I don’t know what it was that possessed me to call up the Harvard Alpaca Ranch on the phone. It’s one of the odder conversations I’ve had recently, asking a stranger if I could come pet their alpacas. It turns out that alpacas are rather wary animals, not too keen on being petted but VERY keen on eating any and all food out of your hand. Well, that was enough to set us (me and my Wellesley friends, of course) off on the road of adventure.
Rules for adventuring
- You must have at least one unknown destination
- You must have one stop for beauty
- You must listen to two songs in a foreign language
- You must stop at Dunkin Donuts
- You must make up a story about one of the towns you pass by
- You must scream out the car window at the top of your lungs
Who can resist this face?
Nacho, the baby alpaca
We did all of these things, but I’ll start with alpacas. The heavenly moment when we walked into the paddock and one by one these gangly doe-eyed creatures lifted their heads and began walking towards us. The ridiculous little bleats the baby alpaca, Nacho, made pleading for another handful of grain. Being a short person, my alpaca experience was enhanced by the fact that most of the alpacas were entirely at my eye level. We learned a lot about alpacas from the owner (who was very welcoming after the initial awkward phone call) because we’re giant Wellesley nerds who want to learn about which color is dominant in alpaca genetics. But mostly, we just enjoyed interacting with these wonderful animals, the late fall afternoon sunshine setting a glow about the place.
Mandatory stop for beauty
We stopped for beauty at a little waterfall on the side of the road, a perfect little waterfall even though toes were starting to freeze by that point. We may have had a scary moment trying to get into the Dunkin parking lot. On the way home, we ended up at Walden Pond (yes, Thoreau’s Walden Pond) at sunset: our unexpected destination. We told the story about the waboutyls, imaginary creatures that live in the swamp and eat people’s words so that they don’t remember what they were going to say. And yes, in the November twilight, flying down a country road, we screamed out the window into the cold night air.
Ever lovely yours,
Eleanor
Walden Pond at sundown