I finally got around to visiting Walden this morning. Chris and I rode up the Minuteman trail to Bedford, then headed south to Concord. After a nice little bite to eat in a cafe, we rode on to the pond.
We were only there for a few minutes, but what a place. A visceral thrill I hadn't expected went up my spine as soon as we saw the water. It was somehow smaller than I had pictured it, and very neat -- mottled evergreen and autumn gold oaks coming right down to the water; very little in the way of marshy, sinuous shoreline, at least on the banks we could see.
As we were leaving, a fellow came strolling by with a rod and reel and a little cooler. He says there's good fishing in this pond, which I don't doubt. I can't wait to go back out there, my mind wandering through vast and cosmogonal spheres, and toss my own line down into a pond that is still, a century and a half later, hardly more dense.