This walk began at the Wellesley Hills commuter rail station, being one of a series based on stops along the Framingham (now Worcester) line. This is located at 339 Washington Street (Route 16). I believe that I first reached this point on a Jimmy Fund Walk. (As mentioned elsewhere, I have done eight of these along the Boston Marathon route and will have my 1997 experience posted in this form in a later edition of this page). 

I have ended two walks at this point and started one (to be posted) going north that time. Other stations along this commuter rail line have already served, or will later serve, as starting and/or ending points.

The game plan was to go two hours south, two hours east, and two hours north - a "three-sided" pattern often used on my walks. I expected to end either back at the Worcester-Framingham commuter rail line or, more probably, at some other MBTA route in Newton. As it turned out, inability to maintain the same pace and geographical problems made the planned shape rather far from the intended equilateral design; and I wound up taking more than an hour extra and ending in a rather different location.

Being so close to Boston, Wellesley has been a relatively well traveled area on my walks. I have been to each locality (at least of this first order variety) in that town. The same also applies to the other municipalities covered that day, and I consequently anticipating a rather dull day and possibly not even one new place name. As will be seen, however, I had some interesting experiences and did collect a few new toponyms.

My train appeared to arrive at the depot at 7:16, two minutes early. With the other disembarking passengers, I waited - with one of the Hills at my background - for the outbound train to leave and then for an inbound train to clear the track, this being one of those "one-sided" stations.

Exiting through the station parking lot, flanked by various commercial properties, I crossed Washington Street to go south on Abbott Road. A BankBoston office in a stone building was to my left, and I read a sign saying "Belvidere Abbott Route", wondering (but never discovering) what that meant.

It was overcast and cool, good walking weather, though the forecast called for heat and humidity. I passed the Fraser Medical Building on my left.

For the most part, Wellesley is characterized by fine residential homes, old and new. (The typical home was reported recently in the New York Times to cost over $400,000.) Those along Abbott Street were of the older variety, large and attractive, with generally extensive lots. Trees lined both sides of the street.

Wellesley was originally part of Dedham, then of Needham, and became a separate town in 1881. It was named after Samuel Welles, who had a home there in 1783. The same Times article (on the setting of the Louise Woodward case) described it as "historically . . . the kind of place Ozzie and Harriet would happily call home.

I saw a home that, a Wellesley Historical Commission marker informed me, dated to 1728. Then I passed a trail, which I have seen before in my walks. I don't know where it starts or ends, nor do I have a planned walk that would let me find out.

On my left I saw the Maugus Club building, with a playground in front. From the Internet, I learned that this is now the Abbott Wellesley Hills Children's Learning Center, Inc.

Subsequent inspection of the USGS Framingham topographic map showed me that that Maugus Hill is located here. So I had collected my first new locality without knowing it.

I could hear crow caws and other bird sounds. I was going uphill, continuing to see large homes.

At Livermore Road, I became somewhat unaccountably confused, having the first of what would prove to be a series of minor and major navigational errors that were to plague this walk. Eventually, with the assistance of my Arrow map, I realized that I should bear left. More, very large residences were visible.

I crossed to the left to be on the sidewalk. At 76 I saw a beautiful older yellow house. I passed Windsor Road on the left (with the other end of Livermore to the right) and continued south on Abbott, viewing even larger homes now.

I continued uphill bearing right to Forest Street, seeing on it more "Wellesleyan" residences. I went south on this road, observing the Wellesley Country Club to my left. I had thought that I covered this part of Forest on a previous walk but I soon realized that I had not. On a prior walk west from Needham Heights, I had gone north on Forest from Needham and turned onto Wellesley Avenue, to which intersection I was now headed.

I passed Sawyer Park Road on my right. This might have been a short cut, and I probably would have taken it if I had still thought I was on a repeat path (my policy being not to go the same way twice if it can be avoided). But, since I now knew that this was not the case, I kept on Forest, especially as this street was not on my map. (Neither the Arrow nor the Universal Atlas has it, either. I can see Sawyer Park, apparently, on Yahoo maps, without a name; and it does appear to cut through to Wellesley Avenue.)

Reaching Wellesley Avenue, I went right, making an inevitable repeat. Babson College was on my left. My plan was to take the first available left in order not to have to redo Wellesley.

Across the street were newer, very expensive homes in the colonial style. On that side I saw Hewins Farm Road, a dead end street with more new houses. (Lycos and Yahoo do not locate this correctly.)

I passed the Richard Wright Auditorium on the left. Across the street I saw a very fine colonial home at 260. (Vicinity shows this address wrongly.)

I was looking for a street not named on the Arrow map. Eventually it dawned on me (and perhaps it should have been apparent beforehand, the Universal Atlas making this point clear) that this must be some road going through the Babson campus. But which one? Already I had seen some of these.

Accordingly, I took the next left, supposing that it probably wasn't the one on the map (I had gone too far already, I thought) but would take me in the direction planned anyway. I went uphill, noting various Babson buildings. Like many New England educational institutions, this college's architecture seems modeled after Harvard University; and its imitative nature not only did not impress, but actually irritated, this completely amateur (but opinionated) critic.

I saw Bryant Hall and read a "Welcome to Babson" sign that greeted those headed for a soccer camp and some sort of girls lacrosse activity. At the top of the hill, I bore right and took another right, following a sign leading to "Woodland Hill". (Another sign indicated that the Center for Executive Education was to the left.) This was the correct direction for Great Plain Avenue, for which I was headed, but I also could not but feel the lure of a new locality. (There is, however, no such entry in the USGS database or in the Omni Gazetteer. Still, there is nothing to keep me from claiming it as a validly collected local name.)

I saw woods ahead, and indeed the road became "rustic" for a while, with wetlands on the left and more wooded land on the right. Then I saw a building approaching. I went uphill, passing on my left a parking lot for the New England Institute. (I had supposed that this was some organization dedicated to the economics or polity of that region, but it turns out that the full name is the New England Institute for Law Enforcement Management.)

On the left was a wooded area, then another parking lot. To the right I saw buildings that I presumed were dormitories. It began to look like my road was a dead end, but I continued, passing more dormitory buildings on my right.

As I went past the New England Institute Building, I realized that the road (or driveway) was circling back on itself. Seeing a trail in the woods to the left, I took it, thinking that it might lead to where I was headed. (All the turns I had made, and my very poor sense of direction, made this a dubious bet, but as usual I did want to go back to where I had already been.)

The trail became more like a dirt road. I continued through the woods, at one point climbing over a downed tree and later seizing the opportunity to make a comfort stop in the brush. (Indelicate as the subject may be for some readers, the importance of taking advantage of such availabilities is an important principal of walking.)

Now this path appeared to turn back. I saw cars up ahead on a road. So I went through the rest of the trees, around a fence and over some rocks to reach this thoroughfare.

I supposed, or rather hoped, that this was Great Plain Avenue (Route 135). But I had no idea of whether south was now to the left or to the right.

Looking around, I observed Vista Road, a dead end street that I could not find on my map. (This was because I had in fact circled around back to Wellesley Avenue, whereas I was searching on the chart along Great Plain). I continued in this direction, going left and assuming that I would soon enough find a street that I could use to find my location on the map.

On left I saw what I construed to be the grounds of Babson College, on the right houses, including a red building dating to 1844. Then I saw an intersection ahead.

Here I read a sign for Seaver Street. This I was indeed able to see on the map, but now I was totally confused at its being on my left. Obviously I was off course, and it took quite a while for me to orient myself.

While I was trying to figure things out, I had a rather long (about four minutes) discussion with another lost soul. This was a man driving a truck for Barcellos and Kane (landscapers - I saw one of their trucks on Massachusetts Avenue recently), who was trying to get to Babson. He had been supposed to meet someone, and evidently has not gone to the intended place for that purpose. He was clearly even more confused than I was, his conversation being all disjointed. Though I tried to tell him where Babson was and offered to let him look at my map, he wound up deciding to go somewhere and call his office.

Having now determined my location, I went east (south) on Great Plain, repeating from a long ago walk. (The side streets south of Babson that had been on my game plan were no longer accessible and would have led to Great Plain anyway.) From that street I would take Central Street in Needham, starting new territory again.

On the left I saw a wooded area that I thought might belong to Babson, on the right houses. Great Plain became a divided highway and I took the right hand course, now seeing woods on my right.

I passed Brook Street on my right. There were houses left and right. The humidity was already becoming noticeable, and I was slowing down considerably from an early fast pace.

