This walk began at the Bonanza Bus Terminal in Providence. I first reached this point as the endpoint of my initial walk into Rhode Island, which began in Franklin at the commuter rail station. This was my first walk to start at this point, as well as my first all Rhode Island walk.

Conforming to a trend mentioned in an earlier narrative, this Providence bus terminal replaces one that used to be downtown by one in a location more convenient to the interstate routes. Bonanza runs its Boston to Providence buses on a shuttle basis from the terminal to Kennedy Plaza downtown, which is where all RIPTA buses leave. RIPTA has buses that service the terminal.

The prime feature of this walk was to add Lincoln, Rhode Island, to my collection of municipalities. This raised my total for that state to six, four (Central Falls, Cumberland, Pawtucket and Providence) having been acquired on the walk just cited and the other (Tiverton) on a walk to that town from and back to Fall River.

The plan was to go three hours north and then four south. The "extra" hour would allow for gradual slowdown and permit me to go further south into downtown Providence. The purpose of the second of these two elements was to combine one of my other interests (now with a section of its own on this page): Finishing a walk in Providence allows me to visit one of the two brewpubs there.

In this case the goal was Trinity Brewhouse, new to me.  I took in the other such establishment in Provdence, Union Station (now under the same ownership John Harvard's, the Cambridge brewpub which is opening new places all over) on a walk that followed U. S. 1 south from South Attleboro, leaving that route at Roger Williams Park, and returning to downtown.

Trouble began on this walk before it even began. While on the bus, I realized that I had packed the Rand-McNally Providence area map, not the Arrow one. Evidently, I had failed to check the maps in my "eve of the walk" preparations or else I would have realized the I had taken failed to cover the northern section of Lincoln.

I was pretty sure that I could remember where I had planned on turning back. Studying the maps carefully in advance has at least once enabled me to keep on course even though a map was missing. On the other hand, failure to have a map of a particular town has at least once cause a walk to run two hours "over budget". Some walks require as many as three maps.

All my worrying was, as will be seen, totally unnecessary.  But I was nonetheless still angry enough with myself over this failure in preparation almost to get off to a bad start. Imagine, say, Magellan leaving Europe and finding that he had taken only the Atlantic map and not the Pacific one as well!

It was 8:30 AM as I left the station, feeling a hot breeze. The weather forecast had correctly predicted hot and humid weather such as to make physical endeavors extremely unattractive.

My first task was to find my way to Smithfield Avenue, on which I would go west, to follow Route 126 north. Using my memory of the walk that ended here and of what I had observed on the bus that morning, I crossed the parking lot and headed east on Cemetery Street.

To my right was the very large North Burial Ground. I went over a bridge across what seemed to me was a brook, but actually was the Moshassuck River, a historical stream that I would see later on my return to Providence.

On the left, after a baseball field, was Collyer Street. As my map suggested (Arrow would lead one to believe that it connects with Smithfield), this was a dead end. I stared down it, seeing if there might be some way to get from it to Smithfield; but I could not tell and there seemed no point in risking the question. So I kept on and turned left on Concord Street.  As usual, I was now pleased at being in new territory, having ended a repetition on Cemetery.

Concord was predominantly residential, with some multi-family homes. I did see one commercial property, Bjork Photo Finishing, in a small building on my right.  (The location is incorrectly shown by Yahoo; Lycos/GTE has it right.) I also saw on that side of the street an undeveloped lot with an old turnoff, indicating some former commercial presence.

Passing more residences, I saw a bridge up ahead. This had to be Smithfield - now what was I going to do?   The answer was to climb up a stone incline on the left before the bridge, reaching a dirt area and then the sidewalk.

Now I headed west on Smithfield.  I saw the continuation of Collyer on the right hand side, which led to a plaza with a Chili's and other establishments. To my left, I saw that I could have similarly climbed up a hill at the end of the other part of Collyer, making a mental note to do so on a future walk east from Providence beginning at the bus terminal.

It occurred to me at this point that such a walk was needed in order to cover that part of Smithfield that I had not done on my prior walk. (Following a sign for the terminal, I had turned at Nashua Street on that occasion.)  Until I do this, I will not have completed Route 126.

I have done 126 from its endpoint in Concord, through Framingham, to Franklin. On I future walk I will pick it up in Franklin to follow it to Woonsocket.  My projected East from Providence walk may have a major problem in the form of the Seekonk River.  Can anyone tell me if the Henderson Bridge is walkable?

To the right was an entranceway to I-95. On my left, I was looking down at the bus station to my left. A large sign informed me that Bonanza makes seven daily non-stop runs from there to New York City.

Cathy and I once took a local bus from Providence to New York. The idea that this was the thing to do when one has just missed the express turned out to be a delusion. Not only did this "bus from hell" seem to stop at every town in Connecticut, but it made more stops in White Plains and I don't know where else -and even took some unbelievably indirect course through Fort Lee, New Jersey!

Passing over the interstate, I had an "industrial vista" to my right. To my left, I could see below construction equipment and work in progress on the railroad, with cars containing stone slabs.

Continuing, I saw the Deblois Oil Company to the right. Up ahead was more commercial property. Patches of trees and wetlands were on both sides of the street just before the intersection.

Now I saw my first 126 sign, erasing some doubt as to whether this does actually encompass Smithfield. I went by Chelo's Restaurant on my left. (This appears to be a chain. Though voted the best chili restaurant in the Blackstone Valley by the Best of Rhode Island readers poll, other reviwers put its clam chowder on a "menu from hell".)

Next I reached the junction of Silver Spring Street. Down this to the left I could the North End Auto Body (incorrectly located by Yahoo and not locatable on other search engine mapping services) and the Claflin Home Health Center.

From the first of these two business names, I deduced that Providence, like Boston, has a North End section. This supposition proved correct, although Arrow does not recognize that locality name.

I bore right with Smithfield, headed north.  I passed Foch Avenue (incorrectly shown on Yahoo and other search engines using Vicinity, but correct on those using GeoSystems) on the left, lined by small residences.  On the right I saw some land for sale.

Seeing a Cumberland Farms-cum-Gulf Station on the left, I used a phone there to leave my first message for Cathy. The weather was warm, with a warm breeze, not yet oppressive, but soon to be.

On the left I passed DB Mart, another gas station/convenience store and saw the out of business Providence Bar and Grill. On the right was a used car lot, behind which appeared to be oil tanks.

A Burger King was on my left. I saw a RIPTA wrapper on a telephone pole and then a bus shelter, adorned with a poster with a picture of Alan Feinstein, with the appeal "Help me make Rhose Island the first hunger free state." I had seen these before and was to see more of these during the day; indeed, this message seems to be all over Providence.

At Edgeworth Avenue, I saw the Local Hero Deli and Restaurant. Without realizing it, I was now stepping into Pawtucket.

I passed Seneca Avenue on the left, a residential road. On the right I could see St. Francis Cemetery, with a large number of crosses visible.

At Power Road, I came to a triangular intersection. On a street island was a sign, erected by the DAV, denoting this to be Gilbert R. Colvin Memorial Square, in honor of a veteran killed at Leyte in 1944. Next to this was a bench with a faded inscription reading "Welcome to Fairlawn", installed by the Fairlawn Businessmen's Association. The sexist name of this group obviously reflected the age of the object, and I supposed that the reason that such discriminatory phraseology had not been corrected to reflect a more modern outlook was that the organization might no longer be in existence. Or was this another instance of Rhode Island being behind the times?

In any case, I had in a very short time come across two new place names, neither on the Rand-McNally map. Arrow does recognize Fairlawn, although I had not realized from that source that this locality extends so far south; one might even draw from it the impression that the section that I was now was part of Woodlawn, which is actually further to the east.

Continuing north on Smithfield, still under the impression that I was in Providence (for I had not yet taken out my map), I saw Amanda's Kitchen, a small restaurant, on my left. This was followed by Lindbergh Auto Center, then Lindbergh Auto Body, and then the Lindbergh Auto Gallery, each of these three manifestations of one (rather prosperous-looking) business, having its own building and (like the Trinity, I guess) personality, perhaps an indication of its growth

All the while the cemetery continued on the right. To my left, I passed D & H Rehabilitation Services (psyhotherapy), the Smithfield Florist and Gift Center (with a greenhouse), the Charisma Christian Book Center and Gift House, two homes, and Energy Control Systems, Inc.

