A Lap Around the Lake
(Appeared in the Fairfield Citizen News 11/26)
By Mike Lauterborn
ã 2010. All Rights Reserved.
11/14/10
A sunny, unseasonably warm mid-November Sunday afternoon presented the perfect opportunity to pay a visit to Lake Mohegan. A sea of cars swamped the main parking lot, confirming that others had made a like decision.
Dedicated as an open space back in the late 60s, the 170-acre parcel offers a myriad of recreational pursuits. One element is the Sprinkler Playground, which, this time of year, sits idle, summer fun a faded memory. Likewise, the adjacent concession stand was locked tight and the modest stretch of beach, made of trucked-in sand, was empty. Three lifeguard chairs faced the clear lake, its surface rippling as it was tickled by a light breeze.
The height of leaf peeking season had passed, leaving mostly bare gray limbs with the exception of clusters of brown leaves stubbornly hanging on. Still, a stream of people passed through a log gateway, dogs of all sizes and makes in tow, to follow a hiking trail. The path was paved with pine needles and crunchy leaves that gave off an outdoorsy aroma. Timbers defined and reinforced the path in some spots and wide planks spanned gulleys in others.
My 10-year-old, Phil, was along for the adventure today and happily pointed out trail offshoots, a rusting hay rake, the odd scurrying chipmunk and the rhythmic tap tap of a busy woodpecker.
A black Lab, the hair on its belly and legs wet from a lake dip, came bounding toward us. Its owner smiled as it mounted a rock to peer at an overview.
As we made our way up an incline, we came to a prominent rock outcropping with overhangs said to have sheltered native Indians that once roamed the space. Strategically placed rock slabs provided a staircase to the summit and a far-reaching view of a distant ridge.
A slope on the other side that was littered with oak leaves led us deeper into the woods while also curling us back down toward the lake. Behind us, the chink chink of collar tags on a pair of dogs, one black and one white, was heard while yelps from others were audible up ahead.
We came to a broad rock plateau that bordered a rushing stream, a virtual watering hole for woods walkers and their four-legged beasts. A visiting family had carved a heart shape into the bark of a nearby birch tree and, inside the heart, added the message “Daddy, Paulina, Nico 2002”.
We followed the stream to a wooden bridge that allowed passage to the far bank for the circle back to our point of origin. As we crossed, we each dropped a leaf into the water and watched the current carry it away.
Photographers abounded, snapping portraits of family members against fall backdrops. A carefully notched stump provided a seat for a spell.
A path on the other side of the stream brought us past a secondary parking area and a small lagoon and back to the lake. The tranquil setting reminded me of a scene from “On Golden Pond.”
The sun was sitting just above a ridge top now, casting long shadows and lighting up the amber and yellow hues of the adjacent woods.
Our path broadened as we paced the homestretch and the shouts of children and chatter of adults returning to the parking lot became noticeable. They clambered back in their autos and rushed off, likely headed for TV rooms to munch snack food and enjoy late day pro football action.
We would join them in the pursuit, while savoring the sights and sounds we’d just experienced -- yet another facet of Fairfield’s resplendent bounty.
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