Back On the List: the Papermill Trail

Built c. 1865, the Cooper Paper Mill manufactured straw board until 1890. The process involved turning straw from local farms into a type of paper tough enough to be made into boxes, which were used to ship Connecticut-made products far beyond our little state. What remains of the mill now can be seen near one of the trailheads of the Papermill Trail in Madison, a blue-blazed loop through woods maintained by the Madison Land Conservation Trust. Beside the Hammonasset River lie the mill's fieldstone ruins. Water rushes over an abandoned dam, and iron rods protrude from the earth, a spiky reminder that this place, so quiet on a cold spring day, was not always so still.

The Papermill Trail had been on my list of local places to visit for ages, but then, at some point, I removed it. I guess I decided for some reason that it wouldn't be all that interesting. But when I happened to be nearby recently, I figured I might as well find the trail* and check it out.

And I discovered, as I have many times before, a surprisingly lovely pocket of natural beauty hidden just off the busy roads I'd unthinkingly driven on for years. A few delicate, papery leaves clung to the bare spring trees. Soft moss spread over the boulders on the hills. The trail was a worn, narrow path that sometimes climbed up or down on tree-root stairs.

I didn't have the time to walk more than a short distance from the road on this trip, but I've added the Papermill Trail to my list again. I'll go back some day when the harsh cold of spring has passed. Next time, I'll walk the rest of the trail to see what other surprises await at the spots on the map marked "stonewall" and "pool" and "stream." (When I do, it will be on my Instagram.)

*About finding this place: like so many of Connecticut's lesser-known attractions, this one seems to have been designed to be as easy to miss as possible. The trailhead where the mill ruins are located is on Fawn Brook Circle, just off Green Hill Road. Look to your right as soon as you turn onto Fawn Brook Circle and you'll (hopefully) spot a tiny wooden sign and a minuscule arrow attached to a tree, just above the height you'd expect to find signage. The small parking area, which has none of the usual identifying features of a parking area, is located just past the tree.

Happy New Year & Hammonasset Beach State Park

Happy 2015!

I've made a few changes to The Size of Connecticut for the new year; basically, this blog is going to be less about me and more about Connecticut travel. Specifically, as the header says, about "unusual, unexpected, offbeat, off-season, underrated, and underappreciated" places in Connecticut. (There's more about that on the About This Blog page.) I also added some new, more travel-friendly categories (on the right side of the page.)

Now that I've said all that, let me talk about Hammonasset Beach State Park in Madison.

This is Connecticut's largest beach, and in the summer, as you might imagine, it gets crowded. Like, really crowded. In the winter, however, you can come here and have Hammonasset's two-plus miles of sand and Sound - plus lovely boardwalks, trails, and salt marsh views - almost all to yourself. The Meigs Point Nature Center is open year-round, but the campground and concession areas are closed, making this extremely popular beach feel like a secret known only to a select few. And the seagulls. You can't hide anything from seagulls.

A Walk In the Woods

It's been three years since I wrote this post, and I don't know where that Connecticut went. For a few years now it's felt as if the state has been bouncing from disaster to disaster, like a boat hurtling down a river too fast and repeatedly getting snagged on something terrible. But that's probably just reality catching up to us. That moment when I wrote that post in 2010 was probably just an anomaly, or a fantasy.

And yet, so much of this place is calm still, and quiet. So much of the landscape is reliably populated with glacial erratics and little streams and fallen trees and heard-but-not-seen creatures in the woods.

Rockland Preserve, in Madison, is as good a place as any to remember that, when you're about to forget.

Déjà Vu

A while ago I went to Fairfield's Penfield Beach with Matthew of Soundbounder, who told me a little story about Madison's West Wharf (or maybe it was East Wharf) Beach. I had never heard of these, though I guess on some level I knew that there were beaches in Madison other than Hammonasset. The story involved being kicked out, or questioned, or perhaps just generally disapproved of, by Madison police. So I put "questionably-accessible, non-Hammonasset beaches of Madison" on my list.

When I finally got around to checking them out, I realized I had been here, a very long time ago. How long ago, I don't remember, because I am just that old. I have no idea how I found the beaches then, because they don't publicize their existence and this was before the days of cell phones and Google Maps. (In retrospect it's amazing I ever got anywhere, and more amazing that I ever got back.)

I drove from West Wharf Beach (where I took these pictures) to East Wharf Beach. They are connected by a curving road and a strip of waterfront. Leashed dogs on their morning walks glared at me as if they knew I was an interloper. Suddenly it struck me that not only had I been here, I had also somehow subconsciously associated these little beaches with a kitchen store. I had a vague memory of this store, one of those places with cookbooks and fancy gadgets and aprons and lovely little accessories you don't need. The kind of store that makes you think if you buy everything in it, you'll magically begin making fancy meals for yourself every night. Did it still exist? Did it ever exist? Was it, in fact, in a completely different town? I didn't know. But in the wayback machine of my brain, Madison was an image of that store and these beaches. And along with the beaches went a sense of not being allowed.

At West Wharf Beach, no one tried to evict me from the little parking lot while I walked along the snowy sand. East Wharf Beach had no such lot, but it did have a prominent sign that read "Residents and Guests Only." West Wharf must have had one too, but I didn't see it. I turned around in East Wharf's circular drive, which was half-plowed, thinking the whole time I'd get stuck and have to answer for my trespassing. Resident of what, I argued in my head with an imaginary official. I'm a Connecticut resident, right? I'm a resident of this very shoreline. I didn't suppose the imaginary official would buy that line of reasoning.

And I was sure he wouldn't like it if I asked about the kitchen store.

Not Another One

The schoolhouses, they won't leave me alone. I started out just loving them, and I still do, but they're becoming oppressive. I'm afraid if I keep posting them I'll bore people, but on the other hand they won't let me stop.

I think I parked here, beside Madison's Green, so I could check my email. Or maybe it was something else entirely unrelated to schoolhouses. And then I looked up and there it was, all fresh and white and bell-towered. It seemed to say to me, "You've been to Madison how many times? You've written about Madison how many times? You're totally aware of the Town Hall and the Congregational Church, but you never noticed there was a schoolhouse right in between them?! You suck." (I guess when I see schools, I think of someone berating me.)

This one is called Lee Academy, and it was built in 1821. The Madison Historical Society has a nice overview of the history of the school and its namesake.

Monday is the first day of Rosh Hashanah, so I will be assiduously observing the holiday taking the opportunity to slack off and trying not to eat all the baked goods, and I'll be back on Wednesday with the next installment of this. Happy New Year (even if you're not Jewish, you can still use another New Year, right?) And if by chance anyone reads this blog for the little rural synagogues, you might be interested in the stuff I've been writing over at the sisterhood blog of the Jewish Daily Forward.

Madison Day Trip

For the past couple months I've been working on a series of little local day-trip pieces, to be published on various Patch sites in New London, New Haven, and Middlesex counties. The first one - Madison - went up the other day on Bethwood Patch. (This took me way too long to figure out, but Bethwood is not a town I'd never heard of. It's Bethany + Woodbridge. Full of surprises, I tell you...) I went to Madison for this story when it was still pretty cold out and the beaches were mostly empty; see that lifeguard chair standing forlornly, just waiting for better weather? Now it should be nice and warm in Madison, I bet they have their summer flowers up along the Post Road.

Madison, Wednesday Morning

Something to remember when you feel fat: there are worse things than being fat. For instance you could be fat, naked, and permanently upside down.