Fort Warren On George's Island

On a warm, sunny day in the summer of 2016 our family took a 40 minute boat ride through the Boston Harbor to explore Fort Warren. And on a bitter-cold day six months later after receiving nearly 2 feet of snow in a blizzard, I decided what better time to try and recapture the feelings of that beautiful day.

Dedicated in 1847 and completed in the 1860's, Fort Warren is by far the largest and most fascinating fort we've visited in New England. It is situated on George's Island in the Boston Harbor and the boat ride alone is worth the trip out there. We sat on the upper deck of the Brant Point Ferry and enjoyed a narrated ride by a host that was one-third tour guide, one-third historian, and one-third comedian.

Arriving at the island we almost felt overwhelmed with where to begin, and I found myself sizing up the place while at the same time counting hours until our boat ride back, trying to decide how fast we'd need to whip through in order to see everything. We stopped just long enough to admire these guns at the entrance before heading into the pentagon shaped fort. Also, because I have very little knowledge of weapons, expect that I'll refer to anything from the smallest of pistols to the largest of bazookas as a "gun".

Going through the main entrance we found a winding stone stairway leading to the top of the fort where you can really take in the vastness of the island, which based on whether you're measuring at high tide or low tide will vary from 39 to 53 acres.

Fort Warren was built to hold 200 guns, and although most are long since removed a handful have been left sporadically throughout. Here is Logan barely able to contain his excitement at seeing one.

During the civil war Fort Warren served as a prison that was home to almost 800 military and political inmates. Most famous of these was then Vice-President of the Confederacy, Alexander H. Stephens, who spent 5 months captive on the island. More recently the fort served as a very brief holding cell for these two hardened rugrats.

Following the war and release of its prisoners, Fort Warren saw use as a training installation and went through a series of overhauls and upgrades. During WWI and WWII it served in our country's coastal defense, including being the control center for a mine field laid throughout the Boston Harbor. The fort was decommissioned in 1947, changed hands from the federal government to the State of Massachusetts in 1958, and in 1961 underwent restorations and was opened to the public.

Although most parts remain accessible I estimate that maybe a third of the fort was closed off from exploring, including the entire second level of the far side. But wouldn't you know, we visited at a time when for whatever reason a portable set of wooden steps was placed against an opening on the outside wall. Maybe they figured nobody in their right mind would climb these stairs and try crawling through a hole 15 feet in the air, but those people have never met my wife Tina.

And the next thing we know we were wandering through this long hallway that for some reason was off limits to the public.

It was down this hallway that I found what looked like a storage chest built into the floor, and because I was already breaking one rule by being here I decided why not break a second one and open the chest.

Of all the things I expected to find - weapons, war remnants, maybe a bunch of canisters with skulls and crossbones on them - what was inside I couldn't have guessed with a thousand tries. This large stone plague - and you're going to have to trust me on what it says because apparently I don't know how to use the flash on my camera - which reads "The Golden Rule, Treat Others As You Wish To Be Treated".

The Golden Rule - Treat Others As You Wish To Be Treated

I'm going to speculate on this sign and why it's on this island. During it's time as a military prison Fort Warren had a reputation as one of the most humane places to be held captive. When the warden's son was send to battle during the civil war, several confederate officers being held prisoner at the fort actually gave the son letters that, in case he should be captured in the south, urged he be taken good care of. Could this plaque have been one small representation of the leadership that created this culture? If so, why is it tucked away in this forbidden room rather than on display? Enough weapons were being shown off on the island's museum, surely they could make room for this. Or they could even hang it in one of the forts fascinating, never-ending corridors such as this one.

But that would be a mystery for another day. We backtracked across a field of goose droppings and enjoyed our boat ride to the mainland, which fortunately didn't feature any more tour guides. We loved the narration on the way there, but coming back was made for enjoying a peaceful ride through the harbor and reflecting on our day, and each of us sharing the favorite part of our visit to Fort Warren.

Links:

http://www.bostonharborislands.org/georges-island

Found! Catamount Hill's Lost Cave

Catamount Hill is the highest land in town. At the E. end of this hill is a precipice of 70 feet nearly perpendicular, at the foot of which is a cavern of some extent, inclining upwards. 

