Cherney Maribel Caves

It was my second week of travel to Wisconsin this past July and I was facing three very busy days of business. Having such a heavy workload but still wanting to sneak in some fun, I scheduled myself top-heavy with two twelve hour days to start, leaving a normal eight hour shift and a free evening of exploring for my final day.

Having done a random drive for my previous WI exploration a few weeks back, this time I decided to specifically seek something out, and I started by searching my favorite things to explore - anything underground. I scrolled through the meager cave listings Wisconsin has to offer, and a particular review under Cherney Maribel Caves decided for me that this was the place to visit. I'm guessing this person went there expecting a nice touristy cave with a gift shop, because their review was a warning to others - that this was not a business, but an actually cave in the wild.

Maribel Caves is plural. In total there are seven caves located within this cliff in eastern Wisconsin, originally documented in the late 1800s and soon after purchased by Charles Steinbrecher, who in 1900 founded Maribel Caves. Remains of Steinbrecher's hotel still stand on an adjacent field to the cliff, and although the field is private property, the ruins can still be admired from afar.

From my hotel, and including running back from the parking garage to the sixth floor because I forgot my phone cord, it took me an hour and a half to arrive at the Cherney Maribel Caves Park, putting it just after 7:00pm. Pretending not to see a sign declaring that the park closed every night at dusk, I took off into the woods.

I was double-timing it down the trail and within five minutes came to a stone wall and structure that took me completely by surprise. At this point I knew nothing about the separate hotel ruins, and since this building was marked no trespassing, I continued on my way.

In 1963 the current owner of this land, Adolph Cherney, sold it to Manitowoc County, which used it to create their very first county park. And because this is a public park, helpful little signs have been posted to point you toward the good stuff.

I followed the sign for New Hope Cave, and soon found myself wondering if I should have spent my free night at the hotel bar. A steel door stood between me and the New Hope Cave, and a big steel lock prevented that big steel door from opening.

What I did not know at the time is that, although seven caves can be found along this stretch of cliff, at 200' in length the New Hope Cave is the largest of the bunch, and mostly closed to the public. I say mostly because tours are given by volunteers of the Wisconsin Speleological Society once every month. Only on a Sunday though - show up on a Wednesday night when you're pushing dusk, and this cave is strictly off limits.

The good news was that most of the other caves I found were wide open to exploration. The bad news was that I was exploring in a work shirt, my favorite pair of sneakers that I hoped to keep clean, and with just my cell phone flashlight. But if I pride myself on anything it is never backing down from a good story, and so that is how I entered my next find, the appropriately named Pancake Cave.

Although not much bigger than our New Hampshire cubby-hole boulder caves, Maribel Caves differ in that they were formed in the more traditional sense - by water running steadily through soft limestone for eons of years. I read once that due to a whole bunch of physics, it is impossible for a river to form in a straight line. Twists and turns are an inevitable result of Nature's forces. I think the same holds true for caves. Cooper Cave, the next one down the path, was a fine example of this, passing through a winding hallway before terminating in a cozy little room.

I've gotten pretty good at playing with perspective in my pictures, and although this next tunnel may look like something I took a nice easy stroll through, I traversed the Cave of Treasures entirely on my hands and knees. I soon reached a room big enough to squat in, and although the tunnel continued out the far side of the room, this was the point I called it a night, crab walking my way back out before using the last of my bottled water to wash off my hands and knees.

I ended up exploring three of the seven caves before darkness chased me out of the woods that night, which means I still have over 50% of the job to complete. I made it back to the hotel quite late, and was tired enough the next morning that I unwittingly strolled through the airport metal detectors with a beer cap in my pocket. Not my finest moment, but it gave me a chance to get to know the TSA screener on an intimate basis. When telling the story of this trip to the mid-west, however, I'll leave those details for the blooper reel, and instead focus on my adventure of an after-hours chase through unknown woods in search of wild caves.

