Isaac and I took a walk down Spangler Road on Saturday.
We had seen on a map that it cut a handy transverse between two main roads with flimsy shoulders and had a “Bridge Out” warning. Roads with bridges incapable of carrying cars generally make for good walking.
Little did we know that Spangler Road is the prettiest road in the whole world. It passes a very well-manicured horse farm populated with lots of curious horses and a few silly dogs. And then you go around a curve and you come to this:
This is what is commonly known as the Spengler Bridge. It was built in 1880 by the Morse Bridge Co. It still has a wooden deck. It crosses the Kinderhook Creek and I now love this bridge entirely. It is so graceful and beautiful and the fact that it still stands fills me with awe.
After gawping and gawking at the bridge and its view we carried on and then we came across this:
The prettiest hill in all the world. The colors are natural, I didn’t manipulate them a hue. And from the top of the hill we could hear the most godawful racket. My first guess was the hunt, but no, the barks were different from a fox hound’s, so then I thought beagles.
We walked on and came to another road. The sound was definitely louder there, so we went searching. A few hundred feet into the road we found a distinguished, white-haired gentleman with a giant horn whip and handsome green Pinks. We asked what all the noise was and he said “Beagles! Let’s go find them!”
So off we tramped into the woods and soon enough the brush began to rustle and with a mighty noise, a few dozen beagles popped out. They were muddy and tuckered, but their tails were still wagging and they were still sniffing, sniffing, sniffing everything. We watched them for a few minutes and then the master called “Pack up! Paaaack uuuup! PAAAACK UUUUP!” and the hunt was over. We followed the beagles and the hunters back to their cars, were offered a beer, made some new friends and were invited to a formal hunt.
We couldn’t make it this weekend, but I remember going beagling once when I was a kid. It was such a good time, and I can’t wait to do it again. Plus, I was so cowed by all the noise and wagging that I neglected to take any pictures.
So then we said goodbye to our new friends and headed home to make chowder. More on that later.
A Chicken In Every Granny Cart 
Fantastic bridge, fantastic hill. Now what is beagling?
You weren’t kidding about the most beautiful road. I love, love, love Fall.
Wow, so beautiful! Wish I had a road like around here to walk on.
Margaret — Beagling is basically fox hunting but without horses and using beagles instead of hounds. It is *great* fun! I bet if you could locate a fox hunting club (there have to be tons of them in Virgina and Maryland) they could point you towards a beagling group if you were interested.
Christine — ME TOO. Love!
Lindsay — Ohmigod. There have to be roads like that in Oregon! No? Of course, I’m not sure what fall is like in Oregon, but I bet it’s wonderful :-)
Ann, your photos and stories bring tears to my eyes. That bridge! That hill! You make me miss fall more than anything…….
Hugs to you!
Gorgeous! Having nostalgic feelings about our summer in E. Chatham and sas that we’re missing the fall experience up there.
Toni — Fall is worth missing, it’s so lovely!
Lorna — It’s been a strange fall, much like it was a strange summer, but you would love it. The colors are so gorgeous.