Grace Kelly: Book author touts easy, healing walks
Marjorie Hollman Turner
From ecoRI News (ecori.org)
Thirty years ago Marjorie Turner Hollman found her right side paralyzed after brain surgery. She was unable to drive in the seven years of recovery that followed and turned to writing and taking walks down her dead-end road for solace.
When she met her second husband, an avid outdoorsman, she slowly began to move beyond handicap-accessible walks to what she now calls “easy walks.”
“If I had not found myself on a hospital bed paralyzed after brain surgery, I wouldn’t be doing easy walks,” said Turner Hollman, who lives in Bellingham, Mass., which is just over the Rhode Island border near Cumberland. “I have healed to the extent that I am able to walk with support, meaning hiking poles, and I’m very selective of where I choose to walk. I’m not your Appalachian Mountain Club material.”
Over the years, Turner Hollman sought out more of these easy walks, which she defines as “walks that don’t have too many roots, don’t have too many rocks, are relatively level … with something of interest along the way.”
In essence, walks that children, people with mobility issues, and those new to the outdoors can enjoy. Anyone, really.
And as Turner Hollman started her easy walks, she began to chronicle them — and the natural world around her — first for her local newspaper and later on her blog. Then, the questions came pouring in.
“I started having people find my Web site and they kept asking the question, Where’s Joe’s Rock?’” Turner Hollman said. “Well, it’s in Wrentham [Mass.] on Route 121 right near the Cumberland line, and after about the 500th time somebody came to that article, I said, ‘Well I think there’s a need here.’”
Turner Hollman wrote her first book, Easy Walks in Massachusetts, in 2014 to provide a one-stop-shop resource for anyone else in the state looking for easy walks. But the process was far from easy, since a lot of the walks she enjoyed weren’t in any guidebooks.
“At the time, they didn’t have any guides for outdoor things here. We’re not the Cape, we’re not in the White Mountains, we don’t have that cache,” she said. “Today, a lot of town offices have put up maps of their conservation areas, but when I started writing these in 2013, there were next to none. I visited town halls and said, ‘Help me!’ or called and said, ‘Do you have properties that kind of fit this?’ I did a lot of legwork.”
Since then, she’s written another three “easy walks” books, one of which was done in conjunction with the Ten Mile River Watershed Council, an organization with offices in Rumford, R.I., and Attleboro, Mass. This two-state watershed contains one of her favorite easy walks, Hunts Mills, which has a man-made dam and waterfall and trails that loop through the woods.
“It’s stunning and incredibly accessible,” Turner Hollman said. “You can even just sit in your car and watch the falls … it’s this hidden away little spot. It’s just a gem.”
In her most recent book, Finding Easy Walks Wherever You Are, Turner Hollman takes the principles of seeking out and enjoying easy walks to a broader level, providing tips and perspectives that anyone can use to seek out a special place to walk anywhere.
“There are plenty of places, but people don’t know how to find them because a lot of the time they’re off the beaten track,” she said. “I encourage people to consider places like, for example, your local cemetery to visit respectfully, understanding its first purpose is not a walking place … but they’re wonderful places to walk and often have paved roadways through them.
“So that’s a lot of what I talk about in finding easy walks wherever you are. It’s providing ideas that people maybe don’t think about.”
The book is also a culmination of Turner Hollman’s personal experience and belief that anyone, regardless of ability, can go on a walk.
“What I’ve learned in sharing Easy Walks is that many people can enjoy these outings, regardless of ability,” she wrote in a blog post from 2015. “Rather than my disability creating a barrier, I’ve found that working with, in spite of, and because of my disability has enriched my life, and the lives of many others. … These days I’m even more determined to search out and point others to places they can enjoy together.”
Grace Kelly is a journalist with ecoRI News.
Seeking calm in the north
Mount Washington Hotel, with the eponymous mountain looming to the east
— Photo by rickpilot_2000
From Robert Whitcomb’s “Digital Diary” in GoLocal24.com
I had a few things to do in the White Mountains recently, most importantly, just trying to get away from life in megalopolis.
I wasn’t alone. On my way back to Rhode Island, on Saturday, Oct. 3, I saw vast herds of cars with out-of-state plates, especially Massachusetts ones, heading north. I suppose that many, perhaps most, of the travelers wanted to see this year’s fall foliage. But a simple desire to just get out of town in these COVID-claustrophobic times seems to have dramatically increased their numbers over previous years. It was bumper-to-bumper north-bound traffic on long stretches of Route 93 in the Granite State.
On the mountainous Kancamagus Highway, which connects the towns of Lincoln and Conway, there were long lines of parked cars near the scenic overlooks, though the weather was showery and drought had dimmed the foliage.
