A morning poem, revisited

 

I am not a morning person. Not.At.All. There was a post on Facebook recently from Elephant Journal that sort of captures my attitude towards mornings:

A Poem for Mornings

Coffee, coffee, coffee,

Coffee.

Coffee, Coffee,

Everybody shut up.

Coffee.

This is even more the case on a weekend morning, so when I suggested to my husband that I get up, on purpose, at 6:15 on a Saturday morning so that we could hit the trail really early, well, to say that he was surprised may be an understatement. But such is the lure of the Walls Of Jericho.

The Walls of Jericho is a 750 acre natural area within the  Bear Hollow Mountain Wildlife Management Area in Tennessee and the Skyline Wildlife Management Area in Alabama. Between the two WMAs and the Nature Conservancy-held natural area itself there are thousands of acres of public lands in this area, but the major draw (at least for me) is the geologic formation that is the Walls of Jericho itself. I’ve seen it described as an amphitheater, a box canyon, or a gorge but basically it’s a place where Turkey Creek drains through 200-foot sheer rock walls into a rock basin. Whatever you call it, it is absolutely gorgeous.

First up, though: confession time. In 2008, Chet and I hiked the Walls of Jericho trail from the Alabama trailhead. I can see 7 years and a broken ankle in the rearview mirror, but I am in a lot better shape now than I was then. The thing that made the biggest impression on me that trip was how utterly exhausted I was trying to get back up the last couple of miles to the parking lot. As I remember it, there were some conveniently placed benches along that stretch and I used every single one. I even had to lie down flat on a couple of them to try to recover. It was awful! The other thing I remember about that hike was that we had just gotten some new hiking poles and were trying them out, and when we got to the end of the trail, Chet put down his poles to walk across a rock shelf to get a better vantage point for a picture, then slipped and fell so hard he broke his metal watchband and thought he’d broken his arm because he hit his elbow so hard. It was not one of our better outings and honestly I wasn’t impressed enough with the main attraction to be dying to go back. Turns out, there’s a reason for that but I’ll get to that in a bit.

This time, we decided to try the relatively new Tennessee trailhead as our starting point, which is just up the road from the Alabama trailhead. Though we opted to do an out-and-back on the same trail this time, it would certainly be a very doable thing to hike from one trailhead and end up at the other trailhead ,with only a short shuttle distance between the two.

To get to the Tennessee trailhead, just continue north on AL-79 for another 2.3 miles past the signs for the Alabama trailheads until you see the sign for the hikers parking lot on the left. It’s a little bit of a narrow entrance, but not too difficult to spot, and once you get in the parking lot is huge! On this morning there was nobody else around. Maybe because it was so flippin early!

The trail takes off from the very back of the parking lot, going straight through the woods for only about .1 mile before coming to an overlook. Just off to the right you’ll see an informational sign that tells you you’re looking at Little Cumberland Mountain, Pitcher Ridge, and Coppertop Point. The picture really doesn’t capture how pretty this view is!

 

From there, the trail goes towards the left along the edge of a bluff for about another .2 mile before it descends off the bluff through a ravine, then hugs another bluff for a bit as it winds through the forest and comes out on an old roadbed. The forest itself isn’t very remarkable and this time of year particularly it’s sort of drab. It’s a world of browns, except for stands of Christmas ferns that show a vivid green against the leaf litter and bare trees.

The trail crosses the old roadbed and begins to descend again. It starts getting a little steep then just keeps going down and down, steeper and steeper. If you know the movie “The Princess Bride” (and if you don’t WHY NOT!?), the only way to describe how steep parts of this trail are is to compare it to that hill that Princess Buttercup pushes the Dread Pirate Roberts down – the one where he slides and tumbles down for ages while saying “as you wish” – yeah, that one.  Seriously, this trail drops 1000 feet in elevation from the overlook to Mill Creek. In one .5 mile stretch, it drops almost half of that – just shy of 500 feet in elevation. Crazy!

A little steep

Super steep

 

At the bottom of this section, we came to a trail intersection with the Mill Creek Loop Trail. This trail actually starts up at the overlook and loops the other way to meet up with the Walls of Jericho trail here. From this intersection back to the parking lot is 2.1 miles. To make it a loop you’d have to hike a little less than 2 miles of the Walls of Jericho trail to make a 4.a_smidge mile loop. It’s definitely something I want to come back to do!

