By Sean Sullivan

In his “The Little Book of Lykke,” author Meik Wiking shares what might be called a recipe for eudaimonia - an elusive Greek word that stands in for happiness and human flourishing. Wiking (his full name pronounced Mike Viking) is CEO of the Happiness Research Institute in Copenhagen.

 

His organization seeks to survey countries and communities the world over to discover what ingredients might be essential in the muddled stew that comprises human well-being. One common denominator throughout his research and findings is community.

In his book, Wiking recounts the story of a suburban street in western Australia, its neighbors virtual strangers to one another. Sound familiar? Yet after the residents along that cul-de-sac begin to coalesce, they begin to evolve from a commonplace fairway into a family. Weekly outdoor movie nights are adopted, as are community pizza parties, and regular meet-and-greets to plan, keep informed and in touch.

That story has certain parallels with Natick’s Cochituate Rail Trail. Well into its second year now, the CRT has become a causeway for community, an avenue for local residents to meander upon, meet, connect and catch up.

And Natick’s stretch of CRT last month hosted what’s becoming a tradition on the trail – its New Year’s Eve celebration, (CRT NYE). It was an event that summoned a special strain of that neighborhood street spirit – a vibe that even a resilient rainfall couldn’t douse.           

Yet walking the rail trail north that night from Fisher Street in ebbing and flowing precipitation seemed to offer little to boost the spirits of New Year’s Eve revelers. A couple walking a soggy dog happened by. A group of adults and kids passed, sloshing south back to shelter within warm and dry walls.

Generator-powered floodlights, the kind that illuminate nightly roadwork, lit up crossroads where the CRT and Fisher Street intersect. Pedestrians walking the trail were bathed in a ghostly glow thrown off by its lamps.

But a few minutes’ walk farther north, the amber flicker of a wood fire could finally be seen through branches in the distance. It was one of nineteen contained conflagrations along a stretch of the CRT, all kindled toward a sense of community, to celebrate the new year that would arrive in a few hours.   Coming closer, that fire revealed Natick resident George Eckert tending its flames. As the first fire pit on the south end of the CRT celebration, said Eckert, his was a “beacon of hope for people coming from Fisher Street.”

But with a shift of perspective, Eckert’s was the last fire in a long line of New Year’s Eve festivities that began about a mile earlier, crossing the CRT’s Route 9 bridge from points beyond. The newly-built overpass was lined with a rainbow array of holiday lights, which glowed bright in the gloom even for passersby in cars beneath the bridge.

“It’s a really nice time getting people out in the community,” said Eckert.

From the Morse Institute Library to Boy and Girl Scout Troops, Family Promise Metrowest to Keep Natick Beautiful - each fire pit was hosted, sponsored by a local business or organization. CRT NYE was organized by Friends of Natick Trails (FoNT), an advocacy group launched in 2016 to support the rail trail. FoNT also promotes Natick’s network of wooded trails.   

Modern illumination offered contrast and color to the prehistoric pyrotechnics kindled in the burning bowls, holiday lights powered by battery or gas generators humming nearby.    

Despite the weather, cyclists paid homage to the CRT’s status as an avenue amenable to two-wheeled enthusiasts. Lit up with festive LED lights, some bikes were a blur of bright color on the byway, and Landry’s Bicycles of Natick hosted its own fire pit.

Sheltered beneath their pop-up tent, a Natick Boy Scout troop fueled the festivities with homemade donuts they offered free to folks travelling via foot or on two wheels. Just so, each fire pit station celebrated and shared the flavor of the organization hosting it.  

Photo ops were also part of the plan along the path. An oversized picture frame was posted on the shoulder, large enough for a family to pose within.           

As a Natick Cub Scout leader, Eckert has years of experience cultivating and tending to campfires. His scout troop draws from Natick’s Lilja Elementary School. Living adjacent to the CRT, he had commuted to his fire spot by mountain bike with trailers in tow.

The cargo cars of his pedal-powered train contained fuel for the fire and other items essential to his task. Among these was a backpack garden sprayer, topped off with water as a tool to control the flames, extinguish them at night’s end. His fire bowl hissed in response as he gave the metal a douse to demonstrate.

It seemed a handy way to entertain oneself between the revelers passing by in intervals. Some stopped to chat, others kept on their way toward home. Reliable rainfall that day left little risk the pits might spark fires in neighboring woods, and Eckert made the most of what Mother Nature had served up. He stacked logs in triangle bonfire configuration, flames climbing and sparks swirling, energized by a breeze blowing off the lake.

“The rail trail had lots and lots of fires,” said 8-year-old Marina of Natick, who paused by the blaze with her father, their last stop of the evening. “The sparks were like fireflies.”        

Eckert had his own familial company early in the evening, but they’d abandoned him soon after for more comfortable settings.

“My grandkids were here for a few minutes and started melting down,” he said, subtracting logs from his supply and adding them to his fire bowl. He’d attended Natick’s inaugural CRT NYE event in 2021, and last year was his first volunteering as a keeper of the flame.

Not long after 7:00 that evening, Eckert’s was the only fire still burning. Its flames twisted high and crackled, in seeming defiance of the drizzle. He fed logs into the bowl as fast as they were consumed by the conflagration. Any leftover fuel, he said, would need to be transported by bike back to home base.  

“Gotta burn it all up,” he said. “I’m not taking it home.”