- 1817 State of the State, Allenstown NH

This 200 year old snippet was the only clue I had when I began my search for Catamount Cave in Allenstown, New Hampshire. Only a couple vague online references to the cave's existence are on the Internet, but even those are muddied by the fact that there's an unrelated Catamount Cave in Massachusetts that hogs all Google's attention. This lesser known NH version is on Catamount Hill in Bear Brook State Park, which at 10,000 acres and boasting over 40 miles of trails is the largest developed state park in New Hampshire. And as an area I've yet to familiarize myself with, I started my search the same way I start a good many of my searches - with Google Earth and a beer.

Having found things like trains in the woods or sections of abandoned highway from my laptop, I figured 70 feet of rock cliff would be easy enough to pick out from an overhead view. Sure enough, I found three separate rocky areas along the mountain that seemed like good matches, and on a recent Saturday where Logan suddenly decided an afternoon with his buddy at Blitz Indoor Park would be more fun than an afternoon with dad, I grabbed my hiking gear and headed west.

Knowing there is more than one entrance to Bear Hill, I drove to the road closest to where I'd pinned my suspect locations and found a trailhead conveniently right where I needed to find one. There I started up the trail.

After climbing about fifteen minutes and stopping to enjoy this view, I mischievously ignored the signs telling me to "stay on the trail or stay home" and followed my GPS into the woods.

One by one over the course of the afternoon I reached my pinned destinations and searched for a cave, and although I poked my head into plenty of suspicious looking areas like this one, one by one I was forced to check each destination off as being cave free.

To make things extra fun I came across these tracks which led to me carrying my pepper spray in my hand for the next half hour.

At some point it was closing in on 3pm and my thinking turned to heading home, deleting these dud locations and looking for new and better ones to search for on another weekend. On my way to the car I trudged, thwarted but not dejected, when I realized my front pocket was a little light. More good news; somewhere along the way I had dropped my flashlight. There goes $8 from Amazon, I decided. But after walking another 30 seconds I changed my mind - I really liked that flashlight, and I thought I'd have a descent chance of finding it if I turned back. My footprints would make it easy to backtrack, and finding a black flashlight on a fresh sheet of snow didn't sound all that tricky.

The good news is that fifteen minutes later I did indeed find my flashlight. The better news is that after plucking it from the snow I took the opportunity to walk a different route back toward the main trail, and that's when I came to this cliff.

Without measuring shadows and trying to triangulate the height of this sucker, I decided that yup this precipice looked 70 feet tall and I could check off the first part of the clue. Part two said the cavern was at the foot of the cliff, so moving left to right I search for possibilities until coming across this small opening. It was tight, so I dropped my backpack and crawled in.

The crevice went in maybe 5-6 feet before squeezing to a close. It was a cavern at the foot of the cliff and so technically everything matched, but I was not happy. If this little cubbyhole was the cave they'd been bragging about I was going to have a real beef with some dude from 1817.

Out I crawled, and to make sure I wasn't missing anything I continued to the end of the cliff. Then I saw a crevice big enough for me to actually walk into.

Suddenly there wasn't any doubt this was the Catamount Cave I'd spent all afternoon searching for. Here I am looking back from about 10 feet in, where I'd just risked pretty serious injury maneuvering over this triangle-shaped rock.

I rounded the bend but that's where the adventure ended this day. The cave continued, but there was a pinch point I was 90% certain I could get through, but not 100%. And since I was already breaking one of the cardinal rules by hiking alone, I decided not to push my luck.

At least I had found it, and triumphantly I exited the cave and made sure my GPS was still recording. For good measure I separately pinned the location on my phone, which had surprisingly good LTE service in these hills. Smiling like I'd just found King Tut's tomb, I hiked back to my car.

Now comes the fun part, gathering up some friends and planning a spring trip when the weather turns nice, to revisit and further explore the no longer hidden Catamount Cave.

Curious Graves - Persecuted For Wearing The Beard

My friend Barry would not have had a good time living in the Massachusetts in the early 1800's. He's one of those guys who likes to go for stretches at a time without shaving, such as an entire season or two, and it's not uncommon for him to show up at our house sporting the kind of shag you half-expect something to jump out of. In the prim and proper 1830's this lack of grooming was just the kind of thing that could get you ostracized from a community.

That was the dilemma for Joseph Palmer, a man perhaps born in the wrong generation. Like my friend Barry, Palmer enjoyed a thick but not quite so lustrous beard. But when Palmer moved to the town of Fitchburg Massachusetts at the age of 42 he was singled out by everyone from young kids who would ridicule him in the streets, to clergy who would shame and criticize him for what they claimed was Palmer's resemblance to the devil.