By now the sun was already very hot, and I felt quite uncomfortable. I continued by commercial properties, noting Med Tech Ambulance Service, Homans Associates, distributors of industrial insulation and members of the NIA (Lycos and Yahoo locate this elsewhere), Moore Garden and Florist (in a brick front building), Nora's (a hair stylist), Pascale Realty , and Chipp's Auto Insurance. The building containing the last two firms was opposite the entrance to the cemetery.

I went by a two-family home before crossing Piave Street. As I passed C. Imondi and Son, another florist, I saw a RITPA bus going north. Up ahead I could see the street becoming residential, with trees lining both sides.

On the left, I saw the back of Bishop Francis Keough Regional High, with a parking lot. On the other side of the street a large baseball field was visible.

The left side of the street had now become residential. I crossed Varnum Avenue and then a number of side streets.  At Terrace Avenue, perhaps subconsciously wondering why I had not yet seen an "Entering Pawtucket" sign (maybe Rhode Island isn't good at such markers or perhaps Pawtucket fears that people would decline such an invitation and go back from this scarcely enthralling city!), I checked the map.  "I'm in Pawtucket", I mentally exclaimed.

To the right I saw a sign indicating the entrance to Williams Park.  But the maps denote Fairlawn Veterans Park here.

On passing Grosvenor Avenue, I began to see larger, nicer houses.  I observed the Greene Elementary School across the street.

I mused on the fact that the telephone poles all along the left hand side of Smithfield were another indication of Rhode Island's (to a Bostonian, at least) relative backwardness. To my right, on the corner of Grotto Avenue, was what looked like a fire station but (no marking to that effect being apparent) could have been a garage connected with the school.

Both sides of the street contained houses now. At 325, I saw a large white house, with red and white striped awnings. It was very hot and very humid, and I was even by this time going at a slow pace.

Just before the junction of Route 15 (Mineral Spring Avenue), commercial establishments appeared again. On the right I noted Alpha Page, also offering Internet access at $18.95 a month. On the left, I passed a building with three businesses - Hair by Betsy, Second Hand Ross, and (the not yet open) Calming Essence gift shop.

To the right were Uncle Tony's Pizza and Pasta (this apparears to be a chain, possibly somewhat more of a restaurant than the name might imply) and a Dunkin Donuts.  To my left I went by a bar (was it still in business, however?) on the first floor of a residential building.

Crossing 15, I observed a Christy's and Major Video across the street. (Vicinity Maps, used by Yahoo and Lycos, shows this on the wrong corner of the intersection.) On the left were One Stop Liquors and the Pawtucket House of Pizza, the latter closed for vacation until July 14 (my birthday!). Seeing nothing more promising, I went over to Christy's for a drink, correctly supposing that the commercial area would be panning out.

As I paused a bit to consume my strawberry milk, I wondered how frequent the opportunity to purchase liquids would be on the remainder of the northern part of my journey.  My "map impression" was that I would be entering a region of much less population density and thus much less such chances.  This supposition proved to be painfully correct.

Back on the left (west side) sidewalk of Smithfield, I proceeded north, passing multi-family residences. On my left, I saw, at Prentice Avenue, the office of Ernest J. Coit, Jr., insurance agent, in a small brick building. A sign read "We sell motorcycle insurance" (always on the quest of new experiences, I realized that I had never before heard of such specialized policies), and a clock indicator displayed "back at 9:30".

This area was still dense with side streets. I passed on the left the Smithfield Garden Condominiums, which I felt were very "overnamed".  On the right I saw Galloway's Seafoods, Inc.

On my side, I went by Dick's Sport and Hobby, a shop in what looked like a former variety store, at the corner of Oakdale Street, after crossing which I saw Bernardi's Beauty Salon. At the next intersection, with Francis Street, I saw the Emmanuel Church of the Nazarene, a small ugly edifice. Across, on the right, was Maria's Pizza.

Next, on my left, I passed the San Bento agency (real estate and insurance) just before Chandler Avenue, on the other side of which was Chaos Rules! Comics. On the right was a Brooks Pharmacy.

At Owen Avenue I came upon the Smithfield Avenue Congregational Church (a/k/a United Church of Christ), in small, ugly brick building.  Across the street was the Smithfield Avenue Playground.  I crossed Morris Avenue.  Then, also on the right, Smithfield Auto Shop continued the barrage of reminders of which thoroughfare I was on.

I noted the Merrick R. Williams Funeral Home on my left. I was now entering a densely commercial region. A Citizens Bank was across the street. The presence of the Fairlawn Wine Company indicated that I was still in that locality.

Also on the right, just before Samuel Avenue, were Grady's Restaurant and the Theatre Tap. The latter had a Narragansett sign, not a very common sight any more and still another indicator of Rhode Island backwardness.

Truly, Rhode Island is a very nice state. My Bostonian prejudices aside, however, I have noticed on my three walks there relatively more older looking stores and other sights reminiscent of the fifties and sixties, with less manifestation of such trendy new establishments as, say, Starbucks. This may just be a coincidence of sampled territory; nor is it necessarily a bad thing. Still, in examining the Internet for material for this page, I found it much harder to get information on Rhode Island communities than it is for Massachusetts ones.

To my I saw to the right an office of the Pawtucket Credit Union and a Getty station. On my left, at the corner of Weeden Street, I passed the now vacated site of the (presumably former, though it still lives on at this address on the Internet) Fairlawn Pharmacy. Next came Kelly's bar, in a building that also housed Ellie's Gift Basket.

The Fairlawn Plaza appeared now on the right. The imposingness of this shopping center can be gauged by the fact that its anchor was a Dollar Depot ("All Items $1.00'').

Next, on my left, was Pub 602, the first story tenant of a building with residential higher stories. This was followed by Aaron's Ice Cream and the Luxury Car Wash. Across the street I saw Dragon Villa, offering Chinese, Polynesian and American food; its appearance did nothing to dispel my belief that this combination usually bodes poorly for food quality.

As I passed Grafton Street on the left, I had now entered Lincoln without realizing it. Here, on my side of the street, were Frank's Family Restaurant and, on the right, Fleet Bank.

It may seem foolish that I would twice cross municipal boundaries unawares.  But in the first place, I am used to town line signs from Massachusetts.  Secondly, although I frequently walk map in hand, mainly as a precaution against getting lost, I was not doing so at this point because I was following a state route.

I passed Brooksies on my left, a restaurant advertising "Great Food for Under $5". Quite a claim, I thought, but in any case I never eat unless I have put in at least two hours.  Moreover, my plan to go to Trinity's meant that I would do no more than quick stops for food.

On the right I saw Reservoir Avenue, down which was a small strip mall. At the corner was a bar, Sportsman's Café. (How many are there with that title!).  I did not see Spectacle Pond, which must be just past the plaza if I read the Arrow atlas correctly; had I done so, I would probably have looked at the map to see what it was and learned that I was in my third municipality.

On my left was Barreiros Auto Sales. Now I began to see houses on this side of the road. The sun was out, birds were chirping, but, thanks to the humidity, walking conditions were very bad.

I saw a Cumberland Farms gas and food outlet on the right. Then the commercial establishments gave out, both sides of the street (still Smithfield Avenue, the name continuing through three municipalities) being residential. Soon, however, the right side had a mixed commercial and residential pattern.

I checked my watch and saw that I had passed the one hour mark. This still did not lead me to investigate my location. When I then observed a station with the inscription "Fairlawn Lincoln Fire Department," I did feel puzzled by at this combination of names, i.e., why a locality of Pawtucket would be joined with another town.

I vaguely supposed that there was some kind of joint operation between Pawtucket and Lincoln; fire districts, for all I know, might not follow municipal jurisdictions. In any case, this was a two-door building, housing Engine Company 6 and Ladder Company 6. A sign read "No Parking - Firemen Only" - another sexist usage, I thought, again showing this state to be behind the times. A little further down the street was another two-door garage-like building, with no sign explaining what it was, though surely it seemed related to the one I had just seen.

