walk

Everyone who walks has his own floodlit memories -- his own fluttering windwheel of scenes and sounds and scents.  (It is often the scents that linger longest, though you do not know it until they come again.)  But no matter what the hue of the individual memories, they all come from the green world.  And in the end, when you have learned to connect -- only to connect -- you understand that it is simply the green world that you seek.

--Colin Fletcher, from The Complete Walker III

fieldnotes

...from the woods:

We spent the last two weekends walking in the Zaleski State Forest backcountry while carrying everything that we thought we would need on our backs.  It has been a long time since we did this, so long ago that Will was small enough to be carried in a pack, not yet able even to walk.  I remember we plopped him down at intervals so he could crawl around in the dirt.  This time he has (mostly) mastered walking and carrying his own pack, however, he still doesn't mind a good crawl through the dirt, but what can I expect?

It would be easy to post nice pictures and say we experienced blissful days communing with each other among the wonders of the nature.  There would be some truth to it too but I would be hiding the challenges.  For one, I am ambitious when it comes to miles and even though I thought I had tempered my expectations, our (my?) plans exceeded the comfort zone of the party.  The youngest, and most inexperienced among us, suffered from his own expectations as well.  He did not know his own abilities and was uncomfortable and insecure in unfamiliar terrain from which there was no easy escape, especially when the going got really tough.  And some of his fears were realized.  There were long hills, snakes, stickery bush-wacking and fallen tree climbing, insufficient trail mix rations, still more miles, and he did finally get stung by one of the many bees he hysterically tried to dodge.  As I dug deep through my own insecurities, I asked myself, "He is eleven, is this too much?"

What I find he suffers from the most, which I truly understand, is not the fear of things he can conceive, but rather, the things that he can't.  The big unknown.  Over the course of both weekends we hiked some good miles (18 and 10* respectively) and on multiple occasions we hiked the same sections of trail.  Will often noted that the familiar trail was profoundly more agreeable.  Why? "Because I know what I'm in for.  I know what's coming up ahead."  Ah, yes, there is that... so why are we even here (he asks repeatedly)?  Is it not because the mystery holds in its store some of the greatest rewards?

This boy is a smart cookie, with an almost encyclopaedic recall of not only all kinds of facts, but also odd witticisms and other bits of gathered wisdom, the sort of stuff otherwise uncommonly quoted by boys his age, maybe boys of any age for that matter.  On several occasions he recited one I've heard many times from my mother:  "That which does not kill us makes us stronger," which brought to mind some recently-read insight from Yvon Chouinard, courtesy of my good friend at The Hammock Papers:  "Real adventure is defined best as a journey from which you may not come back alive, and certainly not as the same person."

A short list of that which did not kill us (in order as the occur to me):

• "A chipmunk running across my feet"
• "A salamander (red-spotted newt) walking into my hand"
• Bear scat (but no actual bear sightings, though another hiker camped close by claims one snooped around his campsite**)
• Watching stars twinkle through the tree canopy overhead from our cozy hammocks
• Reading new books by the light of headlamp
• Coyote chorus echoing in new moon darkness
• Golden light shining sideways through the trees at sunrise
• Swarms of gnats
• Bees and their stings
• Snakes
• four-leaf clovers (2, which brings the spring/summer count to 8)
• Lack of sufficient trail mix rations...
• ... supplemented by surprise blackberry snacking
• Lava-hot corn dumplings in spicy tomato-vegetable stew (not quite murderous but can cause some wicked blistering on the roof of one's mouth)
• Campfire
• Rain -- the patter of drops on a secure shelter overhead
• Hum of cicadas rising in rounds from encircling hillside trees
• Lllooonnnggg hills (oh, we have some muscles now)
• More miles
• "I can"
• Fear

*"500 mile summer" mileage update:  Let's just say I might have to extend my deadline ... Trail miles from both weekends total 28 plus 3.5 badshoeankleblisteringmiles of derecho-felled tree climbing at the Denison University Bio-Reserve (also pictured above) and 2.5 miles of running with my new partner brings my current total to 63.  I have some ambitious plans coming up but even if those succeed, I'm running out of weeks.  We'll see!

**And for any would-be bear naysayers, some video from nearby Lake Hope.  Check out  :41, 1:14 and 2:57 (pretty sure it's a bear and not a loch-ness sasquatch)

batnotes

(Do you see it?!!!)

Bats are easily one of my favorite mammals.  I love their association with twilight -- their emergence at the brink of night to spend their waking hours flying about under the cover of darkness.  I am not one of those vampire goofs but I get bats' "creature of the night" intrigue.  Plus, I think that they're just plain cute.