Never mind Palmer's argument that when you put pictures of the devil and Jesus side by side Jesus tended to be the scruffier of the two, the townsfolk didn't want to hear that, they just wanted him to clean up and conform to society. When he continually refused, things came to a breaking point, and one day four of the more reasonable men in town set out to beat Palmer up and forcibly shave him themselves. Palmer was a stubborn man in more ways than one however, and with a small knife was able to fight the men off and injure two of them in the scuffle.

With zero sympathy in the community, Palmer was quickly deemed the instigator in the fight and sentenced to jail. There he took his stubbornness up a notch, writing letters and smuggling them out through his son which were published in the local Worcester Spy newspaper, where he told of his story and persecution. And a funny thing started to happen. As word of Palmer's plight became widespread, sympathy throughout neighboring communities began to grow until a call went out for him to be released. Realizing the court of public opinion had swayed, the sheriff told Palmer that he was dropping all charges, and no hard feelings you're free to go. But not satisfied with the sheriff's simple admission of my bad, Palmer refused to leave his cell until many days later when police had to physically remove him and dump him in the street.

Palmer's story has a happy enough ending, at least. Due to the popularity his letters from jail brought, he was able to live the rest of his days free from harassment until his death in the 1870's. But he never forgot how he was treated, and as a message to the world - and perhaps as a big middle-finger to many of his tormentors - he adorned his gravestone with this bearded likeness of himself, and on it had carved this reminder; "Persecuted For Wearing The Beard"

Joseph Palmer's grave is located in the front row of the Evergreen Cemetery in Leominster,
(Lemin-stir, not Leo-minstir ... Tina) Massachusetts.

Bear Hill Tower

It's fitting to me that a town by the name of Stoneham would be home to a stone tower that looks straight out of medieval Europe. Welcome to the Bear Hill Tower of Stoneham, Massachusetts.

Located within Middlesex Fells, a 2,500 acre reservation criss-crossed with hiking and mountain bike trails, Bear Hill Tower was constructed in 1910 on a 319 foot elevation as an observational tower. It's actually the second tower built on this site as a replacement for an original one built by the Appalachian Mountain Club, and is perhaps one of the lesser known locations on the Massachusetts list of historical places.

Driving to the reservation was a bit confusing as we had to enter a small industrial park to find the trailhead. We were almost convinced our directions had led us to the wrong area, but after a couple testy exchanges with Siri we found our spot, a small parking area to the left of the first building in the park. From there we started our half-mile hike to the tower.

I've read that the the Bear Hill Tower is sometimes locked, but I don't know this for a fact since this gate was wide open the day we visited. Or, maybe Tina picked the lock with one of her bobby pins while I wasn't looking.

My suspicion is that the tower used to be locked but is no longer maintained, a suspicion I base on the large tree that's been allowed to grow and obscure the front of the tower. That feels to me like a place nobody is looking after. But provided you're lucky enough to enter it like we were, you'll find yourself climbing a tight, circular stairway that starts with cement steps before changing to these more narrow wooden planks. Also, Dramamine makes a person brave, notice the 2 missing rails where Tina stood to take this picture.

Make your way up its 4 winding levels and you'll be rewarded with a view that stretches all the way from New Hampshire to Boston. Squint past the glare of my forehead and you'll see the Boston skyline in the background of our picture.

This was our last stop for the day on a whirlwind visit to several sites in Boston, so luckily it was a very easy hike. Next time you're looking for something not too challenging that has a very cool payoff at the end, take an afternoon and make the one-mile loop up Bear Hill in Stoneham.


Links:
Coordinates of Bear Hill Tower

On The Hunt For Abandoned Vehicles

What's better than spending a day hiking in the woods? Spending a day hiking in the woods where there's a payoff at the end, which for us lately has been some pretty cool abandoned vehicles.

I'll start with our adventure last fall to the Mill Pond Conservation in Burlington Massachusetts, where the biggest challenge of the day was figuring out where to park. We didn't know much about the place other than two things - it was a conservation area, and there was an abandoned truck somewhere in those woods. We weren't even sure if the area had walking trails though, and after circling the surrounding neighborhoods a few times - to the point we were getting longer than casual looks from some residents - we weren't even sure there was an entrance. Houses seemed to border the conservation's entire 140 acres.

But fortunately I make a habit out of "yupping" my wife, because long after she'd told me to give up searching I found a small parking area at the end of Makechnie Road, where we entered the woods. And after an enjoyable and not too long hike we found the prize, this rusted heap that barely had the words "Burlington" something or other written on the door.