In consulting both printed phone directories and the Internet I determined that what I saw was the Fairlawn Lincoln Fire Department Fireman's Dormitory, at 863 Smithfield Avenue.   (I also discovered that Infoseek could not find that address and Yahoo mysteriously changed it to 268. Don't believe everything you see on the Internet - Yahoo maps in particular. I try my best to make sure that my map links correspond to reality - or perhaps I should say, reality as observed by me while walking. ) I also (thought that I) learned that  the Lincoln Fire Department is at 100 Old River Street, which I passed by later, without noting it - only to find another station with similarly confusing terminology afterwards.

As to the issue regarding place names, the explanation appears to be that the locality Fairlawn is in two municipalities. For database reasons, I do not like such wandering place names, though there are many examples. Massachusetts has Chestnut Hill, the only triple such case that I know of; at least it has the only tri-municipality zip code, 02467. The Pawtucket Fairlawn  Little League is an example of name reflecting the bi-municipal nature of this locality.  

In the original version of this account, I wondered what  purpose such a dormitory could serve without fire apparatus being at hand.  Could it be that the Lincoln Fire Department or the Pawtucket Fire Department phones these sleeping personnel with instructions to get ready because a fire has been reported and a truck will be by soon to pick them up?  But I presumed that the second of the two two buildings that I saw was the dormitory and the first the (secret, to those not in the know on account of using only media sources) station.

Years later (January 8, 2004, to be exact), Andrew Laird, a third-generation Lincoln firefighter who is a volunteer at the  Saylesville Fire Department, wrote me with some explanatory and updating information. He notes that there used to be seven fire districts in Lincoln (Saylesville, Fairlawn, Lonsdale, Lime Rock, Quinnville, Albion and Manville). However, Fairlawn was merged with Sayleville. The Engine 6 that I saw is now Saylesville Engine 56; Ladder 5 was sold off, and the Fairlawn building was also recently sold. 

As to 100 River Road (not Street, as I originally wrote), it is both the police station and town hall. The former contains the fire, rescue and police dispatch; hence the phone book listing that  led me to mistakenly believe that the fire station was at this address.

This correspondent also notes that sign that I saw was an old one and that when it was put up there were in fact no women in the Fairlawn Fire Department. Duly noted, but I would maintain that it would been enlightened policy to replace such language, even if no such female fighters ever existed.  Be that as it may, I am pleased to second Laird's praise for those who those protect the lives of Lincoln's citizens and to validate his point that "it takes a different breed of individual to run into a burning building to save a stranger's life".

Lincoln firefighters, Laird notes, were among those responded to the twelve alarm Pawtucket Mill Fire on November 14, 2003. Particularly in the post-September 11 era, we can all acknowledge the sentiments of a quotation furnished by this writer:

To Be A Fireman

I have no ambition in this world but one, and that is to be a fireman.
The position may, in the eyes of some, appear to be a lowly one;
but we who know the work which a fireman has to believe his is a noble calling.
There is an adage which says that, 'Nothing can be destroyed except by fire.'
We strive to preserve from destruction the wealth of the world
which is the product of the industry of men, necessary for the comfort of both the rich and the poor.
We are defenders from fires of the art which has beautified the world,
the product of the genius of men and the means of refinement of mankind.
But, above all, our proudest moment is to save lives of men- the work of God Himself.
Under the impulse of such thoughts,
the nobility of the occupation thrills us and stimulates to deeds of daring,
even at the supreme sacrifice.
Such considerations may not strike the average mind,
but they are sufficient to fill to the limit our ambition in life
and to make us serve the general purpose of human society."

Edward F. Croker
Chief of the Department
Fire Department City of New York
circa 1905

A little more research show that there are now more Rhode Island Fire Departments on the Internet when I wrote this narrative. Among these are some in Lincoln: Albion  and Manville, and  (just barely) Lonsdale, but evidently not Saylesville. There is even a page for the Rhode Island Professional Firefighters Pipes and Drum Band.

Continuing, and abandoning thoughts on fire district geography, I then saw my Hartley's Meat Pies. (This form of food seems to be characteristic of Rhode Island and southeastern Massachusetts.) To the left, as I crossed Warren Street, a residential side street, I had a view of trees and a hill in the background.

Opposite Williams Street, I observed on the right-hand side of the street the Fairlawn Oil Service and some other businesses in a brick building that looked as if it had once been a motel. Then, also on the right, came a Mobil Station. Near it stood a large sign in the form of a ten pin - Zippy would have liked this 1950's landmark.

This was at Higginson Avenue, as I found after I crossed Smithfield street to read the sign. Now I finally looked at the map and realized I was in Lincoln. Down Higginson, I had a view to the right of the Ten Pin Lanes, with another enormous pin.

According to Yahoo, the name is Lincoln Lanes.  I suppose this is probably correct.  Please note that in cases where my reading disagrees with the Internet one, my narrative goes according to "observation on the ground".

Beyond this appeared to be some industrial properties, which I see now from my Rand-McNally map must have been the Moshassuck Industrial Park  Indeed, the track that goes through here is labeled by Arrow as the Mossashuck Valley Railroad.

I crossed back to the west side of Smithfield, proceeding north again and seeing another bus shelter with Mr. Feinstein's appeal. I could see the street ahead, with residences and trees along both sides.

On my left I passed the Lincoln Seventh Day Adventist Church. In front of this was a Lincoln Police car, with an officer in front holding a device looking like a death-gun from a science fiction movie but whose purpose presumably was to catch speeders.

This was an area of older, middle class homes. In one of them, on the left, was the office of Robert Norton, M. S., an audiologist (which reminded me that I am some years overdue for an appointment with mine).

I passed Hill Avenue, which seemed appropriately named, for it afforded another view of hills to the west. These, I see from the Arrow atlas, must have been Saylesville Highlands. Indeed, I might have technically been in that locality at this point (or was it Saylesville here?); but, in any case, I was to travel through it later.

I saw some multi-family residences now. On the left, I passed the Friends Variety and Coffee Shop. This was followed by the Gary Paget Texaco at the corner of Woodland Street.

I was walking uphill now, with trees on my left. At 1274 Smithfield, I saw a house with a rock in its back yard. As I followed the curve of the street to the west, the area to my left was wooded again; to the right was Saylesville Pond (strangely not in the GNIS database). The sun came out and added to the misery caused by the humidity; virtually since the beginning this was an oppressive walk.

On the left I saw a sign in the woods for the Wesley United Methodist Church "one block back", which seemed peculiar since I had not noticed any such ecclesiastical structure. (I found from the Internet that it is indeed at 55 Woodland Street.) To the west was a tree-covered hill, while on the other side the pond offered a rather scenic spectacle.

Up ahead, on the other side of Grand View Drive (Yahoo and Lycos have Grand View Avenue here, while Rand-McNally has Road; my observation supports Arrow with Drive) appeared a group of orange-shirted youth - obviously one of those summer youth employment programs at work. I drew nearer them as I went over a 1927 bridge (built by the Rhode Island Department of Public Roads) which separates Barney and Saylesville Ponds. I would suppose, at least from the Arrow atlas, that this brought me into the locality of Saylesville.

Barney Pond proved so interesting a sight (at least relative to anything hitherto encounteed along this walk) that I went over to it to take a look. I saw a man fishing and some ducks and then noticed a mill dam. Headed toward that to see further, I noticed that the Youth Litter Corps was at work and in good order, contrary to the stereotype for such government jobs (one with which I am quite familiar, for I once held a similar position for the MDC that occasionally involved doing some work, but considerably more goofing off, at Nantasket Beach).

Passing an old shack, I went out on the dam, getting a very good view of the pond (the scenic highlight of this walk). Across the way a couple were fishing. Finished with this brief excursion (such diversions are not too common on account of the risk they occasion of losing time), I returned to the road, headed north once more.

I continued uphill through residential territory. To the right I saw what looked like former farm land. Down Barney Avenue, to the left, I saw some large newer homes.

Passing more houses, I espied some commercial property up ahead on the right. Then, to my left, I noticed Rhode Island Historical Cemetery Lincoln 27, to quote the sign. This appeared to have only about six graves; a man was mowing it.

On the right I observed N. O. O'Reilly's Service Center, doing small engine work. The building was for sale, making me wonder about the status of the business.