On the left, I saw Skyline Drive, a residential dead end. Past that, I noticed an 1830 red house. A deer crossing sign reminded me that these animals are now common in suburbia.

Going uphill now, I passed woods on the right. This was followed by a stretch where the left hand side of the street was wooded and the right side lined with residences.

Eventually, looking downhill, I espied an "Entering Needham" sign ahead. Just before this, to the right, was the entrance to the Wellesley recycling center.

I have twice started walks from, and taken rather more walks through, Needham. A now predominantly residential commnity, this town was settled in 1680 as part of Dedham, from which it was separated in 1711. It was named after Needham, England.

The sidewalk on the right side of the road ended with the town boundary; so I crossed to the left, seeing a little pond (unnamed on the USGS map). A blue flag did not seem to correspond to any trail; but, even if I had seen one, it would have been going the wrong way.

I had now been walking for one hour. To the left, I saw a gas pipeline. (Actually, the USGS map shows it crossing under the road, just in Needham, and going into Dover. USGS and Universal also show the aqueduct from Sudbury Reservoir here; presumably this is underground here and so I did not notice it.)

Then, as planned, I came to a side street on the right. Even though the excursion would not lead me anywhere except back to Great Plain, my rules require me to get off a previously traveled road. So I went right on Mary Chilton Road, entering a small "mini-neighborhood" of older (but post World War II) residences. (This is an example of an area that I suspect must have some kind of "local" name that has not found its way onto the maps.)

Strangely (for the houses there are not new), this street is not on the Arrow map, though it is shown on the Arrow and Universal atlases. In fact, I encountered some difficulty in correlating my "on the ground" observation with the information on my map. (Considering the number of times I got lost on this walk, it seems logical to blame this on me rather than Arrow. Still, a pattern of dense curving streets can be inherently puzzling.)

In a previous narrative, I urged Arrow to get onto the Internet.  Probably not as a direct result, they (as of this writing - November 14, 1997) are coming. Arrow is in fact the New England branch of Langenscheidt. (In order to preserve the historical validity of my accounts, I do not make changes except to correct errors. So I must leave my earlier statement intact. Please notify me of any mistakes that you find, however! Such data will be most sincerely appreciated.)

Noting small houses on small lots and seeing a baby squirrel cross the street, I kept on to the end of Mary Chilton, which turned out to be a dead end. (Arrow shows this correctly, but Universal incorrectly has it turning into Powder House Circle. Vicinity has Powder House Road, not Circle, and appears to show Mary Chilton rather shortened.) With the usual irritation that I feel in such instances, I retraced my steps.

I had passed a side street, also not on the Arrow map, which gave me an alternative to going all the way back to Great Plain Avenue. Fighting off some bugs, I took this (Winslow Road, shown by Vicinity without a name), even though from Mary Chilton it appeared that it might be a dead end.  I saw more dense small homes, with nice lawns.

As it turned out, Winslow did take me to Powder House, at which I went right, pursuant to my plan to follow the outer limits of this development. This would return me to Great Plain eventually; but any such diversion is, under my principles, perferable to a repeat route..

However, Powder House turned out to dead end also so I had to walk back to Great Plain. (I cannot here make my field notes agree with Arrow and Universal maps at all! The much older USGS map seems to show things much more correctly. Possibly, the former cartographers are showing streets that exist only in the minds of town planners.) Across, at 1795, I observed an older home, somewhat run down and possibly abandoned. Behind it was a sports field.

I took the next right, Stockdale Road, once more attempting to follow the outer perimeter of this little neighborhood back to Great Plain. The side trip was beginning to be a little too time consuming for my taste, but there were no time constraints on this walk that would justify changing the game plan.

I continued to see dense homes, rather older than those just seen. Then I turned onto Carnavan Circle, finding newer and larger houses. The lawns continued to be very well maintained; clearly the water bans that I had been hearing about were not in force here. I also noticed another fact of interest to suburban geography studies: the prevalence of basketball hoops. I wondered if any scholar has investigated the hypothesis that the expensiveness of these "urban" sports items correlates with that of the owner's home.

Viewing nice homes, I curved into Standish Road but went right on Alden Road. From that, I took a right on Brewster Drive, which turned out to be still another dead end. (This was an error in map reading, since Arrow shows this fact plainly. Universal erroneously calls this Brewster Road and fails to show it connecting with Great Plain Avenue.)  I therefore went back and took another street, whose name was not apparent but turned out be Carol Avenue, the last of these side streets.

I was quite dehydrated by now. At 66, I saw some landscape workers from the Ricci firm. Then, on the right, I saw some wetlands; this turned out to be the Anna Volente Conservation Area.

I make a few investigatory steps into this new "locality", which (at least along Carol Avenue) seemed downright miniscule. I thought that perhaps I would find a trail or pathway that would take to Central Avenue so that I would not have to return to repeat territory on Great Plain Avenue. However, it seemed to be impenetrable swampland.

Indeed, behind this development lies Fuller Brook and, I assume, some accompanying wetlands that rule out more real estate development. I had actually crossed that stream (collected on a prior walk) earlier this day, on Wellesley Street just before Great Plain. There are four other Fuller Brooks in Massachusetts.

Accordingly I returned to Great Plain Avenue (Route 135), getting the name of Carol Avenue and heading south (southeast, actually) again. I was on a sidewalk on the right hand side of the street.

Up ahead I espied what looked like a store, my need to get a drink possibly making me inclined to interpret this sight in that way. I passed over what seemed to be a dried up brook. (Fuller Brook does indeed originate right here. But I am not sure whether what I saw was that stream itself or possibly some small tributary, the existence of the latter being inferrable from the USGS and Universal maps.)

The place that I had seen came into view now, and it proved to be the Hurwitz Brothers garage, with a Gulf sign and, more surprisingly, a banner brandishing the legend http://www.oldtime.com. This made me think that there must be a chain of Old Time service stations. But, if you check the link, you will see that in fact this is the second establishment of the Hurwitzes, just opened this year, their first having begun in Newton eighteen years ago. If they do as well with cars as they did with their Web site, they must be pretty good!

This is the first URL I have seen on a gas station. Everyone probably has some kind of recollection of when these descriptors first appeared to them in "real life". I remember my first occurrence on television, with a baseball announcer struggling with the pronunciation. I remember my first URL on a menu.  I encountered my first examples on a truck panel and on a political sign on my walks.

I got a Schweppes Ginger Ale out of the vending machine, noting a sleeping dog in front of the building. While I stood and drank this, a man came out of the building and proclaimed, "It's going to rain." This prediction, at variance with the weather forecast, fortunately proved to be wrong. (I cancel planned walks if there is any appreciable chance of rain, which spoils the views and inhibits notetaking.)

Finding a barrel in which to drop my container, I returned to the road. A man driving a van stopped to ask directions to Babson, which I was able to give him readily enough.

Up ahead I could see an intersection. I noted what the Needham Historical Commission informed me was the 1852 William Flagg House.

Reaching Central Avenue, I turned right (southwest), pleased to be in "new territory". On the corner, I saw a Presbyterian Church, proclaiming "110 years of service to God and our neighbors" and noting the availability of crib care. Depending on which Internet source one believes, this is either the Needham Presbyterian Church or the Presbyterian Church in Needham, an accurate if pedestrian name either way. Its also houses the Taiwan Presbyterian Church of Greater Boston. The brick building, looking as if meant for apartments, struck me as rating somewhere between nondescript and ugly.

I passed Pond Street on my left. On the right I saw (or thought I saw) the Newman Elementary School. Arrow locates here the Newman Media Center, Universal has it as Newman Middle School while USGS (even more out of date) indicates Newman Junior High School.

An Internet correspondent has informed me that Newton Middle School (originally named Newman Junior High School, but renamed out of trendiness) was consolidated with (not replaced by, as I had originally reported) with the Pollard Middle School. This change was made due to a drop in the child population. [Added April 26, 2001.]

As Central became residential, I noted a ball field to the right, presumably part of the school. On the left, I noted High Rock Street, remembering that I had walked on another part of this on a previous journey.

To the right I went by Cedar Springs Lane, a residential dead end. The sidewalk ended on the right side of the street here; so I crossed to the left, where one was available.

Noting Marked Tree Road on my left, I realized that I was now making a repeat, having forgotten the prior occasion. (Now I recollect that this was on a walk west from Dedham, on which I followed Central Ave from here to Pine Street.) From this intersection, I saw woods on both sides of the road.

On my left I saw a sign proclaiming "Gateway to the Town Forest". Another sign informed we that this was the Horsford Pond Recreation Area. There was a road going into this and, following the principle of non-repetition, I decided to take it rather than continue on Central.

