant opening of athletic fields. I continue the 5 minute hike to my car, only going through the woods when necessary. Freaked out, I head the wrong way on the highway. But I see a hawk on a tree by the side of the highway. Stay tuned for the next exploration.
1. The Worst-Case Surivival Handbook Student Edition, by Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht. "How to Deal with a Downed Power Line" pg. 23
2. Bible John 4:14
2a. Ghost Adventures Episodes: Bobby Mackey's Music World and La Purisma Mission