I had hoped to see a cranberry harvest this year. It always looked so appealing in commercials – so pristine, a sea of round crimson berries against a clear blue sky. The truth, I found, is a bit messier.
We started out by visiting the little historic village at Whitesbog, New Jersey – a preserve in the pine barrens where a little town was built around the cranberry harvest in the 1800’s. The general store is full of interesting knickknacks and tasty delights – uniquely flavored honey, nuts and of course, all types of jams, sauces and other cranberry creations. There happened to be a band sitting in rockers on the porch, playing a blue-grassy type of folk music, which fit the place perfectly.
From there, we headed down a trail in search of cranberries. I knew that the preserve hosted tours of the cranberry harvest, but our September had been so busy that we weren’t able to get to one. In between tours you could “self tour” if you wanted to see the cranberries getting ready for harvest, so this is what we hoped to do.
We headed down the trail and were soon back in the haven of the pine barrens, surrounded by the bogs – in the distance the water was a deep, clear blue reflecting the sky. Up close, there were all types of things growing in it – scummy algae in some places, but also lovely water lilies (mostly just lily pads now), scrubby brush and leafless trees. The trees along the path were mostly still green, but there were a few that had already turned brilliant shades of scarlet and coral. Wild blueberries and cranberries, goldenrod, queen anne’s lace, and little purple daisies were abundant.
We went on for a while without seeing any pools of floating cranberries, and started to get hot. Rafael went back to grab the car (you could walk or drive the trails), and picked us up and we drove for what seemed like many miles through the preserve, not sure where to go. We came across a wide variety of interesting mushrooms, but still no cranberry pools.
Finally, we returned to the village and asked for directions. We ended up heading out of the preserve and crossing a highway into a farm. There we immediately found our cranberry pools, but they were more like cranberry mud ditches. There were diggers and large plastic piping to pump water in so that the berries will float. Still, I was undeterred. We like to see where things come from, how food is grown and processed. So onward we drove along the gravel road through the empty, muddy fields around the industrial equipment until we found a parking area… and were immediately asked to leave.
Oops! It seems you can’t just drive around at your leisure on private property. The folks who flagged us down politely explained that during the actual harvest, the farm closes for reasons of safety and efficiency. I’m still glad we got to take a quick glance at the harvest, and Whitesbog is a beautiful place to visit and I imagine it would be fun in any season, not just cranberry season. So until next time, we’ll enjoy our memories of getting kicked out of a cranberry farm and maybe next year, we’ll manage to take a tour of this unique environment.