Tag Archives: granite

Polar Caves Part 4….The fork in the road. More caves, more rocks.

 

As so often happens in life, we came to a fork in the road.

 

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Mind you, by this time we’d climbed 6,492,745 steps…. so the fact that the sign to the left said difficult route? Did not fill me with joy.

 

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But ever the supportive wife, I let the husband decide which path we’d take. Thankfully his aching back and residual sciatica made him veer right, although the name Devil’s Turnpike didn’t inspire a lot of confidence as to it’s ease of use.

 

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Husband explored more caves.

 

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I photographed more trees and rocks.

 

 

 

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And climbed more steps.

 

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And then even more steps.

 

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And then thought about all the steps I’d have to climb down when we were through.

 

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Did I mention there were a lot of steps?

 

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There were a lot of steps.

Okay, back to the rocks.

 

 

 

Why is there never a pogo stick around when you need one?

 

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We walked past rocks, over rocks, through rocks….

 

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And occasionally under rocks.

 

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While praying silently for the ground to be earthquake free.

 

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Yeah, thanks for that helpful factoid.

 

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As the husband climbed the Devil’s Turnpike…..

 

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And entered the next cave…

I took the path that had my name written all over it.

 

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All day long baby…

 

 

 

I do give him credit though.

 

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He’s still pretty limber for his age…

 

 

One final cave to go… and it was called the Lemon Squeeze.

 

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Yours truly?

 

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Yup. Every party has a pooper… and that day, it was me.

Oddly enough the Squeeze was the husband’s downfall. He couldn’t do it. Too small, too tight.

And you know if he got stuck? He was staying there…. because I wasn’t going in after him.

 

Polar Caves Part 3. The caves… and more rocks.

 

The caves.

 

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I’d like to tell you I explored them all.

 

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But I’d be lying.

 

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They were tiny, cramped, straight down and seriously dark.

 

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So yours truly let the husband crawl through them while I took the bypasses above ground.

 

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I know, a post about caves from above the caves doesn’t sound very satisfying….

 

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But does that look at all comfortable?

 

 

I still got to walk through rocks…

 

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And without all the bumps, bruises and scrapes the husband amassed that day.

 

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Although there were some dead ends.

 

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I’m not sure who named the caves…

 

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But there certainly were a lot of them.

 

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And some of the exits were awesome.

 

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Damn!

 

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That’s a lot of rock.

 

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Husband was happy as a clam. He used to go caving as a kid and it probably brought back some good memories. You know, like terror… and claustrophobia.

He kept trying to talk me into going down there with him, but when I peered down into the blackness?

I looked something like this….

 

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Just….

No.

 

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I think he was a little nervous after reading the name of this one …

 

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But he shimmied through quite well.

 

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Then turned around and asked for my extra camera. (Pardon his language. Sh*t is a favorite word lately)

 

 

 

I left him happily exploring and snapping pictures in the dark… (which I won’t share with you because he can’t take a photo to save his life. They’re either blurry… or solid black) …and made my way around another bypass.

 

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My appreciation for the people who built these boardwalks growing with each step.

 

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Clearly no rock was harmed during the construction process.

Well done boardwalk designer.

Well done.

Polar Caves Part 2… rocks, trees and more rocks.

 

Walking along a lovely path past a duck pond….

 

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We found the covered bridge.

 

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And kissed.

 

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Continuing along the walkways…

 

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We read the park’s history.

 

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And decided what to do first.

 

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Remember when I said this series would have a lot of rocks?

 

 

The rocks start now.

 

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Matter of fact, this section was called the Rock Garden.

 

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So clearly I’m not the only enthusiast.

 

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I loved it.

 

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It was like a moss covered fairy village with fabulously crafted wooden boardwalks.

 

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Meticulously cut around the rocks.

 

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I could have happily wandered there all day.

 

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Rocks!

 

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Some seriously big rocks.

 

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Did I mention this was a rock garden….

 

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And it was full of rocks?

 

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I was loving it.

 

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Though I admit getting a little tired from all the steps.

 

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But the rocks….

 

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They rocked.

 

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As did the funky lichen, ferns and moss.

 

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The steps?

 

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My thighs said, not so much.

 

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But we kept walking.

 

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Through some seriously old rocks…

 

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A veritable maze of old rocks.

 

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Fern covered rocks!

 

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And then we discovered the caves we’d come to see…

 

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Were way up there.

 

White Mountains trip… Day 2. Moose Cave.

