On Saturday, we headed up I-93 for a journey deep into the wilderness of New England. We packed up a big bag of snacks and drinks, put on our shorts and walking shoes, and piled into the car for the drive out to the woods for our hike. And then, after about ten minutes, we piled back out of the car; not for a bathroom break or a flat tire or snack, but because we’d reached our destination.
Yes, your three city slickers had made it to the parking lot at the southernmost point of the Middlesex Fells, and that was about as far into the wild as we were going to go.
I grew up around the Fells—walking on the trails as a kid, running on them as a teenager, being rescued by an ambulance on a hot summer day for heat exhaustion in college, and so on. And I’ve always been amazed at their dual nature. We used to get lost in there, inexplicably turned around, emerging from a run two miles further down South Border Road than we thought we were. You can fit a whole cross-country course in there—a whole water supply, a zoo, for goodness’ sake!—and at times, it feels as if you’re deep in the woods. But then you hear the ever-present hum of traffic driving by, and remember that you’re never more than about a mile from an interstate highway. You could wander on those winding trails for days, living on roots and berries, creating a miniature Man vs. Wild experience without ever leaving Medford.
Or you could do what we did and just walk up the trail to Wright’s Tower and enjoy the view.
The coolest thing about this particular view, I think, is how different the place feels when you’re looking in two different directions. If you stand next to the tower, and look southeast, you see Boston’s whole skyline, in all its glory, stretching practically from Chelsea to Brookline and everything in between, and in the foreground, the long stretch of I-93. If you squint through your binoculars, you can almost see Saint John’s! (Well… maybe if we put it on stilts.)
But if you turn in the other direction and cover your ears, you’ll think you’re in the heart of the woods: there’s nothing to meet the eye but trees on rolling hills.
So where are you, as you’re wandering through those woods? Is it a forest or a highway? A place to see the city or a place to see the woods? A weekend hiking expedition or a ten minute drive? Is it simply a matter of perspective? Or is it, simply, both? Is it, like so many things in life, all these things at the same time, more complicated and more beautiful than we could ever really put into words?
I forgot to take any pictures; but here are two, taken by someone else!