The truth is that bats are not all that mysterious to those who want to know them but they are now dangerously threatened by a fungus that was a mystery until last fall.  White Nose Syndrome was first detected in cave-hibernating bats in New York in the winter of 2006 and in the brief period of time since its discovery, White Nose Syndrome has spread into the caves and mines where bats hibernate throughout 19 U.S. states and four Canadian provinces.  In addition to the rapid spread of White Nose Syndrome the extreme mortality rate of infected colonies is equal cause for alarm.  Hibernating colonies infected with White Nose Syndrome are decimated at a rate of 70 - 100 percent and it is estimated that in the last four winters 5.7 to 6.7 million bats have been killed by the syndrome -- totalling an 80 percent decline in bat populations overall in the eastern states.  Most of this occurred before experts had even identified the fungus that causes the syndrome.   

Even if you are among the faintest-hearted of chiroptophobes (bat-fearers, of course), consider this:  The average little brown bat eats approximately 1000 mosquito-sized insects an hour.  One big brown bat eats 9 million insects in one year -- providing considerable peace of mind for the entomophobes (insect-fearers ... of course).  Never mind that the estimated costs related to controlling the resulting increase in insect populations stretch into the billions of dollars.  

The disease-causing fungus originates in European caves (the fungus causes no harm to our north American bats' European cousins) and was likely spread to U.S. caves by cavers and/or researchers through contaminated clothing and gear.  To date experts aren't clear why the fungus causes bats to die though research indicates that infected bats wake more frequently during hibernation than non-infected bats and have been observed outside of the caves in winter months seeking either food or water.  It is thought that the fungus causes extreme dehydration, perhaps to the point of death.  What is still not known about the syndrome makes it very difficult to treat infected colonies or prevent further spread.

The prognosis is not exactly hopeful, but not hopeless either.  Research continues, caves, mines and abandoned furnaces where bats are known to hibernate have been closed to the general public and strict decontamination procedures are followed by professionals who research and monitor the populations, and it has been observed that after the initial decline, mortality rates seem to have stabilized in the New England states.  Education remains the best defense and the general public is advised to observe advisories of cave closings, report sightings of dead bats or bats in flight during winter, reconsider, when at all possible, evicting bats from roosts, educate others about the benefits of bats, and install bat houses.

For this information I owe a debt of gratitude to OSU Extension Wildlife Program Specialist Marne Titchenell and her excellent presentation last night.  Also, thanks to The Dawes Arboretum for hosting this program and the July meeting of the Licking County Chapter of the Ohio Certified Volunteer Naturalists.

In addition to the presentation we enjoyed a "live demo" as we watched local bats emerge from the woods and begin to feed over the pond at the Japanese Garden ...  AND listened in to their echo-location "calls" on the BAT DETECTOR (gotta get me one of those -- is there an app?).  Unfortunately IPhone camera + low light + rapidly moving bats = bad pictures, so here's a closer, still not so good, photo of a sweet bat who shared the bathhouse with me last summer for a couple of days at Big Bend in WV -- and yes, I went to the bathhouse at dusk and hung out there waiting for it to wake up and head out into the night:)

More on Marne Titchenell and White Nose Syndrome here.
White Nose Syndrome info here and here (an excellent site for all things bat).


And one more thing...
Holy Hands Batman -- those aren't wings at all!!!

3 hikes

After putting over 5000 miles on our version of the family truckster since June 1, I have become enamored with the idea that I might be able to log 500 miles by foot before the official end of summer in September -- so on opposite ends of a four day trip to Philly last week, I racked up some foot miles hiking three "gorges" here in central and southern Ohio.

The first was a 12 mile round-trip hike from Old Man's and Ash Cave and back at the Hocking Hills State Park.  The main trails thread through a well-known (justly so) and dramatic network of deeply carved, black-hand sandstone that boasts dizzying cliffs and arresting water features -- the result of extraordinary melt from the Wisconsin Glacier which parked itself for a while just to the north of the region.  Its unique and spectacular geography make it a popular destination and even on a Monday, with nary any electricity in the land, it drew a respectable crowd in the most striking and motorist-accessible areas.  However, solitude is the reward for those who have the endurance to venture further beyond the major attractions. I encountered only 2 pair of hikers on the Grandma Gatewood and Buckeye Trails that link the caves by way of Cedar Falls at the center of the park.

 

 

 

My second hike, the very next day, was a family trip to the Clifton Gorge at Yellow Springs -- a spontaneous trip inspired by excessive heat and lack of electricity which proved to be a pleasant escape, at the very least, from the deafening roar of our neighbors' generators.