 

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Down the road from Screw Auger Falls in Grafton Notch you’ll find a trail to the Moose Cave.

 

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Easy walking through the forest….

 

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And steps that run along a gorge.

 

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We did a lot of looking down.

 

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The fractures in the granite were impressive and show you what the force of running melt water can do.

And then before we knew it…

 

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We saw a sign, but no cave.

 

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Oh, wait….

 

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I guess that hole was it.

 

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Not my idea of a cave…. but I did feel sorry for the moose.

 

 

 

Action shots of my senior citizen husband with the bad back and sciatica….

 

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Once a Marine, always a Marine.

 

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Uncave-like cave seen, experienced and photographed… we took an alternate trail out.

 

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Some granite steps…

 

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And a tree root staircase later….

 

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We came upon a moss garden.

 

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What kind of moss you ask?

 

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Reindeer moss.

Isn’t that exciting?

 

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Look how excited I was…

 

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Mutilate the moss?

No…

I would never.

We’re baaaaack!

 

 

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I know, you never missed me.

But we had a fabulous nature filled week in Western Maine and Eastern New Hampshire and are happily exhausted.

We toured the White Mountains…. hiked, resort hopped, slept with rubber ducks, took beautiful scenic drives, leaf peeped, stalked a moose, went sight seeing, built a cairn, peed in more portapotties than I thought possible, and basically ate and drank our way across 2 states.

Life is good.

At least for us.

There are 1704 photos waiting to be posted here… so it may not be good for you.

And if you thought my series about the red rocks of Arizona were plentiful?

We were in granite country for 7 days people!

Rocks and trees, trees and rocks, more trees, even more rocks. We even went to a rock museum.

Weeeeeee!

 

 

But there are some baby barn updates I need to fit in, as well as all the other scheduled stuff…. so it won’t be wall to wall granite.

You’re welcome.

They’re dying to get in….

 

Stop number two on day 3 was Hope Cemetery in Barre, Vermont.

 

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Yes… I said cemetery.

But not just any cemetery… au contraire mon ami. This final resting place is in Barre, Vermont… the granite capitol of the United States.

 

“Established in 1895, Hope Cemetery consisted of 53 acres designed and planned by the renowned landscape architect Edward P. Adams. By that time, stone cutters from all over the world, especially Italy, were flocking to Barre, Vermont, to enjoy the booming granite industry in the city. It is estimated than one out of every three memorials found across the United States was made using granite mined in Barre.”

“Barre is also known for having an uncommonly high death rate, but that, too, is related to the industry that made it famous. Silicosis, a respiratory disease that is caused by inhaling granite dust, led to an abnormal number of deaths in the area. When the Spanish Flu swept through the area, many knew that death could be just around the corner and got to work designing their own tombstones. This tradition has carried on ever since and about 75 percent of all of the tombstones found in Hope Cemetery were carved by the occupants of the graves they sit above.”

 

So we strolled among the dearly departed.

 

 

 

Have we met?

The weird thing is… it really isn’t.

 

 

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We walked and we marveled…

 

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And knew right away this wasn’t your ordinary cemetery.

 

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And while it felt disrespectful to chortle in a graveyard…

 

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Sometimes you just had to.

Instructions. What’s to learn…?

Die. Get planted. Take the eternal dirt nap.

Easy peasy.

 

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Some of the carvings were lovely.

 

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Some were serene.

 

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Some were intricately wrought.

 

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Some a little narcissistic.

 

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Some were odd.

 

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Some downright strange.

 

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Cat lovers wanted everlasting furballs hawked on them…

 

 

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And soccer players wanted giant balls.

(I can’t prove that, but I know it’s true.)

 

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This was a testimony to love everlasting.

 

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And this a heartfelt sentiment about mothers.

 

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This chicka is famously known as the Bored Angel… seeming to say, “Come on, die already. Get it over with.”

 

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There were hands clutching posies…

 

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And massive monograms.

 

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There were ducks…

 

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And a fair share of art deco.

Here’s a door for my Thursday Door people.

 

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But the one that really got me?

 

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The chair.

Really… wth?

 

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Chairs are made to be sat upon.

Did this dearly departed’s family members really think, “Hey kids… want to plant your tuchis on Uncle Shmuel for generations to come?”

The husband dared me to sit on it and have my picture taken. And don’t think I didn’t imagine some interesting selfies….

 

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But walking around a cemetery, gawking and taking blog pictures seemed blasphemous enough.

A girl doesn’t want to push her luck.