The Hart LbNA # 30027
|Placed Date||Apr 13 2007|
|Location||Gungy Rd, Lyme, CT|
|Last Found||Aug 3 2013|
Placed by MCWeber
Access: Gungy Rd., 1 mile north of Beaver Brook Rd.
Remarks: 300–acre woodland with numerous trails; connects with East Lyme portion of Nehantic State Forest.
Recently, a man left his mark on Hartman Park. He grew up as a devout practitioner of the letterboxing arts. In these woods, he has left many a box. I tell you now of the box he confided within myself of. One of many that holds yet another peice of his spirit eternal.
He began this trek gazing at the visitor's map. This man, who called himself The Hart, stared at this map, Wondering where to hide this piece of history. He decided to begin by heading southeast, walking to a tree many would look upon with disdain. Many would call it ugly.
He continued southeast, taking a left. When he saw the bridge on his right, he crossed, gaqzing at the stream beneath him, and the many memories which lie upon those waters. From there, he cauciously watched his feet for the mud puddles which plagued these trails, and had stolen many of his shoes over the years.
He followed silver bullets, passing under a tree he always thought of as Hammock Tree. At the fork, he turned 150° at the next cross. The Hart looked to his feet, and watched for the grasping roots.
At the large split rock, a good ways up the trail to his left and past the tree that resembled Poseidon's weapon of choice, he sat to breathe and think.
He looked off to the rocky cliff, and remembered his idiotic attempts to sled down it in winter weather. He headed back to the trail and continued on for 80 paces. There he came a rock he affectionantely called Plane Rock, for it's strange regularity. It had gained this name after a fellow letterboxer said "It's just a plain old rock."
Standing upon it, he sighted 110 degrees and blazed a trail straight up the hillside. He stepped over a tree, and past an ancient stone wall. He stands under a tree which miraculously grows parralel to the ground.
From there he continued on up the hill, seeing his trek was near its end. At the top, he saw the tree that looks as if it had exploded from the inside out. He turned 20° west of north and walked to the rocks which had been frozen in conversation. He sat on this mouth and looked to the east. There in a small cleft lie the perfect hole to hide fhis box.
Take the mark of time in your book, leave yours in his, and return the box, per his request.