It was a striking comparison.  Though both locations sit at approximately 39 degrees N latitude and fewer than 100 miles separate the two gorges, they are remarkably different.  Clifton Gorge is marked by cliffs that feature cracked layers of limestone, worn smooth too by raging water, but lacking the softness and obvious impermanence of sandstone.  The vegetation differs too, largely for the lack of the thick hemlock stands and carpets of fern that dominate the Hocking Hills, the deep shade of which, coupled with the sandtone's propensity to hold water, made the climate much cooler and more damp within the caves.  That Clifton Gorge was as hot and dry as its outlying areas was a fact frequently noted by the boy so to restore peace to our otherwise idyllic hike we employed our favorite parenting strategies; bribing him into silence with promises of (or rather threats to withhold) post-hike mugs of root beer and cheeseburgers.  Fortunately Yellow Springs offers a variety of places to chill out after a sweaty stroll.  After what I estimate to be about 4 miles (based on 2 hours of hiking, ambling really, over moderately challenging terrain in the Glen Helen nature preserve), we elected to reward ourselves at Peach's Grill, a pre-arranged decision based on prior research indicating the requisite selection of juicy burgers and cold (root)beers...  It was during this post-hike powwow that we decided that we couldn't stand another night of the equivalent to sleeping inside a lawn mower engine and sought refugee status out east...

 

 

(thought I'd share this charming circa 1904 report on the geology of the Clifton Gorge:)


...during which time we covered mostly highway miles, though we did take a train to the city... and no trip to the "east coast Karrs" is ever complete without running the 5 mile loop through Valley Forge Historical Park which featured a nice (barely visible here) morning moonset bonus!

Foot miles is what I have been aiming to rack up however and so upon our return, I woke Sunday feeling the familiar urge.  Even more encouraging was what proved to be a nice break in the weather accompanied by (gasp!) a breeze.  My only criteria, that I find someplace close and to which I had not previously been (becoming a somewhat maddening prospect).  After some quick research I headed up to the north side of Columbus for the Highbanks Metro Park.  I was able to make a good 5 mile hike out of the network of trails within the park and though some of the trails were somewhat unremarkable, (unless you like looking at small things like bugs and seeds and blades of grass, which luckily I do) the sections that pass through the deep ravines that make up the immediate watershed into the Olentangy river offer nice views and some mildly challenging elevation changes.  The geography and geology of this area too was heavily influenced by the advance and retreat of the Wisconsin Glacier.  The Powell End Moraine intersects the river roughly at the park and local shale that litters the riverbed and its surrounding ravines is mixed with other metamorphic rock that was relocated from its southern Ontario origins courtesy of the glacier.  Of more recent (relatively) historical note are the two Adena burial mounds and another prehistoric earthworks which is situated though-provokingly near the westward facing bluff.  In spite of the fact that the park is located within the Columbus metro-area -- and its resulting popularity, I would very much like to return here later in the fall so that I might better see the features for which this park is known, namely the impressive 100 foot bluffs overlooking the Olentangy which are currently fairly well concealed by the heavy summer foliage.

At the publication of this post, we are commencing to pack for some overnight wilderness miles -- a shake-down for a longer hike???? Could be, but for now total miles (sneaking in a 3 mile run on Tuesday) accumulated:  29

More info about the Olentangy Watershed here.

Ditto Hocking Hills State Park.

... and a nice list of other locations in Ohio of geological significance.

Update:  In case the Clifton Gorge report will not scroll here's the link.

beauty

As we ate, our host, Khalife Amir, played a tamboura lute made from a small, yellow plastic oil bottle, a table leg, and two wooden awls.  He fingered only the lower string.  I had not heard music for a month.  My days had passed in silences with flurries of thought in a landscape that changed slowly.  Note by note the music brought a sense of time back to me.  Each pause was charged with anticipation of the next note and the slow revelation of a tune.  Khalife Amir measured silence, dividing each minute into a succession of clear notes from the string and then weaving time together again with his tenor voice.  The others, who had not been able to hear music performed in public during the years of the Taliban regime, were quiet.  I did not understand the words and did not need to.  The sadness was clear in the tune and the singer's tone and in the expression of the listeners, as was the beauty shared between us.


--Rory Stewart, from The Places in Between

stealing faith

...From the ground up through the trees

I hear the birds complain about the lack of the rain...

"dry...

...so very dry," is all I can think today as I drive by the thirsty armies of corn.  even in its ungodly modified state it still lives and breathes and stretches its leaves skyward for want of rain.

now

Whispering over eastern PA:

dawn

Restless moon glow yields its mysteries to the rational light of day in a practical treaty called dawn.

Sundog

time travelling

Last Sunday morning at Indian Cove: