By Jack Houvouras
HQ 39 | SUMMER 2000
“Of all the characters I have known, perhaps Walden wears best, and best preserves its purity. Many men have been likened to it, but few deserve that honor.” – Henry David Thoreau.
Anyone even slightly familiar with American Literature has heard of Walden Pond. It was near this scenic body of water just outside of Concord, Mass., that writer Henry David Thoreau retreated to the woods for two years in 1845 to further the concept of transcendentalism. The book he penned resulting from his studies in this secluded environment is as much as part of literature as the tall pines are a part of nature.
I recently visited Walden Pond on a beautiful summer afternoon. The restful waters of the pond caught my eye as I drove into the area, but the view was soon obstructed by numerous young people in bathing suits and beach towels. As I pulled into the overcrowded parking lot, I stopped my car, stepped out and experienced the first sounds of Walden Pond – a thunderous burp. A lanky, greasy-haired teenager had just engulfed a piece of pizza while dining on the trunk of his car and apparently had to relieve himself. A group of his friends roared with laughter as the young man strutted about in proud fashion.
I made a hasty retreat from the parking lot in hopes of being alone in this area of rich literary tradition. The pond itself is rather large, approximately two miles in circumference, and I hoped to walk its outer banks away from the crowded beach area. However, as I began my trek, I realized I would not be alone. People lined the banks of the pond. They were there swimming, eating, smoking and taking in the music stylings of 2Pac Shakur. Children were crying and screaming. Mothers and fathers were rinsing out diapers in the water. I overheard one woman say to a friend, “I had to pee so bad that I went in the water.”
My walk continued. I was searching for the sight of Thoreau’s home – a small cabin he had built from scratch more than 150 years ago. I was a little lost when I stumbled upon a young woman sitting in the woods with a couple of her friends.
“Do you know where the original sight of Thoreau’s cabin is? ” I asked.
“Who?” she replied.
“Henry David Thoreau,” I said. “the guy who made this place famous.”
“I’m not familiar with this area,” she said.
Not more than 20 yards from the young woman I found the original sight of Thoreau’s cabin. From where I stood, there was a breathtaking view of the water and I was finally able to block out the hundreds of people cluttering the banks of Walden Pond.
I finished my jaunt. It was without question the easiest two miles I will ever walk. Nothing is more beautiful than the blend of trees and water, vivid green and soft blue, on a glowing summer afternoon.
As I prepared to head to the airport and back to Huntington, I couldn’t help but wonder what Thoreau would think. There, on the banks of this once secluded pond, were hundreds of people, most of whom held little respect for history or nature. For me, the purity of the land was somehow tainted and I surmised that Thoreau probably would have felt the same.
