Freer Field wasn’t the kind of place I expected to remember. Nestled in the middle of Ashland, it appears at first to be little more than an open field bordered by a small stretch of woods. I almost expected to hear traffic constantly or feel like I was walking through the edge of town. Instead, something entirely different happened. As I wandered beneath the trees beside the creek, the town seemed to disappear. The birds were louder than the distant roads, squirrels darted between the trunks, and chipmunks went about their busy morning as though I weren’t there at all. It was a gray Saturday in June with rain clouds gathering overhead, and perhaps because of the forecast, I encountered very few people. It became one of those places that quietly slows your breathing without asking permission. The little creek became the heart of the walk for me. Although the trails occasionally revealed glimpses of neighborhood backyards, the woods still felt surprisingly secluded. You could easily imagine local families returning here again and again over the years, children discovering the creek, building little adventures among the trees, and creating memories that would stay with them long after they grew up. If you’re looking for the quietest experience, I’d recommend visiting early in the morning or on days when the weather keeps most visitors at home. I suspect that’s when this little corner of Ashland feels most like itself.
Quietness: 5/10 (Depends on nearby events and time of day)
Crowds: Medium (Depends on nearby events and time of day)
Accessibility: Easy (Trails are mostly flat with a few ups and downs)
Solitude Potential: Low – Medium
Time Needed: 1/2–2 Hours (Depends on whether you walk fast or look at everything)
Photography: Excellent (Depends on the season)
The trail map, GPS coordinates, address, and other park details can be found here: https://www.ashlandcountyparks.com/parks/freer-field/
For Those Open to the Unseen
As I walked through the woods that morning, I also had an experience that felt deeply meaningful to me. I don’t expect everyone to interpret it the same way, but because this website is about my experiences in quiet places, it feels right to include it. I use muscle testing as a way of gathering information and so when I was getting ready to go explore I decided to see if any Sasquatch people live here and the answer I got was 2. I was rather excited, wondering if I would get to interact or sense them in any way. Not long after I got into the woods, I happened to glance upward just as a branch roughly twelve to fifteen feet above the ground snapped gently back into place, as though someone had just pushed it aside while passing through. There was no breeze at the time, and the movement immediately caught my attention.
Later, as I approached a small bridge, I was using muscle testing while exploring, asking which direction my feet want to go, and at that moment I felt like I was supposed to go up the side trail instead of crossing the bridge. It looked like it went up to someone’s backyard so I was hesitant. Moments later, I heard people approaching. As I paused near the creek and considered taking a photo of the creek and a flower I had noticed, I was startled by a sudden sharp stick crack behind me that felt unusually intentional (I turned around to look but saw nothing unusual)—as though I was being encouraged to get moving up the side trail. The side trail eventually ended at a nearby backyard, and by the time I turned around, the other visitors had already crossed the bridge and continued on their way. It was the first time I had ever experienced something like this and after I got over the strangeness of it, I thought it was pretty awesome. Whether someone sees that as intuition, coincidence, guidance, or something else entirely is up to them. For me, it felt like one of those quiet reminders that sometimes we are being cared for in ways we don’t fully understand.
What This Place Gave Me?
Freer Field reminded me that some of the quietest places aren’t the most remote. Sometimes peace is tucked between neighborhoods, waiting for someone willing to walk slowly enough to notice it. It also reminded me that guidance doesn’t always arrive as words. Sometimes it comes as a feeling to pause, to turn down a different path, or to trust a quiet nudge whose purpose only becomes clear later.
Here is a video I created of the beauty I saw while I explored this wild little patch of woods…