The next stretch of the trail still heads mostly down but not quite as steeply. In this stretch we found what just has to be a marker tree. We marked a waypoint for it on our GPS and when we got home tried to look it up on the Mountain Stewards website, but I don’t think they have it listed yet. We’ve sent in the information to them so we’ll see what they think! There was nothing obvious it was pointing towards, but we didn’t go exploring so who knows!

Next up was the Alabama border. Before we cross over that line, though, I want to take a moment to talk about how well marked the trail was in Tennessee. This trail used white diamonds, and a short loop out of the parking lot used blue diamonds. The scheme seemed to be to use single diamonds for normal trail, double diamonds to indicate a sharp turn in the trail, and triple diamonds to mark the end of the trail. They marked the heck out of this trail! You could usually see at least 3 diamonds ahead of you from any spot on the trail – more if there were doubles or triples involved.

Alabama wasn’t so prolific in their signage. If you are lucky, you’ll spot their “hiking trail” logo, but they seemed few and far between and a couple of times both going out and coming back, we weren’t entirely sure we were on the trail and couldn’t for the life of us find a sign!

 

Once in Alabama, the trail does another of its “pretend to be a cliff” things and drops 200 feet in just under .2 miles. At the bottom, the trail turns into an old roadbed that follows along Mill Creek. Continue on straight down the road – don’t turn left and head uphill – and it’s a broad and easy path to follow all the way to the intersection with the trail from the Alabama trailhead. Just after this intersection, there is a footbridge that goes over Mill Creek, and then another .4 brings you to a second footbridge at the confluence of Turkey Creek and Mill Creek. My memory of the first footbridge is of a much bigger structure. This one seemed a little narrow and kind of wobbly to me. Chet thinks that the bridge we went over this time is a replacement. Right after the second footbridge, there is a clearing and a primitive campsite right next to Clark Cemetery. The cemetery has lots of very old-looking unmarked rough stone markers,  a few legible old stones dating from the 1800s, and a couple of modern replacement stones.

First footbridge

Second footbridge

Clark Cemetery

After the cemetery, the trail follows a dry creekbed which branches off Turkey Creek for a short way until it joins back up with the main channel, then follows that all the way to the end. This part of the trail is probably my least favorite in a way. The footbed is narrow and rocky and there is a steep dropoff on one side.  My whole “steep” scale is going to have to be recalculated after the first part of this trail, but there are a couple of spots which my maps tell me drop 50 feet in less than a tenth of a mile. Not “Princess Bride” steep, but still…. The cliffs along the side of the trail are pretty impressive though.

Finally, we got to the point where the trail descended into a bowl with a pretty cascade towards the back and shelves of rock with water flowing over it on the way out of the bowl. This is where confession number 2 comes in. This is where we stopped in 2008. Now, I could say that Chet’s slip and fall and hurt elbow made us give up and just head on back, but I’m pretty sure we thought we were “there.” We weren’t. This is pretty, for sure, but it’s not really the famous Walls of Jericho. It’s sort of the front porch for the Walls of Jericho.

This trip, we stopped here and ate our lunch and took some photos, but then we went up the steep little trail to the right of the cascade into the Walls Of Jericho proper. I think I’m just going to let the pictures speak for themselves:

 

 

Where’s Chet?

As you can see in this last photo, most folks continue on up the canyon from the amphitheater. There you’ll find large holes in the limestone which I’ve heard sometimes have water spouting out of them. The day we were there all this area was dry, but the formations were still fantastic! This time we ended at the back of this canyon. It looked like the end of the road, though on maps you can see Turkey Creek on up above it. I’ve seen pictures with a waterfall at this last spot, but there wasn’t one when we were there. The pool at the bottom looks interesting though. It looked like it sloped steeply down and underneath the rocks.

 

After enjoying the view here, we headed back down the canyon, stopping to take one last picture from the top of the first cascade of the beautiful plunge pool before retracing our steps and hiking back out.

The hike out was uneventful, but boy let me tell you my legs, hips, and booty sure felt it making those steep climbs back up. We were surprised to find that we made the hike in almost exactly the same time going out as coming back in. There was less stopping to take pictures on the trip back, but we surely kept a slower pace climbing up those inclines!

When we made it back to the area near the overlook, we were rewarded with some beautiful views of fall color.

