With the summer months upon us, my efforts to become acquainted with my new adopted hometown have turned increasingly to the outdoors. Plymouth has an abundance of riches when it comes to places to soak up the beauty of nature, appreciate the quietude, and decompress. I expect to follow this column with more that will, I hope, connect residents with some of the lesser-known quiet places in town. (By that I mean not Myles Standish State Forest).
On a mild, overcast day over Memorial Day weekend, my partner Pat and I took the dogs, Salina and Tot, to Ellisville Harbor State Park, just off Route 3A in the southern reaches of town. There’s a large dirt parking lot adjacent to the road, but immediately past it, if you are headed southbound, there’s a dirt driveway of sorts that leads to a smaller parking area near the beginning of the short trail that leads down to the beach. The trail is flat for the most part as it skirts the bluff above the salt marsh below and is lined in places with huge rhododendrons that were, luckily for us, in full, spectacular flower. The final portion of the trail declines steeply to the beach, but it’s easily doable, going up or down, regardless of your fitness level.
Technically speaking, dogs are allowed on the trail but are barred from the beach from April 1 to Sep. 15, but we didn’t plan to stay long and even though it was a holiday weekend, there were only a handful of people wandering the beach. I confess to bending the rules. It was blissfully silent save for the occasional caw of a gull and the gentle lapping of the water against the rocks. Which brings us to…the rocks. The beach here doesn’t invite you to spread your blanket for a day of sun and surf. There are rocks, large (boulders, really) and small, all over the beach and along the water’s edge. The views, however, are quite beautiful; the bay stretching away to the horizon and a handful of cedar-shingled homes clinging to the bluff to the north. Being new here, I expected there to be a small harbor with boats bobbing in the water, but Ellisville Harbor hasn’t been a working harbor for quite some time. It was once used for loading timber onto boats bound for Boston and local fishing.
My next stop was the Foothills Preserve, a town-owned property acquired in 2017 to maintain open space. The foothills here are the Pine Hills for which the residential community – The Pinehills – was named. Located on the north side of Beaver Dam Road just to the west of Route 3A, the preserve comprises 40 acres of “retired cranberry bogs,” according to a sign at the entrance, and 88 acres of surrounding woodland. Cranberry bogs apparently don’t go to Florida when they retire – with help, they can be returned to their natural wetland state. Cranberry production requires cold temperatures and ice to protect the bogs from frost and as warmer, shorter winters have taken hold here, many cranberry bogs in the region are being “retired” and restored.
There’s a flat loop trail, about a mile long, with the option to climb up into the hills. The day Tot, Salina and I went was picture perfect: blue skies and 75 degrees. Within the first two minutes we spied a great blue heron, a common but always regal sight, several hawks (I’m not skilled enough to identify them by type, nor are the dogs), red-winged blackbirds, and many swallows. Wildflowers dotted the trail.
The Foothills Preserve, however, has one big drawback. Wherever you are, unsightly high-tension powerlines and their support structures are visible. Towards the end of our walk, we also heard the high-pitched whine of two dirt bikes, and I turned to see them traveling at high speed up trails into the foothills. I’m not sure if they are allowed to be there, but then again, I did take the dogs to the beach at Ellisville Harbor so I shouldn’t throw stones.
Directly across the street from the Foothills Preserve is the Massachusetts Audubon’s Tidmarsh Wildlife Sanctuary. I’m not going to bury the lede here: I loved this place.
At 481 acres, Tidmarsh is considerably larger than the Foothills Preserve and has three miles of trails that meander through woodlands and meadows, and along ponds, streams, and swamps that were once Tidmarsh Farms. In 1989, it produced one percent of Ocean Spray’s massive cranberry harvest. Now, according to Mass Audubon, Tidmarsh is “the largest freshwater ecological restoration ever completed in the Northeast…converting a working cranberry farm to a wildlife preserve.”
In 2017, this novel experiment of “re-wilding” a cranberry bog was chronicled in The New York Times. One of the results was the return of river herring and muskrats to a restored Beaver Dam Brook which courses through the property. Among the benefits is that a restored wetland can reduce the impact of flooding and storm surges associated with climate change.
Plymouth Independent board member Glorianna Davenport and her husband, Evan Schulman, owned the property in 2010 when they ceased the farming operation and began the effort to secure state and federal resources for restoration. It later became a Mass Audubon property.
Dogs aren’t allowed and for good reason, this is a wildlife sanctuary after all, so my amble though Tidmarsh was solo. It was another flawless early June day, brilliant blue skies and comfortable for walking. I saw only four other humans in well over an hour on the trails. The silence was intoxicating. No dirt bikes whizzing around, and no power lines to mar the views. The trail map, available at a kiosk at the main entrance, was clear (many are not) and easy to follow.
At a pond dotted with water lilies I came upon two swans that appeared to be romantically involved so I tried to be discreet, more discreet than they were, anyway.
Tidmarsh is a reminder that the restoration and preservation of open spaces isn’t a luxury but an ecological necessity, and good for the human soul, too.
What are your favorite outdoor spots in town? Drop me a line; inquiring minds want to know.
Peter Zheutlin – a freelance journalist who has written frequently for The Boston Globe, The Christian Science Monitor, and many other publications – brings the perspective of a Plymouth newcomer to the Independent. He is the author or co-author of nine books, including the New York Times bestseller “Rescue Road: One Man, Thirty Thousand Dogs, and a Million Miles on the Last Hope Highway.” Zheutlin can be reached at pzheutlin@gmail.com.