On a cloudy Wednesday at the start of October, my girlfriend, Taylor, and I decided to enjoy the autumn afternoon by getting off our laptops and into the woods for some much needed movement. Having just moved to Norfolk as a new reporter for the Lakeville Journal, I was on the hunt for panoramic views of the landscape I now call home, accessible with the hour and a half of daylight left to us. Haystack Tower it was.
I’m not entirely unfamiliar with the landscapes of the Northwest Corner: I visited family and friends in the region as a child and would drive up on high school joyrides from my home in Westchester County. But calling somewhere home brings new meaning to a place, and I was eager to see a familiar view with a new sense of belonging.
To extend the walk a bit, we chose the yellow trail loop, starting from the bottom of the road leading up the hill off North Street. Our journey began on a neatly mowed path through a gently sloping meadow, with stands of purple-white New England asters poking out from a mosaic of green and red leaves and grasses on either side of the trail.
Our trail took us into a forest sporting half-autumn colors: some maple stands blazed gold and orange while others remained dark green. The occasional fiery swamp maple glowed bright red below the overstory, catching the glints of sunlight that managed to penetrate the cloud layer and canopy.
As we trudged up the forested hillside, my field of vision was so washed in texture — a chaos of rocks, roots, bark, and leaves of every shade — that my eyes almost started to ache.
The trail plateaued after a short climb into a new type of forest: three-story oaks underscored with hickory saplings. With a new composition, the forest assumed a browner and yellower hue than that of the maple-dominated lower hillside.
We eventually reached the imposing stone tower at Haystack Mountain’s summit, and we quickly climbed the winding stairs to find what we came for: 360-degree views of forested hills folding over one another as they spread into the distance, interspersed by patches of valley farmland. A copse of orange maples framed Route 44 as it passed through Norfolk below. This was the beautiful patchwork landscape I am lucky to now call home.
A relaxed jaunt down a wide carriage road took us around the mountain’s northeastern flank as eastern hemlocks leaned overhead and clung to the steep slope below. Reaching the car with daylight to spare, we decided to prolong the outing with an evening pint.
At Norbrook Farm Brewery, we were asked if we wanted to join a game of jukebox bingo. It looked like fun, but we couldn’t get enough of the October evening air, so we headed outside instead to sit fireside on the patio. Settling into an Adirondack chair, I sipped the brewery’s brown ale (the “Beckley Furnace Ale”). It was malty and crisp, and certainly one of the better in the style I’ve had recently. Taylor is partial to seasonal beers and opted for their pumpkin ale, joyously titled the “Gourdo.” I’m usually not a fan of pumpkin-flavored anything, but I agreed that this was a nicely balanced beer and enjoyed the few sips I took.
As the light faded on the hills, we noted that the foliage across the fields looked to be nearly peaking in the soft glow of the evening. A chill settled in and I huddled closer to the fire, eager to lean into the swiftly changing season in my new home.
