I met Wes at Hubbard Park in Meriden at 8:20 in the morning. The parking lot was already full of cars attending the annual Food Truck Festival. Wes had managed a spot on the far side of the park, although still within scent-range of the potential food options we would enjoy this afternoon upon completing our fifth hike. This would be a momentous hike with an illogical route. We would finish the Mattabesett Trail in Berlin and pick up the Metacomet trail into Meriden. However, to achieve this change in trails, we needed to first go Northwest, then Southwest, then North, then Southwest again. We would end up making an odd “M” shape, finishing further South than where we started.

However fickle the direction of the trail, we were determined to finish back at Hubbard Park during the lull between lunch and dinner for a feast-on-wheels. We drove to the Park and Ride off the Route 91 Country Club Road exit. A broken hyopdermic needle lay feet from my car and within line of sight from the State Police. Hank and our new companion, Mike, were waiting for us. We walked South down Country Club Road, turned North up Bell Street, and then cut South into the woods at Highland Pond. We walked the wide trail of the preserve discussing our excitement for the food trucks, still many miles away. We traversed a red wooden bridge. I inquired if our favorite truck, the Whey Station, would be there. Wes told me it was at Wesleyan University and would not be at the event. While I lamented, Mike declared that “grilled cheese is essentially bread and cheese.” Rather than getting into my love of dairy, bacon, and carbohydrates, we changed the subject. Nearing Atkins Street, we passing by a marsh on our left and saw a nesting Canada goose. The mate was patrolling the waters nearby.

We swung North again when we met up with the road, and then hooked East through an unmarked pine forest. We took our first break by a small bridge over a shallow stream. The pine forest was quiet and beautiful. The pine needles softened our footsteps and the shadows and still air made for a calming experience. Deer droppings littered the trail. They were so prevalent that after a while, we didn’t bother to avoid them. Pines gave way to hardwoods, and we began moving through a more open terrain, crossing streams, around swamps, and across low ridgelines. We knew we were in Meriden when we happened upon the town’s forgotten, doomed trees. They each bore a notice posted December 16, 2014, stating that the trees were schedules to be taken down in ten days or soon after.

A young forest of hemlocks and birch surrounded Harbor Brook, the tributary to Crescent Lake in Giuffrida Park. We took note of the large grate and tunnel system that directed the path of the brook before moving West, back into the larger hardwood forest. Through the trees, we saw an abandoned jalopy, a teal hatchback, rusting back into minerals and toxins. Veering off course, the four of us posed as if on a road trip (See Banner Image). I secured my backpack to a tree for a camera stand and was impressed with the success of this technique.

We moved downhill, where the trail eventually lead back to Harbor Brook, now a steep walled cut, and crossed over a bridge into Guiffrida Park. The climb to Chauncey Peak began immediately after crossing Harbor Brook and it was one of the steepest sections of trail we had done thus far. The ascent drove our anticipation for the beautiful view we knew was in store for us. Our first overlook provided us with a view of the North end of Crescent Lake. We stopped for a break to discuss protein bars and how thankful we are for our wives who were watching the kids and let us out of the house. The West side of the trail had frequent vistas and as always, I urged Wes to get a little closer to the edge for a picture; however, Mike cautioned that someone had died here from similar circumstances.

We meandered off course to view the strip mining on the East side of the ridge. We could see Higby Mountain across the valley, where we had ended our previous hike. We stopped again at the South precipice to appreciate the view. All of Meriden sprawled out below us and Sleeping Giant State Park was further in the distance. We paused for another photo before attempting the steep descent. Wes, Mike, and Hank remarked about the turkey vultures circle above while I set up the shot. Wes commented that watching them was making him dizzy, and he would like to get off of the cliff.

We moved quickly and carefully down the slope and crossed below the dam at the South end of the lake. Curving around the dam, we began moving North again on the West side of the lake. A soft, flat trail through a pine forest led us along the lake. We turned Northwest, away from the water, and up Lamentation Mountain into Berlin. Walking through young maples, I heard a rustling at my feet. It was a six foot black rat snake. I moved toward it get a better picture, but it began to coil up to strike. Picture achieved, we left the reptile alone. As we summitted Lamentation, we discussed the books of the Bib le and readings individually and with our families, a subject that arose from the name of the mountain. Moving through the traprock, I explained that Lamentation was a volcano that had an entire side blown off during its last eruption. Mike was a little to excited that Meriden was a volcano, and wanted to know when the next eruption was due. From what I remember, its due.

From the summit we could see Silver Lake, a place Hank, Wes, and I had fished a year earlier. Moving along the ridge, we could feel the sun warming the atmosphere and intiating our sunburns. I commented to Wes that today’s forcast was “sunny with a high of seventy-five,” which was also one of my favorite Relient K songs. Wes admitted that he had not heard the song, but knew country song called, “Sunny and 75” by Joe Nichols. In his continued attempt to give me an appreciation for country “music,” he played the song from his phone as I walked with increasing speed. When the noise finally finished, which took far too long, we heard some quads coming toward us. A fox running from the quads, crossed our path. It was very large, with red and greyish tints. It was definitly a fox, but I had never seen one so large or with such a range of colors in its fur. I tried to take a picture, but accidently took a worthless timelapse video instead.