To the left lay a body of water that would rate, I thought, only as "Horsford Pool" or even "Horsford Puddle". Continuing, however, I saw a genuine, if small, pond. I went on, proceeding uphill, through a parking area, in which the road ended.

Seeing a trail that I thought possibly could, with the paved way, be the Horsford Road on my Arrow map (which did not show the pond), I continued down this. The Universal atlas shows this road in dashes, which I presume - come on, Universal, give us a key! - means unpaved. USGS, which shows but does not name the two bodies of water here, indicates a paved road becoming a trail, more or less corresponding to what I saw. It has this ending in High Rock Woods, which I therefore claim - maybe a little too aggressively - as collected. (Horsford Pond, Horsford Pond Road and High Rock Woods all resist Internet searches.)

Fending off flying insects, I followed this trail to a large sports area, Claxton Field. Since that would only lead me back to Central, I took another trail that went to the left, encountering an old stone wall and some not very helpful blue flags.

The trail had become overgrown and swampy. After making a comfort stop, I decided it wasn't actually a trail at all and plunged through the woods uphill to a stone wall, which would have to lead somewhere.

Up ahead I could now see a view of some residential construction. I tried to follow the wall, hoping it would lead to more interesting natural scenery. But between the underbrush and the insects, this proved infeasible. So I abandoned the woods and clambered out, emerging at Lot 2A.

I had now exceeded two hours. As I reached the street, I saw to my right all kinds of large homes, some built, some being built, with only a few occupied. A sign informed me that these were the works of Pershing Construction Company, "builders of fine homes" - or, as I would say, "destroyers of wilderness". (Vicinity has an incorrect address and mislocates this business.)

Proceeding downhill on this street, and getting sprayed by a sprinkler, I saw a sign ahead. This told me that I was at the intersection of Bridle Trail Road and Cranberry Lane. I was able to locate this on my map (a feat I could not duplicate on the Internet, being able to get only a somewhat dubious location for Cranberry from Yahoo), but it seemed that my wandering in the woods had disoriented me. Since my goal was to go south, I was apparently going in the wrong direction.

Arrow and Universal show the streets in this neighborhood quite differently, but the latter more or less accords with my observations. I followed Bridal Trail, curving northward. To my right I saw a sign indicating that the woods in the background belonged to the Town Forest, which presumably constituted the backdrop for the site on which a marker denoted Lot 18.

Following the curve, observing giant new homes, and resisting some bugs, I looked ahead and thought the road would dead end. I saw a large stone inscribed "Saddlebrook". I took this as the name of the development, and correctly so. But theres is also a street Saddle Brook Drive, which Universal shows here (dashed) and Arrows shows in some quite other fashion. I saw no such street name, nor can I find it on the Internet..

I came to Carleton Drive, where a very large home was being completed on the corner opposite. This was not on my map (Universal shows it), but I turned onto it since Bridal Trail was clearly ending amid a plethora of more huge residences. Carlton (which is not locatable on the Internet except for a rather clearly misplaced Carleton Drive on Yahoo) took me to Central Avenue.

As to Carleton Road, our Needham correspondent tells an interesting tale. Evidently the development of "something like twenty five particle board mansions" built on "fields originally attached to one house" was being attacked by Needhamites sharing the views of this writer and myself against such desecration. When Martha Carleton (a town selectman) and her husband were killed in a plan crash, the developers changed the name of a new street as a memorial, and the plans went forward. [Added May 26, 2001.]

All told, my excursion off that road had been not without interest, even though I would very much preferred to have seen the now developed land before Pershing had got hold of it. I had hoped that, although no way for the purpose was shown on the map (neither atlas indicates such a possibility, also), there might have been some new streets to allow me to get to Charles River Avenue, to which I was (supposed to be) headed. I realized now that I had gone in the wrong direction for such a course, but there was nothing to be done except to continue along Central, even though that meant that I was (or so I mistakenly thought) again retracing a former walk.

Passing residences on both sides of Central, I came to Pine Street. Light should have dawned at this point, but I trudged ignorantly on. Now I saw woods on the left and homes (1574) on the right.

At 1555, on the left, I encountered a sign reading "NPRC, Private Property, Members Only". Curious, I looked down the road off Central, but could see nothing. As I continued down the road, I pondered the initials. A horses crossing sign made me guess, rather foolishly, that the RC stood for Riding Club.

The correspondent referred to above explained this mystery: NPRC stands for Needham Pool and Racket Club, an institution of "the old Needham." Its address is 1550 Central Avenue. [Added April 26, 2001.]

Still having no clue about redoing a former walk, I saw houses on both sides of the street again. I passed the Sunny Hill Horse Farm. (I cannot find evidence for a summit with such a place name.) This had a barn, but no equines were apparent. Someone was mowing a lawn, and I saw a large home in the background.

Our Needham correspond describes Sunny Hill as an example  'the new Needham". As I suspected, there are no horses here. Previously, there were, with "a modest farm house next to a large red barn." About ten years ago, "the new owners blasted the rock mound out on the back of the field and installed a large unfitting house." I join with this writer in feeling that this was distinctly a change for the worse and that the invented name is absurd, showing perhaps "that it is cheaper to make a sign than to actually own horses." [Added April 26, 2001.]

Next, I saw undeveloped land on the left and houses, set back from the road on the right. Then both sides were vacant. I passed a Media One crew with a cop on detail.

Now I saw a sports field and playground on the right. (This, I failed to realize, was Claxton Field.) To the left, I saw the exit from the mysterious NPRC. Then, on the same side, came a road leading to - what?

As I kept on, I noted that the park to the right was ending, with a small brick garage. Behind this was a small field with a rock formation in the back.

Then, on the left, a sign read "Town of Needham Transfer Station". It is fortunate that Arrow has this on its map (the Atlas does not show it). I remembered the cartographic indication, took out the map, and perceived the awful truth. I had turned the wrong way at Carlton and was walking north instead of south!

I have mentioned in previous accounts that I do not seem to have any inherent sense of direction. This episode not only illustrates the point, but also seems to imply failings of memory. For I should (or at least could - my prior visit here admittedly was some years ago; and I am not so obsessive-compulsive to have marked every street that I have walked on the map - only to have thought about it!) have remembered that ever since Pine Street I had been repeating the prior walk earlier alluded to.

Sometimes in such situations there is some way to get to where I was supposed to go without directly retracing my steps (which, you can guess, I hate even more than redoing an earlier walk's path). In this case, as the map showed, there was no such option. However detestable the idea, I had no choice but to turn around and walk back on Central. At least I can spare the reader that portion of my trip, which took about ten minutes.

Returning, I now passed Carlton Road again on the left. Past this was the Temple Aliyah, a brick building in what be termed the "indeterminate modern style". I wondered if was by the same architect as the Presbyterian church that I had earlier, since it resembled that edifice not only in its choice of material but also in style.

Next on that side of the street I saw an old home with a large red barn. Though there was no other real trace of former agricultural status, there was a patch of (I thought) vegetables.

Then, also on my left, I went by Country Way. Had I not gone the wrong way earlier, I would have come out of the development at this point and, presumably, been spared my ignominious wrong turn and retracing.

I crossed Charles River Road, which I have traversed before, and then (opposite 1796 Central) turned onto Oxbow Road. This was another diversion to reduce repetition and boded no intrinsic interest.

Realizing that these little excursions were slowing my southbound pace considerably, I revised my game plan: I would go south four hours, east one, and north two. In considering this, I checked the map and learned something that had escaped my attention in prior study of my route: I did not have to repeat Central Avenue into Dover; instead, I should take Fisher Street to another bridge over the Charles River. This decision turned out to afford me the scenic highlight of the walk.

Curving with Oxbow, I observed very nice looking homes. As I turned the accurately name bend, I had a view of Central ahead with trees in the background. Rejoining that street south (opposite 1886), I soon turned right onto Fisher.

I was entering, or headed toward, the locality of Charles River Village. Fisher was a narrow, residential road. It was quiet, and I could hear the birds sing.

Opposite Russell Road, I saw some undeveloped land. Then I came upon a railroad crossing, with very old warning signs. This obviously abandoned railway would, I thought, make for a good walk.

Then, to the right I got a pretty view of the Charles River. This, signs told me, was Village Falls Park, on Red-Wing Bay, a preserve maintained by the MDC and provided with a cartop boat launch.

To better attain the attractive vistas here, I headed down a little road into the bark. Along the right ran power lines (on which small birds were resting); and, I followed a dirt access road to a secluded area for another comfort stop, being attacked by insects in the process.