Next we'll bring you to College Woods here in Durham New Hampshire, another easy and enjoyable hike we made this winter. That is, enjoyable until I took us a half mile off-trail and into snow and slush and across a small stream that our hiking shoes were totally unprepared for. After several white lies where I told Tina to keep moving because our destination was "just over the next hill", we finally did come over the next hill and find what I was looking for, this beast that some company dumped long enough ago for trees to have grown around it.

While driving through Berwick Maine one afternoon we pulled over to check directions and noticed a dead-end dirt road disappearing into the woods. Abiding by our family rule of never letting a dead-end dirt road go unexplored (a family rule I created at that very moment), down it we went. Although in itself the road was unremarkable I spotted something through the trees, and to the synchronized eye-rolling of my two youngest children had Tina pull over. There I crept through the woods and snapped pictures of this stripped down old relic.

This next spot brings us back to Massachusetts, and on a hunt through a former farm turned conservation area. The cars we found in these woods were a real windfall - three old Saabs the likes of which I've never seen on the roads of New England.

One being this mini station wagon. I've never seen Tina look large next to any vehicle other than her Big Wheel.

Our final abandoned vehicle I'm adding for two reasons. First, it's a model I'd never heard of before and thought it had a cool name, a Plymouth Scamp. Second, this car is a piece of a much bigger puzzle, the disappearance of Sorensen Transportation and 39 of their tractor trailers that were abandoned in the woods of New England many years ago. This caused quite an Internet buzz when pieces of the story came out last year. Their location was kept secret, but Barry and I found clues to their whereabouts and took this picture while on the hunt to find these trucks for ourselves.

Stay tuned!

Tilton Arch - An Empty Tomb

Tilton New Hampshire was incorporated in 1869 and named after local businessman and resident Nathaniel Tilton. Nathaniel had a grandson named Charles, and Charles loved the town that was named after his family. He also had lots of money, and because of this was able to gift the town with luxuries such as statues and paved roads.

When Charles Tilton traveled to Rome in 1881 he visited the Arch of Titus, and was so impressed he decided it was just the thing his hometown in New Hampshire was missing. So upon his return he constructed this 55' tall replica known as the Tilton Arch.

Tilton Arch stands at the peak of a 150' hilltop, uphill from Arch Cemetery, and is surrounded by a well kept park. Access is free and makes for a perfect area to let the kids run around while you stand in awe of this monument, and if you're anything like me you'll spend several minutes doing just that. I'm not sure there's a more impressive structure in all of New Hampshire. My first time visiting I was alone but wanted to get a picture to show its size, so I waited near the cemetery for these two cooperative guys to wander up.

Rome's Arch of Titus is a monument to celebrate war, specifically the ransacking of Jerusalem during the Jewish War in Judaea. Tilton Arch is a monument to celebrate peace, specifically the "Victories of Peace rather than those of war", as dedicated by Charles Tilton. Some of the good feeling that gives you might drop a notch when learning that Charles built the arch over the former site of a Native American fort, but in those days before political correctness that didn't seem to faze anybody.

Inside the arch Charles placed a time capsule consisting of gold and silver coins, newspapers from as far away as Boston, and a book titled "Successful Men of New Hampshire" which I'm guessing contained a few entries for men with the last name Tilton. Then he added this 50-ton sarcophagus and granite lion in which Charles intended to be buried.

But here's where I start scratching my head. Charles didn't actually build the arch within the town of Tilton. He built it in the neighboring community of Northfield where it stood in view of his mansion, under the belief that Northfield would soon be incorporated into Tilton. That never happened, so upon his death Charles forsook his arch and chose to be buried in a cemetery within the town limits of Tilton, and under much more modest conditions.

Which means that not only does Tilton Arch stand forever empty, it stands forever in the wrong town.

Logan doing his best to "conquer" the Tilton Arch

Links:
Tilton's Triumphal Arch - NY Times, 1883

Mount Agamenticus

From its various uses as a military outpost, then its recreational span as a ski resort, and now to its modern popularity as a hiking conservation, Maine's Mount Agamenticus has long been synonymous with this region of New England. On a mild afternoon in the fall of 2016 we made our long overdue hike there.