Creepy

https://www.maribelcaves.com/

Traveling Curiosities

I spent two of the past three weeks travelling to Wisconsin on business. The downside of this was that I had to leave two kids and a wife who curiously still enjoy my company, but the upside was that there is no better opportunity to go out exploring in an area I am unfamiliar with.

One thing to look out for when you're wandering a new town are old cemeteries, and with this in mind my first stop was the Riverside Cemetery in the city of Oshkosh. This is a city best known for Oshkosh Overalls, a company my wife single-handedly kept in business while each of our kids were toddlers. I pulled into the cemetery with no idea of what I would find.


The Visitor's Chair
Nathaniel "Than" Young passed away at 39 years of age, and although he battled health issues most of his life, his outlook was always positive, he continually sought new pleasures and experiences, and among his final wishes was that everyone "be kind to one another." Without actually knowing him, I'd say we could always use a few more Thans in our world.

His obituary, which I came across after googling the names on this grave, welcomes anyone who finds themselves near Riverside Cemetery to "come and sit in the big chair ... hang out with Than and his brother, Andy. They always liked company." I wouldn't have touched the grave on my own, but now that I've found this invitation, the next time I'm in the area I'll be sure to have a seat and offer up Than some company.

             

Mystery Stone Dog
If you're like me you will look at this next picture and see three stuffed animals - two bears and a dog. And like me you would be 67% correct. The bears are both stuffed, but the dog they are snuggling with has been carved out of stone.

This was a cool little find on its own, but it became a lot more fun after I researched it and found the below article from the Oshkosh Northwestern Newspaper, dated 1963. It describes how the dog has no inscription on it, and although it sits near a hundred year old monument for the Spaulding Family - and presumably belongs to them - no mention of the dog was ever made. A head scratcher, the mystery was deepened by the fact that flowers were regularly placed alongside the dog by a young girl. That young girl would be of retirement age by now, but someone is still regularly coming by, and they are still regularly leaving gifts for this little fellow.

September 13, 1963 - Oshkosh Northwestern

A Derelict Truck
Leaving the cemetery I spotted this old truck in a field next to a private dirt road. I drove down the road, pretended to be lost, snapped this picture, then pretended to suddenly remember where I was going again and scrammed it off the property.

The Recording Angel
Listed in the National Register of Historic Places is the Recording Angel of Waupun, Wisconsin. Commissioned by local philanthropist Clarence Shaler for his wife Blanche, this angel is the main attraction of the Forest Mound Cemetery. To capture its size, I adjusted my parking job to make sure my rental car was within the picture's frame.

A Yard Full of Curiosities
Driving along Route 45 in Oshkosh I spotted what could almost be described as a museum-sized collection of lawn ornaments strewn about an adjacent property, so I took the next exit and wound my way back. I'm still not sure what it is I stumbled upon, because when I say lawn ornaments I'm not talking about the cute little gnomes people like to place in their gardens. I'm talking larger than life replicas of all types of animals, plus a host of other cool things.

Some of the statues were based on real animals, but others were straight out of the fantasy books.

There were also staged scenes such as this rhino about to flip over a safari vehicle, with two mannequins along for the ride. I wondered if this might be a recreation of some movie scene, but Google told me it didn't think so.

You can't put this many great things on your front lawn without expecting people to stop and check them out, so I parked in the driveway and wandered the property - tentatively at first - admiring the collection. I half-hoped someone would spot me and come out to chat and give me the story behind all this, but I also half-hoped nobody would spot me, for fear they might come out swinging. In the end, nobody noticed my presence and I was left to explore in peace.

I didn't snap pictures of everything, but I did capture enough to show to broad variety - and the craziness - of this collection. And when I say craziness, I'm saying it 100% as a compliment.

So many situations in life can be taken in different ways. A business trip consisting of long days at the office, combined with beer and catching up on emails back at the hotel, could very well have been the story of this week. And there are times when I have happily chosen that path. But those aren't the memories that stand the test of time. Exploring a new city and chasing down all sorts of curiosities however? That's a memory I'll cherish for as long as I'm out there attacking every new opportunity life throws my way.

