A Living Magazine - Day 321 - Homecoming - Millbrook to Sharon

It was raining again when I awoke. The forecast called for it to continue through to noon. But at about 10:30 a.m. it lightened up. The decision was now: Do I spend another day in Millbrook or move on to Sharon, Connecticut? The thought of another night in this sleep spot was certainly less appealing after two nights there. Once the tent is in a place for more than one night the critters begin to colonize.

On this morning it was several species of small furry spiders, gathered together under the fly and grooving with a tick. One of the spiders was not so small. Tapping the edge of the tent from the inside usually gives them second thoughts about their choice of shelter. The big guy took more convincing. Spiders seem to be willing to face the hell of a monster like me over the high waters of constant rain. They really are quite stubborn and feisty. They have little personalities, be them cranky and brave to a fault. The bigger they are the more gentle they tend to be.

I was pretty sure this guy was a harmless orb weaver, so I just ended up reaching out through the tent door and flicking him onto the leaves, where he scampered off, somewhat irritated and shorn of pride. By the time I'd packed up all the stuff the rain had stopped. I decided to take the chance and walk to Sharon...

If I had a nickle for every overcast landscape I've posted here I could retire.

Most of my trip up the East Coast has been colored gray.

This day was just another "Wow, I'll bet this looks really nice in the summer time."

Eastern New York has a lot of these little streams next to houses. Nice. 

You'll see more in the days to come.

I passed a fallow deer farm. I was amazed to see these rather small, whitish deer, which at first I mistook for sheep. The farm has the name "Lithgow," but for a frustratingly long time I tried to research the current details about this place and found one rambling article in the Millbrook Independent, and several articles from the 1980's about the start of this farm--when venison was just being introduced as the "new future red meat of the 1990's." But there was nothing current. If I wanted to buy meat from this place, I guess I'd have to know somebody who knows somebody.

Anyhow, as I gathered, fallow deer are a robust species native to Europe (these animals were purchased from Sussex England). They are quite docile, except during the rutting season (October to November), when bucks will sometimes fight to the death! Older bucks will tire from fighting and mating and sometimes be killed by young upstarts. The buck's antlers are flat and tall like a moose--starting off as single points in the spring and then developing into sizeable racks by fall. The velvet that surrounds the antlers peels off and hangs like a scarf around the neck for a few days before the rut. Nine  foot fences keep native white tail deer and predators out.

Fallow deer meat (venison) is very lean, with only 3% fat. Apparently, it is touted by gourmet chefs who prize the taste as less gamey and the texture as quite tender. According to the articles I read, this kind of farming requires very little labor--about 20 minutes per day for feeding (corn and hay). They are quite curious creatures and were all gathered by the fence watching me as I looked back at them. They will follow the owners around the yard, according to the ancient 1986 Los Angeles Times article...

Fallow deer at the Lithgow Farm in Millbrook.

I passed several of these very old markers. I'm not positive, but

I believe these were established in the mid 1700's.

Maine has a similar series of markers along what is now Route 88,

"King's Highway" - the old Route 1.

In Maine they were actually placed by Benjamin Franklin himself

These may have been too.

The first town I reached on the way to Sharon, was...

This place is approached by a very prominent switch-back (a road that turns back on itself)...

I was quite hungry and searched for a place that would have reasonable prices and Wi-Fi. And I found it at Four Brothers Pizza Inn, actually run by Greek brothers. These guys were the nicest and most hospitable owners I'd seen in quite some time.  And, they were also the servers and did some of the cooking. I asked one of them, the gentleman who greeted me, if they had Wi-Fi. He said, "But of course, my friend! Here, have a seat anywhere you'd like!"

He gave me a menu. It ranged from appetizers under ten dollars to Greek and Italian entrees in the $20 range. I ordered the fried clam strips and something that really appealed to me on this cold damp afternoon: french onion soup...

After getting a blog post published and leisurely enjoying my meal, I headed out to continue up the road toward Sharon...