This area offers 40+ miles of trails but its "peaks" are of the 500 foot variety, so knowing this was not a strenuous hike we were able to talk our kids into joining us. Together with some friends we started up the outer loop section of trails with the dummy proof plan of taking a right at every intersection, figuring we might end up back at the car but at least we wouldn't get lost. This outer loop consisted of trails named the Ring Trail, Porcupine Trail, and Tina's personal favorite, Rocky Road. She said it reminded her that we needed to pick up ice-cream on the way home.

After an enjoyable mile and a half hike, where at one point we even felt like we were going more downhill than up, we found ourselves standing on peak #2. Here is Logan, who doesn't just climb mountains he conquers them.

From there we backtracked and headed for peak #1, where all the action took place in the mountain's early years. In 1940 America's first radar tower was constructed on this spot and 25 men were stationed in barracks. Additionally, a fire tower that was built in 1918 saw usefulness during this time of war as a lookout tower peering over the Atlantic. This was a short lived outpost which burned down in 1944, and with WWII ending it was not rebuilt. The fire tower remained and in 1981 was replaced with a newer model that is still there today. It was a 60-foot tease to us however, since unlike the towers we have in New Hampshire this one is gated off-limits to the public, even though it's still in use and presumably safe.

Following its short stint as a military hill, Mt Agamenticus then opened as a ski resort in 1964 under the name “The Big A”. Unlike the larger mountains up north where snow is more plentiful, The Big A suffered from low snowfall and shut down after just 9 years, leaving several former ski trails to morph into the hiking paths we enjoy today. Happily, other remnants of its former life remain and make for some good exploring. Like Logan on the mountaintop, I don't just explore old remains, I conquer them.

If scenic views are your thing you probably want to head straight for peak #1, where the view is beautiful for nearly 360 degrees. On the cement base where the radio tower used to stand is now this lookout deck, our final stop for the day.

Whether you're looking for a beginner's hike or a grueling day-long excursion, Mt Agamenticus has something for everyone and easily satisfied our desire for adventure that day. How much did we enjoy Mt Agamenticus? Rather than try to put it into words, I'll simply show you Tina at the end of the day as she was saying goodbye to the final trail.

Links:
The Mount Agamenticus Conservation Region

Devil's Den Cave in New Durham

I'm not sure what New Hampshire has less of; caves in the wild, or originality when naming our caves in the wild. This summer we plan on searching for Devil's Den Cave in Barrington, last summer we explored Devil's Den Cave in Pawtuckaway State Park, and this weekend we successfully located Devil's Den Cave in New Durham. In New Hampshire at least, the devil is a bigger real estate mogul than Donald Trump.

We made the trek to Devil's Den New Durham over a layer of snow just crispy enough to support every other step. The first half of our hike offered some cool sights, such as the beginnings of this fort some half-ambitious person started constructing out of life-sized lincoln logs.

Soon after we veered off the main course and up a winding trail I believed would shortcut us to the cave. Red marks began appearing on trees, which seemed like a pretty good indication we were headed to something devil related. A mile later we arrived at a cliff which from there our directions said to follow to the right. I had done a good job getting us to this point, but if not for Tina spotting this partly-hidden arrow under the snow I would had led us right past the cave and possibly to a day of futile searching.

Devil's Den Cave is a narrow crevice formed between two giant slabs of rock, and the entrance requires you to hop into this hole and butt-slide your way through the opening.

When faced with daunting challenges such as this in our adventures, we usually proceed in order of common sense and start with the least. So into the hole I went.

Flashlight in hand, I wormed my way into the cave and was greeted with this surprise - through an entrance I had struggled to fit my body someone had maneuvered this wooden ladder. It was aged - some of the rungs were broken and replaced by rope, plus it had come unattached from the rock - but by bracing my body against the far wall I made it to the bottom and took this picture of Tina testing out the ladder herself.

I was impressed she'd made it this far but Tina had no desire to test the sturdiness of the remaining wooden rungs, so I began my trek to the far side of the cave alone. Devil's Den is much too narrow to walk along the bottom, so the only way across is higher up along various ledges such as this one on the left.

Which were just wide enough for me to balance-beam my way across.

Fortunately an opening on the far side of the cave meant I could exit there, and I emerged triumphantly having conquered version #2 of Devil's Den New Hampshire.

 

Even if the possibility of climbing into a hole and getting wedged underground like a cork doesn't excite you, this is a great area to hike and well worth an afternoon just to see the cliffs.

Maybe for our next trip I'll even get Tina to repel down one of them. Of course, I would have to go first.