Two weeks ago I decided to explore Great Bog Wildlife
Management Areas in Portsmouth. I’d ridden by it when following the old
railroad tracks between 33 and Banfield, many times in the past, once even
venturing onto the paths, but not in 2 years. I’d also never recorded my trip
with Map My Ride.
The first time there it had been a redneck party area,
with shotgun shells, beer cans, and shot-up stereo speakers littering the
place. No longer. This time I saw some remnants from past parties, but nothing
new. I also found the litter of several apparent homeless camps in one area.
I got the idea that this was the most secluded place in
Portsmouth, a strange thought with it being bordered by 95 on one side. But it
is large enough that a better word to describe it is ‘vast’. At 700+ acres.
It turns out that Great Bog is whole world, all removed
from the small city within whose borders it can be found.
Two weeks ago I annoyed a Red Tailed Hawk. I know it was
a Red Tailed Hawk by its cry, which it let rip rather freely, in apparent ire. Due
to my typical American’s lack of knowledge about these things, I assumed the
cry came from a Bald Eagle (thanks Stephen Colbert), but later research proved
me wrong.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77_oa_Cyw3g
I tried to get a good GoPro video, but failed, and never saw it clearly enough
to photograph. Alas. Turns out that there are 2 hawks, maybe more. I know this
because on leaving the WMA 2 weeks ago I heard the screech again, looked up and
saw 2 big ass birds circling above.
This time I intended to find the hawks and get video and
pictures. I set GoPro for 1080p, charged up, and went. Spoiler: I failed to
find the raptors in question.
Accepting the failure early in the ride I just explored. I
rode along the grassy area where the high tension wires pass. A narrow path
through knee high grass widened into an almost-road, which then drowned in the
eponymous Bog.
I hate backtracking, so explored the possibility of
crossing to dry land, either by walking BIKE alongside the water or riding straight
through. The vegetation on either side forbade the former, and soft soil under the
more than knee-deep water prevented the latter. So I backtracked.
There was a sign I’d seen for a path
so I followed it.
About 100ft from that sign I found a second
that pointed towards this
I realized that I
had come this way 2 years ago, but remembered no signs. In that time there’d
been no trail maintenance, either. I wondered if the signs hadn’t been placed
by some dickhead.
I continued on the path hidden and overgrown, and found a choice, straight
or turn right
I went straight, and found the path had
been reclaimed by The Green:
Not wanting
to upset Swamp Thing I went back to the turn and took it. It was somewhat
rough, but passable.
About 400 feet from the turn I found someone’s abandoned campsite.
Judging by the age of stuff I guessed it was maybe a year old.
Apparently there aren’t a lot of cleanup events.
500ft further along the path I came to an abrupt
transition.
On my side of the
wall were deadfalls, rotting vegetation and the abandoned campsite, on the
other a well-manicured forest. It was a relief to be able to ride for a bit
with ease. 700 feet of trouble-free riding lead me back to the old railroad
tracks. There was old tree that suffered greatly and died badly.
A short way down the tracks I found kind of a sinkhole
where the edge of the path had fallen into swamp. It wasn’t there last time, so
I photographed it. Later I noticed the contrast between purple flowers and all
the green, both leaves and algae.
I hoped for a trail off the tracks to bypass the flooded
path. There had been one, but it had also drowned.
Near this I found some discarded concrete slabs, I assumed left from railroad
days.
Still determined to see the other end of the WMA I took
Banfield to Ocean, then to Buckminster Way. I had seen on Google Maps what
might have been another entrance to the Bog. I was right.
I
went in to the forest and found the entrance sign.
I was thrilled to be right, but sad that the WMA gets so little attention,
especially compared to the properties of the York and Kittery Land Trusts.
At one point in the not too distant past a developer was
going to make this path a road to enter a 20+ home development on an island in
the Bog, that would have drained many acres of wetlands. Conservation efforts
successfully ended that plan, resulting in the WMA, but haven’t culminated in
much upkeep.
This day, though, I was happy to be alone to explore. There
is a pond which I’m guessing is the local skating spot in winter, and summer
swimming spot in braver and less ecologically aware times.
Near the pond is a small bridge that seems to be from
colonial times. It’s old, regardless. It’s old enough to be covered in soil,
with vines growing from the sides.
Through some more unkempt woods (though paths are still
passable) I achieved my goal. Exiting the woods, I found this, looking North:
Nearby there were birdhouses on the utility poles.
It was very easy riding again, and I quickly got to the
highest point in the WMA. There I found a foundation.
Near the foundation were some apple trees making wonder if there hadn’t been a
farm house with an apple orchard.
Just the other side of the small hill I saw the other
side of the first flooded path. Rather, I saw the other side of a huge expanse
of cattails, suggesting that the path flooded in several places, so crossing
the first flood would have mattered little. I got a much better understanding
of the terrain from that vantage. I was even pleased with the shot too, until I
saw the bug that photobombed it.
I hoped to find a path in the North side woods that would
let me circumvent the bog that way, but an hour’s looking turned up little but
some old beer cans, and car parts. There’s more exploring to be done, but I
needed to head back to the tracks, for my return trip. I went to the Southern
woods, and hoped that Google Maps wasn’t wrong about what appeared to be, if
not a path, then at least an easily forded stream.
In these woods I found some photo worthy stuff. A Big Ass
Tree, broken off.
A maple bucket.
Also, an oyster shell.
There were shells and bottles
scattered all over this area, but they didn’t photograph well.
Further exploration revealed what seemed to have been a
railroad bed. Or a crater.
Walking
along this revealed something that made the lack of maintenance to the WMA
tragic: a shameful pile of trash.
I have since
read that there’s a proposal to install boardwalks in the WMA, since they would
have minimal ecological impact. That would make it easier to get rid of some of
the crap.
Again looking for the way to the old tracks I moved on. I
walked the wrong side of a fallen tree (actually visible on Google Earth), and
began to sink quickly. If I moved quickly I would stay on top of the mud, but
there was too much foliage to fight with, so I went back. Going the other way
around the tree, I fought high grass, bamboo, and thorn bushes, but found what
I sought: solid ground I could traverse. Hidden by the shrubbery I found it was
a small archipelago, and some long gone local (presumably a partier) had added
fallen tree bridges. I got to the last of these, and saw that the stream it
crossed was just a little too wide to step over, but the bridge itself was too
old to trust. I remembered the line in ‘Romancing the Stone’: “That’s not a
bridge. It’s goddam pre-Columbian art”. Yup.
Stepping carefully on the Art I used a creative placement
of BIKE wheels in the water and the opposite land, with the brakes holding us
both in place, while I stepped over the gap. I was now looking at the bank of
the old rail bed, and the tumbled remains of stairs, and of one more bridge. With
comparatively little difficulty I achieved the objective, and got back on the
old tracks.
I looked back at the small archipelago, then at various
wounds on exposed flesh and lamented not carrying my machete.
So now I know there is more Portsmouth to explore. I
intend to, post haste.
