Yesterday, after flying out of D.C. into Boston, I met Julia at the airport, and we picked up a neat black sedan at the rental car center. After about 20 mins, we stopped at a super market and, when returning to the car, we saw that the front bumper was badly torn on the passenger side. Nope, had not seen it before, and the car company said everything was all right. So I called em and drove back, and after filling out a form, we could pick another car which we inspected closer this time. Burgundy VW Passat. So, off again. We spent the night at an inn close to Saugus, just outside of Boston.
 |
| original site of Thoreau's cabin |
We got up early this morning and drove about 25 miles west to the Walden Pond State Reservation. This was one of those places which I've really wanted to see since we had planned to travel New England. Henry D. Thoreau's Walden was first published in 1850, and it is a collection of essays based on his two year residence in a self-built cabin on the shore of Walden Pond near Concord, Massachusetts. It is a tedious read at times, but Walden's importance for American intellectual history and the nature conservancy movement can hardly be overestimated. Aware of the fact that visiting the pond could not possibly bring me closer to feel or understand how Thoreau might have seen and appreciated it (as we sometimes wish such historic places would induce something in us), I was still eager to go there. Walden was completely frozen, and a guy was ice fishing on it. Apart from him and two joggers, though, we did not see any people. The advantage of the cold. On a snow-covered path among high slim conifers, we walked around half the pond, every now and then hearing the deep impressive bass of the cracking ice as the sun warmed it. Then, on a small hillside a minute away from the lake and into the woods, nine knee-high stones connected with an iron link chain marked the spot where Thoreau's cabin stood when he lived here. And it offered a nice view on the pond through the bare tree trunks. Then, going around the other half of the lake, we crossed the street and saw the replica of the cabin, not bigger than ten by ten feet, furnished with a stove, a simple bed, three chairs, and maybe (I don't exactly recall) a table or a desk.
 |
| Walden Pond |
 |
| "He Honored Life" |
From there, we drove another 23 miles northbound to Lowell, Massachusetts, birthplace and home of Jack Kerouac (1922-1969). Situated on the Merrimack River, Lowell was a planned cotton manufacturing and mill town, and the origins of the United States' industrial revolution can be found here. Thus, many historical buildings of the city are part of a National Historical Park. However, and you might know this, I wanted to visit Lowell especially because of Kerouac. We passed his high school, saw the Jack Kerouac Commemorative in Jack Kerouac Park, and visited his grave at Edson Cemetery. However, snow and ice prevented us from seeing the entire slab. But according to the NPS, it reads "Ti Jean, John L. Kerouac, Mar. 12, 1922 - 1969, - He Honored Life." He Honored Life. I like that.
 |
| Hampton Beach |
Leaving Lowell, we drove 33 miles east to the small coastal town of Newburyport, Massachusetts. Nice place with some cute cafes and shops, and the Thirsty Whale pub. Had a coffee, browsed some books, left town. 7 miles into Seabrook, New Hampshire to our current inn. Headed to Hampton Beach, contemplated the eerie nightfall Atlantic ocean, saw a dull salt marsh, bought a cheap used copy of the Tales from the Thousand and One Nights, and went back home.
No comments:
Post a Comment