Town Pounds of New Hampshire

I can be as guilty as anyone when it comes to cruising through life with my blinders on. It's so easy to get caught up with things like work, the house, and family commitments to where we're oblivious of all the curious and interesting things around us, and that we just need to slow down every once in a while to remind ourselves what a pretty cool place our world actually is.

This was the case as we were driving through the town of Chester one afternoon. Enjoying a day of just seeing what we could find, my wife spotted a curious stone structure along the side of road that somewhat looked like an old house foundation, but stood too high. I've turned the car around for a whole lot less during our drives, so back we went where we found something I'd only read about until that point - a town pound.

Location in Chester

It's hard to imagine in today's society of McMansions and Super Walmarts, but go back a few hundred years and nearly all of New England was farmland. Cows, sheep, goats, and many other animals were part of everyday life for our ancestors, a life that included problems as foreign to us as my wife's flatiron being on the fritz would be as foreign to them. And one particularly problem people dealt with in those days? Sometimes your animals wandered away.

The solution to this was simple enough, however - designate a place where all the strays could be rounded up and kept, until their owners came along to claim them. With that solution came the creation of the town pound.

Location in Marlow

I soon learned that there are town pounds throughout much of New Hampshire, which brought me full circle with my point about taking off the blinders. Our neighboring town of Durham has one that's maybe fifteen minutes from our house - which I'm convinced I've driven by at least more than once - and I never knew it was there. But now that we were on the hunt for them it quickly became a destination. This one turned out to be part of someone's yard, and either the homeowner or the town is to be commended for keeping it in such good condition.

Location in Durham

As to be expected, many of these pounds date back to the early 1800's or prior. We visited one in Hudson a few weeks ago that has been in existence longer than America has even been a country.

Location in Hudson

Because they all seem to be found along the sides of roads, not only are town pounds great places to stop at to break up a long drive, but every now and then you'll come across one entirely by accident. This is how I found Gilmantown's last winter, and thank you to the neighbor who unknowingly let me park in his driveway while I scooted across the street to take these pictures.

Location in Gilmanton

I know this post is about town pounds of New Hampshire, but I'm including one from outside our state simply because it made me chuckle. Look closely and you'll see that the fun people of Upton Massachusetts have a couple of cows occupying their town pound. I tried to get Tina to pet one of them, but she quickly figured out the ruse.

Location in Upton

Exploring doesn't always have to mean hiking miles into the woods in search of some unknown cave or ruins. Sometimes it just means getting into your car and driving to a place you've never been before. There are many town pounds that I didn't include on this list, so the next time you're out for a Sunday drive I encourage you to look one up and go for a walk through it. It's a very easy way to experience, if only for a moment, one small part of how our ancestors lived.

Myles Standish's Missing Body

The past 100 years have been one wild ride for the statue of Myles Standish. After first suffering a direct strike by lightning, then getting cut in half at the waist, and finally being discarded as rubble in a local quarry, only half of his body can be accounted for today. But before we can tell you about Myles Standish the statue, we first have to tell you about Myles Standish the man.

This story begins in 1620 with the Mayflower's voyage to America, in which Standish was a passenger. He had been hired as militia commander for colonists of the new world, something he would continue to be elected to for the remainder of his life. He fought many battles against Native American tribes as the colonists struggled to survive in those harsh, early years, and his reputation grew as both skilled in battle and brutal toward his enemies. He was known for using mutilation as a way to inflict fear, and it's for this reason that certain groups find it fitting his statue be in the condition it is today. Others look upon Standish with admiration, however, and it's one of those groups who banded together in 1872 to construct this 116 foot tower in honor of him. The process did not go smoothly, but after a 26-year period of stop and go funding the tower was completed in 1898.

Although worthwhile seeing it from the outside, the main appeal for visiting the tower is to be able to climb it. The tower is only open Saturdays and Sundays during the summer season, however, which this year began on May 27th. And the day I started writing about our visit to the tower? You guessed it, May 28th, the very next day.

Inside the tower is a single, continuous spiral staircase to the top. Only one platform exists about a quarter of the way up, however the circular protective cage that was added in later years prevents you from walking onto it. This means that once you start up these 125 steps there's no stopping, unless it's to let people coming down have the right of way, one of the tower's rules. I was on light duty and using my cane that day, and with those metal steps in that tight, echoey chamber you can bet there were some people at the top wondering what was coming clicking up the stairs after them.

At the top you'll find yourself standing on a platform that could fit maybe two dozen people, with four small windows facing in each direction and offering a limited view. Prior to this I'd had it in my head that climbing the tower meant we'd actually be right on top of the thing shaking hands with Standish himself, but access to the statue is possible only through this small trapdoor in the ceiling.