Some other sights along the trail included ferns, hepatica, interesting trees and rocks, a bird’s nest, and very colorful leaves.

So this time, I think we actually did it. I think we’ve finally been to the Walls of Jericho. And it was worth getting up extra early on a Saturday morning for, too!

 

High and Dry: Guided Hike on Rainbow Mountain

“Archaeology is almost everywhere,” said Ben Hoksbergen, Redstone Arsenal Installation Archaeologist, to a crowd of around 20 people gathered at the newly-built pavilion at the Land Trust of North Alabama Rainbow Mountain trailhead.  Ben was our leader on a guided hike on parts of the Rainbow Mountain Loop trail and the Spring trail, and he’s one of the experts recruited by the Land Trust to help interpret the natural and cultural resources in a series of guided hikes on their preserves.

Though we’ve hiked and done trail maintenance on Rainbow Mountain a number of times, this outing would give us a new perspective.  Ben explained that the geology of the first part of our hike, near the playground, dated to 325 million years ago. This layer of Hartselle sandstone, formed at the bottom of an ancient sea, persists up on the mountain since this particular sandstone is relatively hard and doesn’t erode as quickly as the limestone found pretty much all over the area.  This layer of sandstone is also known for harboring pockets of oil, though of the tar sand variety, so it’s not economically feasible to process it.

We walked along the top of Rainbow Mountain, where eagle-eyed Ben spotted a small piece of blue flint debitage on the surface.  Debitage is the flaked-off pieces left as debris during the formation of a stone tool.  He explained how stress lines on the chip can indicate that the flake was struck from a larger piece, then carefully noted the location of the item on a GPS.  As far as prehistoric archaeology goes, Rainbow Mountain is not exactly a hotbed.  Its relatively high altitude and lack of major water sources didn’t make for good settlement sites, though the microclimate at the top of the mountain could be a source of certain medicinal and edible plants (such as prickly pear cactus, which we spotted off the trail).

So we didn’t have high hopes of digging up another Moundville duck bowl, but Ben had a screen and a shovel, and he proceeded to perform some shovel tests in three small rock shelters along the top of the mountain.  It’s time to insert the important disclaimer that digging for archaeological artifacts is something best left to professionals.  If you’re doing it on private lands, you get into tricky questions of legal ownership, and more to the point, you’re also likely to get into the path of an irate owner with a shotgun.  If you’re doing it on public lands, you’re very likely breaking the law, and yes, people get caught, fined, and/or jailed all the time.  A 2010 story on al.com contains the tidbit that at least two dozen people per year are cited in the Wheeler National Wildlife Refuge for digging for artifacts.

Fortunately, we had a professional on hand for our hike, and he quickly sorted through the lumps of dirt and rock to find…exactly no indications of early inhabitants.  That’s not to say there wasn’t anything interesting, though — he found a few fossils, including one that shows part of some plant, and some archimedes fossils that look like corkscrews.  It’s pretty cool to hold in your hand an imprint of an aquatic animal that lived 250-350 million years ago.  He also found bits of modern glass, a modern button, and in two locations, a .22 caliber shell.

The rocks on the top of the mountain are Monteagle limestone, heavily eroded along channels in the rock, which is pretty much what you’ll find on most ridgetops in the area.  As we descended down the east end of the Rainbow Mountain Loop trail and headed north, Ben pointed out knobs of chert and more fossils found in larger rocks.  Chert is often used for stone tools and points, and native Americans frequently quarried rich veins of chert and camped nearby.  The quality of the chert on Rainbow Mountain isn’t that great, so there aren’t likely any quarries there.  Going back to the geology for a moment, chert is a sedimentary rock usually found in a deeper layer than the sandstone and limestone layers, but since sandstone weathers more quickly and limestone dissolves in our mildly acidic rain, chert has a way of working to the surface.

Nandina

Our hike took us to the east end of the Spring trail, so named because it follows a small creek that originates from a spring about halfway up the trail.  This is a fairly steep little trail, but Ben wanted to point out that when looking for potential archaeological sites, water sources can be an important indicator.  Also, this trail has several introduced species — notably, multiflora rose, nandina, Chinese privet, and vinca.  Though those non-native invasive plants are ubiquitous around here, in some cases they may be been deliberately planted for ornamental purposes.    The topography of this particular trail didn’t offer any good locations for a house, but it does have a small entrance to a cave that could lead to something much larger than we were prepared to tackle.  It’s interesting to note that we skirted one sinkhole, and small caves and fissures point to the likelihood of one or more pit caves under Rainbow Mountain.