Now I saw across the street the simply named Country Store. (The search engines appear to have a wrong address for this.) A sign read "Last Stop"; how true this would prove to be I could scarcely have imagined. At any rate, I was quite overdue for a drink; so I went into this very tiny emporium and got a root beer for (as if to add to the illusion of its being decades earlier that its appearance created) only fifty cents. The man who sold it to me talked about how hot it was and said he was closing early to go to Providence.

I went out of the store and sat down in some weeds, no other provision for thirst-quenching travelers having been provided, to "enjoy" my drink. As I drank it, I stared at a rock outcrop across the street.

I love learning. Whenever I see animals, I wish I knew more about zoology. Whenever I see plants, I wish I knew more about botany. And in this case seeing this formation made me wish I knew more about geology.

I heard a barking dog in the yard behind the next house (a white bungalow) and gave it my usual reply. Not getting any response, I turned to look and saw a sign "Warning Security Dog" and a fence. This certainly disinclined me from any more such conversation!

Back across the street now, I noticed an Adopt a Litter Control Area sign, with the Saylesville Highlands Democratic Committee being responsible for this spot. Once again I wondered at the locality boundaries and at the political jurisdictions implied. Rhode Island is famous as being a very political state; so the idea of a party organization participating in such endeavors did not seem surprising. I suppose one can say that they are trying to promote clean politics!

Another sign told me that I was entering the Great Road Historic District - another locality collected! And indeed I was about to take in the historic sight of the walk.

Naively, I did not realize (but then again the signage did not make the point explicit nor do the maps make it clear) that I was now on Great Road.  I thought that Smithfield continued to the intersection with Route 123.

Opposite River Road appeared the Friends Meeting House, dating to 1703 and still in operation, as I could see from the notice "Meeting for Worship First Day, 10:30 AM, All Welcome".  The tourist guides say that this is the oldest meeting house in New England in continuous use. I did not notice the cemetery behind this building, but it must be of historic interest.

This manifestation of Rhode Island's foundation in religious toleration (for all my joking about Rhode Island, it surely was vastly superior to Massachusetts, whose persecutions, including judicial murders, led to the founding of our colonical neighbor) was a pleasant sight. Likewise, I liked the Quaker avoidance of the pagan "Sun"; possibly this sympathetic feeling was related to the fact the the Sun had been such an enemy to me that day. (I also now realized the significance of the Friends coffee shop seen earlier; it has nothing to do with general sociability or a television show.)

I was finally reaching what I thought was the end of Smithfield Avenue, but was actually the intersection of Great Road and Front Street, which also constitutes the junction of Routes 126 and 123.  I have walked 123 from its eastern end in Scituate as far west as Attleboro. A future walk, probably not until 1998, will take me on from that city into Rhode Island. This route ends in Lincoln after verging into Smithfield at North Central Airport.

The Rand-McNally map made it unclear to me whether 126 continued to Great Road and Front Street (123) or went east at River Road. A sign at River indicated that it was 126; but, just to be sure, I walked all the way to the junction, past some rather nice-looking older homes.

Here I saw another 126 marker. So the answer to my questioned appeared to be that 126 has a split personality at this point, so to speak. In any case I retraced my steps and headed down the residential River Road.

Reaching Front Street again, I saw the modernistic St. Jude's Church to the right. I followed River Road north, exchanging greetings with a man mowing the lawn in front of a house to my left with a sign "Watch Repairs".

After Bradford Drive, I came upon Bellow's Funeral Chapel, on the left, in a large brick building with yellow trim. I noticed many wilted lawns around this area. It was extremely humid, and I could not helping thinking of the old saw, "It's not the heat; it's the humidity". But really both were making this an excruciating walk.

Passing various residential properties, I followed the curving course of River westward. I had now put in two hours. Up ahead, to my left, I could discern what proved to be the Lonsdale Elementary School, which bears the name of the locality here.

I went over to read a marker in front of a flagpole and found in to be in honor of "beloved principal Rose J. Scott, 1974-1984". I do not remember the name of my elementary school principal, but "beloved" is not the kind of term my classmates used for such individuals!

I hear the sound of "Yankee Doodle" emanating from what I presumed to be an ice cream truck behind the school. As it came out and turned onto River, I saw that it was in fact Dan's Frozen Lemonade, a kind of vehicular vendor hitherto unkown to me..

At Linda Street, I noticed some new construction at the end of this short side street on my left.  I reached the top of a hill at Betty Street, noting a sign for Oak Garden Terrace, with more new homes in building.

To the right I saw Spurrwick School II, which appeared to some type of day care operation, in an ugly old building that looked as if had once been a phone company station. Going slowly downhill now, I observed on the left a large villa-like residence, with a very nice lawn (no water ban here, apparently!), containing a wagon and various statuary.

To the right, I had a vista with hills in the background, through what must have been an old farm. I assume the surely interesting Blackstone Canal and New Pond must have been behind these, but I did not see them..

At the beginning of this walk, I had tried to remember where I had planned to turn west and begin the return to Providence. This was supposed to have been at Route 120, in Manville. I could not actually remember this route number, but I hoped (maybe foolishly) that I would recognize it when I found it.

As usual, I had been more than optimistic. Too, the difficult weather made an earlier turning point necessary. So I had revised my scheme to end northward progress at Route 116 instead. By now, however, it was clear that it would take three hours to get there, anyhow. (So, despite my fears, the error in map packing proved to be insignificant.)

I could now see hills up ahead. The sun continued its punishment, and I was walking extremely slowly. Going downhill, I passed houses on large lots, with the ones on my left being up a hill. At 552, I saw a large new contemporary colonial up on the hill with unlandscaped dirt and rocks in front.

To the right, I saw a sign "Workers Ahead". Very good, I thought, sexism may be dying out in Rhode Island after all. As it was, there were two male workers in some kind of hole.

Opposite Dexter Rock Road, I viewed a fairly nice larger old home. To the right was another former farm, with an old barn. One plot looked as if it might be under cultivation, but the presence of construction equipment, dirt piles and orange flags showed that another dreadful alteration of agricultural to residential land was under way. (If there is a Dexter Rock, it has escaped my research, but there does appear to be a Dexter Quarry on this road.)

Proceeding slightly uphill, I crossed a power line, with a "semi-vista" of undeveloped land to my right and sand hills on the left. (The USGS map shows gravel pits off in the latter direction here.) I could see houses ahead, and soon entered another residential section.

At 650, I passed an older, long yellow house with brown trim, with three mailboxes, which I supposed was once the seat of a farm. I continued uphill, with the road curving left. The sun was out again, inflicting heat to add to the punishment of the humidity.

I reached the junction of Old River Road and Lower River Road (according to the sign here, supported by Vicinity; Rand-McNally and Arrow call it River Road, however), following the latter leftward (northwest) with Route 126. This passage was still uphill.

On the left the land was undeveloped; on the right were houses, then a rocky uninhabited stretch. Then, curving left again, I saw more houses to my right. Proceeding upward again, both sides of the street now had houses.

The very hot sun and rather steep ascent had slowed my pace to a crawl. I followed the curve of the road, viewing still more homes. One had an old garage, presumably once a barn.

Still going upward, I saw a water tower ahead. That must be at the top of the hill, I thought, pleased that some relief might be forthcoming. A downward path would be welcome; and the sight of some kind of non-residential structure might augur some place where I could relieve my now quite strong thirst.

I was now nearing the top of Molasses Hill, crossing Simon Sayles Road on the left and Cullen Hill Road on the right. At the crest, I passed the Lincoln Highway Department to my left. Across the street was former farmland behind trees.

On the left I saw the water tower, the offices of the Lincoln Water Commission, then the Lincoln Municipal Offices and finally the Lincoln Police. To the right, I saw an old yellow farm building and a field; trees along the road blocked what would have been a scenic vista.

There were houses on the left now, and I was going uphill once more. To the right, a break in the trees made by a pathway to the former farm field afforded an excellent view.

Walking upward some more, I noted that I had reached the three hour mark. I was near Route 116, where I would turn south, short of the "maximum" game plan, which would have taken me all the way to Route 120 and would have required going off the map, a situation that I downright dread..

On the right was undeveloped land with an old stone wall. I saw from the map that I was now in Quinnville.