Having completed the first part of that day's adventure in climbing the tower, it was now on to part two. The statue that stands up there today is not the first one to adorn this tower. In 1922 a lightning strike partially destroyed the original one, decapitating Standish and sending his head toppling to the ground. Workers cut the statue clean at the waist in an effort to install a new body, but after a crack was discovered above the right knee that raised concerns, the remains were discarded and a new statue built from scratch.

Fast-forward 60 years to those legs being a long gone memory, when in 1990 they were discovered at a local quarry in Quincy Massachusetts. They were retrieved and given to the group that oversees the tower, and today can be seen standing at the house of the Myles Standish Monument Director, in nearby Halifax Massachusetts.

Our intention was to drive to the house for a quick picture to complete our story, but when we pulled up a friendly man came out and we spent the next half-hour listening in fascination to the history of Myles Standish, his statue, and what they all mean to people in that area today. Marc, the monument's director, even pointed out the crack that caused this statue to be discarded 100 years ago, which if your eyes are better than mine you can see in this picture below.

One question remains when Marc considers the statue today, though - what ever happened to the top of it? Although broken off in the lightning strike and falling over 100 feet, the head never shattered. It survived, but was never found discarded with the rest of the statue years later. He's still looking for it to this day, and recently he was given a clue.

A picture surfaced that seems to show the original head, with a young girl leaning against it in what looks to be a private garden. Could someone have scooped it from that quarry many years ago and brought it home as a curious showpiece for their backyard? Marc thinks it's possible, and I like to think so, too. I hope someday he finds it, and I look forward to writing a follow-up to this story when he does.

Links:
Myles Standish Monument State Reservation

Herman Chase Cabin

The Herman Chase Cabin was a tiny house before tiny houses were even a thing. Built in 1971, this small structure has stood for over 45 years near the peak of Saddle Hill in New Hampton, New Hampshire, welcoming anybody who makes the less than one mile hike to visit it.

Herman Chase was a New England native who earned his Ph.D from the University of Chicago in 1938. He remained in Illinois as a professor for another 10 years, then returned to New England to continue his career while at the same time authoring books and papers on several subjects he had become an authority on. These topics included biology, genetics, and something I could write a few chapters about myself, baldness. 

But as busy as all this must have kept him he still found time to spend at his favorite spot, where he and his wife had this cabin built.

We made the trek during the heart of snowshoe season this past winter. Although 1.4 miles might not fit everyone's definition of a hike, there was enough of a climb to impress me that a man, 58 years old when the cabin was first constructed, regularly made this trip.

Although the front door sticks a bit, it's not locked, just warped. Step on the middle beam and it will release the door like a secret latch, something I discovered completely by accident.

Two folding beds take up the majority of the space, and some cooking items are tucked away up high. Chase passed away in 1984, however the cabin has been maintained remarkably well and kept open for public use.

And in case you had any reservations about being here, look above the door for a bin containing a logbook and welcome letter, telling you the cabin is free for anyone to use on a carry-in carry-out basis.

Although modest in size, this place comes with a million dollar view. Or at least it used to. Nowadays you need to sneak through the trees to take it in, but there was a time when this area was all cleared and Chase would have enjoyed this overlook right from the steps of his cabin.

We left that afternoon having pretty much decided this was the perfect day. The snowshoeing was enjoyable and not too strenuous, the sights from the top were wonderful, and Chase's cabin was a great hidden gem to find at the end of it all. I'll always choose warmth over cold, but afternoons such as this have given me a whole new love for winter.

Links:

Herman Burleigh Chase
Hiking To An Abandoned Cabin

Norumbega Tower

Norumbega Tower's creator, Eben Horsford, was convinced of a couple things that contradict what we learned in school. First he argues that Vikings came to America over 1,000 years ago, pre-dating Columbus' discovery by 500 years, and although this isn't a popular theory it at least seems up for debate. But his second belief is one that leaves most people shaking their head, which is that the lost city of Norumbega - a mythological viking city where houses were built with pillars of gold - was not only real, but was built on this exact spot in Weston, Massachusetts.

Horsford's belief might have ended up as nothing more than a tall tale to make his friends chuckle, were it not for one thing. Having earlier in life invented an improved formula for manufacturing baking powder, Horsford was rich. And in 1889 he used some of his riches to build the 38 foot tall Norumbega Tower along the Charles River in Weston, to commemorate his "finding" of the lost viking city.