My main destination up there was the Appalachian Mountain Club’s lodge in Pinkham Notch, where I have happily stayed many times over the decades. (My most memorable time was as a reporter for the old Boston Herald Traveler in the winter of 1971, when I had to hang around there for several days to cover the drama of a couple of inexperienced climbers (allegedly stoned) lost high up on Mt. Washington in a storm; they were eventually rescued.)
On this visit, I ran into several examples of how COVID-19 has, well, made things less fun.
Some of the most pleasant parts of the complex – library, living room, etc. – are off-limits now. There were virtually no places in which to socialize, unless you stayed in the affinity group you arrived in and so were permitted to eat together. Singles were ordered to sit by themselves, preferably all alone at a long table, or at the end of one. And I missed the cheery Canadians, traditionally big patrons of the place and fun to eat and maybe practice some French with. The pandemic has cut us off from our northern (and better run than the U.S.) neighbor as it has from most other countries.
The most depressing thing, to me, came when a staffer announced the post-prandial entertainment – a film and/or slides (I’m not sure which) about Denali (aka Mt. McKinley) and Mt. Washington. Everyone who wanted to attend had to sign a waiver liberating the club from responsibility in the case of COVID infection. I demurred, not out of fear but out of sadness at the situation and went back to read some short stories by the masterful John O’Hara in my room, which had four bunks but just me.
Another anti-COVID move reminded me of TB asylums before the discovery of antibiotics: The windows in the halls were left wide open, presumably to dilute viruses. So the halls at night were in the 40s or upper 30s. The bunkrooms and individual bedrooms were, however, blessedly heated.
Most of the young staff were pleasant enough though a few were grouchy, probably because of stress. In any event, these are not the best times to go to such places. Wait until a vaccine, and hope the anti-vaxxers don’t ruin everything.
xxx
But I didn’t give up. Seeking another place devoted to “getting away from it all,’’ I drove around to the western side of the Presidential Range to check out the Mount Washington Hotel, in Bretton Woods. This astonishing resort, opened in 1902, in an era of grand mountain and seashore hotels, has always especially catered to the rich, though I saw plenty of people of more modest means there, too.
Its capacious verandas, palace-like halls, lounges, restaurants, bars and views of Mt. Washington, to the east, not to mention golf courses, swimming pools and other sybaritic allures, might make you want to be rich enough to live there – modestly, no more than a three-bedroom suite.
I bought a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a cup of coffee in one of the hotel’s sundries shops and took them out to consume on a veranda, with nap-inducing chairs, that looks toward Mt. Washington, whose upper reaches were obscured by clouds. Still, the view of the back of the vast Spanish Renaissance Revival establishment was a fine show in itself.
No wonder guests and staff seemed a lot cheerier than the folks at the Appalachian Mountain Club, with its spartan ways and situated in a deep, dark valley. Just the fact that there are plenty of places where you can sit on the verandas without wearing a mask raises spirits at the hotel. Or maybe you’re supposed to wear a mask out there but I saw plenty of unmolested people who weren’t.
The hotel guests were less well dressed than you might have expected in such a fancy place. It’s a blue-jeaned world. A hundred years ago you would have seen plenty of men in tails and dinner jackets.
Many, many famous people -- politicians, movie stars, etc., etc. -- have stayed at the hotel over the years. But historically the most important were those who participated in the Bretton Woods Conference, in July 1944, in which representatives of 44 allied nations met at the hotel to lay the foundation for restructuring and overseeing key parts of the world’s financial and monetary systems. The plan was to avoid the mistakes of the Versailles Conference, in 1919, which ended World War I, and the huge monetary and fiscal policy fiascos that followed, which helped cause and worsen the Great Depression, which in turn played a part in causing World War II.
The 1944 meeting created, most famously, the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, helping to set in motion the longest period of growing prosperity in world history.
Sadly, the current regime in Washington has done its best to undermine the Bretton Woods institutions, opting instead for an intense nationalist/protectionist approach.
I peeked into the “Gold Room,” where the final documents were signed in 1944 on a beautiful round table.
There were lots of New York plates in the parking lots.
Canterbury Shaker Village in about 1920
Heading south, I dropped by another escape place: the Canterbury (N.H.) Shaker Village, a kind of Brigadoon. It was established, in 1792, by the Shakers, a Protestant sect whose members have waited and waited for the Second Coming of Christ, as a religious, residential and occupational refuge. Its 32 buildings, set in a bucolic landscape, evoke the Shakers’ mix of faith, hard work, humility, practicality and craftsmanship.
The Shakers have pretty much died out. One big reason: They practice celibacy – not a good business model for growth! In any case, there are things to admire in their communal living as well as in their care of the natural environment, their lovely architecture and furniture and even some surprising technological innovations, in machinery, etc. They could be remarkably forward-looking.
Visiting the Shaker Village is soothing. Take a guided tour, or stroll around by yourself, checking out such attractions as “The Bee House,’’ “The Syrup Shop’’ and “The Ministry Privy.’’ (Okay, I’m focusing on the stranger buildings.) You’ll feel better.