Douglas Mountain Stone Tower, Sebago Maine

Not for one, but for all

- Dr. William Blackman

There are those who would get their hands on something beautiful and hide it away for themselves, never to share it with anyone. There are also those who would get their hands on the same beautiful thing, but instead will want the whole world to experience it. This adventure starts with one of my favorite types of people, someone who falls squarely into the latter group of men and women.

A century ago, Dr. William Blackman purchased Douglas Mountain in Sebago Maine, and in 1925 constructed a stone tower at its summit. He didn't build this tower just for himself, at least not entirely, but instead built it for anybody willing to make the relatively easy hike to the mountain's peak. To emphasize this point, onto a boulder at the summit he had carved the Latin phrase, NON SIBI SED OMNIBUS, which roughly translates to mean, not for one but for all.

If you're interested in seeing the tower, it can be reached in just over a half-mile beeline from a parking spot off Spring Ledge Road. Our hikes are more like our Sunday drives, however, so rather than this direct route we chose the longer and more scenic one, and for this we have scout Seth Newcomb to thank. His eagle project gave us the Eagle Scout Trail, a two-mile loop bringing you out along the mountain's scenic ledge, before tracking you back to the summit.

We're lucky in that more often than not on our hikes we find at least one unusual thing in the woods, something we could never have predicated being there. Today was another one of those days, as we came across not just one, but two, of these round structures.

Hiking to our much taller firetowers, often you will see the tower peeking out over the treetops before you actually arrive at it. That is not the case with the Douglas Tower. At just 16 feet in height, it wasn't visible until we exited the woods and turned the corner, when suddenly there it was.

Climb the tower and you will find both great views of nearby mountains, plus a map showing what each of the mountains you're looking at are. If you're like our friends at WeRmudfun, you can have a whole lot of fun pointing out the dozens of peaks you have climbed already. And if you're like myself with not nearly as impressive a resume, you can have just as much fun pointing out all of the peaks you've heard of and cannot wait to climb someday.

And with that many mountains still out there to climb, I never have the right to complain about being bored while I'm living in New England - unless maybe we're in the middle of a thunderstorm or a nor'easter. But if those words ever come out of my mouth while the sun is shining, someone needs to kick me off the couch, tell me to pick a random spot out on the map, and then go outside to conquer it.

On The Hunt For Abandoned Vehicles III

I had a friend in high school who took his beat up Subaru to Rhode Island for a weekend of fun. He was never gentle with this car - in fact, this was the first car in my life I ever went airborne in - and at some point during that trip the thing just up and quit on him for good. After realizing he wasn't going to be driving it home, he pushed it to the side of the road, wrote "Free" on a piece of cardboard that he tucked under the windshield, then bummed his way all the way back to New Hampshire. I've always chuckled when thinking back on that story, and I've always been fascinated with abandoned cars I've come across in my explorations. And I wonder if any of them have as many interesting stories as my friend's old Subaru did.

Watch the side of the road while you're driving. Not exclusively of course, just keep an eye out for beauties such as this one, which I spotted while passing through the town of Nelson, New Hampshire. Even though I was in it, Nelson is a town I didn't even know existed until I plotted this picture on a map that night.

Powderhouse Hill is an ingenious little tow-rope skiing hill in South Berwick, Maine. Between its pulley system made out of tire rims, to its once being powered by an old truck, the entire operation seems to have been constructed out of parts from a junkyard. The engine has been upgraded over the years, but although this truck no longer drives the rope that will tow you up the hill, it still serves as a great reminder of the creativity of working on a very small budget.


