To be sure that the beech and oak trees are at their peak colors I usually wait until Halloween to visit Willard Pond in Hancock but this year I was afraid that Halloween might be too late, because I saw lots of oak trees already changing. The weather people told me that last Sunday was going to be a perfect fall day, so off I went to the pond.
Before I start following the trail I go to the boat landing to see what the colors are like. That’s where we’re going; right along that shoreline at the foot of the hill. The oaks didn’t look at their peak but the colors weren’t bad.
What I call the far hillside was showing good color as well. Halloween is usually too late for that hillside’s peak because I think it is mostly maples and by then their leaves had fallen.
And then there was a surprise. I heard they built a windfarm over in Antrim and that you could see it from Willard Pond but I didn’t know the wind turbines would be so big. They were huge, and spinning rapidly.
Here is the trail we’re taking. Can you see it? If not don’t worry, it’s there. It’s a very narrow, often one person wide trail.
The trail is very rocky and has a lot of roots to stumble over, but it’s worth all of that and more to be walking through such a beautiful hardwood forest.
Blueberry bushes are virtually everywhere here and they were all wearing their fall best. Such beautiful things they are.
Striped maple (Acer pensylvanicum) is common here as well, and the big hand size leaves still had some green in them. They will go to yellow and then to white before falling.
Striped maple comes by its common name honestly. Another name for striped maple is whistle wood because its pulp is easily removed and whistles can then be made from the wood of its branches.
You have the pond just to your right and the hillside just to your left on the way in, and what there is left can be very narrow at times.
There were leaves falling the whole time. These are mostly maple.
Someone had done some trail work at some point in the past and had cut some small oaks, but they were growing back and were beautifully red against the yellow of the beeches.
Wolf’s milk slime mold (Lycogala epidendrum) grew on a log. These tiny brown spheres are common at this time of year. The biggest I’ve seen were about the size of a pea. They start out as tiny pink globules but as they age and become more like what we see in the above photo, the globules look more like small puffballs growing on a log.
Wolf’s milk slime mold is also called toothpaste slime because of the consistency of its inner plasmodial material. It’s usually pink and goes from liquid to a toothpaste consistency like that seen here, before becoming dusty gray spores.
The hard black balls of the chaga fungus (Inonotus obliquus) grew on a fallen birch. Chaga is the only fungus I can think of that looks like burnt charcoal and grows on birch. This fungus has been used medicinally in Russia, China, Korea and Japan for centuries, and it is said to be packed with vitamins and minerals. Recently it has shown promise in cancer research, reducing the size of tumors. In Siberia it is said to be the secret to long life.
Hobblebushes (Viburnum lantanoides) were beautiful in their fall reds. Hobblebush is a good name for them because their stems grow close enough to the ground to be covered by leaf litter and if you aren’t careful you could be tripped up and hobbled by them. They’ve brought me down on my face more than once.
The hobblebushes have their spring flower buds all ready to go. These are naked buds with no bud scales. Their only protection from the cold is their wooly-ness.
As is often the case when I come here I took far too many of this incredibly beautiful forest, so I’ll keep sneaking them in when you aren’t watching.
Huge boulders have broken away from the hillside and tumbled down, almost to the water in some places. Some were easily as big as delivery vans. You might find yourself hoping there isn’t an earthquake while you’re here.
In one spot you have to weave your way through the boulders, sometimes with barely enough room for your feet to be planted side by side.
No matter how big the stone if it has a crack that water can seep into and then freeze, the pressure from the ice will eventually split the stone. This boulder was easily as big as a garden shed, but just look what water has done.
Polypody ferns (Polypodium virginanum) grow in great profusion here on many of the boulders. Another name for this fern is the rock cap fern, and it makes perfect sense because that’s what they do. They were one of Henry David Thoreau’s favorites.
They are producing spores at this time of year and each of the spore producing sporangia looks like a tiny basket full of flowers. This is the time of year to be looking at the undersides of ferns fronds. How and where the sporangia grow are important parts of an accurate identification for some.
Another fern that you see a lot of here is the royal fern. Royal ferns (Osmunda spectabilis) turn yellow in the fall before becoming this kind of burnt orange. Many people don’t realize that they’re ferns but they are thought to be one of the oldest; indeed one of the oldest living things, with fossil records dating back dating back over 300 million years. Individual plants are believed to be able to live for over a century and they live on every continent on earth except Australia. They’re very pretty things.