A locality beginning with a Q is a real collector's item; the only other onse that I had attained were Quincy Point and Quincy Center.   There is a Quincy Neck, too, though I have never heard this term used or seen it on maps till I ran a Yahoo query that shows an tiny point that is now part of the Fore River Shipyard.  I have walked by this, but not on the neck.

To the best of my recollection, I still have yet to do a V. (Vallersville should be the first).  I do not suppose I will ever get an X. Yarmouth should give me the Y.  Z is very difficult, but Zoar, Massachusetts, exists.

[Note added March 17, 1998:  I have since collected Zackular Square in  Everett.]

Finally, I reached George Washington Highway (Route 116), a relatively major thoroughfare, with two divided lanes (but also sidewalks). I saw a large school across it to the right; or so I thought, but it was actually two schools, Lincoln Junior High and Lincoln Senior High. (These are quite incorrectly shown by the Internet map search services.)

Fighting heavy traffic, I crossed this road, looking for a place to get a drink. Up and down the highway nothing was to be seen, but across and to the left was something called Lincoln Center. This complex of colonial-looking buildings first seemed to my thirsty eyes (as Dante might have put it, being a fan of synesthesia) to be a shopping center. Drawing near across a grassy shoulder, I noticed that it had a watch tower and could not help giving it relatively good marks for architecture, little as I like the pseudo-colonial type. But when I saw a sign Landmark Affiliated Partners, I concluded that it was some kind of medial center. (Apparently this is a new institution, not traceable on the Internet, connected with Landmark Medical Center, a business that has been in the center of the Rhode Island health care controversy.)

Possibly, I could have got a drink in this place, whatever it was, but time considerations caused me to rule further inquiry. Deciding that the primary need was to turn back south, I declined to venture further northward went back across the intersection.

Once again I looked east and west but could find no hint of commercial property. Reasonable as it might have been to expect that walking in either direction would have led to some store, there was no guarantee. The only course seemed to be to head south and hope for the best.

Some day, I reflected, I should return to this point so that I can complete Route 126. How that will occur is still awaiting research. I did not see RIPTA buses or signs after Pawtucket, but I do know that it runs a bus that goes to Lincoln, ending at the Lincoln Mall. Possibly, I could walk from Woonsocket to Lincoln along 126 and somehow end at that point. (If I do get to that mall, at least I will learn where it is, as the maps and Internet search engines put it in at least three different places.)

Nevertheless, my expectation that the next part of my walk would be a residential "wasteland" (in terms of refreshments - it did prove to be interesting territory in other respects) was all too true. And it was with a sense of "dehydration foreboding" that I now went west on Anna Sales Road, entering the locality of Lime Rock.

Lime Rock evidently takes its name from the stone that formely made quarrying the major economic activity here. At present, there is still one company, Conklin, in this business, which runs the oldest operating quarry in the United States.  (Thanks to errors in the Internet map servers, I cannot show you where it is!)

On the left here I saw houses; on the right undeveloped land behind a stone wall. I crossed a power line, the opening for which permitted a "semi-vista" to the right.

I went over a tiny brook. To my right I saw two new homes; on the left, an old red house. Stone walls lined both sides of the street now.

The houses gave out, with undeveloped land left and right; and then I reached the corner where the road turns right and goes south.  I noticed some poles made into - what, tying posts for horses? There was an old building to my left and, as I turned round, I discovered it to be the Mount Mariah Lodge, No. 8, "F. & A. M., instituted 1804 in Lime Rock. Regular communication on or before [full moon sign]".

So here, like the Friends meeting house, was another historic landmark. I imagined that Rhode Island's tradition of religious freedom had made it relatively fertile ground for the Masons. The date was also evidence of the rather early settlement of this locality.

But of course even early nineteenth century is not that far back either for American new towns or even Masonic activity. This observation was quickly seconded by a sign on a large building to my right (i.e., the west), indicating it to be the former Mowry Tavern, dating to 1686.

Next I passed on my left the Lime Rock Fire Station Number 1, in a two-door building . I was reminded of the Fairlawn Lincoln Fire Department that I had seen earlier. That one had puzzled me by mixing the names of a locality and a municipality. In this case, the numeral hinted that the locality was somehow a separate fire district. But this station did have the Lincoln town seal on it.

At the right I saw Ballard's Farm, or rather the Ballard's Farm Equestrian Center. (This transformation of farms to equine establishments is certainly preferable to their conversion to contemporary colonials. I was able to find some information on the Internet about a former farm along Great Road in Lincoln.) A single horse could be seen eating in the field, beyond which was a scenic view with hills in the background.

I noticed a sign 1080 Great Road, for a home that had a horse, and realized that I had somehow imperceptibly gotten onto that street (into which Anna Sayles flows, so to speak). On my left, following the turns of the road, I now passed undeveloped land, with a stone wall.

Up ahead I saw what proved to be the Lincoln Central Elementary School. Curving with the street, I saw next on my left, set back from the road, the New Rock Baptist Church in a rather unecclesiastical modern building, with shakes. A sign beside the road read, "Lime Rock Baptist Church, a member of the American Baptist Church USA". Possibly my confusion was due to the intense hot sun, but I wondered what was the reason was for this additional case of apparent dual names.

As I again went by Simon Sales Road, this time to my left, I saw a nice older home. A muskrat ran very quickly across to road from west to east, the only such live appearance I have seen in my walks.

At 1066, I observed an old white building for sale, with some former farmland. To my right I had a view of hills in the background as I passed the Foster Farm, which had a sign "Horses Boarded".

I felt a breeze, but that was scant comfort for my very dehydrated state. I was now hoping that, when I got to Route 123, there would be some commercial property where I could get a drink, by now more than badly needed. (I did not feel yet desperate enough to consume the container of juice in my pack. This reserve is not supposed to be used until I have reached the home stretch.)

On both sides of the street there were relatively newer homes now. As I went by Great Meadows Lane on my left, I looked down it and saw new colonials. I was now proceeding downhill, with some rock formations on my left.

I took an uncharacteristically long (five minutes) pause now to re-examine my route. I had planned to go through the Lincoln Woods Reservation. I tried to find a more expeditious path, one that would also rate more favorably in regard to opportunities for liquid refreshment. But there was simply no way around that park, although I did find what appeared to be a more direct way to Providence once I got through it.

On the left and right I saw undeveloped land now, passing, however, what appeared to be the entrance to an "estate" (as I term any unseen residence that bodes to be on the prosperous side) at 1062. Then I noticed more rocks on the left, then houses and some woods on both sides.

I passed undeveloped land to my left that might have been an overgrown farm field. As I went by house number 1000 on the right, I painfully reflected that it would be a long way to 123, forgetting that Great Road does not end at that point so that I would not in fact have to go through all those numbers.

Following a curve left, I saw homes on both sides of the road. Then, to my right, I saw hole number 5 of the Fairlawn Country Club. This place name again, here is Lime Rock, seemed quite out of order. A sign told me that this is a nine hole, par 27 course.

On the left, I espied Rhode Island Historical Cemetery Lincoln 17. This tiny burial ground was in disrepair. I managed to get through a gate and inspect the nineteenth century graves. They were unfortunately all illegible, except for one that said (I think), "James Zimmerman, 1850-1870".

I saw a house on my right with a horse on the lawn. To the left, I passed undeveloped land with the remnants of an old stone wall. Then on the left came houses, with a new concrete wall.

Apparently I went over the Moshassuck River here again without noting it. I passed Dexter Rock Road, now on my left, and saw larger houses on both sides of the next stretch of Great Road. At on my left, I saw one that dated to 1762; its color (taupe? olive?) was unusual.

Curving right and going gradually uphill, I had a view of trees with hills in the background. At the top of this hill, houses appeared again. A dog ran out from one of them and began barking at me; its owner, remonstrating with his pet, assured me it would not harm me. It was a beautiful animal, and I regret my ignorance does not allow me to mention the breed.

On the left, following a house, I saw undeveloped land with signs reading "Posted - Criminal Charges". A car stopped and asked for directions for the Fairlawn golf club, which I was able to provide from memory.

I saw a gate to the left with "No Trespassing" and "Beware of the Dog" signs. There was a stone wall with a wire fence and a number of rocks along the road. I kept going by whatever this was, now seeing Route 123 up ahead. Then I passed another gate, with more such signs and observed a large house up on a hill.