Every summer we take our family to Ferndale Acres in Lee, New Hampshire. It's a fun little campground with swimming, fishing, a playground for the younger kids, and horseshoes and beer for the older ones. Recently we were driving down its mile-long entrance road when I spotted something out in the woods, something I'd missed on our first dozen years of coming here. The next morning while the kids were riding their bikes I convinced my wife to talk a walk, and in those woods we found a pair of abandoned vehicles. The amount this one has sunken into the ground will give you an idea of just how long it's been rusting away out here.

If you're of the same generation I am, you may remember the Home Improvement episode where Tim dropped a beam on his wife's car, turning it into a giant hot dog bun. Something very similar to that happened to this second car. I assume it was a large tree that crashed down on it, but then where did it go? Being so far in the woods, it doesn't make sense that someone would have cut it up and removed it. So did the tree rot away to nothing, or did the car get crushed somewhere else and then dragged out here to be left?

We drove to Washington New Hampshire two years ago in search of Captain Jones' grave for his leg, which he lost to amputation following an accident moving a barn. But although that was our mission, anytime we're in a new town is an opportunity to drive new back roads. We spotted this truck while in the midst of that wandering, and through the snow I trudged to get this picture.

This vehicle I spotted from the passenger seat while my wife was driving through Ogunquit, Maine. It sat perhaps 50 yards down a trail that could almost have been a dirt road once. My wife is a great sport, because I once again convinced her to turn the car around and take another walk through the woods.

This last vehicle is one of my favorites. After watching a YouTube video where a guy explored an abandoned garage and found this circus looking car in the basement, it wasn't long before I'd located the place on Google Earth and set out to find it myself. I tore my jeans climbing through the window, but that was a small price to pay in order to get this picture.

On The Hunt For Abandoned Vehicles
On The Hunt For Abandoned Vehicles II

Bancroft Castle Ruins, Groton Massachusetts

New to exploring and looking to start with something easy? Requiring only a fifteen minute climb to reach these castle-like ruins, Gibbet Hill in Groton Massachusetts might be just the place you're looking for.

A man's home is his castle. That is just a phrase, but one hundred years ago Groton native William Bancroft took these words to heart. After years in the military followed by a political career as mayor of Cambridge, Bancroft set out to build his retirement villa on top of Gibbet Hill. Although he managed to partially complete it, funds came to an end before construction did and the structure he named Shawfieldmont never came to be. Bancroft abandoned his work in 1906, and in 1918 sold the property to Harold Ayers, who turned it into a sanitarium for tuberculosis and other long-term patients.

By 1930 the property was in the hands of the Groton Hunt Club, who used it not just for their fox hunts but for parties and dinners. Those good times came to an end in 1932, however, after a Fourth of July party gone wrong ended with a fireworks accident that burned the structure to the ground. All that remained is everything you can still see today - which are the parts made out of stone.

Two separate paths will take you up Gibbet Hill. We chose the Shattuck Street entrance for our first trip, then on a return visit parked along the Lowell Road side. Either way feels more like a walk in the park than an actual hike, with some paths consisting of not much more than some trampled down grass. We passed a fire tower from the Shattuck route, but unlike the fun loving people of New Hampshire who encourage you to climb their towers, Massachusetts does not allow you anywhere near this one.

But there is no need to brave rickety stairs for a nice view, just continue to the the west side of Gibbet Hill.

Just past that overlook is where our first glimpse of the castle poked through. The most eye catching part is its tower, and though it appears to be a stand-alone structure, original photographs show it was attached to the house with a roof wrapping around it.

In the main part of the house you will find this massive chimney, and where people would have once sat by its second story fireplace, weeds are now growing.

Even though it burned to the ground and sat exposed to 80 years of elements, somehow a few pieces of wood have survived all this time, some being just above my head where I'm poking around.

Here comes my favorite part of this story. After a plan was hatched in 2000 to clear these ruins and divide the property into dozens of house lots, Groton native and businessman Steven Webber purchased the entire 526 acres for $10 million. He kept a very modest 6 acres for himself, on which he built the themed restaurant Gibbet Hill Grill, then placed into conservation the rest of the land and castle remains, property he felt belonged to the people of Groton. This accomplished two things. Not only did it save the castle from the wrecking ball of housing development, but it opened this privately owned and previously off-limits area for visitation by the public, allowing everyone to enjoy the Bancroft Castle ruins for many generations to come.

