Hiking Through
Sometimes our full attention should be on the task at hand…
I went to stay at a romantic luxury cabin, and yes, that is exactly how this cabin classified itself, and it sat in the middle of the Hocking Hills of Ohio. If you have never hiked through the area, you ought to give it a try. It’s in southern Ohio in an area full of caves, waterfalls, forests, and many hills.
Hills aren’t the appropriate descriptor in all cases, however, since images of casually undulating changes in elevation come to mind. That’s not wholly true. Some of the trails ascend quickly. In many places two trails exist, with one being labeled the gorge trail and one the rim trail.
The rim trails are not for the timid, and when we took our young children there years ago, my husband took the two younger kids back down the “hill” while my twelve year old and I continued on above. I’m not claiming I made the smart move, since I remember looking down through the path at points and seeing nothing but air for several hundred feet. We made it around in spite of ourselves.
On this trip we hiked earlier in the season, because I like having vast swathes of trails mainly to ourselves, and this area is hiked even in full summer due to the cooler air tucked down in the river gorges and the waterfalls that splash down through and around the many trails are wonderfully chilly. I thought early March would give us empty trails, and then we could manage all the uphill trailheads at my pace.
My husband noticed the sign we’d never seen before. “Ice cleats strongly recommended.” I grabbed my water bottle and camera and plunged ahead wondering what ice cleats were. My better half had actual hiking boots on while I decided to pack tennis shoes for the trip. Who could possibly need hiking boots on these trails?
At Old Man’s Cave I hit the ice right when he said, “Watch out for the ice!” It looked like an ordinary step, and I gamely smiled at my phone for a selfie. Self-preservation has never been my strong suit.
My feet quickly gave way, and I landed on my rear end, sliding down a few icy steps until I stopped toward the bottom. I popped back up, phone and water still in hand. The ice had melted on top just enough to soak my jeans and muddy up my rear end.
Undeterred, I tied my jacket around my waist and we plunged down another series of icy steps, only this time I held onto the rocks on either side. No more selfies. Once we made it to the bottom I noticed I wasn’t the only one with mud on her clothes. Several people had fallen along the way, and one woman managed to swathe herself in so much mud we wondered what happened to her.
Old Man’s Cave was normally our go-to hike in the area, since it runs past Devil’s Bathtub and the many waterfalls that plunge down so many cliffs, but I seriously misjudged the ice. That made all the difference, and we shortened our hike and headed for other places.
Ash Cave had ice warnings too, but we didn’t see any on the trail. Ice remained on the sides of the cliffs where the sun hadn’t touched it yet. The wide, deep cave stretched across soft sand. I wondered how many people over the years had tucked themselves under its roof for a night out of the rain. Maybe even for a whole season.
I counted myself lucky since no more ice crossed our path, and we enjoyed the rest of the daylight and hiked as much as we could. We found Cedar Falls, and that hike took us under a thin, very high waterfall, and the sound of the wind sighed in the bare limbs of the trees on the way down.
By the time we made it back to the cabin I felt an pinching ache in my neck, so I sat outside by the fire and called local spas looking for a massage for the next morning. I decided to have some wine to warm myself, and the hot tub promised relief from all the aches popping up all over.
Falling on the ice hurt me more than I knew, and the next day after a massage we stopped by the only coffee shop in town. I brought home a chai tea latte and a spinach and bacon quiche. Bruises appearned on my arm, and we decided to stay close to the cabin and hike the next day.
Chagrined by not heeding warnings of ice initially, we headed out for a more difficult hike and a long one too. Conkle’s Hollow rim trail warned of ice, so we said we’d turn around if it looked ominous, and we started climbing. We didn’t see one bit of ice throughout that long hike, and the sun had warmed up the afternoon so much that I shucked off my jacket.
It felt good to be back on the trail in spite of falling. I was starting to wonder if my better days were behind me even when it came to hiking, so when we met two older couples at the top asking about the trail ahead I knew I had years spiraling forward full of hikes small and long, shady or sunlit. Just not icy.