I had now done three and a quarter hours. I could see a little island in the bay. I followed the road back past the launch area, getting another scenic view. (I will return here, but probably not for quite some years, as part of my campaign along the Charles.)

I crawled up a hill beside the road (not deigning to go back along it), bumping my leg on the guard rail but suffering no hurt. On the right, at 24 Fisher, I passed a small home for sale, with a sign very truly declaring "Splendid River View".

Ahead, across South Street, I noticed another area of Village Falls Park. This part contained Cochrane Dam, and I could not resist a little side exploration to view it. Going through a picnic area, I first heard the sound, then enjoyed the sight, of water falling over the dam.

I thought the bridge looked rather pleasing. But time for aesthetic contemplation is not allowed on my walks. So I returned to the road and crossed the river.

To my right, up the river, was a very scenic vista, especially agreeable for being (except for the power lines at the extreme right) all natural. I read an inscription "Dover-Needham, Erected 1932".

To the left were the falls; in the river I could see ducks. As I walked into Dover (now on Willow Street), it dawned on me that I had see these waterfalls before.

I have done the left bank of the Charles, so far in four stages, from its mouth in Boston to Dover, just short of Natick. I expect to continue this journey some time this winter, my policy being to do river and coastal walks in that season. On my last trip, I passed this point coming down Mill Street.

If Wellesley may be described as a rich liberal town, Dover is by contrast a rich conservative one. It is one of the most scenic towns in eastern Massachusetts. Formerly a farming community, it has numerous large estates with beautiful homes and large acreage. More than any municipality in the area, it has resisted subdivision, producing numerous attractive landscapes. However, on my recent walks there, I have observed some tendencies toward parcelized development; even the wealthy sell out, it seems.

As I went down Willow, I could not remember whether I was making a repeat or whether I had somehow managed to follow the river bank itself on that Charles walk. Nor can I now. At any rate, I saw fine residences mixed with undeveloped land that presumably belongs to these "estates".

At 52, I stepped around a pile of substance that reminded me that this is equestrian country. A cyclist went past me. On my right, I passed Riverview Terrace, a dead end street.

Here I saw woods on the left. Then I came to Cross Street, which I remembered taking on a previous walk. (That one was one of my longest, ten hours, from South Braintree west to Dover and north to Wellesley.) A stone marker told me this was Comiskey Corner, a fact I had not noticed on that occasion.

I reached that end of Willow Street at Dedham Street. A sign warned those taking Willow of a "Narrow Bridge" and told trucks to stay on Dedham.

Making what was a certain repeat now, I turned right (west) on Dedham. To my left I went by the Mill Farm, seeing paddocks but not (this time) any horses.

On the right, I noticed a new home being built. Then, on the left, came Caryl Park, a quite large recreational area. I saw a soda machine and was somewhat tempted, but decided to keep going with the intention of getting food and refreshment in the nearby center of town. (Massachusetts Speedtraps says that the Dover Police hang out here to catch motorists, but I saw no evidence for this.)

The very acute and complete reader will have noticed a slight change in policy in the above paragraph, for I have repeated a link from another narrative. Although I consider repeat links a stylistic fault, it does seem as if putting it in again is less taxing to the reader than assuming that anyone who wants to check it again should have to go back to another page and search. So, from now one, the policy here is not to repeat links in the same page. And, even with this consideration, such repetition will be held to the absolute feasible minimum.

A sign told me that the Noanet Woodlands were here, presumably behind the park. The idea passed my mind of avoiding repetition by going through these. But, not being sure that this was feasible and not wishing to bypass the chance to eat, I decided to stick to my game plan.

I went by tennis courts and baseball fields on my left. On the right I saw Chickering Fields, another Dover park. Next, on the left, came the eighteenth century Benjamin Caryl House (the home, I discovered from the just cited link, of the family that gave Dover its first minister and doctor), maintained by the Dover Historical Society and open to the public spring and fall on Saturdays from 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM.

More of Caryl Park was seen on the left, and a notice stated that this was established in 1920. A sign on the right reading "Thickly Settled" presaged my entry toward the downtown area (or what passes therefor in Dover).

The sun was coming out now, and I passed Oakley Road on the right, opposite 97, a home obscured by a tall wood fence. But then it went back in, and I felt a cool breeze.

I now went by Haven Street (which I have walked) on my right, with a sign directing motorists to Route 128, Needham, Dedham and Boston. Dover is full of signs indicating the way to neighboring towns, a fact that probably shows its attitude toward the rest of the world.

I now bore right with Dedham Street past Hutton Street to the left. To the right I saw the Sawin Museum, which I remembered from my first walk through Dover, again noting it to be the home of the town historical society. (This observation does conflict with the link above that claims that this is instead the Caryl House; Internet search engines give no address for the organization.)

Also on the right was the Dover Public Library, in a brick building. On the left I went by Highland Cemetery, observing graves from the 1830s. Up ahead I could see the Town Hall, as I now turned imperceptibly onto Centre Street.

The Charles River School, with a banner reading "Arts Festival Friday", was next on my left. Now I reached the center of town. At the corner of Walpole Street was a building with, as I recollected, a store that also had a lunch counter. With four hours now gone, I was more than willing to do lunch, and I assumed that any business in so ritzy a town would be bound to have good food.

The surmise proved to be correct. Noting that the building also contained a BankBoston office and that of The Computer Doctor (Jon Cave), I entered the general store (which sells beer and wine) and a found an old-fashioned lunch counter.

Two waitresses were chatting with two guys, but one soon took my order (a chopped ham and pickle on wheat and a raspberry lime rickey, costing $4.75). This quite lived up to my expectations concerning quality and seemed light enough (heavy food, I believe, not being good policy when walking).

As I ate, I switched maps, taking out the one by Butterworth that contains Dover and five other towns, offering a better scale than Arrow or Rand-McNally, who go for more area. My walking plan needed revision, but how to go east and north without repeating appeared difficult, if not impossible.

I decided to go south on Centre Street and then head east on Route 109 in Medfield. This would lead to a totally different area than planned and pre-empt a planned walk along that route from its end in West Roxbury, but that still seemed preferable to traversing roads for a second time.

Leaving the store, I started south on Centre, noting a Mobil Station and the realty office of Dover Country Properties on the left. Then I had a flash of memory. I had done Centre Street before! (I still can't remember which walk this was, but it was on a return to Wellesley Square.)

With both Centre and Walpole Streets being potential repeats, the latter was a better choice, partly because it was the less recent of the two and particularly because its direction would get me back as planned. I would go further south, turn east into Westwood, and then finish by going north - maybe into Wellesley, maybe into Newton as the original conception had been.

Under this plan, I would turn off Walpole onto Powisset Street. I even thought that perhaps one of the side streets to the east might have been somehow extended so as to no longer be a dead end. (Any prospect, now matter how fanciful, appears better than covering ground again a second time!)

So I now went south on Walpole Street. As roads go, this is of above average scenic merit (the same being true, actually, of just about every street in Dover), especially after ones leaves the commercial area. To the right I saw the Dover Fire Department, then the Dover Post Office (02030).

The sun was back out again, and soon both sides of the street were residential. I passed Powder House Road, with large newer homes, on the right. On the other side of the street was undeveloped land, and I went by a field through which I could see Dedham Street.

Opposite 24 Walpole, I observed a large rock across on my right. I saw more undeveloped land to the left, while on the right more large homes were visible on Village Hill Road. (This street must be relatively new as it is not found in Arrow or by Vicinity; the Universal atlas has it, however,)

Now I could see houses in the woods along the left, on which I crossed Bretton Road. After this came woods on the left and I notice some old stone walls.

Soon I was surprised (not recalling it from my previous walk) to see a sign proclaiming that these woods were the Noanet Wilderness Reservation. So I wasn't doomed to repeat any moe of Walpole. I could have a scenic treat by going through the forest. Indeed, there was a trail leading through it right here; and, as I entered the woods, I exchanged greetings with a man exiting it, presumably to return to a car parked there.

As a city person, I do relish walks that take me through the countryside (fast disappearing in Massachusetts thanks to real estate developers). To go through completely natural land is a particular treat, and I felt a little exhilaration as I got into the forest.

Part of the fun is that such excursions compel me to navigate without a map. Not that maps don't exist for wilderness areas, of course. But I am not very likely to have one. In this case, neither Arrow nor Butterworth showed this locality (as I will take any large enough such area to be).