AMC keeps its doors open
Artist Samuel Lancaster Gerry's 1877 depiction of Pinkham Notch, entitled "Tuckerman Ravine and Lion's Head,’’ which are on Mt. Washington. The Appalachian Mountain Club’s largest lodge — the Joe Dodge Lodge — is in Pinkham Notch.
From The New England Council (newenglandcouncil.com)
“The Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC), an outdoor-focused nonprofit organization, has embraced innovative strategies to keep doors open and continue foster the enjoyment and protection of the outdoors.
‘‘The COVID-19 pandemic had dealt an immediate blow to the AMC, and the nonprofit was forced to fast track fundraising and allocate their resources strategically. AMC prioritized conservation projects, citizen science and conservation policy, focusing on the recently passed Great American Outdoors Act. The AMC also prioritized a small group of caretaker staff, who have continued to provide basic services at the White Mountain huts along with safety functions.
“‘The AMC is a strong community of outdoor enthusiasts and conservation stewards. This group of stalwart supporters and volunteers has been key in helping us manage through and lessen the overall impact of the pandemic on AMC’s mission,’ CEO John Judge told the Boston Business Journal. “Inherent in our model is the way we help people experience the outdoors in a communal way — this includes folks eating meals together, naturalists programs for schools, group travel, and overnight accommodations in bunkhouses.”
“The New England Council congratulates the Appalachian Mountain Club on continuing to conserve and promote the enjoyment of the outdoors despite this year’s challenges. Read more from the Boston Business Journal.’’
Jane A. Difley/John D. Judge: Time to bury the huge Northern Pass power project
In the White Mountain National Forest.
It’s time for the out-of-state and out-of-country interests pushing the current Northern Pass proposal to bury the private transmission line along appropriately designated transportation corridors. A similar project in Vermont shows that it can be done.
The fast-track toward approval of the 154-mile New England Clean Power Link, which recently received a Presidential Permit from the U.S. Department of Energy, highlights the benefits of burying transmission lines along state highways. That project has leapfrogged Northern Pass in the quest for permitting by using 56 miles of existing road rights-of-way and running along the floor of Lake Champlain. It would serve the same purpose as Northern Pass by enabling Canadian hydropower generators to market more energy to southern New England.
In terms of scenic degradation, vulnerability to catastrophic weather events and alteration of prized public lands, Northern Pass has it all wrong. Perhaps that’s why, six years since its proposal went public, the opposition to Northern Pass among New Hampshire residents is stronger than ever.
New Hampshire’s citizens know that Northern Pass as proposed is a wrong-headed project and that its more than 1,000 steel towers across 192 miles would destroy the state’s lifeblood: the iconic scenic views that draw millions of visitors to the state’s mountains and forests, feeding our tourism-dependent economy. Furthermore, Northern Pass is wholly incompatible with such conservation gems as the White Mountain National Forest and the Appalachian National Scenic Trail, both of which would be hurt.
New Hampshire’s people know that it is wrong to have our scenic beauty and environmental legacy sacrificed for the money-making interests of private power producers.
At public meetings and hearings, and in written testimony, the public has spoken out against this damaging and unnecessary project. Thirty-one towns that would be affected have voted to oppose it.
The U.S. Department of Energy has received more than 7,500 comments, largely negative, about Northern Pass. Given that public push-back, the DOE is studying no fewer than 24 alternatives to the project.
By comparison, things on the Vermont side of the border look very different. The Clean Power Link project has generated just 12 written comments. Two alternatives were reviewed in its Draft Environmental Impact Statement, which was released in May, just one year after the application was submitted.
The environmental impact of the Vermont project appears to be far less than the impact of the Northern Pass proposal. Using modern technology, the Vermont cables would rest in a 4-foot-deep-by-4-foot-wide trench alongside public rights of way, or submerged in Lake Champlain. TDI, the transmission developer, will pay the State of Vermont $21 million annually for its use of road rights-of-way and will create an additional $298 million Public Good Benefit Fund.
In contrast, what would New Hampshire get? Steel towers 155-feet high looming over the tree canopy and scarring scenic views. Negative impacts on resources of regional and national significance. The danger of power outages due to wind, snow and ice storms due to vulnerable, overhead lines. Damage to the state’s tourism economy, and no lease payments to support the state budget.
The Appalachian Mountain Club, the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests and our respective members have long defended New Hampshire’s scenic landscapes. As we contemplate the Northern Pass vision, we are reminded of another wrong-headed proposal.
In the 1950s, the Feds proposed blasting a four-lane superhighway through Franconia Notch. We objected. Ultimately, a compromise was reached and the two-lane Franconia Notch Parkway was built.