We made our way back to the pavilion, having spent a very enjoyable two hours covering about 1.5 miles.  This wasn’t a hike where the objective was to get from point to point.  Instead, it gave us insight into how an archaeologist views the terrain when out walking about.  I was struck by how helpful it is to have knowledge in geology and botany when evaluating potential sites of archaeological interest.

Guided hikes might not be for everyone.  With any group of hikers, you’re going to run into the inevitable problem of not everyone hiking at the same pace, and those toward the end of the group may miss some of the narration.  And if solitude is your thing, this type of hike won’t appeal to you.  However, we’ve been to a few of these Land Trust guided hikes, such as the history hike to Trough Springs and a forest ecology hike on Wade Mountain.  The Land Trust does a splendid job of finding interesting, enthusiastic people to enrich the outdoor experience by providing insight and context.

There’s a series of guided hikes every spring and fall, and the last one of the fall season is the annual Thanksgiving Day hike, held this year on November 26 at 9 am.  This hike starts at the Bankhead parking lot on Monte Sano and heads mostly downhill on the Alms House trail to Three Caves, a former limestone quarry normally open only during special events.  The hike, like all Land Trust guided hikes, is free.  If you’re looking for a place to whip up an appetite, or perhaps put in a caloric down payment on your Thanksgiving feast, it’s a two mile hike one-way, with an optional shuttle back up to the parking lot (or you can just retrace your route to earn yourself another piece of pie).  Though we’re at the end of the fall hike series, keep an eye on the Land Trust’s website for information on the spring hike series.  Or better yet, join the Land Trust and find out about these events in advance, along with invitations to members-only hikes.

 

Bucks Pocket State Park: A Haven for Defeated Politicians

From the title of this post, you might think that it’s going to be a political one where I rant about how the politicians have neglected their public duties and gotten things to the point where they’re closing our state parks , but actually, no. Well, maybe that, too, but as you can see from the photo to the left, the phrase “Haven for Defeated Politicians” is actually part of the park lore and is displayed prominently on the sign by the office. As described in an article in the Gadsden Times, this dates back to the 1940’s when Gov “Big Jim” Folsom lost his bid for the senate. He put together a plan for all the losing candidates to meet at Buck’s Pocket to console each other over their losses and plan for the future. Apparently it was a very slow news day, because some newspaperman overheard the idea, published a story about it and it went national. (For anyone too young to have been around before social media ruled everything – that’s sort of like something going viral today).  How many politicians actually have done this over the years I don’t think anybody actually knows. The last one mentioned in the linked story was Shorty Price in 1974.

Buck’s Pocket may have a bit of colorful political history associated with it, but it’s much more than that. It’s 2000 acres of land protecting a beautiful gorge formed by South Sauty Creek in Dekalb, Jackson, and Marshall counties. Dedicated as a State Park on July 1, 1971, the park actually got its start in April 1966 when the Sand Mountain Boosters Club of Rainsville bought land from a local farmer and organized a group called the Tri-County Park Authority to develop the area into a park. TVA also donated 700 acres near the Tennessee River. Before that, the area was a hideout for draft dodgers, World War II and Civil War deserters, and apparently moonshiners judging by the reported “numerous” moonshine stills found in the area. Long before all that, it was a hunting ground for the Cherokee.

Until next November 15, 2015 anyway, the park offers 24 modern campsites with restroom and shower facilities, plus some primitive camping spots and at least a couple of camping cabins. There are fishing and boating opportunities at Morgan’s Cove, a small cove downstream of the main park area, plus 15 miles of hiking trails. Sadly, due to the Alabama budget crisis, much of this will be unavailable starting Nov. 15th as Buck’s Pocket is transitioned to an unmanned day use park. The day we were there, the guy manning the office was actually working on arranging for the gate that will lock down the road into the campground so that area will be inaccessible. The road up to an overlook will be open, and I assume hiking trails that have trailheads outside the campground area will still be accessible, but I don’t know the fate of Morgan’s Cove.