Of course the downside to such gallivanting is the risk of getting lost. In fact, this almost invariably happens when I try such feats, whether on account of the original game plan or as an improvisation like this one. Already I had experience navigational difficulties on this walk, and this part of it was to adhere to this trend.

Still, as I often point out, it is impossible to go very far in any part of eastern Massachusetts without finding some highway. My goal now was to go straight east and come out on Carby Street (a Dover road that I cannot find via Internet map search). Trails in the wilderness, however, obviously are even less likely to lead one on a straight course than highways are; and more than once my attempt to walk in a beeline through woods has instead led me around in a circle.

The trail, I noted at the onset, was well cleard and, at first, there was no sign of the bane of summertime forest walks - insects. (As a matter of fact, I only plan such walking in the colder months, for just this reason, especially as Lyme disease is a concern in these parts.) This blissful state was not to last very long, however.

I came to a divergence and took the branch that went to the right, as the other way would risk heading back to Dedham Street. Now I felt my first attack of bugs.

I saw houses ahead and passed another trail on my left. Then I passed a home to the right in the woods, which I supposed might either have a long driveway from Walpole or be on Perry Street.

I crossed another trail, marked by a sign as 8 and kept going straight. I saw some piles of wood and some downed trees. Mosquitoes pestered me here.

Once again, I passed an intersecting trail. Than I came to another "crossroad" and decided to go left, for fear of circling. (Always making the same turn, left or right, will get you out of any maze, but I was not lost yet!)

I quickly reached another intersection and bore right. I took the opportunity to make a comfort stop, one of the major problems of walking, wilderness rambles having an advantage over highways in this respect.

I saw a trail on my right with a sign indicating that bicycles were prohibited. Of course, this implied that I might run into cyclists on the trail that I was on or elsewhere, but in fact I was to see no one else at all.

I passed another trail on my left. Then I came to another intersection, noting trail number 36, and decided to bear left.

Now I came to a river with a little bridge over it. Checking the map, I decided it must be the Noannet Brook. It I saw a dam to the left and assumed it must be one of two - presumably the more northern - unnamed bodies of water which my map showed along the course of that stream.

On the other side, I came across a stone marker, commemorating the one hundredth anniversary of the Trustees of Reservations (an estimable organization that anyone who wants New England wilderness to remain - if only in remnants - should support). The inscription also told me that a tree has been planted here in memory of Mr. and Mrs. G. H. Lowell, this marker being a gift of the Lowell family. Very impressive, I thought, except that I did not see any tree nearby!

A second Internet correspondent, originally from Dover but now on the West coast, solved the mystery and offers this wonderful story:

"There once was a very elderly, wealthy maiden lady that happened to own just about a whole side of Dover. Her name was Miss Amelia Peabody. She lived her days on her own farm. At one end of the town (Dedham Street and Willow Junction) were her home, stables, and purple modern sculpting studio. (The studio was quite a contrast from all those colonials.) She loved her animals and the woods. At the other side of her woods was a working cow and pig farm - that would be Powisset Street.

"Miss Peabody was an inclusive type of gal, not one "No Trespassing" sign. The people of the town would pass by her cow farm to go to the dump with our parents. As kids, we would always stop and get to play with the animals. The townsfolk were always welcomed, never mind the insurance risk. In the winter, we families would ski through the woods with our dog on a leash. We fished in the woods and sailed our little boats. We would climb Noanet Peak to see the distant fireworks in Boston on special occasions. We would visit Amelia's astounding pet cemetery full of her beloved but departed pets, complete with an eight foot tall granite animal sculpture (now vandalized and completely private property).

"The ponds in the middle of Noanet Wilderness were the original mill site, a place where the center of town once existed. In the sixties, it seemed to be the center of town as well, seeing as all the families grew up in Miss Peabody's woods.

"The in the eighties, Miss Peabody died, nearly one hundred years old, and the old farm had to be sold. Thankfully, she was a very wise woman and left the middle (betwixt the two farms) to the trustees of Dover. That is when politics entered, and the plaque was installed and a tree planted.  Though I am sure that the Lovells were fine folk, the plaque was totally out of character. It will always be Miss Peabody's woods."

It gives me great pleasure to add this narrative to my own, as well as the additional information provided by a Needham resident. I must respect their wish to be anonymous, but I am thankful for them for showing the power of the Internet to preserve geography and history. I hope other readers can improve the value of these narratives in the same way and am particularly grateful for the correction of any errors encountered. [Added April 26, 2001]

I continued along the trail, go straight when it crossed that numbered 27. I began to go uphill, with terrible persecution by flies. Possibly this insectival incursion made me wish to get out of the woods and/or impaired my judgment, as I began to wonder whether I had perhaps somehow passed south of the Noanet and the body of water I had seen was actually the pond shown on the Butterworth map to the west of Noannet Pond.

Both Noanet and Noanet seem to be in use, although the reservation seems generally to go with the single n and the bodies of water with the plural. I have in this account simply followed whatever source I was looking at while writing the particular sentence.

The Arrow atlas actually has two ponds, Worthington and Powisset (neither recognized by GNIS or internet searches), in that place, with the latter having a stream flowing into it and the former connected to Noannet Pond by a river. The Universal is much less helpful here.

I continued, bearing left at another intersection, with the feeling or hope (but in either case mot correct) that I would soon be "entering civilization". I saw a wooden gate to my left, with a blank sign.

My course went uphill, with the trail becoming narrower and stonier. I was by now really feeling the hot July sun. I saw a smaller trail to the left.

As I continued upwards, I was conscious of a desire to get out of the wilderness, however intrinsically superior to settled land, and find someplace where I could get my bearings and slake my thirst. By now, I was beginning to think "No, No Noanet!"

I reached another intersection, going straight since I could think of no reason to turn. Now I could see more, unharmful insects - dragonflies and grasshoppers.

The trail that I was following now joined another, larger one and bore rightward. I observed many ferns on both sides of the trail. The heat and humidity were now getting to be oppressive.

I went by another trail with an arrow sign on it, kept going, and then passed trail 21. I went through an area where there was a kind of clearing, through which the trail ran, with ferns and other plants in front of the trees. This was a pretty sight, but my aesthetic appreciation was sadly marred by the fact that this opening eliminated the protecting shade.

I saw trail 20 to the right. I had now been on the walk five hours. Then, I thought I heard automobiles. Soon I saw a gate and a highway.

The road, I supposed, must be my destination. Across it, at 53, I saw home with a field.  In the distance was a large barn with a silo.

I decided to go left, which I assumed to be north, taking me along Carby Street in Dover to Carby Street in Westwood and then to Dover Road. My location would be confirmed once I saw Noannet Pond on my right.

I went along this relatively narrow road, with a yellow double strip down the middle, feeling rather assured that for once I had gone through the wilderness without getting lost. From the map, there really appeared to be no other possibility than that this was Carby Street.

I saw a gas line on my left and continued. There were no more houses now, just woods on both sides of the road. Inasmuch as the Butterworth map shows the area around Noannet Pond as shaded, this seemed to bear out my thinking, as it implied some kind of natural preserve.

Still, no pond appeared and I began to have doubts as to where I was. Then, on the left, I noticed a sign on a tree. It said that this was the Hale Reservation, a private, non-profit park. Further, it proclaimed that maps of the reservation were available at the office on Carby Street in Westwood.

I wished I had one of those maps, but this information seemed to indicate that my theory as to location was correct. For the reference to Carby Street in Westwood seemed logical if I were in fact on Carby Street in Dover. Looking at the map, I realized that I still had a very long way to go. Presumably, I would spend some time curving around Noannet Pond before I reached Dover Street, from which I would still go east and then north. The walk was therefore going to take eight, not seven, hours.

I walked along, seeing remnants of an old stone wall to the right. I kept going, perplexed by the fact that no pond had appeared as I had expected. After all, the map showed it right adjacent to the roadway for a stretch.

Rather many cars had been passing by in each direction, and I wondered if Noannet Pond was some particularly popular recreational area. I saw trails on both sides of the road.

Passing a dead chipmunk, I continued, following a curve to the right. Something was visible ahead. But, instead of the building containing the Hale Reservation building, as I expected, it proved to be the Dover Solid Waste and Recycling Facility. In checking the map, this did not prove any help in determining my whereabouts.

But in retrospect I might have had doubts about such an institution being located near a pond. Actually the map does show a sanitary landfill which must have been this place. However, its location was not at all where I believed myself to be; so I did not discover the cartographic clue.

I followed the road as it curved left. I thought I heard voices now, as I observed remainders of stone wall left and right. The highway kept curving, left and then right.