References:
Brown, Jane Roy. Boston.com, The Boston Globe, 16 Oct. 2005, archive.boston.com/travel/articles/2005/10/16/saved_from_development_a_place_to_dream_dine/.

Savard, Rita. “Owner Dispels Stories of Ghosts at Groton's Gothic Castle.” Lowell Sun Online, 14 July 2006, www.lowellsun.com/ci_4052968

Paddock Mines - Into The Pit

"That was the most fun I'll never have again!" 

- John Egolf, upon climbing out of the Paddock Pit.

This is a story that is two years in the making. The Paddock Pit is a mineshaft on Gardner Mountain in northwest New Hampshire that drops 80-feet straight into the earth, then continues into a large chamber and pair of horizontal shafts, jutting out at two different levels. This is one of several copper mines located on the mountain, all of which were worked at various points in the late 1800s.

I spent 30 hours driving back and forth from this mountain over a series of explorations in the summer of 2017, and although each of the mines were impressive, this particular shaft is one of the largest, and most dangerous, we have explored in New Hampshire. This opening is its only entrance, and having arrived completely unprepared for its size, my first attempt at exploring it I could only stand safely from a distance and imagine what treasures lie hidden within. The day wasn't a wasted trip as we still had another mine to explore, but I realized it was going to take a lot more than some spool of rope to get me down into this hole.

Our first descent into the mine was made possible by Amazon, who really does have everything for sale on its website. We purchased two 30-foot steel caving ladders, linked them together, and after securing them to a large tree took turns descending into the unknown. This ladder might look a little sketchy from a distance, but it has a load rating large enough to hoist a grand piano.

However, we soon realized that this day was going to be good, but it wasn't going to be great. Our ladder got us down to the first level, but it wasn't long enough to reach the bottom. We were stuck at the 60-foot mark, where a precarious ledge provided just enough stability to stand on and have a look back up. An additional 20-feet were going to be needed to reach the bottom of the pit, though.

But even though we couldn't continue vertically, it didn't stop us from exploring what we could horizontally. By holding the ladder and shimmying to the left we were able to access a tunnel jutting out from this ledge, which wound its way through approximately 80 feet of rock.

That side tunnel was a nice bonus, but with our ladder stopping short of the bottom this day's expedition was taking us no further. The remainder of the shaft was a wet slope, and the more sensible people in our group reminded me that even though I could slide down that slope easily enough, I wasn't going to be able to climb back out.

It wouldn't be until we returned a few weeks later with additional rope that we would finally reach the bottom of the mine. Leaving one person up top as a security measure - a position my wife cheerfully volunteered for - our group took turns climbing all the way down into the lowest chamber. This was the view looking back up from the those depths, where sunlight can be seen penetrating the shaft.

This bottom level consisted of one large cavern and three separate tunnels. One of the tunnels was very short, and a second one was very short plus flooded. The cavern itself held lots of rubble, but scant remnants of past explorers - this is an area that has seen very few visitors over its 100+ years of existence.

The third tunnel shooting off from this chamber was the real prize, dry and about 80 feet in length - much like its partner sitting one story above. But though the tunnels look nearly identical, the difference in quality between the photo I took one level up, and this one taken by our friends from WeRmudfun, is what convinced me that if I want to be taken more serious an an explorer, maybe I should be snapping pictures with something a little better quality than a two year old iPhone.

Photo courtesy of WeRmudfun

Here I am at the end of the longest tunnel, off of the lowest chamber. This spot marks the deepest depth, or at least the furthest distance from the surface, of the mine, and after one false start and another partial success, it also marks our completed exploration of the Paddock Pit.

Photo courtesy of WeRmudfun