I wonder how many people have ever been deep in a forest like this one. I hope everyone has but I doubt it. If I could take people who had been born and had lived their lives in a city and lead them into this forest what would they think about it, I wonder. Would they love it, or would it frighten them? I hope they would love it because there is nothing here to be frightened of. It is a gentle, sweet, loving place where the illusion that you and nature are separate from each other can begin to evaporate. It is a place to cherish, not to fear.
Our native maple leaf viburnum shrubs (Viburnum acerifolium) can change to any of many different colors including the beautiful deep maroon seen here. The foliage will continue to lighten over time until it wears just a hint of pale pastel pink just before the leaves fall. There are lots of them along this trail.
Witch hazels blossomed all along the trail. I love seeing their ribbon like petals so late in the year and smelling their fresh, clean scent.
The old bent oak tells me I have reached the end of my part of the trail. Though it goes on I usually stop here because I like to sit for a while and just enjoy the beauty of the place.
There is a handy wooden bench to sit on and so I put away the camera and just sit for a time. On this day I heard a loon off in the distance. Moments of serenity, stillness and lightness; that’s what I find here. It seems an appropriate place to witness the end of the growing season and watch as nature drifts off to sleep in a beautiful blaze of color.
Here is one reason I like to sit on the bench; this is what you see.
And this is what you see on the way back. If you come to Willard Pond you’ll find that you’re in a truly wild place; before the axe and the plow this is how it was. But you’ll also find that the only thing really difficult about being here is leaving.
Thanks for stopping in.
Absolutely beautiful, Allen! Your words, your photographs and Willard Pond and its surrounding forest.
I was interested by your thoughts on taking a city dweller on a hike through a forest. I am sure most people would be amazed and in awe of its beauty. However, I remember my mother telling me about a woman she used to work with. This woman had always lived in the city but both her daughters had married and moved away from London and one had just moved to a house that backed onto woodland. My mother’s friend had been staying with her daughter and was really frightened by the nearness of the trees and the strangeness of it all. She truly believed her daughter was in constant danger living so close to the wood. My mother told her friend that she thought her daughter was lucky to have found such a lovely place to live but her friend thought Mum was crazy!
Thank you Clare. That’s a sad story but I’m sure it’s one that could be written over and over. I hope the lady visited her daughter often, and I hope that the forest eventually won her heart!
I hope so, too.
What a beautiful hike!
Thanks Scott. It sure is!
We’ve had gorgeous colours here too. I’ve never seen a striped maple here. The trunk is certainly interesting.
Some of your photos look like paintings – so beautiful are they – – except for that Wolf’s milk slime mold thingy. Eek!
Thank you Cynthia. I always imagine Canada looking a lot like the land around Willard Pond. I’m glad you had good color!
Slime molds won’t hurt you. They help clean up all the stuff on the forest floor. Without them we’d be up to our eyeballs in debris.
Okay. If you say so! (hah.)
Beautiful autumn walk, thanks for taking us along!
You’re welcome Eliza, good having you!
That cracked boulder was an impressive tribute to the force of nature. I would like to sit on that bench too, the combination of colour and water must be spiritually very refreshing.
It certainly seems uplifting to me, especially when there are loons calling. They’re shy, rarely seen birds but their strange wavering calls can travel quite a distance. Willard Pond is a nesting spot for them.
I have thoroughly enjoyed this walk! Big boulders with nearby trees provided a way for my young friends and I to climb up on top when we were children. I was one of the lucky ones who had woods like these to walk in growing up.
You were really lucky! I was in the woods all the time but we had nothing like this.