At the corner of Breakneck Hill Road Road (123) I observed an old farm to the east, with a large silo and a solitary horse grazing. I crossed the street to look at Butterfly Pond, getting a scenic view. However, I did not detect the dam.

A sign at the intersection corner indicated that I once more had been in the Great Road Historic District. I looked left and right, but there was no trace of anything promising a drink. Across the street was a fine home of brick and wood that once must have been a farmhouse.

Later, when I wrote out my notes, it occurred to me that I should have gone east on 123, which would have enabled a much shorter way back to Providence. But, whether through over-reliance on the game plan or on account of my exhaustion being too great to permit new thoughts to arise, I trudged on to the west as both my original course and the slightly altered one that I had just recently devised provided.

My thirst was intense, and the chance to assuage it seemed very small. Even so, I wished that something would turn up before my turn to the south through Lincoln Woods. The map indicated that I would find some kind of road to the left; I hoped that I would recognize it when I came to it.

To my left were the woods. I passed East Butterfly Road on my right, with new residential development. At the top of a hill, I saw a trail going into the woods. But I kept on, as my turn was supposed to be opposite West Butterfly Road. I checked my watch, learning that I had already exceeded four hours.

Since Rand-McNally's map has West Butterfly a dotted line, I began to be somewhat fearful that it might be just a dirt trail or something else that I could have missed so slow was it in appearing. But, on reaching the hillcrest, I saw it, with what would have been a beautiful vista marred by more recent development. (None of the Internet map search engines can find either of the Butterfly roads. possibly an indication of recent development.)

To the left, I passed through some parked cars, then saw a paved road, blocked at its end by stones - obviously my turn. A sign read "No Rollberblading".

It would clearly be a long, circuitous route through the woods. Could there be a water fountain or a refreshment stand, I speculated? But really I knew that that was wishful thinking; realistically, the best expectation would be that on the other side of the park there would be civilized territory with stores. Much as I believe that the British are right and that beer should be served at room temperature, the prospect of a couple of cold frosties at Trinity kept me going, here and afterwards.

I started in, exchanging hellos with a man walking out of the woods. I was to see a large number of walkers, as well as some cyclists. But the sign must have worked, as I detected no skaters.

As I passed through the forest, I got cool breezes now and then; but it was otherwise very difficult to enjoy the scenery, given my painful dehydration. I saw lots of large rocks in the woods, conjecturing about these are indications of Rhode Island geological regions. (It turns out that this a prime area for rock climbing.)

There were many picnic table and provisions for campfires; each set of these had a number. I also noticed many trails.

I passed three kids going in the opposite directions, on a litter patrol. I deduced from the "DEM" on their uniforms that they worked for the Department of Environmental Management. Compared to the group at Barney Pond, these conformed rather more to the stereotype of summer youth workers. One was carrying a bag, another was kicking a ball. None of them seemed to be picking up any litter, but we traded greetings amicably.

I was supposed to reach some kind of intersection. As usual in such situations, I was concerned about my ability to recognize it. There were no street names on the map; and in such places these, even if they exist, are not usually marked by signs. Further, even though I was on a paved road, there was no assurance that it would continue as such, or that the one I was supposed to come to would not be simply a trail.

Actually, from the Arrow atlas, I can see now that the unnamed road was to take me to Lincoln Woods Road. That source also indicates that I went by Quinsnicket Hill here - a second Q locality collected in the same day! (Even walking by the side of a hill serves to collect it under my rules.)

I saw another possible turn to the left; but it was a trail, not a road, so I was not tempted to take it. I cam to a group of large rocks and went down a trail behind them to make a comfort stop.

Returning to the road and continuing south, I eventually came to another intersection with a trail. But I now realized that my turn was to be made at Olney Pond. So, I thought, when I see it, I will know I am in the right place. If I walked into the water, I would know I had just missed my turn!

I was going downhill now, being on Table Rock Hill, a location that I did not know until I checked the Arrow atlas; USGS shows it as Tablerock Hill. There was a cool breeze. I tried to pick up my pace but could only do so very briefly. It was now about 1:00 PM.

I saw a triangle ahead, and, on reaching it, read a memorial sign citing this as the Zachariah Allen Woodlot, dating it to 1820. This locality has been added to my (relatively) small collection of extinct place names.

This had to be my turn. But I was confused because there was water on my left. Olney Pond was quite large on the map; this little body might be an adjunct, but it could be the pond itself.  (Arrow does not show this small body of water, but I found it on another map.) So I started going to the right, hoping I would see Olney and use it to orient myself.

At this point something unprecedented in my walking history took place. A park ranger passing by on a bicycle asked me if I needed directions and, after conversing with him, I learned that I was going in the wrong direction. (My inherent sense about such things is so bad that sometimes, when I am in doubt, I will actually choose go in the opposite direction of that which my instinct suggests.)

This person was by some reasoning only doing his job and in all probability I would have recovered from my error rather shortly. (Olney was invisible due to trees ahead, but I would have spotted it before very long). But I was extremely grateful for this assistance, being very eager to get out of the woods and into populated areas that would allow the purchase of beverages. Park rangers were, in my then estimation, a saintly class of beings.

Soon I saw Olney Pond on my right. It was quite attractive, but so much water when my thirst was so great only added to my torment. (As a result, Barney Pond retained the title to the scenic highlight of the walk.)

I noticed now that (as could be inferred from the Arrow Atlas), the road I was on permitted vehicular traffic, there being a yellow line down the middle. I tried to speed up again, the sense that I was certain of my course providing encouragement, but the result was just as transient as before.

Now I reached another intersection. I suppose, from now examining the atlas, that this was the junction of Lincoln Woods Road and Stump Hill Road. This had signs pointing to the various state routes in the surrounding area; hence I was able to check the map and confirm that I was to turn right (south) here.

Olney Pond was again on my right, with a recreational area, not containing (as my wishes would have had it), any stand offering cool drinks. There seemed to be a beach on the other side of the pond. I felt the humidity severely, though there was another cool breeze. According to the Arrow atlas, I crossed Threadmill Brook around here without recognizing it.

Proceeding uphill, I began to see buildings on the left. At first these looked institutional, but they proved to be residences. The Rand-McNally map, difficult to read here (come on, R-M, use a bigger scale!), indicated that I would find a turn to Carriage Drive. (The Arrow Atlas shows this to be incorrect.)

I was so eager to get out of the reservation that I might have cut through someone's yard to get to the street these houses were on. But fences and "Private Property" signs preempted that idea.

Even now, the geography of this area is confusing to me, especially as Arrow and Rand-McNally show it differently. The former shows Stump Hill Road, which I believe I was on, continuing straight south past the reservation and ending at Cobble Hill Road. The latter shows Stump Hill veering off, somewhat to the east. Vicinity, which spells this street Stumphill, appears to support Arrow.

However this may be, it seems clear now that, whether a turn on Stump Hill existed or not, I wound up on the road encircling Olney. (This appears, unnamed, on Rand-McNally, but is not on Arrow. Yahoo shows it as Lincoln Woods Road, which therefore appears to circle around the pond come back to itself.) And now I saw that park ranger again! "You're on the curve," he said, admonishingly.

No one likes to admit they are incorrect even when they are. I replied, "I know where I am", a statement that I meant to be truthful, but was not. The ranger then told me to go over to the right hand side, as there was two-way traffic on the road.

Here was a second case of human nature being resentful of advice meant for its own good. My habit of walking on the left is correct for streets, but I am aware that for trails like this the opposite applies. In this case my desire to turn left made me want to be on that side of the road.

So, between being given what (wrongly) seemed superfluous advice and what (unreasonably) felt like disdainful correction, I was no longer enamored of park rangers, now considering them a species of pestiferous busybodies. Very soon, however, I learned what he had meant - though naturally that discovery didn't change such feelings in any way!

The houses gave out on the left, and then I saw a road leading to Olney Pond to the right. "Uh oh," I thought and looked at the map. The meaning of the "curve" was now apparent: instead of turning into civilization, I was now on a course that would take me all around the pond. To go on this way would mean returning by Route 146 or, if that (as appeared probable from the map) was unwalkable, Route 246. This total change in game plan was unacceptable for several reasons, the chief of which is that it would mean too long a time before I could find a place to drink. To go back was almost equally unappealing.

