After last year’s snow deluge in January and the uncanny Halloween blizzard most of us are overjoyed with 2011-2012’ non winter.

I find myself in the minority today. I peered out the window early this morning viewing only the melancholy gray of the sky and the dreary brown landscape. The doldrums had set in. In sailing, the doldrums are a location on the water with no wind. You linger not even rocking, waiting to be moved by a breeze while you are motionless and helpless.

I don’t know that the winter doldrums I felt have left me helpless but I was motionless both physically and mentally. It was time to generate my own breeze.

I put up the spinnaker and headed for my inland wind, the woods.

I chose a place that is well known in the area, especially by Danburians, Tarrywile Park. Its story is probably also familiar to many.  The mansion was designed and built in 1896 for Dr. William Wile, the first chief medical examiner for Danbury Hospital.

Due to a fall down the stairwell in the mansion, his wife was permanently disabled forcing him to sell the house and land to hat and furrier magnate Charles Darling Parks in 1910. Over several decades Parks added hundreds of acres including a dairy farm. With recently purchased open space Tarrywile now encompasses 722 acres. On this land, besides the house and several out buildings, can be found and explored over 21 miles of trails.  Incorporated as part of these trails is the newly opened Ives trail which runs from Terre Haute in Bethel to Bennett Pond Preserve in Ridgefield.

The Tarrywile Park and the organization that oversees its usage offer amazing environmental education and hiking programs. The Environmental Center is located in the old barn and the Western Connecticut Orienteering Club has developed several orienteering trails throughout.  There are also several gardens including a children’s garden and a meditation garden.  

All this is wonderful but what I needed was to fill my sails and escape from these dowdy winter doldrums. It was time to hit the trails. With over 21 miles and challenges ranging from easy to difficult I settled on connecting the white, an easy loop around Parks Pond, and the blue, a moderate trek circling the Back Pond into the forest and the edges of the park. Heading out past the barn and silo I felt my foresail gradually lufting with a gentle breeze. My feet were where they needed to be, grounded on the earth, my inland ocean.

The white eases softly past a sprawling meadow dotted with bluebird houses waiting for late spring residents. The fallen winter hay shone almost golden when the sun unexpectedly sprang from behind the cloud cover. With Parks Pond at sea level on my left, I hooked with the blue, climbing gradually past a giant water tank. Then I was abruptly enclosed in the trees and, glancing forward, I detected the trail taking a turn up through rocks and a steep grassy incline.  The wind was knocked from my mainsail slowing me to a crawl as my body quickly heated. The sunken boulders seemed to be positioned in a pattern requiring giant steps to reach the top.  

Finally as I leveled and the wind once again caught in the sail I glanced abeam through the trees at the outskirts of the city nestled in the valley in the distance. Back on track it wasn’t long before I grasped that the Back Pond lay at the same elevation as Parks Pond, straight down from where I now rested.  I trimmed the mainsail and relied on the jib to bring me downhill tacking several times as the trail zigzagged down the rock and root strewn hill. Safely reaching the bottom I detoured to Tarrywile Lake on the right observing houses lining the western shore.

Returning to Back Pond I faced a choice; continue on Blue to the west of the pond which I had traversed previously, or explore Red which was listed as a “short cut”. I chose to explore, both shorelines appearing level.

Little did I know that Red did not embrace the shore but gradually scaled the side of the hill I had just descended. Letting out the jib I gradually ascended through almost the entire length of the pond. Only then did I become aware, noting the double red marker, that Red turned sharply right and down. If my imaginary ship were a kayak at this point instead of a sailboat I was tackling serious whitewater ahead.  Side slipping and cautiously stepping I knew my scoped knee was not going to be happy. Needless to say choosing Red instead of Blue was a painful decision. Twice I almost soared headlong down the slope and slid on my bum to prevent a tumble.

I managed to reach the bottom without permanent damage though I knew an ice pack awaited my knee at home. I once again met with Blue, my benign friend. I opened both jib and main and sailed back easily and freely. I stopped often on my return voyage to absorb the sensation of wilderness and freedom here almost in the center of downtown Danbury. Though harrowing at moments, I managed to “sail” out of my doldrums.  The only disturbance was that written by Gordon Hempton in One Square Inch.

Even though I was able to breathe, relax, and take in this not so tedious beauty of winter brown, I was never able to escape the ever present man made noise.

Located within two miles (by crow) from Danbury Airport I was relentlessly disrupted by the resonance of small planes circling overhead.  I was, however, rewarded with the freshness of forest air and soft sights of streams and ponds and meadows.  I was also given the gifts of more bridges escorting me “across” out here in the “wild”.

So if you sense the doldrums and monotony of winter’s stagnant grip bear down on you, set sail in the breeze to your favorite trail. If you want the risk explore some place new only beware of Red.