The Harris Center was formed 50 years ago. A woman whose family own a large parcel of land and at least two houses wanted to start an environmental center that would provide a place where people could attend lectures, go on hikes, go canoeing, learn about birds and bird migration, and set up programs in local schools to help the science departments. She converted one her families summer homes into the Harris Center.The first speaker, at what was known as the Harris Foundation was Margret Mead. After the lecture she told them get rid of the Foundation part of the name. Everyone in the world will be after them for money. The name was changed to the Harris Center. Harris was a family cat. I start going there in the late mid to late’70s. IJohn Kulish was a hunter. He supported his family hunting Bobcats when there was a bounty on them. And working at various jobs. The Harris Center, hired him as a handy man. They soon discovered he knew more about the woods then most naturalists of the day this was the early ’70s and the environmental movement was just getting underway. They quickly changed his job to Naturalist. He led hikes and taught people about the woods of NH. We know there have been people studying the environment going back thousands of year. However, the connection between the lab and general public wasn’t made until the ’60. Terms like habitat management, forest management, and environmental science weren’t part of the average citizens lexicon. The Harris Center is part of the effort to educate people about these things. For me it gives me inspiration to keep moving forward with conserving the environment. It also serves as a resource for conservation organizations. As Chairman of a Conservation Comm. we have met with them to talk about how to do more within our schools. Today we have a member of our CC who has started working with our schools. There are a number of schools across the state whose CC’s are working in schools. If you want to learn more go on the Harris Center web page. So what does have to with photography? Right now, not much because of Covid-19, but any one who wants to find new places to photograph join the Harris Center and go on their hikes, go to their migratory bird counts, and attended their lectures. When I say join, they can always use more funding, but most of their programs are open to the public free of charge.
Thanks very much for taking the time to write this, Bart. It’s very interesting and I will be looking into the Harris Center more in depth. I’m sure a lot of other readers will be interested as well.
Just stunning, Allen!
Thanks Ginny, it’s a beautiful place!
Thank you for this beautiful post. I knew Willard and the Sanctuary back in the ’70s, when friends lived in the cabins (not part of your trail!). The whole area is magical, and I have many wonderful memories of it.
You’re welcome Ann, and thank you for telling me a bit about the history of the place. I just discovered it a few years ago and of course I immediately fell in love with it. How could you not?!
Beautiful photos & place & time. I wonder what a geophysicist would say about that split boulder & if lightning could melt minute crystalline structures which water would later freeze. I don’t know but that rock shocks me. I live on the Gulf Coast where we have just a little autumn color.
Thank you Lucy. I wish I knew a geophysicist so I could ask. Our forests are full of split rocks just like that one and I see them regularly. The power of the ice that comes from freezing water is remarkable. Given time it can bring down mountainsides.
I hope one day you can come here and see these forests for yourself. They’re truly beautiful places.
A lovely post!
Thanks!
I haven’t been up there in more years then I care to count. I think the last time I was up there I was on a Harris Center hike with John Kulish. There was about two feet of snow on the ground. We hiked around the pond and then came down the trail you used. That was something else–hiking down hill through a bolder field in two feet of snow. It was a wonder no one go hurt. Did you ever photograph the large dark rocks next to the boat launch? In a certain light they look like the backs of prehistoric animals. Hiking with John was always fun.
Thank you Bart, that must have been something! I don’t know know John but more power to him! It sounds like a hike I’d love but these days I doubt I’d make it.
I have taken shots of the rocks you speak of and I think I showed them in a previous Willard Pond post. I hope you’re able to get back there one day. It’s such a beautiful spot.
John has been dead for at least 10 years he was in his ’80’s. He was the first Naturalist at the Harris Center and led hikes all over the region. This is getting off topic so I’ll stop here. If the moderators don’t mind and would like to hear more of the story let me know. I did know the folks in the cabin by the pond.
Since I work at Sargent Camp in Hancock I’ve heard about the Harris Center of course, but I don’t really know much about it. I’ve been told I should work there but I’ve never really explored that either. Maybe someday.
In any event I’m the only moderator here and I’d love to hear whatever you would like to say, and I thank you for that.
Your lovely hike really captures the experience. Yes, this is what happens, far more than the blast of scarlet at a few places like Sugar Hill. Our color is typically more subtle, hues more than shades, and rolling … not everything prime at once.
Still, with your attention to identifying all the small details along the way, I do wonder how you ever get very far down the trail.
Well, there’s still more to go, now that we’re slipping over into the bronzes.
Thank you Jnana, you’ve described it perfectly.
I really didn’t get far down the trail. The bench is probably about half way but I was there for about two hours. I walk slowly and often stop and look around, because that’s really the only way you can see the small things that most people miss.
Such beauty, it takes ones breath away, no wonder you like going there. I particularly enjoyed the mixture of autumn colours and boulders, such a contrast.
Thank you Susan. It’s an amazing place at any time of year, but especially in the fall.