We turned North East down the back side of Lamentation and found ourselves on a swampy path. The trail became a flooded, old dirt road. Wes took one side of the flooded path and we took the other. We were soon separated by a barbed wire fence running along the edge of the trail. The fence ended after a short while and we came to a gate on Spruce Brook Road, blocking access to the old dirt road.

On the other side of the gate, we stopped for lunch. With already eight miles behind us, we felt confident that we were on schedule for short lines at the festival. Wes hopped over a guard rail during our break, a exploration led by the copious amounts of water we were drinking. He immediately screamed and jumped back across to the road. He declared there was another large, brown snake on the other side. Despite my search, I could not find the snake. Joking about Wes’ imaginary snake, we walked down Spruce Brook Road and back into the woods.

Another abandoned car awaited us as we passed behind several houses on a muddy path. We never fully entered the woods before we were back on the road again. Still on Spruce Brook, we made our way through suburbia, out to the Berlin Turnpike. Crossing with no reguard for stoplights or crosswalks, we booked way down Orchard Road for several miles. On multiple occasions, we thought we had lost the path, because the blue blazes were so spread out.

The path turned left into the Town of Berlin Open Space woods. We crossed over Swede Brook and through some marsh lands. Here we saw our third snake, another large black rat snake. Coming out of a pine forest and into a field, we saw a hawk circling our position. We were heading South again along riverbeds, through swamps, and bordering pastures. As we turned West, we ran into a bizarre fence system designed to keep out motorized vehicles. Approaching Summit Wood Drive, Mike noticed a deer carcass off the trail, near the power lines. The bite marks on the bones indicated that coyotes had torn it apart. After a quick inspection, we crossed the road and began heading South toward Cathole Mountain.

The trail was only about fifteen feet from the road, needlessly paralleling the pavement as we walked awkwardly through peoples’ front yards. At the end of the paved road, we entered Blue Hills Conservation Area, and took a break. We calculated our distance, and made sure to drink plenty of water. Moving quickly along Cathole mountain, we accidently surprised two turkeys. The first one was very large and flew off with such strength that I could hear the air pushed down from beneath its wings. The second, a smaller bird that scampered off before we got too close. We trekked South along the mountain, which produced no vistas. The trail would often cut across steep traprock hills, which made for an exciting walk.

As we moved through a field on our descent, we came upon an abandoned fire pit. A large piece of wood was still smoldering from last night’s fire. We didn’t have enough water to spare, so I called the Berlin Fire Department. They requested that I call 911 to “determine who should respond.” I called 911 and was transferred three times. Finally Meriden Fire Department took a minor interest, and I left it at that. However, the 911 call “pinged” my cell phone scrambled my GPS tracking on my map. Bouncing from tower to tower, MapMyRun thought that I suddenly hiked an additional four miles in a matter of moments.

We travelled down to the Chamberlain Highway and crossed into the Meriden Open Space Project. We traversed the Elmere Reservoir Dam, heading East. The hike took us through Anderson Property, and we turned North again, then West, then South, and then Northwest. We found a painted turtle near a small patch of water, made our way through a downed tree, and then came out at the Park Drive entrance to Hubbard Park.

We turned right, and walked South down Reservoir Avenue, a closed road this time of year. Merimere Reservoir was on our left and beyond it, the rocksl ide leading up to Castle Craig. We marched quickly down the road. Soon we saw people enjoying the festival, walking down the road with open Bud Lights in hand. I commented on my dream to be a redneck one day, and Hank declared me a Cerasinus Collum, Latin for redneck. Mike and Wes, moved a large downed branch off the road, and we saw the remains of last winter’s snow, diminishing to water in the warm weather.

When we finally arrived at the Food Truck Festival, we could not locate the vendors. Cars were everywhere, but the trucks were nowhere to be found. Mike finally approached a cadet directing traffic, and we moved over a hill and spotted the food. Despite arriving before dinner, the lines were unbearably long. We opted to choose the shortest line over the best food. We were very hungry and out of water. After waiting in line for a few minutes, I began to feel ill. We were in direct sunlight, and the breeze was blocked by the trucks and people, who were putting off additional heat and fumes. I went to sit down on a hill, and Wes and Hank brought me my chili dog and Coke. Mike had left the group and was waiting in his second line when he felt similarly. We found him resting underneath a tree.

The journey totaled 18.27 miles after eliminating the problems caused by the 911 call. We had all gained some color from the sun, seen rare wildlife, and concluded our trip with food and relaxation. Before the journey had ended, we were already planning dates for our next trip, maybe an overnight journey. Let us hope that late May is unseasonably less buggy than normal.

Additional Photos