Happy 128th Birthday, Blue Hill Observatory!

Blue Hill Reservation.  Parking and visitor center on rt 138, 

top of Great Blue Hill shown by Summit Rd, which winds beside ski trails.

Went for a lazy Saturday late afternoon jaunt up Great Blue Hill with Stephen. The Trailside Museum at the bottom of the hill was open, and some of the animals were weathering the cold in their enclosures.  We spent a little time looking at the red-tailed hawk, turkey vulture and the pond full of mallards, but as always the river otter stole the show with his (her?) acrobatic swimming.  We had neither the time nor the money to go into the museum itself, but headed up the red dot trail.

It was a nice walk if hazardous (icy), with the bonus that we got into the Blue Hill Meteorological Observatory, which celebrated its 128th birthday on Jan 31.  The Blue Hill Observatory boasts the longest continuous weather record in the country.  We watched the Scouts of Troop 1 Acton fly kites, and then ventured in to see if we could look around.  We paid our $3.50 plus $1 for Stephen, and were pretty much left alone to explore.  My expression of surprise at finding a gift shop inside proved to our guide it had been at least a decade since last I'd visited.  We spent most of our time on the roof taking in the view.  I was surprised that it was difficult to spot the observation tower only a quarter-mile away, and someone had to point out the verdigris-coated peak of the tower roof, just peeking between tree crowns.  

Observatory nearing sunset in overcast.

Some of the instruments on the roof.  All of these measure wind speed and some also direction, 

except the spiky thing at farthest left--??

This thing is my personal favorite for cleverness: the glass globe sharply focuses sunlight to burn marks on the green card just visible inside the metal bowl; the resulting burn track as the sun crosses the sky makes a permanent  timed record of clear weather, since unburned portions result from interference by clouds.

View from the roof of the tower: Ponkapoag pond in the distance.

View from the roof of the tower.

Stephen thought this was a pretty cool place.  Just to the right of him is a lightning rod 

that goes to a heavy cable, thence down the outside of the tower to ground.

Stephen stands on the ice of a small pond beside Coon Hollow Path on the way down.

Blue Hill Observatory was founded by a young amateur meteorologist Abbott Lawrence Rotch, scion of an old and wealthy Boston family, who invested part of his inheritance to build it.  After Rotch's death of appendicitis in 1912, the Observatory was bequeathed, with an endowment, to Harvard University, which had it until 1971 when the Massachusetts Metropolitan District Commission (administrator of the Blue Hill Reservation in which it sits).  It has long been and continues to be a National Weather Service observing station, and involved in the American Meteorological Society.  Just before the turn of the present century, the Blue Hill Observatory Science Center wa founded, "expanding ever since its aim of "increasing public understanding of, and appreciation for, atmospheric science."  The Scouts of troop 1 Acton, at work on their meteorology merit badges, were witness to this new focus. 

Weekdays the Observatory is staffed by professional meteorologists, who spend their days recording instrument readings and performing complex calculations.  On weekends specially trained amateur observers take over. Most of the time volunteers are around to man the gift shop, lead tours and answer questions.  The volunteer I spoke with was completely familiar with station operations, and an enthusiastic teacher.   

The walk up Blue Hill to the tower and observatory is less than a mile uphill through forest over soil and rocks with no scrambling necessary, and takes less than half an hour.  Tours are 10am to 4pm on Saturdays year-round, and also on Sundays at this time of year.  Of course, the Blue Hill Reservation is much bigger and you can walk all day (or more) on well-marked paths without coming to the end of it.

Exploring a New Urban Wild Place (2)

Yesterday another free morning, a dusting of snow on the ground, and time to explore the wild place I first entered two weeks ago.  That time I entered from the north, struggling through briars and striving to avoid being in sight of surrounding homes, but also to keep my feet dry on the slightly swampy land.  This time I would enter the wood from the south end, where there was a easier walking and a bit more elbow-room. 

There are a couple of possible entries, both related to the newest residential development to invade the woods.  I parked on a side street a few hundred feet from my chosen entry, switched on the little gps I use for boating, and walked in, noting that a few of the houses had cars in the driveway--possibly observant homeowners at home.   

Scattered stands of American beech, still holding dried leaves, glow in the sun.

In my family at this season we call them "lantern trees."

A thick stand of bullbriar makes this more open area more difficult to walk through that it appears. 

One of the ubiquitous stone walls is visible among the trees.

The tree in the center was marked with a snowball at 5 feet so I could estimate its total height at 45-50 feet.  Though one of the tallest trees in this part of the wood, it is dwarfed by several in the northern part.