Now on my left I saw a sign for the Jacob and Rose Grossman camp. I could remember this: I had seen an entrance to it before when I walked Dedham Road, or so I thought. I was pretty sure that I had observed that on my left when I was then walking west. So I could still cling to my guess as to where I was, despite the very negative evidence of no Noannet Pond having shown up.

Whatever the road was, I followed it curving right and going down and then up. I saw a trail to the right, and then a house.

Now more houses appeared. One was numbered 590 - that was a long way from the 53 that I had noticed earlier.

Next I saw a road going to the left, going into the Hale Reservation. Checking the map, I interpreted this to be the road shown there, either a continuation a Carby or a unnamed street off it, curving around, passing over a brook flowing into Storrow Pond, and then joining Carby in Westwood. (Or perhaps the straight road was the one not named and the curving one was Carby). If this was true, I should go to the right, as the more direct course. Already it seemed clear that I had two hours at least left to go, even if I was where I supposed I was, as I did indeed still believe.

I saw houses off the road in the woods. Then the left was all woods. On the other side, I passed two larger new homes of the contemporary colonial sort.

Then I finally encountered a street sign - the great hope of those who want to know their location. It was on the right, reading Morgan Farm Road. I could not find this on my map - nor can I now. (It is not on the maps nor can the Internet help. Yahoo claims to have it, but the name does not show up in the search, which in any case is clearly in the wrong place.)

I went on, seeing woods on the left, then houses. One was numbered 497. Though it felt a long while since I had noticed number 590, I still blithley walked on still assuming I was on Carby Street, presumably in Westwood, with its own numbering system.

The fact that there were houses and streets was explicable by the fact that the map showed Carby leaving the shaded area that presumably represented the wilderness. Still, it does seem an incredible example of the power of wishful thinking that I had not noticed that the map shows the Hale Reservation - had I done so I would have realized my error.

On the right I saw a large estate with a little pond. On the other side, I passed more woods, with the remains of a stone wall. Then there were houses on both sides of the street.

I came upon another street, Rock Meadow Road, that I could not see on my map. That seemed very odd: the houses were not new; so it could not be a new street. At 428, I came upon Woodland Road. That finally appeared on the map - but how could it be to my right?

I was totally confused; such is the way of human beings, to whom contradictory evidence must be powerful indeed to get them to change their preconceived ideas. In line with this tendency, this discovery simply made me modify my false theory: I must have curved from Carby Street onto Dover Street without recognizing.

This explanation was implausible and incorrect. It was not until that evening that in reviewing my walk I figured out what the reader who has been following my map links may already have realized: Instead of going due east, I had verged to the south. The road that I had come out on was not Carby Street at all, but Powisset Street (Dover) - Dover Street (Westwood). Hence the traffic, houses, and recycling center, not to mention the non-appearance of Noannet Pond.

Not only that, but I had veered very far from a straight line to have wound up along Powisset Street, evidently not too far from the Westwood border. As a kind of consolation for going off course, I am able to claim another locality collected. For on an old map in my office (produced by Hearne Brothers, whoever they are or were, but seemingly based on the Rand-McNally tradition, I see that south of this road is marked Oak Hill. The GNIS database recognizes this feature, as well as twenty-one other Oak Hill place names.) Under my system, I can claim to have been to this place, even though I don't specifically remember observing a summit there.

It is not uncommon for me to give up on determining where exactly I am and how exactly I got lost until later. And while more extensive map availability does help settle such questions, obviously the key factor is that getting angry over not being able to find my way (a phenomenon no doubt having early childhood origins, and of course by no means uncommon among people in general). In this case, two prior instances of misdirection scarcely helped put me in a calm enough frame of mind to solve the problem. And of course there was the need to get going with the rest of the walk now that I knew where I was.

However I had arrived there, I went now on a kind of detour, going south on Woodland, a narrow residential road. On my left I saw woods; to the right I noticed a large yellow colonial on a hill.

Then both sides were residential, and I noted a home for sale to my left. It was now 1:30 PM, and I still had a lot of walking to do if I were to adhere, even in modified form, to my game plan. I considered aborting that plan and ending the walk in Westwood, at the Islington MBTA station. But I did not have a schedule for that line, and on reflection there seemed enough time to get to Wellesley or Newton (I was still not sure which).

At 64, I saw another house for sale, a sort of small ranch, with an addition on top making it a one and a half (or one and one quarter, perhaps) story. Then I went left (so as to proceed eastward) on Salisbury Drive, another residential road.

The sun was very hot, as I walked upwards now. At 66 I observed a house up the hill with a stone retaining wall along the road. At 17, I exchanged greetings with a woman trimming a hedge.

Now I went right on High Rock Street, down which I could see a vista marked by its yellow double line. Houses lined both sides of this road. Then wetlands appeared, first on the left and then on the right, too. These evidently provided a home to bugs that attacked me here. I could now espy Hartford Street, my next turn, ahead.

I saw a house to my left in the woods, wondering where its driveway was. Then both sides contained homes again. Before Hartford, however, the left side was undeveloped land.

Checking the map to determine my course to head back north, I went left on Hartford. I was now on a repeat, having done Hartford on a walk some years ago (which I think began in Quincy). On my right I observed the John F. Holden Funeral Home.

I was entering an area mixed with commercial and residential properties. To my left, at 54, I saw the Hartford Street Office Building.

High Street (Route 109) was visible ahead. This area, if it has a place name, might be Westwood Center. I had seen just a piece of it before, having come down Gay Street before going west on Hartford, but did not remember it at all this time.

Westwood has a very odd shape, somewhat like the head of an axe. My maps show only two localities for this town, Ellis and Islington, both of which I have collected. Other corners look as if they ought to have names, however.

To the right I saw the Glad Rags Thrift Shop, in the back of a large white wood building. Then I went left on High Street. To the right was Rainbow Florist; across, a Mobil station.

On my left I went by Bay State Federal Savings. I saw a strip mall, with the Westwood post office (02090). A Bergson's ice cream was somewhat tempting (I learned on a previous walk this is a pretty good burger and ice cream chain, somewhat like Friendly's in its better days), but I had already eaten once so that only getting a drink was permissible.

Accordingly I headed into the High Street Market, "home of fine foods". This rather small and crowded old-fashioned establishment lived up to this description, with a small but quite impressive selection. I noticed some 1997 Westwood Bicentennial hats.

The pastries looked especially inviting, but I restricted myself to a Stephan Ginger Beer. It has been a while since I had had one of these local New England beverages, notable not just for their quality (and in this instance a very powerful taste) but also for the company's commitment to recycling ever since their founding in 1926, long before it became fashionable again and legally required. They merit their slogan "New England's Best Tonic".

This description shows their local roots. Even around Worcester, the Boston localism "tonic" for what is called "soda" elsewhere begins to fade out.

I consumed this drink in front of the store, leaving the bottle in a barrel provided by Bergson's. Then I cut through the parking lot of the Dedham Savings Bank to rejoin Hartford Street, continuing a stretch than will be repeated when I do a walk devoted to Route 109.

Across the street were Westwood High School (or so I thought, but it seems apparent from the Internet that this is located somewhere else - so perhaps what I saw was the old version) and the Westwood Public Library. To my left, I passed the Westwood Office Building, the Folsom Funeral Home, and the Westwood Fire Department, which reminded the citizenry that the "odd-even water ban" was in effect in the Dedham-Westwood Water District.

On the right hand side of the street were some fine old homes. Signs indicated that one dated to 1840 and another (at 628 High) to 1830. Both sides of the street now became residential, with older, attractive homes, such as a nice white one with black shutters at 615, on the left.

To the other side was a former farm, followed by the town hall (with a banner "Happy 100th"), an attractive brick building with a four-faced clock atop. I passed Barlow Lane on my left, after which I could see the remains of an old stone wall.

Then, also on the left, came Youlden's, a store selling art supplies and sundries. Next appeared the Westwood Professional Building, Ellis Tavern (dating to 1731 and now containing various businesses), and the Colonial Building (with doctors and so forth).

Now the commercial properties ended, and older homes lined the street. On the right I saw the 1770 home of Willard Gray and then an old barn, with its former farm just past it.

Arriving at Dover Road, I left Route 109 for a later day and went left (going west so as to be able to go north). All the circling around, via Woodland Road et al., was based on my principle of avoiding repeats. For, in discovering my location in Westwood, I had somehow got the impression that I actually had done Dover Road and Powisset Street on some other walk. (But, since I could not then, and cannot know, remember such a walk, this was apparently more confusion.) At any rate, the divergence had had the effect of getting me to the center of town, where badly needed liquid refreshment was available.

