I apologize for the extended period of radio silence! Things have been exceptionally busy here, what with all of the spring cleaning and life changing events. Yesterday, though, we were able to take a welcome outing to Stone Mountain State Park. Have you ever been there? It's quite a lovely little place. I prepared a short narrative account of our capers earlier today to submit as a field note for Exit the Highway. Please enjoy!
"A Day at Widow's Creek"
(The upper falls of Widow's Creek, via mysticalis)
If travelers
follow the hilly, looping road of Stone Mountain State Park past the visitor’s
center and toward the heart of the forest, over the quiet Stone Mountain and
the robust Bulls Head creeks, they find themselves at the head of a short path
leading to Widow’s Creek Falls. In early June, the landscape gushes with life:
from soft, bright tips on evergreens to branches drooping with heavy clusters
of mountain laurel blooms. The youthful
energy of early summer verdure is accentuated by the falls’ young visitors, who
seek out this place to take advantage of the natural water slide formed by the
lower falls. Continuing a few yards up
the trail brings hikers to the foot of the upper falls, which form a much
steeper cascade. Here too, however, daredevils can be seen launching themselves
over the cataract with the mad bravado of youth – a sight not for weak nerves,
since outcroppings and jagged caves imperil swimmers along the entire chute.
(Mountain laurel blooms, via William Britten)
This was where my
family and I found ourselves one day, grinning and laughing amidst the
infectious glee of lively, carefree whoops and catcalls. On the lookout for the
Widows Creek trail, we spotted a thin footpath climbing the steep hillside
beside the falls, on the other side of the creek. Since we had hoped to venture
deeper into the woods, we scrambled towards it across an outstretched tree limb
and quickly left the crowds behind. Thus began our adventure.
Though the trail
carried us up past the top of the falls, it soon crossed through the deep
creek. Most of our merry party splashed straight through the pure, crystalline
stream, but my brother insisted on carrying my little sister so that she would
not have to get her feet wet, and my stepfather trod through the brook
barefoot. This set a precedent, and from there on my brother carried my sister
through creek crossings and my stepfather went shoeless through much of the
woods.
At this point the
trail began to narrow and fade. Indeed, in some places it was so overgrown that
it was nearly indiscernible, and we were sure that we had lost it. Branches
whipped at us and mud attempted to wrestle away our shoes. Our zigzag course
made frequent creek crossings necessary, sometimes through deep pools and
always over slippery stones. At times we discovered that the path had
disappeared beneath our very feet, so we carefully made our way forward between
the branches of thickets, feeling much like some action movie’s heroes and
heroines vaulting between those ubiquitous lasers. These difficulties only heightened our
excitement, however, as we trekked within a world of verdant foliage that
seemed to hum with wildlife. Each time we waded through the stream, the
sensation of cool currents swirling around our ankles and calves lifted our
spirits ever higher.
(A considerably less tangled thicket than those through which we had to worm. Via Ilia Polian)
The trail was rough
for quite some time, and we were beginning to feel certain that we had lost our
way, when my mother, with a shout of joy, pointed out a sign facing away from
us and up the hillside. We raced towards it, and soon discovered – behold! – a
broad, level, well-maintained trail stretching through the trees. Here, we realized, was none other than the
Widow’s Creek trail.
So which path had
led us up the slope of the waterfall and in and out of the creek for so long?
There was only one explanation: We had been following a game trail!
When our laughter
finally subsided, and we were able to wipe the tears of hilarity out of our
eyes and straighten our giggle-sore sides, we set off along the remainder of
the real Widow’s Creek Trail. Along
the way we were entertained with many new delights and curiosities, such as
fields of tall stalks that grew amongst the trees and tiny lilac-colored
flowers that were sprinkled throughout the undergrowth of delicate ferns, all
lit by the soft green glow of forest light. Dozens of pinkie-sized millipedes
crawled slowly along the path, and we often heard the conk-la-REE calls of red-winged blackbirds hidden in the branches.
Large flakes of mica glittered in the red North Carolina clay of the path, and
an old stone chimney stood abandoned on a knoll.
(Here's a nice example of a red-winged blackbird's call. Don't worry, I won't blame you if you don't watch the whole thing. Probably. P.S. -- The bird pictured here is apparently a "bicolored blackbird" from California, but the song is very similar. Via The Music of Nature)
Our excitement for
the day, however, was not yet over. While looking for a cataract said to be
near one of the campsites along the trail, we spotted a large slug lying on a
stone in the middle of the river. We had ventured closer for a better look
when, suddenly, it scuttled off the rock and disappeared into the water with a splash.
This occurrence suggested, to my mother and me, that the best course of action
would be to leap back onto the creek bank half-screaming and half-laughing,
which we promptly did.
It was the slimy
creature who had the last laugh, though. After we arrived at home, our
curiosity overcame our better judgment and we decided to investigate what, exactly,
the amphibious crawler had been. Much to our horror, we soon learned that the
very creek through which we had just been romping was filled with freshwater
leeches.
(I won't insert a photo of a leech here, because that would be simply cruel.)
With its peaceful beauty, refreshing vibe, and
even the occasional unnerving surprise, my family came to regard Widow’s Creek
of Stone Mountain State Park quite fondly. The embracing quiet, the exuberant
growth, and the challenges of the land itself are all worth experiencing. To any
nature lover brave enough to risk the dastardly leeches and alluring game
trails, we say that you will have earned your reward.