For our trip over to Buck’s Pocket, we had planned to hike the South Sauty Creek Trail, a 2.5 mile one way trail with a couple of waterfalls along the way. Driving to Buck’s Pocket we went through miles of rural farmland set among rolling hills. It was pretty, but unspectacular countryside.  After entering the park though, the road  dropped steeply as it entered the gorge that cuts into Sand Mountain forming Buck’s Pocket. I mention this because, not surprisingly, cell phone reception is pretty much non-existent at the parking area, which is at the very bottom of the 400 foot deep gorge. Normally, this would have been no problem – I usually actually turn my phone to airplane mode when I hike so that my batteries don’t drain trying to search for signal. My phone is my camera or I’d just leave the thing in the truck. Like I said, normally not an issue, but when we got there the office was not open and there were no trail maps or informational signs that we could find to point us to the trail. Chet thought he remembered that the trail led behind some of the campsites, so we took a loop around the campground looking for a trail – no luck. We walked up the campground road to the stop sign where it meets the road that goes to the overlook. Nothing. We headed back towards the parking lot thinking that we’d just have to get back in the truck and drive until we got cell phone signal again to figure out where we needed to go. Coming from this direction, though, we noticed what might be a trail off to our right. There was a faint blotch that was either a paint blaze or just a worn spot on a tree trunk so we investigated. Sure enough, we saw more faint orange blotches farther along so we decided it was a trail. Exactly which trail, we had no idea, but we were up for adventure so we decided just to see where it led us.

The footbed was covered in leaves and was narrow in spots as it clung to the banks of a dry creek bed and wound through woods where bright yellow fall leaves decorated the trees. At  .2 miles, the trail  crossed a powerline cut just behind what we later found out was the ranger’s house. Somebody has installed a nice wooden bench here, though I have to say it’s sort of an odd place for it. It’s not far enough from the trailhead for anybody to need a rest, and the views other places are much more scenic.

About .1 miles after that, we came to a spot where trail turned into a boulder field. The blazes we were following were orange and we could see this big orange arrow painted on a tree so we walked, crawled and clambered in the general direction pointed to by the arrow, but no trail could be found. Hmm. We could hear a bit of rushing water, so we worked our way up a bit more and found the picturesque spot in the photo to the right.

There was no going farther upstream from here, though, so we backtracked to where we had seen the arrow and looked all around for more orange blazes. We could see some across the boulder field going on up the canyon but there was not an obvious trail to get to them. We backtracked a little farther to a spot where we’d seen some blue ribbons that looked to be another trail. This led down into the dry creek bed in the general direction we wanted to go so we went with it. I’m pretty sure we weren’t really on any trail. We just blundered our way up the creek until we got close to an orange blaze and climbed back onto the trail.

At around .4 mile, we stopped at a pretty boulder overlooking a small pool of water for our lunch, then headed up some wooden steps cut into a steep section of the trail. In about another .1 mile, we got to a place where I really thought we’d lost the trail again. The trail crossed the still-dry creek bed, and looking straight ahead in the direction we’d been walking it just seemed to disappear. That’s because at that point it took a sharp left turn and went straight up, and I do mean straight up, the side of the hill.

Soon after climbing that section, we started hearing the sound of water off to our right. As we climbed, it just got louder until at .7 mile we reached an obvious side trail heading towards the sounds. Of course we took it and were rewarded by the sight of a beautiful little fall tumbling 15-20 feet into a pool.

We spent quite a bit of time here while Chet took lots of pictures and I just soaked up the beauty. The funny thing about this fall, though, is what happens to all that water after it flows out of the pool. It does continue down the hill for a short ways, but then what happens? Remember the trail up had been mostly beside a very definitely dry creek-bed. At some point downstream from the falls, the stream simply disappears underground.

Back on the main trail after enjoying the waterfall, we climbed up another steep section until we reached the rim of the gorge at about .8 mile. From here the trail is very level and easy, except for the occasional downed trees across the trail. You can almost see great views of the gorge from here; trees along the rim hide most of it, but you can get hints of the views to come from time to time. At 1 mile, the trail comes out along the road to the parking and picnic area for Point Rock. It was at this point that we finally realized exactly what trail we were on – the Point Rock Trail. It’s advertised as a 1.2 mile one way trail from the bottom of the gorge to Point Rock and is the only trail that ends up there. You can drive to the overlook as well, but hiking it you’d never get to see those falls! We headed up the hill toward the sign for Jim Lynn Overlook, then wandered out on the boardwalk that leads out onto the rocks for a great view of the Little Sauty and South Sauty Creek gorges. To be honest, we were hoping for a bit more fall color, but the leaves were pretty muted already.

