Machimoodus

Yesterday, my husband & I hiked in a State Park known as Machimoodus. "Machimoodus" is a term the local Native Americans gave the place well before English Colonials moved out of the Plymouth Bay (MA) area in the early 1600's. It means simply "Land of Noise." The perfect place for a nice quiet walk to get back in touch with nature.

There are trails that are level, and ones that are super steep. There are broad, level, wide-open fields that were once farmland. There are a Christmas Tree farms left to grow wild, still in ruler straight rows. Some parts are thick with woods, others open majestically to the neighboring river, pond or other water source. There are grasslands, sand pits, gravel yards, dilapidated barn and a few steep, tall hills with magnificent views of the surrounding lands from the top. There's caves in the area too, but we haven't found them yet.

It actually has a lot to offer, except public rest rooms or port-a-johns. If you are squeamish about "doing what the bears do" it may not be the spot for you to stay long. I, fortunately, don't mind. :P

Despite the name, it is a quiet place. The name's origin is based on an interesting geologic feature. The particular make-up of the land actually amplifies the noises of the earth. For centuries there have been moans, rumbles, roars, creaks, cracking and crashing sounds that echo mysteriously through the woods. Legends include dragons fighting underground, gods moving in the earth, and a battle between good/white-witches and the devil underground. Interestingly enough, a nearby town is named "Salem." We know now there are very small earthquakes ("micro-quakes') in the area (1.0 or less on the Richter scale). It's too small for people to feel, but they can actually be heard there.

My husband and I have visited this place a few times, now, and haven't managed to be there for any strange noises. It's quiet enough to hear the distant planes 15,000 feet overhead, the rustle of bluejays through the pine trees, the chitter of a squirrel eating acorns, or the lapping of wind-generated waves gently lapping the sides of the riverbank.

Yesterday, we took advantage of the lack of snowfall to explore off-trail. In the summer and fall, the wild briars are thick and puncture many layers of clothing. With just jeans and pull-overs, we were able to explore areas we could not easily access before. There were wonderful discoveries of old fields, hilltops with beautiful vistas, little sheltered coves surrounded by bare-branched trees, and animal tracks of a wide variety, including local wolf-coyote mix.

That is what I treasure most on these day-trips, the chance to explore off the beaten path. For when I do, I see far more than the common sights. While the cleared paths are easier to walk, and leave you with more chance of someone finding you if something goes wrong, going off-trail, we see far more wildlife, and many more beautiful scenes, great and small, that many others miss when they stick to the trail.

How much is life like that? We walk the everyday trails, living life day-by-day, rarely venturing off the wide road to explore the narrow ones - or even go where there is no trail at all.

But when we do, there is SO MUCH MORE to see. :D