Photo by the author.
By Matthew E. Milliken
MEMwrites.wordpress.com
Aug. 13, 2022
On Sunday, I made what I believe was my first ever visit to Princeton, N.J., and its environs.
I donated blood during the noon hour at an American Red Cross blood bank south/southwest of the town. Afterward, I snacked and used the bathroom before walking to my car, where I snacked some more and hydrated. It was a hot sunny day in a summer that has been filled with them.
Then I drove to a nearby bank, withdrew money from the ATM and parked in the shade to arrange the cash to my liking. Next, I stopped at a gas station and fueled up.
The station was located on the southwest corner of U.S. 1 and Washington Road, which for that stretch coincides with state routes 526 and 571. Like many busy roads in New Jersey, U.S. 1 has an unusual system of exchanges, and I struggled to choose the right lane for my trip north on Washington toward the university and town of Princeton. Things got a little dicey after I crossed U.S. 1 and found that I should have been one lane over, but fortunately, another motorist yielded to me.
Stony Brook and the Delaware and Raritan Canal line the south side of the campus. Approaching them, I passed some farmland before coming to what looked like generous waterside recreational areas.
University buildings and installations cropped up soon after I crossed over the canal and brook. I couldn’t really tell you anything substantial about them, but the campus seemed to have some pleasant places to stroll and sit. Maybe not so much at that moment, however: In the 10 or so minutes since leaving the gas station, the sky had become ominously dark, and the wind began to pick up. Rain started falling as I approached the far end of Washington.
The road terminated at Nassau Street, which runs roughly east-west along what I take to be the northern boundary of the main campus. Google and Apple digital maps suggest to me that Nassau is like Franklin Street in Chapel Hill — the main drag of a college town, packed with shops and restaurants and bars.
I’d intended to drive along the street, but I changed my mind. Google Maps said that Nassau was congested, and the skies had opened up. I cut north through what seemed to be a very pricey dense urban or semiurban residential neighborhood. I went west on Wiggins Street, which roughly parallels Nassau. It became Paul Robeson Place. When I got to Bayard Lane, I turned right and headed north/northwest away from the center of town.
Heavy rain continued as I turned off Bayard and drove west through another residential development, this one filled with big homes on generous parcels.
Soon, I turned right and north onto Great Road. I passed Farmview Fields, a recreation facility offering a view of agricultural land. I’d spent perhaps 10 minutes navigating from the corner of Washington and Nassau to this bucolic spot.
I kept driving along rural routes. Five minutes after passing the recreational fields, the sun had come back out. It seemed as if no rain had fallen here, northwest of Princeton.
Another five or so minutes later, I turned into a small lot off of Moores Mill–Mount Rose Road. The lot was on property owned by the Watershed Institute, a nonprofit environmental and educational venture situated on a 950-acre wilderness reserve. The land features 10 miles of walking trails, which was why I’d come.
But first, lunch! I parked in the shade, set up a chair and placed a soft-side cooler beside it. Then I plopped myself down and began consuming an ersatz picnic: Two slices of cold pizza, some cherries, some grapes, some granola bars…
When my hunger was sated, at least temporarily, I put everything away. I applied another coat of sunscreen to my face and upper body. I would also have applied bug spray, but I couldn’t find the bottle that I thought I kept in my car. So it goes.
I shouldered a small backpack containing a water bottle. I rarely carry water with me when I walk or hike, but this was unfamiliar territory, I’d just donated blood not two hours before and the temperature was still quite high. Better safe than sorry. I also pulled out a portable battery and connected my iPhone, which was somewhere between one-half and two-thirds charge. Again, I don’t normally do this, but this was unfamiliar territory, and I sometimes find that the phone doesn’t charge well while I’m driving. Say it with me: Better safe than sorry!
I set a timer for half an hour and cautiously walked alongside the road for a little ways. Then I picked up the Watershed Trail, the institute’s longest, which essentially connects the property’s southernmost and northernmost points. I was starting out about one third of the way from northern edge of institute land. I wanted to reach that spot, which abuts West Broad Street in the town of Hopewell, before going back to my car.
This was only my second true nature hike — I generally use the word “hike” to mean a walk on something other than paved roads — in the past few months. I had to adjust to uneven footing and an inability to navigate by smartphone if I wandered off the trail. This part of the path wasn’t always well marked, in fact, but I figured things out and began making decent time.
Photo by the author.
It began to drizzle, and I debated whether or not to break out the poncho that I’d stowed in my backpack. Fortunately, the precipitation soon let up.
When my timer ran out, I compared my digital trail map, which doesn’t show my position, to Google Maps, which does. I was less than half a mile from West Broad Street. I got to the end of the trail, walked across the street and took some pictures of the trailhead. Then I began heading south, retracing my route.
A view of the northernmost trailhead on the property of the Watershed Institute as seen from the north side of West Broad Street, Hopewell, N.J., on Sunday, Aug. 7, 2022. 
Northern trailhead marker, Watershed Institute property near Hopewell, N.J., as seen on Sunday, Aug. 7, 2022. 
Northern trailhead marker closeup, Watershed Institute property near Hopewell, N.J., as seen on Sunday, Aug. 7, 2022.
When I got to Moores Mill–Mount Rose Road, I decided to follow the trail rather than skirt the side of the road. I found a glass display case giving some information about the property. There was a very small map and a list of rules, one of which was not to take anything.
After perusing the information, I picked up the trail. A minute further along, I saw a woman in a blue denim dress and stockings who appeared to be collecting berries. I don’t like to stare at people, but I may have stared at her — not only was she breaking the rules, her clothing was not appropriate for a nature outing. In fact, she appeared to have on some kind of heels on her feet. I nodded at her and mumbled hello when she noticed me.
Photo by the author.
Happily, the path had a spur leading back to the parking lot. There was another vehicle there, perhaps unsurprisingly. Large silhouettes of marine life — I wasn’t sure if they were magnets or if this was a custom paint job — appeared on the side of the blue car.
I pulled off my sweaty shirt, stowed the backpack, hopped behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. My stereo blared classical music — I remember having listened to a classical station on the drive in, but I hadn’t realized the volume was set so high. I turned it down, set Google Maps to give me directions to my next destination and pulled out of the lot.
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