After enjoying the views for awhile, we retraced our steps back to the campground. See our GPS Track here.

It being fall, we didn’t see a lot of wildflowers, but we did see one birdsfoot violet, some cool mushrooms, and of course beautiful fall leaves.

Back at the campground, we discovered that the office was open, so I stopped in and asked where the heck the South Sauty Creek Trail was. The guy at the desk – the one arranging for that gate to close down the campsite – kindly set me straight and we talked about what parts of the park would still be accessible. All in all, it was a great day out, even if we didn’t really know where we were most of the time. Buck’s Pocket is a beautiful area and it’s a shame that the campground won’t be available any more. To close, I’m going to leave you with a couple of paragraphs copied from the Buck’s Pocket State Park web page:

Over the last 5 years, more than $30 million has been transferred  from the ADCNR to the general fund to support other state programs. The state parks system alone has been forced to transfer half of the $30 million from its division. We spent months of tirelessly working to educate the public and legislative on the impact of 5th year of transfers would have on our system.

We can’t afford to run our current system with a continued loss of revenue due to this chronic problem of legislative transfers from our parks division to the general fund budget. These closures are going to negatively impact our state – from the citizens in the communities where they exist, to the dedicated staff at these parks who have worked so hard serving the public for many years.

We will continue to work with all interested parties to educate everyone on the importance of securing permanent and protected funding that will ensure that the entire park system remains open for all Alabamians throughout the state.

Indian Creek Greenway: Not Just a Fair Weather Friend

What a drag!  Fall colors popping, moderate temperatures, a weekend with a few unscheduled hours — and rain, rain, rain.  A rainy Saturday afternoon and evening left trails in the area saturated, and more rain was virtually a certainty for Sunday.  So there I sat, glumly considering topics for a non-hiking blog post.  Though it wasn’t raining early Sunday afternoon, the radar showed more precipitation creeping up from the south, and even if we tried to get in a quick hike around Huntsville, we’d be slogging through the mud and contributing to erosion of the trails.  And then Ruth had a great idea — how about a jaunt on Indian Creek Greenway?  It’s really close to our house, and we haven’t checked out the parking area constructed at its south end as part of the widening of Old Madison Pike between Madison and Huntsville.  And best of all, it’s paved!

So we decided to risk getting rained on, and snapped Casey the Hound on a leash and drove to the parking lot.  It’s quite an improvement over the old unpaved lot that used to be on the west side of Indian Creek.  The old lot flooded frequently, didn’t accommodate many cars, and developed some bone-jarring potholes.  The new lot is paved, can hold around 40 cars, and is on the east side of the creek, which means you have to cross the creek on the new bridge on Old Madison Pike.  There’s a pedestrian corridor, with a concrete barrier between you and the motorized commuters, with an ironwork fence to keep you from going for a swim in the creek.

The greenway, like all the local ones, is paved and level, winding through a wide corridor.  There’s a line on the pavement to separate the walkers (in the narrow lane) and the bikers (in the broader lane), but most people treat this as a suggestion.  The only rule is common sense — don’t run into people!  There are some other rules, but the lichens have overruled them on this end of the greenway.

The path winds gently along, with horses behind an electric fence on the west side about half a mile from the trailhead, and mock oranges occasionally to be found on the ground or in trees to the east.  We’ve walked this greenway on several occasions, and each time I think there are more horses.  We saw at least four on this trip.  Sadly, we’ve noticed a couple of parcels that back up to the west side of the greenway are for sale and seem destined to be developed.  I hope we don’t trade the horses for a bunch of engineers in khaki shorts and polo shirts barbecuing in their back yards.  There goes the “neigh”-borhood.

Indian Creek is often visible to the east, with occasional open areas off the side to allow a good look.  Despite the recent rain, the creek was relatively low.  During very rainy periods, most of this end of the greenway is underwater.  At around 1.25 miles the creek bends to the west and the greenway crosses it on a wide bridge, with nice views on either side.  Now the creek runs along the west side for the rest of the way.