On the right side of Dover I saw a spruce tree in front of a former barn, now a garage, beside at home (at 21) that was once (or was on the site of?) the 1774 Village School. Then I took a right on Lorraine Road, beginning another circuitous course, this one designed to prevent future repetition along Route 109.

The sun was out again, and it was warm. On my left, in the back, I believe, of a house on Dover Road, I saw garden with a female scarecrow, with a greenhouse in back.

Next I passed undeveloped land on the left, with houses across the street. Another group of insects attacked me here.

Both sides were residential now, as I went uphill in the oppressive sun. It was 2:10 PM, so I had done almost six and half hours. I supposed there would be at least one more hour to go - an underestimate.

I crossed Conant Road, going straight on Country Lane. The top of the hill appeared at 128. To the left, I observed wetlands behind houses; then there was a small patch of undeveloped wetland along that side of the road.

As Country curved right, I went uphill again, seeing houses on both sides of the street. On my left I passed a large stone wall that proved to be a retaining wall for a ranch houses on the corner of Sunset Road. I went left (going north) on that street, whose sign was down.

Reaching the end of Sunset, I went left on Summer Street, beginning a rather long repeat, as I had done this road, in the other direction, before. (I can't remember where that one started, but it ended at the Westwood-Dedham border on Route 1A.) This is a street of rich estates, which can scarcely be denied as impressive, but to me a little boring, especially a second time.

At first I saw undeveloped land on the left, with fine large residences on extensive lots to the right. These included an attractive old Greek Revival home at 111 and a nice looking brick one, new but aping nineteenth century style, at 129.

Next I observed trees on both sides of the road. Through these to the left I glimpsed Stevens Pond. (This is one of seven such named bodies of water in Massachusetts.)

Opposite Grove Street on the right, I passed on my side a new street, not on my map. (Nor is it on the Arrow atlas, but it does appear on the Universal atlas as Longmeadow Drive. Yahoo [Vicinity] and Infoseeek [GeoSystems] show a road here, the latter better with my observation, both showing a longer road than Universal.) This had a huge stone wall and a kind of bridge. Had it been built through the pond? And to what castles or palaces did it lead? No doubt I will never know, and I really do not care! (However, it could have been High Ridge Estates, concerning which I found a developer's justification on the Internet.)

Grove Street offered a way off Summer. Usually, I will try anything to avoid repeating, but the problem was that the map showed ending in Country Club Road, which in turn went north through the Dedham Country Club. It seemed improbable that public access would be allowed that way. Even then I might have made the attempt, with the heavy risk of having had to come back the same way I went, but I did want to lose more time that way on a walk that was clearly going "over budget".

Accordingly I kept going north on Summer. I would go to its end and then left on Westfield Street. I was still not sure of my course after that through Needham into Newton.

To the right now I saw large estates. The left-hand side appeared to be undeveloped. Then I came by a house on that side, at 284, in front of a pond. On its driveway was a sign "Private Property, No Trespassing" to dissuade anyone from getting a look at this body of water, which I later learned to be Lee Pond. (There are also bodies of water by that name in Mount Washington, which I once visited but don't really expect to walk to, and in Uxbridge, almost as difificult a destination.)

Then I passed a former farm field on the left; another field was visible across the street. At 300, I observed a modern stone home of the "villa" type. It was cooler now, with a breeze.

I viewed woods on my left. Now on the right I began to pass the Dedham Country Club grounds. I saw a small structure, which I guessed to be a pumping station, on the left, and then passed Far Reach Road.

I saw a large residence on the left. On both sides there were now stone walls, presumably leftovers from agricultural days. Then I went by more larger, nice looking estates on the left.

I reached the intersection of Westfield Street, which I noted to be Roy Hill Square. Here I saw a sign directing one to Dedham to the right. So it turned out that Westfield was walkable that way after all, despite its going through the golf course. Pleased at thus finding a non-repeat route that would actually go in a better direction, I went east on that street.

I observed the golf course to my right and then on the left side, too. Indeed, some golf carts went by crossing the street. (I saw no trace, however, of the polo that Internet sources put in the club's name.)

It was 2:45, and I had now done seven hours. I decided that I would end the walk at the Eliot station along the Riverside trolley line. This takes its name from the Newton locality of that name.

I had previously finished one walk at that place and have plans to do South from Eliot and North from Eliot walks. (Inspection of the map assured me that there are sufficiently many streets in that area that the former of these would not mean making a repeat.) Once again, I estimated that this would leave me at least an hour to go.

I crossed the town line to Dedham, for a relatively brief passage through that town. To the left I saw an algae-covered pond that appeared to be on the country club property. This would appear to be where Rock Meadow Brook crosses Westfield Street (which retains that name in Dedham). As sometimes happens, I apparently did not notice the stream despite its tangible appearance on the maps.

On the right I viewed the golf course again; it is a very attractive one. To the left I now saw wetlands. I saw a large stone wall on that side and then, at 255, what I first thought might be the clubhouse but in fact proved to be a large estate of the "villa" type. To my taste it was rather ostentatious; others might say opulent.

Through the trees to the left there was a scenic vista. I followed the road curving right and uphill. To the left, at 215, I noted a large building that I presumed once was a farmhouse.

Now there was a pleasing view to the right, with hills in the background of the golf course. On the left I passed a residence numbered 147 and 777, it seemed. While I have no experience or knowledge of such a phenomenon from my non-walking life, it would appear that towns must sometimes ordain street renumbering, leading some property owners to identify themselves old and new style.

Westfield Street was broken up by Route 128 (now I-95). This could have something to do with the numbering problem: Internet searches show the lower set of numbers on the other part of Westfield.

Now I came to my turn, on the left, Schoolmaster Way. The maps show this cutting through country club and leading to the intersection of Needham Avenue and West Street (Route 135), from which I planned to go north to Needham and then Newton. Much to my disappointment, however, the entrance to Schoolmaster was marked with signs reading "Private Way" and "Not a Thru Way"

The latter I typically will ignore: what is impassible for automobiles is not necessarily so for walkers. But the former presented a more serious obstacle.

I generally respect private property, although if the alternative is a very inconvenient detour I will sometimes risk what could be considered trespassing. In this case, the thought of going back down Westfield and then back into what was previous territory was abhorrent. And - to me, at least - "private way" does not necessarily imply "no trespassing". (Even though the Ipswich police have told me otherwise, I prefer to think that the former designation simply means that the road in question is not maintained by the city or town.)

At any rate, I decided to risk it. A car's pulling out of Schoolmaster onto Westfield without stopping to question my patent intention to enter it seemed a favorable omen.

North I went. At 34, on the left, I saw a large house. This was followed by a large colonial, and another of the same on the right.

As I trudged ahead uphill, I noted that it was 3:00 PM. For still one more time, I estimated that it would be at least an hour until I reached the end! On my right I now observed a large estate.

I passed an overgrown stone wall on the left, now seeing no houses left or right. Then, on the left, I saw the home of the Studleys. This had a sign indicating that trespassers would be reported to the police!

Hardly a humanitarian family, I thought. But I could suppose that the Studleys' threat might only pertain to people who wandered onto their own property, not to people just peacefully walking by on the road. This really was not too convincing, however, and I could only hasten on, glad that nobody seemed to be home at this house of these unfriendly people.

In my hurry I almost stumbled into the Nichols' lot. This home, just ahead, fronted on - the end of the road!

Now what? I noted that the Nichols, unlike their hostile neighbors, the Studleys, had no menacing notice posted. Possibly they were amicable types who would not mind if I cut through their yard so that I could keep on going through the forest northward.

The reader may feel that plunging into the wilderness like that, even if not subject to legal questions, would be unwise behavior. Nor would I disagree. But so firm is my policy of "no going back" that such foolhardy courses are instinctive.

Then again, maybe the Nichols would not be so forbearing. Further reflection convinced me that, despite the extremely distasteful of the course, there was no choice but to give up on Schoolmaster and go all the way back, as I had contemplated before.

Disgusted (and conscious that this was a setback from the time viewpoint, too) I turned around - and then noticed something. To my right there seemed to be a path. Perhaps this was actually Schoolmaster and what I had construed to be the street in front of the Nichols' was just their driveway.

Many a time has a street become a trail in this way; but, even if I were wrong, I was elated at having a chance to go forward after all. Brushing aside some undergrowth, I headed down this path, which apparently was what I had thought.