The main piece of evidence for Horsford's claim is his loose interpretation of the word Norumbega, which he argued was an adaption of the word Norbega, itself a variation of Norvega, and that which was another name for Norway. Or, something like all that. If you can follow it, his evidence is laid out on a plaque at the base of the tower, although none of this logic has ever passed the sniff test of experts in the field.

This is an interesting place in that the tower itself is quite beautiful, but the area it sits in feels neglected, or at least forgotten. There wasn't even a place to park, we had to just hop the curb and hope we were out of the way of passing cars. A short field separates the road from the tower, then a little creativity is needed to actually see what it looks like on the inside.

The view from on high was just as neglected as the area below, but beyond all those trees I'm sure it was quite a sight to see.

We spent some time on top of the tower ducking out of view of passing traffic, then paid a small toll before making our way back down the winding steps.

Although Eben Horsford's research is considered suspect, his character is not. He was by all accounts a descent person who did many great things with his money. He made various donations to Wellesley College in support of higher education for women, and he also funded the opening of a public library in Shelter Island, New York. All good stuff indeed. But not to be forgotten in that mix, he continues to bring afternoons of adventure to people like my wife and I, over 100 years after his death.

Location of Norumbega Tower on Google Maps

[my transcript of the plaque]

CITY COUNTRY FORT RIVER

NORUMBEGA = NOR MBEGA

INDIAN UTTERANCE OF NORBEGA THE ANCIENT FORM

OF NORVEGA NORWAY TO WHICH THE

REGION OF VINLAND WAS SUBJECT

CITY

AT AND NEAR WATERTOWN

WHERE REMAIN TO DAY

DOCKS - WHARVES - WALLS - DAMS - BASINS

COUNTRY

EXTENDING FROM RHODE ISLAND TO THE ST. LAWRENCE

FIRST SEEN BY BJARN HERJULFSON 985 A D

LANDFALL OF LEIF ERIKSON ON CAPE COD 1000 A D

NORSE CANALS - DAMS - WELLS - PAVEMENTS

FORTS TERRACED PLACES OF ASSEMBLY REMAIN TODAY

AT BASE OF TOWER AND REGION ABOUT

WAS OCCUPIED BY THE BRETON FRENCH IN THE

15TH 16TH AND 17TH CENTURIES

RIVER

THE CHARLES

DISCOVERED BY

LEIF ERIKSON 1000 A D

EXPLORED BY

THORWALD - LEIF'S BROTHER 1003 A D

COLONIZED BY

THORFINN KARLSEFNI 1007 A D

[FIRST BISHOP]

ERIK GNUPSON 1121 A D

INDUSTRIES FOR 350 YEARS

MASUR WOOD (BURRS) - FISH - FURS - AGRICULTURE

LATEST NORSE SHIP RETURNED TO ICELAND IN 1347

The Kilton Mica Mine

After a recent post about the New Hampshire 5-town rock, my youngest daughter threatened to disown me if wrote any more articles about any more rocks. As I remember it, the words "dork" and "weirdo" were peppered throughout the conversation. So as you wish, Madison. Today I'm not going to write about any rocks. In fact, today I'll do the opposite and write about the absence of rocks; specifically, the Kilton Mica Mine in the western part of our state.

The Kilton Mica Mine is located in the mountains of Grafton New Hampshire, where the Eureka Mining company leased property from M. M. Kilton and began operations in 1914. They were actually in search of a feldspar deposit, but a fair amount of mica crystals were removed from the site which, not being part of the mining lease, were taken by the land owner for himself.

I had spent an unsuccessful afternoon once already looking for this site, but a month later found myself passing through the area and decided to give it one more try. I started off optimistically enough, but after several hours roaming the mountain I was bug-bitten, sweaty, and ready to scratch this place off my treasure map for good. That's when I spotted a group of hikers coming from the direction I was going. We chatted a bit, and I learned one of them had actually been to Kilton Mine as a kid. He pointed me to the next mountain over and said it was somewhere on the far side, and to make sure I was careful of the deep pit near the top. These directions eventually did the trick, and on the crazy chance a hiker named Jason ever reads this blog and remembers that encounter, I owe you an adventure. Or a beer.

I've recently gotten into the habit of doing a couple things with my adventures. One is that I'll shoot a quick video just after finding whatever it was I'd been looking for; the other is that right before I show you that video, I'll find myself having to explain something goofy that I did in it. Here's today's situation. The road that leads to this mountain is called Kilton Road; the pond that sits nearby is called Kilton Pond; and the last name of the former landowner was Kilton. I guess I should have no problem remembering what the name of the mine is, right?

Like many other mines I've visited, the entrance to Kilton begins with a tall, narrow cut through rock.

A cut ending at a place that, with its various pillars and chambers, looked like what you'd get if Ruggles Mine had a child.

