On the corner of High Street and Main Street in Wakefield, Rhode Island is a Rhode Island Public Transit Authority (RIPTA) bus stop. Route 66, which originates in Kennedy Plaza in Providence, stops at the Kingston Amtrak Station and the University of Rhode Island, then passes this spot on the way to Galilee in Narragansett, where the bus meets the Block Island Ferry. The bus stops here in Wakefield roughly once per hour in each direction. There are no bus routes west of this bus stop in Rhode Island until Westerly, on the Connecticut border, where a commuter express bus makes the journey along Interstate 95 to and from Providence daily. Some of the Amtrak trains that ply the Northeast Corridor Route between Boston and Washington make stops at Kingston and Westerly. South of the train tracks there is no regularly scheduled public transit service at all from here to the Connecticut border.

        As I walk west from the bus stop at Main Street in Wakefield I will no longer have the safety net of a public transit system to bail me out in the event of inclement weather, fatigue, or boredom. I am heading “into the wild” for the next twenty miles. This section of the post road passes in a southwesterly direction through the rest of the massive town of South Kingstown, then passes through Charlestown, through an area of farmland, forest, wildlife refuges, and Indian reservations. Then the road turns to the northwest as it heads through Westerly to the bridge over the Pawcatuck River, crossing the border into Connecticut.

        This spot at the corner of Main Street and High Street in Wakefield marks, for all intents and purposes, the outer limit of the Boston metropolitan area. From South Station in downtown Boston, one can take a combination of subway, bus, or commuter rail as far north as southern New Hampshire, as far west as Worcester, and as far southwest as this point here in Rhode Island. According to the 2006 Census Estimate, the Boston-Worcester-Providence-Manchester, NH Combined Statistical Area is the fifth largest in the nation, comprising 7.6 million people concentrated in three states, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island. A Combined Statistical Area (CSA) is essentially the sum of the populations of component metropolitan areas of cities which have a significant commuter interchange. In plain language it basically is the area where cities and towns have a significant degree of interaction of people who commute from one area to another (Providence to Boston, for example) for purposes of employment. In practice CSA’s are essentially the broadest definition of the sphere of influence of a major city. In the case of the Boston CSA the most obvious example of this influence is the fact that the overwhelming majority of people, even in remote edges of the CSA such as here in Wakefield, are Red Sox or Patriots fans as opposed to say, Yankee or New York Football Giants fans (or even Mets or Jets fans).  The boundaries of the Boston CSA are remarkably consistent with the limits of the public transit system I have described.

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        Four of the eight largest CSAs are in the northeast, Washington (#4 at 8.4 million), Philadelphia (#8, 6.5 million), and New York (22.2 million, the largest in the US), comprising the other three (see note below). Together with various smaller areas in between these CSAs, this large concentration of people, estimated at 55 million, is called by geographers the Northeast Corridor. The Northeast Corridor is the original Megalopolis, a term coined by the geographer Jean Gottman in 1961 to describe a large chain of interconnected metropolitan areas. This particular megalopolis comprises 17% of the entire population of the United States on a mere 2% of the total area of the country, and is responsible for close to a fifth of the entire economic output of the nation. 

        The interconnected nature of the Northeast Corridor is illustrated by the overlap and complementarity of the component urban transit systems. The New York transit system, for example, extends as far as New Haven, CT on the post road. There, the Metro-North trains connect to the Shore Line trains of Connecticut, which run between New Haven and New London. From New London Southeastern Area Transit (SEAT) buses travel as far east as Pawcatuck, yards from the border with Rhode Island at Westerly. From Westerly, RIPTA commuter express bus #90 provides morning service to Providence and from there the MBTA Commuter Rail provides a connection between Boston and Providence. Thus I can theoretically travel from New York to Boston using ONLY local transit. The same is true of trips along other segments of the Northeast Corridor. A future project I plan to undertake is a trip through the Northeast Corridor using only local transit to see how far I can get and to travel more slowly through these areas in the same spirit as this Post Road project.