I went by a red shack on my left, on which there was a stone wall. Now I was really in the wilderness - safe from observation by rich Dedham property owners who would turn me over to the authorities! But I was not free of persecutors - the bugs were more aggressive than the Studleys, even.

I took advantage of the situation to make a rather needed comfort stop. After all, I reasoned, as long as I was risking trespassing charges, I might as well add indecent exposure to the bill as well.

I kept on this way and fairly soon espied a yellow house up ahead. To my left a "No Hunting" sign was posted. This was better than "No Trespassing", but I still felt quite nervous as I ambled around the grounds (no one appeared to be home here, either, fortunately) onto a driveway, which appeared to lead to a paved road.

As I exited the driveway, I observed, behind me now, a sign "Private". Of course I could always tell the owners of this very attractive older home that I had not seen it, plead for sympathy as a poor lost creature, etc., but I still seemed to be in rather hostile surroundings.

To the left was a gate with signs reading "Private" and "No Outlet" and a mailbox with the name Burgess. From the map it was apparent that I had reached what looks like a little spur off Schoolmaster, which I should take to the right here. As I did so, I saw still another "Private" sign in front of the yellow house, which was numbered 2.

On the right I now saw rocks behind a stone wall; on the left, houses were visible through the trees. I then had a terrible attack of flies.

I could see the main street up ahead. Upon reaching this, I learned (pay attention, Arrow and Universal!) that the street I had been on was not Schoolmaster, but Burgess Lane. (Internet searches do not find the latter nor the interesection too well.)

I was at the junction of Needham Avenue and West Street, as planned. I had passed this way many years earlier, following Route 135 into Needham and Wellesley. Now, I went right on West, to get to Greendale Avenue in Needham (just before I-95/Route 128), for the last northern leg of the journey.

Both sides of the street had houses here. I soon caught sight of the superhighway ahead. To my right I passed St. John of Damascus Church, a modernistic building with strong overtones of traditional Orthodox architecture. I was not impressed with the result, but I had to give them good marks for at least trying to be creative.

Further on the right was the entrance to I-95, marked by a huge sign. To the left I saw woods. Passing the entrance to 255 West on my left, I then turned left (north) on Lyons Street, just before the first Interstate overpass (at Interchange 58).

To the right I could see the superhighway behind trees. On my left I observed Dedham Medical Associates, an affiliate of Harvard Health, with a large parking lot.

Lyons now curved left, and I went over a 1931 stone bridge (the Lyons Bridge, according to USGS) across the Charles River. I had somehow crossed the point before in my campaign along the left bank of that river, but I had no recollection of it. The view to the west here was quite scenic.

Now I was back in Needham, on Greendale Avenue. The plan was to follow this, and its northern continuations to Webster Street and then to Central Avenue, from which I would cross into Newton.

To the left I passed the hockey rink of St. Sebastian's School. On the right I saw Charles Court East, apartment buildings.

Then buildings from St. Sebastian's were on both sides. On the right I saw the new Academic Building - an ugly edifice. In fact, the whole complex struck me as "typical Catholic high" - dull functional buildings whose builders seems to have forgotten that this religion once inspired architecture of the first merit. (From the USGS map, I infer that this used to be St. Bartholomew's School.)

Such is my detestation of this religion (in which I was brought up) that even a short traversal through such surroundings sometimes gives me the willies. As George Carlin points out, the great advantage of being raised Catholic is that it is very easy to get out of it, if and when one starts using one's brain. On the other hand, it is very hard to completely lose the grip of its "spirit world" mentality.

I had been walking for seven and three quarters hours now, and I reckoned on continuing for - you guessed it! - at least an hour more. But, when I then reached Great Plain Avenue, I had an inspiration.

Why not just go west on Great Plain and take the commuter rail? I did not have the schedule for the Needham line with me, but I remembered from previous walks that there was a train somewhere around 4:00 PM. Even if that were wrong, or I missed it, I could surely hang out till five, around which there were quite enough trains.

True, this would mean a repeat. But it had been many years since I did this stretch of Great Plain. And, besides, (the reader may find this surprising!) my rule is that, once the allotted time limit has been reached (seven hours in this case, which I had already exceeded), considerations of avoiding repetition can be waived.

And quite possibly a little voice in the back of my head suggested that after seven hours of walking, mostly in the hot sun, it was time to stop. However, I invariably do not listen to such little voices.

Accordingly I turned left (roughly northwest) onto Great Plain. This is a residential thoroughfare; the homes are for the most part rather nice but (sorry, John Moore!) not too interesting.

I did see the 1836 Walker House, and I noticed a cape for sale at 200 (or thereabouts). As I went along the sidewalk, I saw occasional piles of the Needham Tab for paper deliverers to pick up.

The locality here is Birds Hill, named after John Bird, an early resident who owned it. The railroad station once had the same name; but, when the MBTA brought back the commuter rail, they called it Hersey, after (I have been told) a local advocate of public transportation. Such is the way of place names that who knows but that someday Hersey will supplant Birds Hill?

If so, however, there is no confirmation from such a trend on the Internet, where searches for Hersey station or the like go nowhere.  There are, however, thirty-two place names with this term in the GNIS database, including a pond in Massachusetts.

I was very thirsty again, and I was hoping that there would be enough time before my train to get a drink. I remembered that there were some establishments across the street from the station where I could do so and maybe even rest for a while.

Eventually I saw the Needham Golf Club up ahead and a T sign. I crossed Green Street, now passing the golf course. There are beautiful stands of pine trees along this.

An orange butterfly flew by me from the course. As I looked to the left, what a surprise: a water fountain! I could not have wished such an accommodation. Whether its makers had meant it to be used by passers by I knew not, but one could infer such intention from the fact that the golf course was unfenced. In any case, no one was around to question me as I went over to it, slaked my thirst, and sprayed my face.

This proved to be a memorial to Roger Sherman, a long time member of the Needham Golf Club, erected by his family. I am happy to record their good deed on the Internet.

I had been walking eight hours now and I continued along Great Plain with the golf course on my left, after which is the railroad station. Across the street, as I had recollected, was a small commercial complex with a Mobil station and a coffee shop.

I went down into the station and was shocked to see that the MBTA did not have the schedule posted. However, a man sitting on a bench told me that the next train was due at 4:01 PM.

This gave me just enough time to walk across the station, through the parking lot, back up to the street and over to the shopping area. This is at the corner of Broad Meadow Road.

Lingering in the coffee shop not being possible, I went into a Red Apple convenience store and purchased a small Tropicana Orange juice for the rather exorbitant price of 95 cents. I still had time to phone a message to Cathy, officially ending the walk back at the station at eight and one quarter hours.

I sat on a bench, feeling fairly exhausted. To the left I could see all the way to the bridge that carries Greendale Avenue over the tracks. Ahead I watched the tall pine trees swaying in the wind, a pleasant sight. (Whatever one thinks of the political power of the Massachusetts golf lobby, which has resulted in tax breaks for country clubs, a golf course is still by far prettier than a real estate development.)

On the train (on time as always) I pondered the map and decided that I could still do a North from Needham walk. In compiling this narrative I also find that Needham has sufficient unwalked streets to justify Northwest from Needham, too.

Given a start so "close to home", my expectations for this walk were not too high, but it proved to be interesting enough. Of course the excursion through the wood was unplanned. On the other hand, it gets low marks for getting myself lost and for having to make many repeats. I did collect some new localities; I had feared a might actually get a goose egg on that score. And I did have some adventure. But if I ever see the Studleys behind my building, I will tempted to call the police!

Name: South from Wellesley Hills

Path: Wellesley - Dover - Westwood - Needham

Date: July 16, 1997

Time: 8.25 hours

Weather: Overcast, sun coming out at times; hot (upper 80s); very unpleasant; very humid except for relatively cool early AM

Roadkill: squirrel (Dover); chipmunk (Dover)

Municipalities: Wellesley, Needham, Dover, Westwood, Dedham

Localities: Wellesley Hills, Maugus Hill, Woodland Hill, Anna Volente Conservation Area, Horsford Pond Recreation Area, Horsford Pond, High Rock Woods, Charles River Village, Village Falls Park, Red-Wing Bay, Comiskey Corner, Noanet Wilderness Reservation, Hale Reservation, Oak Hill [Dover], Stevens Pond, Lee Pond, Roy Hill Square, West Meadow Brook, Bird's Hill
 

Highlight: Charles River at Red-Wing Bay and Cochrane Dam

Lowlight: Wrong turn at Carleton and Central, Needham

New walks: N from Needham
                  NW from Needham

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(c) 1998 James Murphy
Last update January 15, 1998