The only remaining option was to somehow get through the woods to the east and reach the street I had been seeking. Sometimes such occurences on my walks have led me on an unwise attempted excursion through impassable land. Though on occasion such passage actually proves possible, even then I usually do not wind up where I wanted to be. And it most cases the only result is exhaustion and wasted time before I get sense enough to go back.

In this instance I got a break. I saw a trail going east. Even though there was no assurance it would actually get me out of the woods, it was worth a try.

I've called it a trail, but a better description might be a walkable path that might be a somewhat overgrown trail, a trodden path not reaching trail status, or even just a natural passage that resembled a trail. Is there a word for this?

Eventually I found myself in a driveway. Ahead and to my right was a strange old building that might have been a garage (looking now unused), which was posted against trespassers. I went to the left (which was my inclination anyhow) and soon saw a house ahead. Continuing down a driveway or street, I soon came to a "real" road.

Whether or not I had technically been in it on the northward part of this walk, I was now in Saylesville Highlands. This is a residential area with homes mainly of 1960s vintage.

But where was I? I thought that if I went to the right I would be heading south, but confirmation would have been very welcome. I looked to the left and saw a sign that said "Carriage Drive".

That was actually the street that I had been aiming for, but, looking at its curving course on the map, I was totally perplexed at what it could be doing just here. So I went right, for once having a correct intuition. (Looking at the maps now it is clear that, had I taken Carriage, I would have gone north, making a quite detrimental wrong move.)

I passed by newer homes and soon arrived at a marked intersection - Westwood Road and Olney Avenue. Not with out some difficulty in map reading, I decided that Olney Avenue was what I wanted.

Even now, with Arrow and Rand-McNally before me, plusst the Internet I still find it somewhat hard to correlate the maps and my experience. The most probable explanation seems to be that Stump Hill Road, which indeed seems to become a dotted line on the Rand-McNally map, actually ceases to exist at some point, pace Arrow.

I had now reached the five hour mark. I reasoned that it might be some time before I encountered commercial territory, but that it could not be an hour before I would get an opportunity to purchase some liquid. So I consumed my ration of (in this case) Mott's Apple Cranberry, which was only of marginal assistance, so dehydrated was I.

Continuing through residential territory and seeing some relatively newer residences on Second and First Streets, I reached Cobble Hill Avenue. I turned left here, going southeast into Pawtucket. (My reading of the maps indicates that the summit Cobble Hill is somewhat further to the west along this street. So, notwithstanding the fact that I saw hilly country on the portion that I travelled, I am conservatively considering this locality not yet collected.)

This was another residential street. I saw two instances of new construction on the right hand side, one home having an asking price of $154,900. Estimating that it would still be at least an hour before I would get to Providence, I tried to speed up, with some success this time.

At 51, I observed a nice older white house with green shutters for sale. I also observed a car going by with Rhode Island license plate ZIGGY.

On my left I now saw a former farm field, and undeveloped land continued for a while. Then there were houses on both sides of the street.

Proceeding downhill, I had a view ahead of Pawtucket. To my right, down the not inaccurately named Skyview Drive, I noted large newer homes that struck me as very undistinguished. The border between Lincoln and Pawtucket (just before Martha Street) was not marked, and I did not learn that I was in the latter until I reached a triangular intersection with a Pawtucket Crime Watch sign.

I was back in Fairlawn, at Weeden Street, which I had crossed going north on Route 122. I followed this to another junction, where Weeden turns east and went south on Power Road.

Now began I long stretch through Pawtucket, mainly residential but with some commercial, that would rate under the best conditions as somewhere between uninteresting and ugly, but in my weakened state felt like so much urban blight.

It was now 2:00 PM. On the left I kept passing streets that I remembered from my outbound course, sometimes even catching a glimpse of Route 126 down them. In a boarded up former store I noticed the Iglesia Apostolico del Nombre de Jesucristo.

I saw a memorial, with flowers wrapped on a metal pole to Pawtucket police officer Doreen Ann Tomlinson, killed while on duty in 1984. With all due respects to her memory, I hoped that, whatever the circumstances of her death, they provided no reason for a traveler in broad daylight to fear a similar outcome around here. Little did I know that a reassuring answer to this questions was on the Internet, thanks to a very good web site maintained by the Pawtucket Police Department.

At the corner of Francis Street, I observed Park Printers, Inc. Commercial properties were becoming more frequent now. At Oriole Avenue was Lorraine's Resale Shop.

But where were the variety stores that such neighborhoods engender, or at least used to? Perhaps they had been wiped out by competitors on Smithfield Avenue. Finally, however, I came upon Shaw's Meats, at Finch Avenue.

An establishment with a name of this sort would not ordinarily be my choice for a buying a drink, but I was reassured by the presence of a Coke sign on the building. I went into this rather small, somewhat old-fashioned shop, which was doing quite a business and whose main fare seemed indeed quite impressive. I had to wait a relatively long time while people ahead of me gave, received, and paid for their orders.

Then I went out and drank my ginger ale outside the building. As a protest against Shaw's lack of facilities for discarding soda cans, I threw the container in a dumpster in the back of the parking area. I also left a message for Cathy on a phone I had noticed there.

Returning to Power Road, I passed the Salon da Lisa on my left. Then I crossed Mineral Spring Avenue (Route 15) again, the junction being all commercial, including a Texaco and Silva's Liquors.

I continued, seeing residences again. It seemed to me that it would still take about an hour to get to downtown Providence. My head was splitting from the heat.

At Varum Avenue, the houses became larger, more middle class. On my left, opposite Grandview Road, I now saw the front of the Bishop Keough Regional High, as well as the St. Maria Goretti church. After these was an office buidling in the same modern style as the church and school - had there been some ecclesiastical downsizing?

A man in a car stopped and asked me if I knew how to get to Reservoir Road. I explained that I was not from the area, but offered to find it for him on my map. (I actually did not remember passing it earlier while on Smithfield.) But he declined this offer, somewhat oddly explaining, "I thought you might have been a tax assessor."

Now, I do in fact work for an Assessing Department; still I found this somehow insulting! Possibly no one likes been mistaken for someone who they are not, or perhaps the idea that assessors would walk around dressed as I was seemed an aspersion on the profession. At any rate, I went on feeling somewhat shocked, no doubt unreasonably since it is not to be expected that people will in fact appreciate the nature of my activity. (I can tell that bystanders sometimes are wondering about that, particularly when I am jotting down notes. This person's guess was, on reflection, not entirely a bad one.)

Since I was to make a turn to the right just before the intersection of Power Road with Smithfield Avenue (Route 126), I crossed the street from to that side. Back on the left, I saw the Annex Market Gardens, advertising, "If it grows, we have it." I speculated whether they get any jokers who ask for redwood trees or the national debt.

More commercial property appeared across the street, including the Morning Star Café, a not too inviting looking bar. On that side also I saw the front of the Lindbergh Auto operation that I had passed before on Smithfield.

Now, to avoid repeating my prior course, even for one step, I turned as planned onto Argol Street. To my left was brick office building that I had seen when crossing the intersection of Power and Smithfield that morning; I saw now that it contained mostly law offices.

Had I actually been an assessor, I would have need relatively few digits to value the residences on Argol, which were small to the point of being tiny. These were mostly row houses, some of which were condominiums.

I followed the curve of Argol, going south again and reaching Seneca Avenue, at the Providence border. However, this was not marked; so once again I did not realize the change in municipality.

I had planned to go right at this point, but decided to keep going on Argol. The map, which was difficult to read, seemed to show Argol ending, but maybe it went through after all and I could take a more direct course.

Argol continued to be residential, and I passed various side streets. On my right, I noticed that Smart Street was followed by Swift Street - that was clever!

The street did indeed end (notwithstanding Vicinity's depiction), with an impassable building, at Depinedo Street.  Accordingly, I went right on that road, then left onto Job Street. Uncharacteristically, I was not using the map, whose print was too small for me to distinguish the many streets in this area, but just trusting my sense of direction to get me to downtown.

