Last weekend, we continued our railroad expedition, this time heading south on the tracks. We crossed the town line into Rocky Hill, which was exciting for both of us. It meant we were making real progress. We got to see some very cool things! Things that you never see from the road. Things you would never think to look for.
We finally came across on of those old manual track switches. It was old and rusty and marvelous.
There is usually significant walking distance between roads, and so whenever we come to one, it feels like a major checkpoint in the journey. And I am almost sad that all of the "railroad crossing" signs we see along the way don't really have a purpose anymore. They stand alone, obsolete in a modernized society.
We got to pass under a bridge, which was exciting.
The walls underneath were decorated with all kinds of elaborate graffiti. We thought aloud how we could come here for shelter if we were homeless.
We also got to pass over a bridge. We were a little nervous at first, since it was old and hadn't been used in a very long time. And neither of us was in any mood to take a dive into mucky, cold water. Still, we mustered up the courage to cross it and made it to the other side, dry and in one piece.
After the bridge, we crossed another road, which led us to the final section of track for the day's journey. This tree, although it had fallen, was still budding!
We must have walked about a mile on this stretch of track. It was beautiful, with trees on either side and absent of any road noise. It was peaceful and lovely.
We eventually walked parallel to a small river. My favorite part about water is its reflective quality.
This color change in the path, as well as the log on the tracks, marked the end of our weekend walk. We turned around and walked the whole distance again, this time feeling a little braver and a little more satisfied.
We finally came across on of those old manual track switches. It was old and rusty and marvelous.
There is usually significant walking distance between roads, and so whenever we come to one, it feels like a major checkpoint in the journey. And I am almost sad that all of the "railroad crossing" signs we see along the way don't really have a purpose anymore. They stand alone, obsolete in a modernized society.
We got to pass under a bridge, which was exciting.
The walls underneath were decorated with all kinds of elaborate graffiti. We thought aloud how we could come here for shelter if we were homeless.
We also got to pass over a bridge. We were a little nervous at first, since it was old and hadn't been used in a very long time. And neither of us was in any mood to take a dive into mucky, cold water. Still, we mustered up the courage to cross it and made it to the other side, dry and in one piece.
After the bridge, we crossed another road, which led us to the final section of track for the day's journey. This tree, although it had fallen, was still budding!
We must have walked about a mile on this stretch of track. It was beautiful, with trees on either side and absent of any road noise. It was peaceful and lovely.
We eventually walked parallel to a small river. My favorite part about water is its reflective quality.
This color change in the path, as well as the log on the tracks, marked the end of our weekend walk. We turned around and walked the whole distance again, this time feeling a little braver and a little more satisfied.
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