The Quarry

My son has been trying to get me to go with him for a swim at the quarry above Barre for over a decade.  Recently he passed through the state and, in addition to spending so much wonderful time with him, he finally dragged me up there.  We've had such a wonderful time, and doubtless the blog will be reflecting all of our adventures from the past week.  It's just makes me so happy to spend time with him.

And the requisite background information.  This is not the main quarry that you see when you initially climb up the hill above Barre, and I didn't even know it existed.  It's a beautiful walk up from Graniteville.

I don't think you're allowed to park at the base of the hill anymore - and it's easy to blow right past it.

If you climb to the top you can get a really pretty view looking down upon the main quarry, and the mountains in the background.

Yes, and on we trudge to Gondor.  Although the quarry is officially abandoned, although the trail is maintained, there are immense piles of granite (known as grout) which the local stone masons must use for practice.

Some of the works are pretty whimsical, and they pop out randomly, which adds to their charm.

And some are pretty fierce - obviously, I sent a picture of this one to my friend Andy Burkhardt.

And here is the upper quarry.  I do like this picture quite a bit, although I have typically, and clumsily, framed it - one of the classic signs of amateur and amateurish photographers.

I'm struggling with the blog today, and the pictures and popping up randomly and out or order, but I don't have the time or energy to keep fixing them.  Here's a lovely little cliff, and if you squint you can see my son at the top.  And, yes, we both did jump off from up there - him much more gracefully than me.

As part of my research I've been rereading James Fenimore Cooper's The Leatherstocking Tales, and for some reason this picture of my son reminds me of The Last of the Mohicans.

And a closeup of Gary on top of the cliff.  He jumped off a couple times with no trouble; his father much less successfully.  As might be expected, I lost my sense of balance flying down and managed a slap my leg pretty dramatically - and still have a lovely round six inch bruise to show for it.

And here's Hawkeye on top of the cliff looking at an even higher cliff.  He was endearingly protective of me.  Mainly he just wanted to spend some time with me and go for a swim.  We got to the edge of the cliff and he said, "You know, you don't really have to do this."

And here's the bigger cliff that the local kids just refer to as Death.  My son has actually seen someone jump from up there, but made it clear that he thought it was pretty insane.  We figured it had to be around seventy or so feet high, whereas our "little" leap was "only" around twenty-five.

I've written on this blog before that the Ryan Adams song This House is Not For Sale is my official song of my 50's.  This may be my official picture.