At around 1.7 miles you come to the unofficial midpoint of the greenway as it exists today — the Farrow Road overpass.  There are sidewalks leading up to Farrow, but there’s no parking area here.  The sidewalks are for the benefit of folks who live in the Creekwood neighborhood or for anyone out for a stroll in Research Park.  Ruth and I have spent many minutes on the bridge over Indian Creek, stuck in Research Park traffic while Old Madison Pike was under construction for 18 months.  It’s much nicer to be on the path underneath the bridge.  That is one quibble I have about the new bridge on Old Madison Pike, though — you can’t see the creek at all when driving over the bridge.  To be fair, it’s a safety improvement, as over the years I’ve looked off the old bridge more than once to see a car upside down in the creek.

Only a quarter of a mile past Farrow, the greenway forks.  The left fork takes you to Creekwood Park, a neighborhood park with two large (four table) and six single-table picnic shelters, restrooms, a large parking lot, a large playground, and a dog play area.  If you stick to the right, the greenway continues north for another 1.2 miles.  Casey has been an only dog for quite a few years, so we thought he’d enjoy spending some time in canine company, so we went to the left.  The path crosses the creek on another bridge here, and if you look to the west you’ll see a tree on the bank with a rope hanging from it.  Something to keep in mind for the summertime, perhaps.  Legal disclaimers:  Woodlands and Waters has no idea about the depth of the water under the rope swing.  Use at your own risk.  Pesticides have been detected in the Indian Creek watershed, but we don’t have the scientific chops to tell you if they pose a health risk or not.

Creekwood Park is a really nice facility, and is usually crazy busy.  On a misty day with rain looming, there weren’t many people out, but there were three people and two dogs in the play area.  There are actually two separate areas — one for dogs under 25 pounds and one for the big dawgs.  There are benches and a couple of small shaded pavilions in each area.  Casey played with Murphy and Korra, though he kept coming back to check on us.  I’m usually not a fan of out-of-focus photos, but this one is almost a great one, so I’m making an exception and posting it.

It’s my favorite kind of golf hole — a dogleg!

After giving Casey his canine time, we headed back toward the split and turned left to complete the northern end of the greenway.  This section of the path has easy access to several of the disc golf holes in the area of Creekwood Park.  This 18-hole course looks like it would be a lot of fun to play, though Indian Creek would be a water hazard on a couple of holes.  We also passed an unregistered Little Free Library, right next to a convenient bench.  This being the Rocket City, you could relax on the bench and peruse the ASP.NET 2.0 Cookbook or Introduction to Wide Area Networks. There might possibly have been a bodice-ripper in there too.

The northern end of the greenway is a little different in character, with a housing development going in on the east side, but the creek continues along the west side.  We startled a blue heron along this stretch, but he was too quick for the camera.  Look to one side and you’ll see houses and construction equipment.  Look to the other and you’ll see that’s it’s definitely fall in northern Alabama — the virginia creeper is even changing colors.

After 4.2 miles, we arrived at the current northern terminus of the greenway.  There are plans to continue the greenway north to pass under Highway 72 and connect up with greenways at Providence.  There is also a proposal to extend the greenway to the south, near or through the Madison Academy campus, almost all the way to Highway 20.

As we neared the northern end of the greenway, the mistiness was beginning to transition to drizzle, so we packed away the camera and started the return trip to Old Madison Pike.  Along the way, the drizzle changed over to a light rain, and it looked like we might get a good soaking.  Casey was in low-tail mode by then but he soldiered on, and we got back to the car while we were just damp.  It wasn’t the most scenic or challenging hike, but we had made good use of three hours, getting in a 6.75 mile hike and a visit to the dog park.   Though we turned this into a moderate distance hike, the parking lots on either end make it possible to put together a shorter easy-peasy hike if you only cover a portion of the greenway.

Greenways have their pros and cons, but as Ruth pointed out that is often a matter of perspective.  For instance, if it’s solitude you crave, greenways suck.  We saw around 50 different people using the greenway on our three-hour visit, which is a record in our experience of the Indian Creek greenway — a record low, that is.  On a nice spring weekend day, I’d expect to see 150-200 people during a typical visit.  But on the other hand, what a great sight to see our neighbors out and about, walking, running, biking, pushing strollers, playing with dogs, playing in the park — proving that not only do we want our communal outdoor spaces, we actually use them.  Greenways aren’t very challenging hiking and can be kind of monotonous.  But, this makes them accessible to everyone.  And, best of all, you can use them in the rain, and I can’t think of a drawback to that — if you like walking in the rain!

Here’s our GPS track for this hike.