PBW: Lost in the Woods

Photo Blog Wednesday

I decided to take advantage of the nice weather while it's still around, and go for a walk this past weekend. I wanted to go somewhere I haven't gone in a long time, and I remembered the Muttontown Preserve. A quick examination of Google™Maps confirmed it to be where I thought it was--there was no mistaking the large patch of nature, 550 acres preserved in the midst of the suburbs. When I missed the side road leading to the pedestrian entrance, passed the equestrian entrance a mile or so down the road, and had to drive around the perimeter of the property to get to the right parking field, I should have known my short walk was destined to turn into a three hour hike.

I parked my car, and headed off into the woods, but not before stopping at a small cabin and taking one of the printed maps in a rack by the door. I should point out that this cabin looked NOTHING like the beautiful white stucco building with the moat and the brick bridge pictured on the Nassau County page. If that place is in there somewhere, I certainly didn't find it.



I took a picture of the first sign I saw, encouraged by the “no dogs” icon. Certainly a sign would keep my canine enemies at bay, and thus no living thing in those woods would instill fear and/or bear me malice. I set off down the trail, shooting various trees and markers. It's a good thing most of these shots would have been indistinguishable from one another, since the door on my camera comes loose sometimes and I have to keep my thumb on it, lest the photos be saved directly to the camera instead of the card or worse, not at all. I took a lot more pictures that day than I found when I got home, but I wasn't going back for a reshoot any time soon.




After about twenty minutes, I came to a break in a fence separating the two main sections. No horses were allowed in the area I had been in, but now there was a chance I'd encounter them. I also anticipated finding two points of interest on the map. The first was a walled garden, and the second was the more mysteriously named “ruins”.



Shortly after taking the above photo, I emerged into an open area of very tall grass and weeds. In hindsight, I can't help wondering if this is why I was sneezing a lot later on. Disappointingly, this is the part of the journey where I discovered a gap in the photos, so my meager words will have to suffice. As I deciphered faded trail markers, I began relying on my general sense of direction. Some markers had little people hiking or skiing on them with arrows, but many were faded and didn't even have numbers. The trails on my map were all numbered, but when I came across a marker simply bearing the letter “J”, I began to have some doubts. I was determined to get pictures of the walled garden as well as those ruins, however, so I pressed on.

At some point I glanced down and saw a thick twig in the grass by my feet. I'd like to say that this “twig” suddenly darted into the grass because it sensed my raw testosterone, and not because upon realizing it was a snake I made a noise akin to “uhhwaahh!!” and startled the poor thing, so I will. The snake darted into the grass because it sensed my raw testosterone. It would have been nice to get a picture of it, but I guess it sensed the danger I imposed. I continued on at a brisk pace, checking the ground for more wriggly friends and looked up when the trail got darker. Suddenly to my right, the wall of trees had been replaced with an actual concrete wall, no doubt the walled garden. This rectangular section can actually be seen in the satellite photo at full magnification. I made my way around to the front, where a chainlink gate was locked tight. I could have squeezed through a gap in the fence, but there was no point. Within, the “garden” simply consisted of the same tall grass and weeds I had seen in other sections of the preserve.

I concentrated now on finding the elusive ruins, just south of the walled garden. At times the trails became so narrow that I was uncertain whether they were still the ones on the map. When I found myself in an area of pine trees and felt as though I'd left New York entirely, I knew I wasn't where I thought I was. Finding the fence that marked the Southern border confirmed my position. After about an hour in this section, climbing up some hills that I'm sure gave the horses trouble, I began to hear the sound of traffic and headed for an opening:



There was no doubt about it; I had emerged in the other parking lot, the equestrian entrance I'd driven past several hours prior. I had two choices: I could walk out to the highway and head back along the shoulder, or I could turn and continue through the woods. If the map held true, the woods would take less time and be more interesting. The highway would have taken longer and defeated the purpose of escaping society on a nice day.




Of course, I went back into the woods. At one point a man emerged carrying his son on his shoulders, followed by his wife and three other boys. They looked as exhausted and lost as I was, and asked me for directions upon noticing my map. As it turned out, the parking lot I'd just found was where their car was, so it was fortunate they ran in to me. I continued on, coming to the open field where I'd encountered the snake, or a field just like it. The markers and my surroundings were starting to look alike, and the sun would be setting in a few hours. If I was wrong, soon even my shadow wouldn't be walking beside me.



The day an MCF Misadventure™ proves fatal is the day I don't write about it, and even then that's not certain. I soon found a fence that I was sure marked the Northern border, and I followed it until I reached the cabin where my journey began.





There will be a sequel to this tale. At some point I'll return and FIND those ruins, and possibly some of the other structures on the property. I may even park at the other entrance, since it's a lot closer to the places I didn't get to see. Currently, I'm enjoying the other little pleasures in life, like electricity and being around other human beings.