I was kindly invited by my generous friends at Bartram's Garden to join them on a trek into one of the most remote areas of the Pine Barrens known as The Great Swamp, which is rumored to be home to the oldest, largest cedar trees in the region (actually, it is more than mere rumor, as one of our party has encountered them in the past). Apparently these giants were too deep in the swamp for loggers to take them, even by helicopter. Rumor also has it that a large crane remains out there to this day.We made our way in by trail, but after a few miles we struck out into a clearing that led to a wet icy swale, which started out as damp ground but deepened as we progressed. We soon made our way to higher ground when we made our way through some dense underbrush to a stand of cedars, which after an hour or so led to a swollen fen. As is usual, I had my eyes around my feet--so many wonderful lichens, mosses and fungi everywhere. The Pine Barrens is the only place on Earth where I've encountered actual fields of lichen where grasses should be. Very strange. At one point we came upon a clearing full of lichen amid sand that appeared to have a lavender hue.
( Watch your step... )
We never did find that stand of ancient cedars, but we had a wonderful time trying. My best reckoning is that we covered about ten miles, but I could be completely wrong--perhaps it just felt like we covered a large distance, due to the nature of the terrain. Getting through some areas took a great deal of effort, as certain parts were either completely choked by vegetation or waterlogged (thank heavens for my wellies). Dry land became something of a novelty in some parts, which consisted mainly of cedar roots and spongy beds of sphagnum moss. This scramble through the brambles even took its toll on our lips, as one of our party had the misfortune of having his top lip impaled on a brier thorn--from behind the lip, no less. Poor B--he was a good sport, but it looked very painful. Being naturalists, there was little else to do but measure, weigh, tag and release him.
Towards the end, we found an abandoned cranberry bog with a network of streams and canals, and possibly a small, dormant colony of round-leafed sundews. From across the wide grassy expanse we could make out a hunter, silently lying in wait on the edge of a thicket for deer. I'm not sure how he got out to such a remote location without transportation (or how he would get a deer back, even if he dressed it in the field). The sun was setting as we left; that hunter must have had a large thermos of coffee with him.
My most sincere thanks to J, B and B for having me along, and for being such good company--it was truly a pleasure to spend the day with such knowledgeable people, and I learned a great deal. I hope we might do it again soon.
~W