The Northern Pass proposal is mired in a contentious state permitting process with a very uncertain outcome. We believe that it’s time that the executives at Eversource and Hydro-Quebec recognize that their own interests may be best served by respecting the wishes of New Hampshire people and the landscapes we cherish. We call on Eversource and Hydro-Quebec to look at the benefits of the Vermont model and put forward a proposal that buries Northern Pass for its entire length.
There are many who point to the downsides of importing more power from Quebec and call for no new transmission lines. We see no need for the Northern Pass project. But burying the Northern Pass would prevent at least the selling out of New Hampshire and the natural resources of regional and national significance on which the livelihoods of Granite State citizens depend.
For more information on the status of unprecedented fight against the Northern Pass proposal, visit https://www.forestsociety.org/advocacy-issue/northern-pass or http://www.outdoors.org/conservation/hot-issues/northern-pass.cfm
Jane Difley is president/forester for the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests. John D. Judge is president of the Appalachian Mountain Club.
Robert Whitcomb: High anxiety; keeping up with the swells
We’re all hearing more and more complaints about bad airline service. But then, flying has been miserable for years, except for some of the relatively few folks who can afford business or first class.
Back in the late ‘70s, as Americans started to fly much more, there was a push to deregulate airlines. The idea was that this would encourage more competition that would, in turn, lower prices. And indeed prices fell for a while.
But deregulation also reduced service quality – except for safety. In fact, as unpleasant as these airborne cattle cars have become, flying has until recently been safer than ever, because of technology and heightened security. Now, however, tighter seating might cause a pulmonary-embolism epidemic.
Deregulation also slashed service to smaller cities and, as airlines created giant new hub systems, it got a lot harder to get direct flights to and from mid-size cities. That’s especially where, as at such airports as Rhode Island's T.F. Green, politicians delayed lengthening runways to please some loud locals.
Meanwhile, the World Wide Web let airlines dump a lot more work on their passengers, who now must deal with an extreme complexity of flight options on their computers. Schedules and pricing, like taxes and much else in America, have become far too complicated. (Read “The Paradox of Choice,’’ by Barry Schwartz.)
When it comes to flying, most Americans are willing sheep as long as they think they can find a cheap flight. But whatever the original aim of deregulation to boost competition, we’re down to four airlines – American, Delta, Southwest and United – controlling 85 percent of domestic flights and in a better position than ever to gouge us, through higher ticket prices and fat new baggage and other fees. The old regulated, orderly and predictable airline system is looking better and better.
The happy valley of “choice’’ via late ’70s deregulation has paradoxically led to fewer choices and much less enjoyable travel. And a lot of us miss such quaint carriers as Mohawk Airlines that could take us to, say, about a dozen cities in upstate New York
xxx
My colleague Froma Harrop has written eloquently about the case in which Manhattanite Thomas Gilbert Jr. allegedly shot to death his father, Thomas Gilbert Sr., after the latter had reportedly tried to cut his subsidy of his troubled son. See: http://www.providencejournal.com/opinion/commentary/20150118-froma-harrop-the-rich-indeed-are-different--and-more-messed-up.ece
What struck me was the pressure that the older Mr. Gilbert apparently felt to keep up with the Joneses of New York’s mercantile aristocracy. Not only was the estate that he reportedly left ($1.6 million) astonishingly paltry for someone in his crowd, with his Beekman Place and East Hampton residences, but he was working seven-day weeks at age 70 to pump up a tiny ($7 million) hedge fund.
And why is it that so many of these people see Wall Street as the only socially acceptable way to make money? Indeed, Thomas Jr. wanted to start a hedge fund himself (even as the giant fees asked by them are increasingly turning off investors). It seems somehow connected with his sense of entitlement.
Then there’s New York House Speaker Sheldon Silver, who’s accused of raking in millions of dollars in illegal referral income for a law firm from rich oncologist Robert Taub in return for Speaker Silver sending state money to Dr. Taub’s cancer center.
The New York Times reported that the exasperated Dr. Taub got Speaker Silver to get his son Jonathan a job because he (according to acquaintances) allegedly was more interested in “playing bass guitar and blogging his right-leaning political views than in finding a permanent job.’’
xxx
The sort of outcome of last Sunday’s Greek elections, in which a leftist, anti-austerity party won, probably couldn’t happen in the U.S. because most poor people don’t bother voting here.
xxx
Winter in the Northeast’s cities may have its attractions (fresher than in the warm weather) but the nearby ocean means that the wind, funneling between the high-rises, often makes us feel colder than we do in Vermont and New Hampshire. There, the dry cold, bright skies and mountains can be exhilarating.
The heart, to me, of this winter joy are Appalachian Mountain Club lodges, with their big fireplaces and smart and friendly people. They give winter a good name that’s hard to find on the dreary streets of Boston, Providence and New York.
Robert Whitcomb (rwhitcomb51@gmail.com) oversees New England Diary.