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        There is a stretch of road in front of me, roughly twenty miles in length across southern Rhode Island, that is neither in the Boston nor the New York metropolitan area and that is not connected to either by public transit. This “no man’s land” is, strictly speaking, still part of the Boston CSA which includes Washington County, but it is at the remote edge eighty miles away from the center and marks my departure from one area of my project on the way to the New York metropolitan area, which properly begins in New Haven County but which will start to become more noticeable as I cross into Connecticut. The area is lightly populated; Washington County is the LEAST densely populated county through which I will pass on the post road with 370 inhabitants per square mile, and the neighboring county to the west, New London County in Connecticut, is the next least densely populated county at 388 inhabitants per square mile. Unsurprisingly New York County, Manhattan Island, at 70,951 people per square mile, is the most densely populated county on the post road, followed by the Bronx at 33,269.  Boston’s Suffolk County is the next most densely populated at 12,835. All of Washington County’s 124,000 inhabitants, currently spread over 333 square miles, would fit neatly into 2 square miles if it had a population density equivalent to that of Manhattan (see note 2).

        An analysis of each town along the post road shows that Charlestown, Rhode Island, with a mere 7,859 people in 37 square miles, is the least densely populated town (at 213 people per square mile) along the road I am traveling. Other towns with low density through which the post road passes, such as Old Lyme (324) and West Saybrook (420), are all located east of New Haven in Middlesex or New London County.  If there is a “wild” area along the post road from Boston to New York, the next few miles are it.

        Below I have generated a map illustrating the varying density of counties through which the post road travels. It clearly shows that the population of both the New York and Boston metropolitan area declines as the post road moves further from the city as well as showing that the three counties through which I am and will soon be traveling are the least densely populated counties.

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       Sarah Kemble Knight complained in 1704 of the area I am now traveling through: “This rode was poorly furnished with accommodations for Travellers, so that we were forced to ride 22 miles by the post’s account, but neerer thirty by mine, before wee could so much as bait our Horses, wch I exceedingly complained of.” (Knight, October 4, 1704)  Mindful of her complaints, I decide to fortify myself for the empty road ahead so I head over to Quick Rick’s New York System Wiener stand just off Main Street on High Street in Wakefield for a quick bite. It amazes me that I can live so close to this area and yet there are culinary traditions that are unique and specific to Rhode Island. New York System Wieners,(never hot dogs unless you want to be yelled at by the cook or mocked  by the server) despite their name, are a Rhode Island specialty consisting of a wiener composed of some mixture of veal, pork, and beef, served “all the way” with a special topping consisting of beef, onions, all kinds of mystery spices, and celery salt. I had seen signs for them on the road since Providence, but I had not had the energy or inclination to head into a place to find out what all the fuss was about until now. I confess it was before 10 in the morning when I went in, but I still enjoyed my wiener, especially as I was unsure when or where my next meal would be. Fortified by the local specialty I head back to Main, turn right and march out of Wakefield center into the great unknown.

        Main Street is lined with elegant houses for half a mile as it leaves the commercial center. Suddenly Old Post Road appears and I take a right and follow it. The road passes a small hill called Sugarloaf Hill which Hamilton mentions in his diary of 1744. Just past the Sugarloaf Bed and Breakfast, as I listen to the call of a Carolina Wren, I encounter a small stone marker which tells me that Colonel George Washington and several other officers stayed at the Hazard Tavern on this site in 1755. Then the road veers sharply left and rejoins Main Street after only a few hundred yards, and at the junction of the two roads the name of the road changes to Post Road. Why Old Post Road does this bend is unclear to me but probably has to do with property rights.