This was drier and more open ground with well-spaced trees and a low, continuous cover of something like huckleberry bushes, and I went quite a way--crunching noisily in the snow-covered leaves--before I was comfortably obscured by trees.  My course in the beginning was restricted by housing to both left and right, but these faded out of sight faster than on my earlier visit.  I crossed several stone walls in the first minutes, and then came to a boulder pile that I first guessed was the result of fairly recent construction.  Then I noticed the tree growing out of the top of it, showing it was probably mostly natural, or at least fairly old.  The top of the pile (perhaps ten feet above the level of the nearby woods) made a good vantage for a look around, and I took panoramic photos that showed the ground for a hundred or more feet in all directions.

Panoramas taken from the top of the rocks.  (See flag in aerial images.)

It was pleasanter crunching in the dry leaves and wading through the low huckleberries than the wet, briary scramble of two weeks ago, and I covered considerably more ground in consequence. This part of the wood may be younger than the north end, judging by the smaller height and diameter of the largest trees, but it was a pleasant place.  A few minutes after leaving the pile, I happened on a well-trodden path.  It led a good distance, passing a sort of blind along the way.  (I later discovered a hunter's tree stand--the third I've noticed in this wood.)*

A hunte's blind?  A young teenager's fort?

Although I rather resent finding trash, structures, and other signs human use, I had no objection to the frequent stone walls that spoke of human occupation in times gone by.  The walls represent a stimulating mystery: how long ago were they built, and for what purpose? what can they tell us about the lives of these earlier owners?   In general, stone walls in New England less fences, than the result of frustration born of attempting to plow the rocky ground: the stones cleared from the fields are piled roughly up at the borders of field or property to become boundaries in themselves.  But the particulars of these walls remains a mystery for now.  

The path.

And the path rather gladdened my heart, since it meant easier travel.   I followed both ways until getting too close to houses on the borders, and found one structure, made of old pallets leaned against trees and piled with branches--a fort, or perhaps a hunting blind.   There were not many more signs of human visitation here than in the north, especially considering I saw more of it than I had before, but I did find another tree stand.  Someone must expect deer. 

This new development is primarily McMansions.  I don't know which disturbs me more: 

mcmansion owners oblivious to nature, or those inspired to take a proprietary interest in nature. 

I came out at another possible access point, walking through the city's newest McMansion development. 

I returned home interested to put my gps track on Google Earth so I could see where I'd been, and also explore the land from above. 

 Southern two-thirds of the Wild Place, with the new development at upper right at different stages.  Upper image is from 4/9/2008, while lower is from 8/24/2013.  I tried to roam pretty widely, but avoided getting too close to houses, and went back and forth several times on the path.  The man-made clearing that appears at top center is the same that I visited in my earlier entry from the north.

A surprise came when I chose the most recent image that showed the woods bare of leaves and zoomed in:  the rough, tumbledown stone walls I had crossed were clearly visible, were spaced out in almost a grid, and were about as straight as a ruler could have made them.  I chose one place where walls met at an apparent right angle and measured it: again, as near to 90 degrees as I could determine.  However long ago those walls were built, the surveying behind them seemed sound.  Besides how far in I got, my gps track shows several things: the location of the rocks I stood atop (marked as waypoint 135), the path I found (the long diagonal I doubled back on), and how close I was able to come to the border of the wood without much risk of being observed. 

I look forward to further exploration in late spring when the leaves are out.


*I assumed Brockton would not allow discharge of firearms within city limits.  But to my surprise, it IS legal to discharge a gun except  "in or upon any street or public place, or within 100 yards thereof, or in any building or within 100 yards of any building without permission of the city council."  (http://macouncil.tripod.com/id28.htm)

Rut

Friday, November 15, 2013

Our two little dogs get a mile-long walk around the "block" most days.  Our "block" is an oddly-shaped bit of land, but the shortest loop by public roads that includes our house is an honest mile.  Lately my wife usually walks them; sometimes I do.  A week ago I decided to alter the route to take in a row of trees--oaks--still in color, so I could identify them up close then compare their foliage at a distance from home.  The dogs were overjoyed by having new places to nose around and explore and mark.

Remembering their pleasure, I decided to go in another direction last Friday.  The dogs were delighted--but so was I.  Almost instantly I was treated to new sights.  Houses of unfamiliar architecture.  A towering scarlet oak that dwarfed the front yard in which it stood.  A curiously designed housing complex.  A pretty little fixed-keel yacht in someone's driveway.  --all of this within blocks of my home.

 

This beauty, rising in tiers above the manicured lawn,

is about three feet across at chest height.

The experience reminded me what a rut I normally live in, taught me how unfamiliar is my own neighborhood. Tomorrow Golda, Linkin and I will explore further.


PS: I DID explore further just today.  My son Stephen came along, and obliged me by acting as a ruler, standing beside the tree so I could measure its height in a photo.  I make its height out to be about 65 feet, give or take five feet.  From a distance, it is clearly only one of several tall trees on that street.  Afterwards, we investigated new neighborhoods.

Stephen is the tiny figure in gray on the sidewalk.