I could identify with the tribulations of Job, as I was suffering greatly from the heat and humidity. I had now done six hours. I no longer trusted myself to calculate the remaining time to the end, but I could not have believed it would take me another hour, particularly as I had now caught on to the fact that I was in Providence.

Crawling along in anticipation of the brews at Trinity, I went left on Ledge Street, then quickly right on Malvern Street, not knowing exactly where I was but trying to proceed southward. Here I saw dense residential properties, mixed with some commercial ones.

I was walking downhill now, with a breeze. Malvern ended at Northup Avenue, and I went right (west) on this. Then, to keep on a southward tack, I turned left on Luna Street.

I reached and sent through a complicated intersection. Now I was sufficiently confused as to check the map and decide that Commodore Street was the way to go. This consultation showed me that there was still some distance to be covered and that at some point I would have to repeat a former walk unless I were to make a detour that would have been rather ridiculous.

Ahead was now a view of downtown Providence. As the State House came in sight, I put away the map, for I could use this to orient myself. Finding my way to the center of town, I knew, should be of no difficulty, given two former walks there, plus many visits when Cathy was a student at Brown University.

Commodore teed into a street that did not have a sign. Opposite was a shopping plaza with an Ames department store. I decided to go right here, believing it to be Silver Spring Street, one end of which I had passed in the early stages of my walk. This notion was confirmed when I saw a sign indicating that the place across the street was the Silver Spring Plaza.

I kept going, passing Cronin Electric Supply and Club Confetti on my right. Then I went left on Charles Street. (This, although I did not realize it just then, is Route 246, which ends in Lincoln. I suppose I shall follow it some day, though the walk for that purpose is not yet planned.)

I was now in a commercial/industrial area. I crossed a bridge over (what I see from the map is) the West River, a branch of the Moshassuck. . On my left I saw the Flea Market; to the right was Automatic Heating Equipment, Inc., featuring Smith's Cast Iron Boilers.

I passed on my left some scenic old mills, some apparently abandoned, other put to new uses, such as the Chaz Discount Store (or is it Cahz?), which had wind chimes for sale on the sidewalk. Up ahead I could now see Route 146, which, though running in depressed fashioned, was clearly walkable.

With 146 now to my right, the American Chemical Works Company was next on my side. Across 146 I could see the venerable-looking Union Paper Company.

Turning left with Charles Street, I saw a billboard reading, "Say No to For Profit Hospitals", a cause that I remembered reading about in the Boston Globe. I passed some buildings that were for lease, then went across a bridge over the railroad tracks, on which was some construction equipment.

Ahead and to my left I observed the U.S. Postal Service sectional center facility for the 027 zip codes. Then I went right on Ashburton Road; this appeared to be the more direct way south, but really was not (a consequence of my having ceased map usage). To my left was Frank's Sandwich Shop and V. F. Liquors. The former was closed and the latter did not seem too promising a source for greatly needed liquid refreshment.

This block contained various commercial properties of the industrial or warehouse type, such as the American Blueprint Company and Damiano Brothers Welding.

Now I went under I-95. Ahead to my left was a car wash, which turned out to be part of a large Shell station. Across, on Charles Street, was a Marriott Hotel; I remembered this sufficiently to realize my location.

I went into the Shell station and got an orange juice. As I drank this on the way out, I looked for a rest room but did not see any. Still, I was aiming for the railroad station, where I would be able to find such facilities, clean up, call Cathy, and maybe even get another drink. So I now rejoined Charles Street, headed south at this point, knowing it would lead me to this destination, though not exactly remembering how. I was making a repeat of a previous walk along U. S. 1, this street being that route for this brief stretch, before it ends at Smith Street.

To get to the sidewalk across Charles, I crossed a flowered street island maintained by the American Mathematical Society, whose headquarters was now on my left. Their sign crediting them with this service had been knocked down.

I was now in Mosshasuck Square, a place name I collected on that prior walk from observing the Mosshasuck Square Apartments, which I now espied again, after passing the Girl Scouts of Rhode Island building. On the right I saw the ABC affiliate in Providence (Channel 6).

Providence has some fine architecture, and I enjoyed seeing some of it again. Right ahead of me now was the very impressive Fletcher Building. The offices of General Accident Insurance, which I then passed on my right (another remembered landmark) were, by contrast, modern and dull.

Passing over one of canals (canalized rivers, actually) that now constitute the chief glory of this capital city, I then saw on the left an old attractive mill building now housing Providence Partnership, an architectural firm. Bearing right on Smith Street, I could see the State House up the hill, a very fine building (designed by the great firm of McKim, Mead & White as a replica of the U. S. Capitol). Finally, to my left I saw Union Station and tried to recollect the quickest way to it.

Crossing the Moshassuck River once again, I saw a stairway leading to a parking lot. This seemed to be the direct approach that I was seeking and, exhausted as I was, I was not unmindful of the fact that this path took me off one that I had covered before, always an important principle in my walking.

I passed a man pruning plants that grew along the stairs, entering the lot and now wondering where I would come out. The open space afforded the sun another strong opportunity to beat down on my already tormented body.

Coming out of this place, I went right on what proved to be Park Row. On the left was a large apartment with commercial establishments on the first floor. This led me to the station. I could not help noting the many cars of Arrow Cab, for some reason once Cathy's favorite taxi company.

As I entered the station, just exactly seven hours of walking had elapsed. And here I may as well conclude the official walk and its narrative.

But I did over an hour's more walking from this place to Trinity and back.  After eating there, I returned to Kennedy Plaza to get the Bonanza bus. Then I noticed from the Amtrak schedule that I had brought with me that the train, though leaving later, would get me to Boston earlier and let me off at Back Bay Station, which is closer to home for me than South Station, where the bus terminal is.

I had some time to kill and actually considered going over to Union Station the brewpub, but thought better of this and settled for Union Station the railroad depot.  This depot scrarcely rates as impressive as Back Bay Station, much less South Station in Boston.   Indeed, as I sought out ways to kill time, I mused that one knows one is not in Grand Central when there is no place to buy the New York Times, when there are only three urinals in the men's room, when there are only three functioning tracks, etc.  I did buy a couple of bargain price Providence t-shirts, however.

I was a little disappointed in Trinity Brewpub. Though perhaps a little too exhausted to make a proper evaluation and though perhaps any such observations should be left for my beer page, I will say that I did not find reason to rate it over Union Station, its rival (as I believe is the consensus) nor to compare either of these favorably with those in Boston.

From the physical viewpoint, this was probably the worst walk I have ever done. After just about half an hour, the heat and humidity were so punishing as to completely rule out the enjoyable bodily sensation that walking affords. Any pleasure from this walk was purely intellectual. But in that respect it rated quite highly, difficult as it was to appreciate the fact while actually doing it.

In the first place, it was well planned; and, with the partial exception of the Lincoln Reservation part, I did not get lost. Moreover, there was fairly considerable scenic and historical value to the Lincoln portion. Of course any walk that takes me to a new municipality is a good one. And this was the first time I went to one that was neither in nor contiguous to Massachusetts.

Name: Lincoln, Rhode Island

Note: First all Rhode Island walk
          First walk to a town not in or contiguous to Massachusetts

Path: Providence - Lime Rock - Providence

Date: July 8, 1997

Time: 7 hours

Weather: Alternatively cloudy and sunny; hot (80's) and very humid; brutal, scarcely mitigated by occasional breezes

Roadkill: mouse (Lincoln)

Municipalities: Providence, Pawtucker, Lincoln

Localities: Moshassuck River, Fairlawn, Colvin Square, Saylesville Highlands, Saylesville Pond, Barney Pond, Saylesville, Great Road Historic District, Lonsdale, Molasses Hill, Quinnville, Lime Rock, Butterfly Pond, Lincoln Woods Reservation, Quinisicket Hill, Table Rock Hill, Olney Pond, Threadmill Brook, West River, Moshassuck Square

Extinct localities: Zachariah Allen Woodlot

Highlight: Mill Dam at Barney Pond

Lowlight: Being mistaken for assessor in Pawtucket

Historic sight: Friends Meeting House in Saylesville

New walks: E, W, N, S from Providence
                    E from Pawtucket
 

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(c) 1997 James Murphy
Last updated January 8, 2003