To the right were these flooded rooms, a little too deep to mess with on this fall afternoon.

But to the left was the goal of each and every mine I set out in search of; a tunnel.

It extended perhaps a hundred feet into the mountain before dead-ending at the bottom of the pit I'd been warned not to fall into. Light shining down lit up a beautiful cascade of icicles, making a picturesque ending to my day.

But Kilton Mine was such an enjoyable place, I set out last month to revisit it with friends. We arrived to a layer of unbroken snow, confirming my suspicion that this is not a well known of or visited mine.

Several bonuses came from making this return trip during the winter. First is that the ice allowed us to explore those caverns that were otherwise flooded, which subsequently allowed me to plant some easter eggs throughout the cavern walls.

Second was at the bottom of the pit, where this giant sheet of ice extended down like a frozen waterfall.

And it was behind this icefall that I found the third surprise of the day, in that this is not the end of the mine. A crawl space led to another chamber that I'd missed my first time here, and almost missed again if not for the fact I'd been looking so closely at the ice sheet. To enter this new room would require crawling or even sliding along the ice, but our March temperatures were just warm enough that only a thin sheet of ice covered the enclosed room, and when I pushed on it the sheet went floating off into the darkness. I dunked my hiking stick into the water to the point my lower arm was submerged, but still could not feel bottom. This tells me that what I thought was a crawl space was actually the ceiling of a full-size chamber, flooded except for the last couple of feet.

I went home that afternoon still not able to cross the Kilton Mineshaft off my to-do list. That won't happen until next January, when temperatures are cold enough to freeze even the deepest regions of the mine, and I can crawl inside this hidden chamber to find out just what secrets it has to offer.

Precious Blood Cemetery

Some guys choose to romance their wives with run-of-the-mill gifts such as flowers or jewelry. These old-fashioned tricks may still work on some women, but the way to my wife's heart is an afternoon spent exploring a brand new cemetery. And if the name of that cemetery resembles something out of a Stephen King novel - such as the Precious Blood Cemetery - well, you probably just earned yourself a night of free beers, mister.

Precious Blood Cemetery is located in Woonsocket, RI, and the first thing to know about this place is that don't go judging a book by its cover. Or its name. This is a cemetery that above all else is known for its beauty. There are monuments here that would rival the best that nationally famous cemeteries such as Mt. Auburn have to offer.

Where it differs from Mt. Vernon, or some of the other "Garden Style" cemeteries, is that the majority of Precious Blood is actually filled with very modest headstones. It's the remaining 25% that will stop you in your tracks.

Most impressive of them all, and what originally put this cemetery on my treasure map of places to visit, is Aram Pothier's family mausoleum. Pothier was a six time Governor of Rhode Island, who served at various times from 1909 until his death in 1928. He was once the town's most notable resident, and with his peristyle monument standing atop one of the highest peaks, he is perhaps the cemetery's most notable resident as well.

But amidst all this extravagance, there was just as much charm to be found in the simplest of memorials.

In addition to its beautiful side, Precious Blood Cemetery has an ominous one, as well. In 1955, Hurricane Diane came roaring through town, breeching a dam along the Blackstone River and flooding Woonsocket, creating the worst natural disaster the town had every seen. Saturation pushed over 50 coffins out of the earth, with many being carried away before breaking apart and scattering bones all throughout town. Care was taken to piece the skeletons back together and return them to their original graves, but legend says that at the end of cleanup townsfolk were left much like I was after assembling our gas grill this past summer - thinking they'd completed the job but still staring at a bag of leftover parts. Because of this, spirits are said to roam the cemetery to this day, searching for their missing bones.

For a while last summer, while I was rehabbing a hip that would qualify for replacement if Mother Nature offered a lemon law, Tina and I took to spending our weekends walking cemeteries as an enjoyable way to get some non-strenuous exercise. Some were more interesting than others, but Precious Blood was in a category almost by itself. Which got me to thinking.

I googled a list of art museums in and around Boston, and according to the folks at tripadvisor.com at the time of this writing, the average ticket price for the top ten art museums near Boston is just over $15 per person. Not to take anything away from what those great places have to offer - in fact learning there was a Normal Rockwell museum added a new place to my treasure map - but if you're simply looking for a way to enjoy some beautiful sculptures, I'll argue that you cannot do much better than an afternoon spent wandering the Precious Blood Cemetery.

And the cost of admission? Only the gas it took to get you there.

Links:
Blackstone River Flood, Bodies Recovered - Providence Public Library
Images of America, Woonsocket - by Robert R Bellerose
Top Art Museum In The Boston Area - tripadvisor.com