The Quabbin Reservoir is massive, covering 39 square miles and boasting 181 miles of shoreline. It's located in Central Massachusetts, just south of Route 2. When flying west from Logan, you may have seen it out the window and thought, "There's a giant lake in the middle Massachusetts?".
Surprisingly, the reservoir was built to help bring fresh water to Boston. The history of how it was built involved the removal of entire towns during construction. Four towns were wiped off the map to make room for the damming of the Swift River so engineers could flood the valley.
You can still explore the area around the Quabbin, because most of it is open to the public. You can walk the old roads and see some evidence of the towns. Don't get excited though. All standing structures were leveled, leaving behind stone foundations and cellar holes. Still, I think it's fascinating to hike and stumble upon them.
With the advent of Covid, I have been hiking every weekend since the state shut down. Most of the hikes have been on the roads and trails around the Quabbin. Returning there each week has brought some interesting observations. This past hike the trail followed a brook, named Briggs Brook, as it made its way from the hills of Shutesbury down into the reservoir.
When we found Briggs Brook, it was slowly winding through dense crops of Mountain Laurel. Small streams feed into it, making tiny islands covered with moss and small conifer saplings. The brook eventually passes through an old mill site. Tall pines allow for clear visibility of the stone foundations left behind in the gorge.
Shortly after the mill site, a narrow channel in the rock forces Briggs Brook to pickup speed. It jets down an enormous rock face into a pool, which creates a lot of noise. It's calms down though. Just beyond the pool, the brook begins to wind back and forth through the pines and boulders.
At the end of its run, Briggs Brook pours into a small cove on the Northwest side of the Quabbin. There's no giant waterfall for showmanship. The brook quietly pours into the cove, mostly hidden under the forest canopy. On the sides of the cove, tiny waves slide over the sand. The last sounds of Briggs Brook as it merges with the reservoir.
A reoccurring motif of the shut down has been a disconnection with time itself. I have found friends, family, and myself saying "I don't know what day it is anymore." We no longer have rigid schedules built around commutes, work, or social weekend plans. Personally, I have been struggling with the adjustment.
I'm a big fan of a schedule, and knowing what's going on. The release from my daily schedule has caused me to reflect a lot on what I want in life and what really has value. Hiking in the Quabbin Reservoir area has value to me. I get to study small wonders like Briggs Brook, and think on them in peace.
The brook follows no schedule. It grows and shrinks with the seasons, forming a long repeating rhythm. I found comfort in listening to how all of the water molecules moved as one, creating sound in varying degrees on their journey.
Later on, I thought about how I witnessed each stage of Briggs Brook. I photographed it in sequence, because I wanted to tell a story of its journey. I thought, "It doesn't really adhere to time as I know it. What would that look like compressed into as a single photograph?". The ideas I have in the shower are the best. I was inspired to create a montage of my photographs to illustrate this idea. The result is a non-linear depiction of Briggs Brook. I named it, The Journey.
Want to hear the journey of the Briggs Brook?