Another marker. I'd traveled 4 miles between them.

Crossing over the border into Connecticut was an unceremonious affair. Still it always felt good to be walking into a new state. New York had been quite pleasant, clean, upscale, understandably rainy, but friendly. I would recommend that eastern part of the state as a nice place to go antiquing or for a scenic drive...

Ha, ha! Hats off to Connecticut! I would find this to be a law

very few drivers took seriously, but at least the state had the will to pass it.

Finally!

The street was lined with old money mansions, immaculately trimmed lawns, and absolutely zero people. It was like a movie set waiting for a production crew. Google had shown a Starbucks. But search as I long as I could, and in asking around, I found nothing. Sometimes a place that will serve Starbucks coffee will show up as a Starbucks. Had I the time and patience I'd correct the listing.

I spent an hour - or rather, wasted an hour - searching for this mythical beast. After walking past one of the giant federalist homes three times and resolving to get the hell out of Dodge, a woman opened the door and called after me. She asked if I was looking for someone. I told her about my futile search for Starbucks. As with the other four people I'd spoken with, she said there had never been a Starbucks there. I was feeling a bit irritable about having walked an extra four miles around this pretentious little ghost town, only to be questioned by a seemingly nosey recluse with too much money and time on her hands.

As often happens when people assume that I am one thing (choose your stereotype) then actually speak to me, her suspicious demeanor lightened into a tone of helpfulness. Turns out that when you are a blue-eyed, white guy who actually speaks well, you get instant respect, even with a backpack and a grungy old hat on--whether deserved or not. I told her I had to be on my way to Cornwall, and then listened to her advice about the best way there (already knowing exactly how to go). I thanked her as patiently as I could, and then set off, now practically sprinting to beat the sunset...

Not having to walk very far I saw an area along the road that had a small path leading off and into the woods. It was obviously a deer path--easy to recognize, because it meets a bunch of other paths with no rhyme or reason to them. They never just go straight anywhere. I meandered down the bank to a spot very near a lovely brook. The sun was down but the sky was still light. So, I set up camp, hanging all of my tarps to dry...

I saw tons of these plants; not just here but all along the roadside swamps. They looked like they might be edible. I cracked a leaf off its stem and smelled it. The fragrance was exactly like garlic. Without knowing its toxicity, I dabbed my tongue on the end of the stem and tasted no overt bitterness. But I was smart not to just chomp it down. I've since learned that it is "Skunk Cabbage" (Symplocarpus foetidus), described by Wikipedia as "foul smelling," with "toxic roots" and leaves that "can burn the mouth." Apparently though, it does have medicinal properties...

In the 19th century the U.S. Pharmacopoeia listed eastern skunk cabbage as the drug "dracontium". It was used in the treatment of respiratory diseases, nervous disorders, rheumatism, and dropsy. In North America and Europe, skunk cabbage is occasionally cultivated in water gardens. Skunk cabbage was used extensively as a medicinal plant, seasoning, and magical talisman by various tribes of Native Americans. While not considered edible raw, because the roots are toxic and the leaves can burn the mouth, the leaves may be dried and used in soups and stews.

So much for my judgement of palatability! When everything was dry, I got it fastened down...

Here is a video montage of the Sharon experience, from arriving there to ruminating at the sleep spot...

Eventually the time came to turn in. It had been a long day. Yet, moving to a new state and obtaining a good sleep spot did give some measure of satisfaction. I was getting ahead. Another thing that had been happening since my 100 mile walk through remote Virginia country, with no access to internet, was my return to being able to find sleep spots without the assistance of Google. This was something I valued (and still do value), because it proves to me that I have the experience to survive without technology. Recall, I've never had a cellphone since Journeying, and no GPS. It also shows that anyone with a similar knowledge of what to look for in a sleep spot can find them successfully with or without internet assistance and without being hassled by the police or other vagrants. Sleep came quickly, and was uninterrupted until morning.

Sharon Sleep Spot.