It’s late Saturday morning when I arrive at Trout Brook Valley’s main entrance off Bradley Road. I park, put away my AirPods (I’m partway through the newest Joe Pickett novel), and step out into the parking lot. The wind ruffles through the trees as I walk by the Aspetuck Land Trust’s welcome sign and get onto the gravel road, the white trail. Today, I’ll be hiking the green trail.
Stepping over the chain past the permit parking area, I walk along the gravel until the green trail veers left, deeper into the forest. As I loop into the woods, I come across a stream working its way downhill and passing underneath the white trail through pipes. The water is not much more than a trickle, but it turns the ground on the green into mud. My boots get dirty for the first time this season. A welcome christening.
The leaves crunch with the rhythm of my steps as I continue up the trail. I stop to admire moss growing on the base of a tall oak. I’m a visitor in these woods, so I try my best to keep the noise of my intrusive walk to a minimum. I don’t want to disturb the wildlife before I can get a good look at them. This morning, there aren’t many critters to be seen. The parking lot was crowded, so they must be hunkered down to wait out the disturbance.
I pass through a copse of pines, their needles intermingling with the fallen leaves on the trail. The air is tinged with a fragrance that no holiday candle can imitate: present and clear, but not overpowering. Up ahead, the trees are a mix of deep green, subtle brown, yellow, and bright red. Only the most skilled of painters could capture all of the shades. The green trail meets up with the white again, and I note the beautiful view of a meadow from a bench placed in memory of a woman who loved these trails.
The sound of running water overpowers the wind rustling through the crowns of the trees. The Hawley’s Brook fishway sits on a tributary of Hawley’s Brook, part of the headwaters of the Saugatuck River. The ladder allows native brook trout to migrate upstream to spawn. They move at night, so I’m unlikely to see any using it, but the water on both sides is crystal clear. The sign lists Hawley’s Brook as one of only nine Class 1 wild trout management areas in the state. The number is out of date: Connecticut added 22 new Class 1 waters in 2026.
The next section of trail has me crossing footbridges over the streams running through the forest. The recent rains have left the trail wet, and the water runs swiftly beneath the boards. I stop to feel it, and it seems a bit warmer than the air. Some of the boards sag beneath my weight and will soon need replacing after long service. At one crossing, downed trees provide a natural path over the water. The water is clear beneath a blanket of floating leaves, and a small fish darts from left to right.
The colors of the canopy compete with the fallen leaves beneath the surface. I stop to admire a brilliant red maple leaf, submerged under the current and pinned to a rock.
I’m on the back half of the hike now, approaching the meadow from the back side and walking toward the bench again, past a patch of winged sumac that’s turned bright red. Back at the trailhead, I decide to walk around the chain instead of over it, and just miss catching a falling maple leaf that glances off my fingertips. I pass the entrance to the red trail and decide to leave that for another day. I have my daughter’s birthday party to attend later this afternoon, and I need to stop playing Thoreau and go back to being a dad.
