“I had another hunch today driving back from the post office, which is often when I get hunches which eventually turn into some kind of odd hike or bushwhack. This particular notch road has steep forests and few points of entry. I would rather I had not become fixated with it. I’ve struggled with it. But, as with all good mysteries, there are surprises and reasons for the furtive engagement, and delayed gratification pay-offs, if you really can commit. So I’d eyeballed what looked, from the road, like an eroded logging road, going in. It was almost impossible to get past the ditch, then execute the first upward scramble, without extreme annoyance. I also would not want to put a friend through this. The whole exercise is to find a decent way up, that is not horrible. Luckily, the 3rd class road below had no traffic for 15 minutes, and I was able to disappear into the woods, without being noted. I’d always rather leave no trace or clues. It being basically a claustrophobic ravine with an enormous mountain stream at the bottom, I climbed and climbed, to the soundtrack of spring melt, until it finally lost it’s sonic reach. Now I had choices. Being an old hand at tricking myself into adventures, I told myself that I could turn around, and call it quits at any time, and still feel glad that I’d tried. That will usually get me around the next bend. Any semblance of a woods road, was gone, so I followed a gully, thinking about how I’d have to slide down on my butt if I came back the same way, which further incensed me to reach higher, to find another way out, further to the east. I soon transitioned to a slightly less steep section of ledges, and boulders, that had some logical trajectory. I think I know how to look out for bear houses now. I suspected a few downed trees and brush piles, but didn’t encounter any wildlife, just plentiful deer scat. I was so happy, to stumble over the top of yet another ledge, and find a stream. Now I could place myself. I sort of put out a call to the universe, to find an old trail. And guess what. On the other side of this stream, there was one. Dear god of lost travelers, thank you. Okay. Now I’m going to admit that I have a new app on my phone with very accurate GPS renderings of topography. I allowed myself a peek. McCarty Quarry? I had seen that obscure notation pop up before, while browsing the area electronically. Why not try to find it? The trail seemed headed i that direction. Then the trail turned into a stream, and it seems impossible that so many huge trees could fall and block one innocent little trail, but believe me, I found many obstacles built into my pathway. This was a very old trail. Could it have actually have been a road once, going to McCarty quarry? Anything is possible. Almost out of steam with the horrible conditions, I suddenly found a clip on a sapling with an orange tag. Ah! I gazed further ... and found another, leaving the rugged trail, for a higher ledge. And another. And another. Then I saw it: a cabin. At the exact coordinates, of the abandoned quarry. How crazy, how long ago? Walking around, I found no pits. But I moved conservatively, so as not to get disoriented. The cabin was rough, and showed no signs of recent use. I startled at the sound, of the outhouse door creaking, as it blew in the wind. I decided to retrace my steps, and follow the better half of the trail further east. There was a slim chance, I’d end up on a logging road i had some knowledge of, on A. Johnson lumber company land. Again, I could only enjoy about ten minutes of leaf strewn, solid walking, until the way pitched down sharply, and became filled with water. But it did connect, and I soon recognized the junction of streams, and it was a glorious moment, after the anxiety of imagining that I might have to climb back out and back track. These places are the purified places of almost no human traffic. The mud, the chaos, the unfailing cascades pumped out of rock, the vestiges left, of a worked landscape, known only to dedicated locals. I’m so grateful to still be able to explore. I remain your reporter from the weird corners of Vermont that few venture into, and they are not far from the habited areas, but they are, truly, forgotten. I can vouch for that.”
