Fall is special, there is no doubt about it. There is something in humanity that makes us flock to it so we can revel in its myriad of colors. How is it that the colors of death provide such a breath of life? Maybe it’s because the death of the leaves occur but the tree still lives on, ready to endure the cold and then emerge in a burst of green as spring and summer warmth returns. The air itself paradoxically provides a feeling of warmth with its chill, much welcome after the assault of summer heat waves. All in all, there is a romantic quality to the season, and when you find a special place illuminated in fall color, it feels like you’re walking in a dream. I can remember the select few times I’ve been in an area that was really and truly fully overtaken with fall color, with cloudy weather to bring out every varied shade of the woods. One was visiting Jones Gap State Park in South Carolina, where a small pocket of impressive fall color held out till very late into November of last year. The other was at Anna Ruby Falls.
Tag Archives: hike
2019/11/04 Hiking at High Shoals Falls
I stepped onto the wooden observation platform, taking care not to slip on the smooth and wet wooden planks, and I came across a familiar sight. The bottom tier of the falls plunging into an aqua pool below is an iconic image for the trail and the area at large. Only on this day the usually placid-looking fall was somewhat of a raging torrent, which did even seem to be possible to have been birthed by the same shallow creek I had crossed just moments before. A solitary vibrant-colored sweatshirt was draped over the railing on the platform. With no other person in sight, I can only presume the owner drowned in the creek and the body was never found.
2019/11/03 – Panther Top Tower
My ascent up the trail was greeted by the pleasant sounds of nature. My feet on the dirt. Gun shots. Wind rustling through the trees. Gun shots. Small animals rustling in the brush. And gun shots. So many gun shots. Nothing but gunshots. Drowning out all other sounds. Gun shots. There’s a shooting range just downhill of this place. It gets LOUD. Though the sounds of bullets piercing the air interrupted what would have been a peaceful walk in the woods, I felt comforted to know that I would be so protected should any dangerous situations arise.
2019/11/03 – Trouble at Turtletown Falls
I ran my windshield wipers. They glided gracefully over the surface of the ice. They may have even performed a triple axel. What they never did was move a single particle of ice. So that didn’t work. The towel didn’t work, though I supposed I could have thrown it in. Suddenly, I had an idea.
2019/11/02 – Hike Up Blood Mountain
I looked up, but I didn’t like what my eyes saw. The hill stretched as far as I could see. Hundreds of feet in the air the trail weaved a serpentine path up the hill, and dozens of tired people littered its path (unfortunately sometimes literally), bestowed in bright colors of neon green and pink, ostensibly to try and ward off hunters. Or maybe to make it easier to find the body in the woods, I’m not sure. One might have called it a stairway to heaven, except it was going to feel like hell. Gravity pulled me downwards while my insatiable curiosity for spectacles lied at the top of that hill pulled me upward. Such is hiking; moments of physical discomfort, boredom, terror, all endured so one can satisfy curiosity and enjoy the natural rewards of a trail in an organic way that driving to a scenic spot could never provide.
2019/11/02 – Exploring Amicalola Falls
My legs screamed in protest. My lungs strained, for Floridians are neither well versed in cold air or the concept of going uphill. My pack felt heavy. It didn’t just feel heavy. It was heavy. An obsessive planner, I made sure my pack was stocked with every lens, drink, snack, and backup camera I might need on a long foray out into the wilderness. Except I wasn’t going to the wilderness this morning, I was going to one of Georgia’s busiest state parks. My body shuddered at every step I took up the long stairway I had embarked upon. In my head, one phrase rang out repeatedly. Cloudland Canyon. Cloudland Canyon. Cloudland Canyon.
J. Parker Nature Stories 