        After a short walk I am obliged to cross over US1 for the first of many times today. Old Post Road and Post Road and US1 do a sinuous dance with each other, the old road crisscrossing the newer highway (the straightened highway is the product of the Works Progress Administration in the 1930s). Post Road is sometimes the same as US, sometimes not as in this case. Old Post Road pops up every so often, forgotten by time and traffic but still very much a road. Today is a day I spend playing a game where I try to find Old Post Road and follow it as much as is possible, while following Post Road when the two are the same and, on a few unhappy occasions, following US1 when it is the same as Post Road and there is no alternative.  The first crossing of US1 is uneventful. In truth there is not so much traffic on this highway as it passes through some pretty tranquil countryside, and most through traffic probably takes I95 to the north, but it still requires a bit of care to avoid getting run over by speeding cars and trucks.

        Post Road on the other side of US1 is very quiet and very pretty. The only traffic I encounter is, funnily enough, another pedestrian. Why is it that when you are on a quiet road, and you encounter somebody walking towards you, it is so unsettling, but I do not give a second thought to 99.9% of the people I pass in towns and cities? I guess it is because the guy I pass is unfriendly, and I am glad to see the back of him and continue on my otherwise peaceful walk. A friendly cyclist passes, I crisscross US1 three more times before reaching a long stretch of Old Post Road that runs parallel to US1, and this road has absolutely no traffic and is quiet enough to hear a hawk in a tree before I see him.  I spend about ten minutes on US1, and I encounter for the very first time on my trip a fellow walker, a tall, sinewy, friendly guy named Keith wearing a black leather cowboy hat and whose teeth appear to be tobacco-stained, accompanied by his dog Frito.  On Keith’s backpack is a sign that says  “looking for work,”  and I ask him about his story. He is originally from New Hampshire but has lived for many years in the West. He was visiting relatives  and now is heading back out west. He is unemployed but has done many jobs over the years and will do just about anything. He appears to be carrying everything he owns on his back, which is not much, but he is not at all morose or despondent about his situation; he seems to be pretty even-keeled and his dog, a pitbull mix of some sort is sweet and affectionate and looks well-cared for. Keith and Frito are sticking to the highway in search of work and/or a ride down the road. We wish each other well on our respective journeys, and I turn off the highway onto a nice long stretch of Old Post Road.

*****

        Post Road is exceptionally tranquil and scenic along the next two or three miles as it passes through the area known as Perryville, named for the family that produced two of the most famous naval figures in American history. Oliver Hazard Perry, born here in South Kingstown, was the “Hero of the Battle of Lake Erie” during the War of 1812. His flagship the USS Lawrence was destroyed, and Perry was rowed a half mile under heavy fire to the USS Niagara carrying the famous battle flag “Don’t Give Up The Ship.” After defeating the British Perry sent General William Henry Harrison the famous telegram summing up the battle: “We have met the enemy and they are ours.”  Perry’s younger brother Commodore Matthew C. Perry was the person responsible for opening up Japan to trade with his visits in 1853-4.

        I pass the Perryville trout hatchery, various farms, a couple of nineteenth-century churches, and a few old houses along this stretch of road. There is a lot of pitch pine and oak here, something usually associated with sandy soil which indicates we are not too far from the ocean even though it seems I am in rural Vermont or New Hampshire. A sign for a boat repair facility with a picture of a marlin is another indication of the proximity to the ocean.

    The center of Perryville is the junction of Post Road and route 110, Ministerial Road. This road heads due north and passes Worden’s Pond and the Great Swamp. This is as close as I will get to the sight of the bloodiest battle of King Philip’s War, fought in the swamp on December 19, 1675.  The Narragansett Indians, although a neutral party at the time, were accused of hiding Wampanoag warriors and this was used as a justification by the Massachusetts, Plymouth, and Connecticut colonies to organize 1200 soldiers at Smith’s Castle in Wickford for an assault on the Narragansett fort in the swamp, the exact location of which is uncertain. Anticipating an impending assault by the English settlers, who had already burned a number of Narragansett villages on their march to Wickford, the Narragansett attacked and destroyed the stone tower fort on Tower Hill (I neglected to mention the location of the fort in a previous entry on Tower Hill, but yes, there was indeed once a tower on Tower Hill). The English were led to the Narragansett fort in the swamp by a friendly Indian and attacked on the morning of December 19. Losses were heavy on both sides, but the Narragansett lost more people, including many women and children, and although historians debate exactly how many, it was certainly hundreds. The English portrayed the battle as a great victory, although the short term result was the destruction of virtually every English building in Rhode Island, including Smith’s Castle, and the entry of the Narragansett into what hitherto had been a war primarily with the Wampanoag. The long term result was the defeat of the Narragansett Indians, the loss of virtually all their territory in southern Rhode Island, and the capture and sale of hundreds of Narragansett into slavery in the Caribbean and Bermuda. This result could have been predicted by anyone had they read the letter from Emmanuel Downing to John Winthrop in 1645: “If upon a  Just warre (with the Narragansetts) the Lord should deliver them into our hands, wee might easily have men women and children enough to exchange for Moores, which wil be more gayneful pilladge for us than wee conceive...” (3) Indeed.

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        Winthrop’s son, John Winthrop Jr., traveled through the area that same year, 1645, thirty years before the conflict and wrote of traveling eastwards a distance of twenty miles from the Pawcatuck River and staying at the wigwam of the Indian Notoriope, which is thought to have been located somewhere south of Worden’s Pond, somewhere near the spot at which I am standing in Perryville. (Winthrop, November 29, 1645) Hamilton and Birkett only say of the area between Tower Hill and Charlestown that it is “subject to stones and uneven,” (Birkett, October 3, 1750) and “12 miles more of rough, stonny roads” (Hamilton, Saturday July 15, 1744).  I find the roads quite smooth and pleasant although I am obliged to recross US1 again after an hour on this road. Upon crossing to the south side of US1 the number of houses starts to increase and at some point  (who knows exactly, there is no sign, as usual) I enter Charlestown. The area has a reputation as a sleepy old-fashioned summer resort, and I pass a couple of old-fashioned motels along the way that lend credence to that idea. There are few commercial services as I enter what passes for “downtown” Charlestown, just a small supermarket that sells lots of seafood and has a sandwich bar. I make myself a roast beef sandwich, grab a root beer and a bag of Cape Cod potato chips and sit at a picnic bench outside under a bright sun.

          As I walk along Post Road in Charlestown every few minutes I pass a road that heads off to the south towards a beach. The tranquility of the area and the relative lack of services make this area more appealing than Cape Cod in some ways. I think I can foresee a vacation in this area in the near future. I pass an inn that is for sale called General Stanton’s Inn, named for Rhode Island’s first Senator who briefly lived in the house in the eighteenth century. An attached tavern oddly features Chinese Food as their specialty. Lucky for me I have already eaten as I am not optimistic about the potential quality of the food at the Inn.

    A little further on I reach an area called Cross’s Mills, named for two brothers who purchased the mill here from Joseph Davill in 1709. Sarah Knight visited Davill’s, which she referred to as Devill’s, with some hesitation, “questioning whether we ought to go the Devil to be helpt out of affliction. However, like the rest of Deluded souls that post to the Infernall Denn, wee made all possible speed to this Devil’s Habitation.” (Knight October 4, 1704). Not surprisingly, Knight was singularly unimpressed with this place as she was of most of the spots at which she stopped to eat, drink, or sleep. Both Birkett and Hamilton stopped in the vicinity at a tavern run by a Squire Hill, the exact location of which I have been unable to ascertain, but certainly along this stretch of Post Road in Charlestown. Birkett, while staying at Hill’s, went out “a shooting and Killed some Squirrels and some very pretty birds called Marsh quails” (bitterns perhaps? October 4, 1750). I spy a bench next to nearby Perry Pond and take a break. In the pond are dozens of Great Egrets, preening their snow white feathers and relaxing in the afternoon sun. I decide to take a break too and sit awhile with my binoculars instead of a gun, enjoying the show. I am sure this will be the only day on the Post Road where people are outnumbered by herons.