McCourt Road branches off our road about a mile from the farm. It used to go through and although a rough ride you could get through to Dover Furnace Road, about a mile, if you drove either fast or slow, no in between. The last time I drove through #1 son was probably about 12, and he is now married with kids so it has been a while. This weekend we hiked through with some neighbors and among other things found an old stone foundation of a building long since forgotten. I’m going to do some research to find out some more of the history of those old roads which I guess were used by the early settlers who made charcoal (you can still see the pits) and mined iron ore.
Here is a poem by Rudyard Kipling that could have been written about the old road.

They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate.
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods….
But there is no road through the woods.

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