City Slickers Boston ~ Blog 26

It's kind of unbelievable this is so close to the city.

The definition of "determination" can be skewed by where you live.

Today, two days after a failed attempt to go hiking with Daisy Duke, we loaded back in the car for a second attempt. When we got to the Sumner tunnel, traffic was a standstill because construction had narrowed the tunnel to one lane.

Undeterred, we rolled off into the side streets of Boston, eventually ending up on a back highway and sneaking our way into the Fellsway. If they gave a Congressional Medal for city driving, I would be wearing it right now.

The Fellsway is a pair of natural areas and is primarily a state park. Dog hiking is the first thing the Fellsway's wikipedia page lists for activities in the area, so I figured it was probably Kosher to bring Daisy Duke.

Technically, it's an on-leash hiking area. Technically, there is nobody there to enforce that rule. Technically, I'd be willing to pay several fines a year if it meant not getting dragged through the woods by my somewhat-trained Daisy Duke.

Interstate 93 runs right through the Fells and you can clearly see a tower of some sort on a rock bluff at the southern edge of the area. Daisy Duke and I glanced at a trail map, then set out from the parking area in the middle of the Fells. There are dozens of trails and it's got to be tough to get lost. Just stay near the interstate.

The view from the trail.

That logic served us well. Walk toward the sun. When you can't hear the interstate, you need to work your way to the left. That brought us on an almost-direct course to the tower.

It also brought us into a small herd of deer.

Daisy Duke is not renown for her attention to detail. And so it was that she stood on a rock not 75 feet from a large, white-tailed deer. Daisy Duke practically looked right at the deer, then turned away and sniffed the ground, completely unaware of the opportunity just a few bounds away. The deer took off through the woods; Daisy Duke never noticed.

"You're clueless, dog," I told her.

We moved ahead another five minutes, snapped a few pictures at the tower, overlooking Boston, and began to work our way back.

The dog and I aren't so different, really. We're both good at ignoring what's right in front of us. In Salt Lake, I'd drive half an hour or more to access hiking spots with Dukakis, Daisy's chocolate lab predecessor. Dukakis and I would go up Mill Creek Canyon and hike Grandeur Peak, the Pipeline and Dog Lake (aptly named) several times a week until he got too old and we moved farther away from the city. Out west, hiking was a part of my routine, daily activities.

But there's no hiking out east, I told myself.

My drive to work takes me straight through The Fells. The trailhead is nine miles from our house; it takes about 15 minutes to get there. It's not the west, but it's a worthy workout. Daisy Duke and I spent an hour and a half in the Fells today. On the way home, she passed out with her head on the emergency brake handle in the front seat. She's currently cuddled up on my right arm, snoring lightly.

I've been in Boston for almost six months and I'm finally giving in to the idea that I'm the closest to hiking I've ever been in my life. I'm determined to take advantage of the access.