Since I didn't adjust my camera's aperture correctly, the park looks like some Dantean dark woods here. As Count Floyd used to say, "Oooh, that's scary!" Shortly after entering, I discovered the trails to be littered with signs laden with information on the flora. Hikers will learn how the natives used a particular plant as a medicine or ate it as food. However, the first marker we encountered was rather ominous in that it described poison ivy and admonished readers, "Leaves of three? Let it be!" Not content with a mere placard, park rangers made sure that there were some of the infernal plants growing at the base of it.
Part of our path took us out of the woods and along the perimeter of a large overgrown field. It was the kind of place where you'd expect to see two lovers running at one another in slow motion in a BBC drama.
Once back into the realm of the trees, we saw some pretty flowers and a butterfly. Miss Regan availed herself of the opportunity to dig in the dirt as well.
Does any reader know what kind of flower that is? Anyway, it wasn't look before we beheld the Natural Bridge before our very eyes.
The opening is about 25' high and 35' across. Dogger told us, just as he had at Pewits Nest, that the psammolithic feature before us dated to the Cambrian era which was a long time ago indeed. ("That's Cambrian sandstone," he stated authoritatively.) Not quite a Sagan unit (billions and billions) but still 1+ billion years. (I think that I am going to start using the phrase "Cambrian sandstone" as often as possible as it makes one appear erudite. E.g. – "The Capitol was built from Cambrian sandstone. If you look close enough, you can see worm burrows.") Kidding aside, it was quite awe-inspiring to be standing next to something more than a billion years old. It has no doubt seen things I couldn't even begin to imagine.
By the way, walking on the bridge itself is verboten.
Beneath lies a shelter which was home to a group of natives some 11,000 years ago when the glaciers were in retreat. It was strange to think that we were in what was essentially, at some point in the dim and distant past, someone's front yard. Today it is mostly used by teenagers who want to carve things into the walls when intoxicated. It is also forbidden to walk into the shelter but, for you, dear readers, I shirked the rules and grabbed some snaps.
Dogger related a tale of a teenage girl who was once in the park at night with friends drinking and carousing. They had scaled heights they shouldn't have and, when confronted with the arrival of the police, the poor lass ran the wrong way and off part of the sandstone formation to her early demise. Regan apparently inherited the morbid curiosity of her father and was keen to check out the bones. When informed that the body had been removed, she was clearly displeased.
Continuing our trek, we found that the road diverged in the woods.
Sorry we could not travel both, our party followed to the right and eventually found a mushroom and one of those placards describing how tasty gooseberries are. Now, I'm not the most mycophagous guy around but I'll bet that mushroom wasn't edible.
At the top of the hill, we were afforded a wonderful view.
On our way down, we descended some stairs which would have looked at home in Lothlórien.
Although there were some deer tracks, the hike was notable for the near absence of animals. Perhaps I'll see more when Dogger and I do a longer hike there along the ridge in the photo above from the top of the hill. Between now and then, however, I'll have to be content with coulees and granite on my vacation next week.
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