Years and years and years ago we discovered a nice quite party place on the Housatonic River. It was up past Shelton, down all these twisty roads. I have no idea how we found it the first time or how we made it back those many times we went back… for that matter I don’t know how we survived all those trips into the void… It was a little place called Pete’s Cove and then later Jackson’s cove on an oxbow lake called Lake Zoar just south of Kettletown State Park. I’m pretty sure this IS the place Stephen King was writing about in his short story ‘The Raft’. I’d read it long before finding the place and it was frighteningly similar to the place described in the story. King did live in CT for a while so it’s possible. Even during the day the place was never crowded and the people who did show up were quite mellow and fun to hang out with.
So… one day I’m wandering around the shore, skipping rocks and enjoying mother nature (in several forms!) and I plucked this rock out of the river. The mother nature in me screamed “WORMS ATE THOSE HOLES, DUDE!” and honestly I still can’t come up with a better explanation. It’s a plain old river rock, they’re found by the billions in the glacier lakes and rivers of the north east. This particular rock however is shot through with little tunnels and holes as if some type of rock eating worm had burrowed through it.
Here, I’ll show you!
Hawk (Never did swim out to that raft)