Trustees Sites Not To Be Missed, Bartholomew’s Cobble, Sheffield
At the southernmost point of the Berkshires, near the Connecticut border, you’ll find Bartholomew’s Cobble. Walking on the Ledges Trail, the Housatonic River snakes through dairy farms on the left while eroding limestone and quartzite rocks form the cobble to your right. Take a slight detour at Corbin’s Neck to get a closer view of the river and the cows resting on its banks. Then continue on the Tulip Tree Trail to stroll uphill through a forest of tall hemlocks before reaching a clearing. At a short summit, take advantage of the bench to sit and take in the views of Mount Everett and Mount Race, part of the Appalachian Trail.
As soon as I laid eyes on the waters of Lake Temagami, all I wanted to do was jump in and swim. And for 3 days, that’s primarily what I did. Dove in the heavenly waters of this vast lake and swam free crawl, backstroke, elementary backstroke, underwater, to a small island directly across from us, where our friend Bruce had his cabin (I’ll talk more about him tomorrow). It was a perfect cleansing of my body in these pristine waters, happily washing away the year’s stress with each stroke. 
Last October, I made the wise decision to spend four days in Zion National Park with two of my close friends from college. On our last day, we climbed 1500 feet above the canyon floor on one of Zion’s steepest ascents, Angel’s Landing. The trail starts gradually on switchbacks through a pine forest, soon entering a shaded section called Refrigerator Canyon. The grade increases rapidly, along with your heart rate, when you enter Walter’s Wiggle’s, a series of zigzags that leads to the first overlook. This is where the fun begins. The canyon wall extends out to a precarious perch, Angel’s Landing, which can only be reached by clambering up rock steps while holding on to a chain cable. Look down on either side of the narrow trail and you’ll spot the valley far below.
Several summers ago, I was hired by Chevrolet to drive a Chevy Malibu from Boston to Washington, DC on one tank of gas and then write about the experience. It was an absurd assignment, made even more ridiculous by the macho photographer they hired to take shots for their glossy magazine. It was a brutally hot day and seeing that he was following my wife and me in a convertible, I asked if he needed any suntan lotion. "Oh no, I don’t need that," said the guy. By the end of the drive around 9 pm, he was as red as a boiled lobster. 
I had the pleasure of meeting Andrew Barnard last night at an event in Boston. His family has owned the 
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