Rockbridge and Rhododendron Cove State Nature Preserves

Saturday, October 25th, was a gorgeous fall day, even if it alternated between sunny and blue, then cloudy and gray, and sunny again as a front came through. The Ohio Natural Areas and Preserves Association, ONAPA, was sponsoring a guided hike at the Rockbridge State Nature Preserve.

Twice as many people showed up as had registered for this hike,

which would be led by Timothy (Tim) Snyder, author of Rainbows of Rock, Tables of Stone. In this photo Tim is introducing us to some of the geological history of this region of Ohio, at our first rest stop. The initial climb makes you breathe harder, but it's not intimidating. 

The trail was well marked; anyone can walk it on his or her own. Stay on it.

About an hour after setting out we reached the bridge. This is my initial view of it, the largest rock bridge in Ohio.

We were treated a talk by Tim about the geological processes that formed the bridge, the erosion of a softer layer of sandstone sandwiched in-between two harder layers, by water entering through cracks in the top layer.

We took the trail down to the base of the bridge.

Everybody with a camera, be it a cellphone or an SLR, was compelled to take a picture of this sight.

Many of us continued the short distance to the Hocking River and its flood plain, host in centuries past to canal boats and railroads that would disgorge tourists to picnic on the rock bridge. Curiously, once these forms of transportation disappeared from the Hocking River, the memory of the rock bridge also vanished until more modern times. 

As we passed the rock bridge on our return ascent, Joan and I, among others, crossed the bridge, almost 100 feet long, whose width varies from 6 to 20 feet.

A wider view of the elevated passage.

In this farewell view, you can clearly see some slump blocks that fell to the ravine floor behind the bridge.

On the returning loop there is a spur for a second loop, the Rock Shelter loop. Well, why not? The sun was out and the day must be taken to full advantage.

The rock shelter and its slump blocks, perhaps a future rock bridge in the making:

On the rock shelter trail we encountered only four other hikers, two groups of two. This was a huge change from the three dozen, not all of our group, at the rock bridge.

After following the loop that caps the rock shelter trail we began our return to the main trail. At our closest approach to the Hocking River there was a good sitting log, where we ate our snacks and peeked between the trees at passing watercraft.

We rejoined the main trail. Near the parking lot a trail section prone to sogginess is covered by a boardwalk, which undulates in spots.

It was not yet 1:30, so Joan and I went on by ourselves to another hike, Rhododendron Cove, a state nature preserve just a few minutes back up Rte. 33.

The trail at first is a wide, flat mowed strip that begins between a natural gas pumping station and the public parking area.

The trail veers left and begins to climb, where the trailhead truly begins, with an information station,

and a dedication plaque.

The trail then insists on a steep, aggressive climb to the top of the ridge. My heart was pumping by the time I reached the crest, but mercifully this section is not long. Near the top you pass through halls of stone.

At this time of year leaf litter is everywhere, and covers the trail. The visual landscape clues were usually sufficient for our eyes, but we were glad for the trail markers, some consisting of colored tape on trees, some of medallions on posts.

We paused to admire this somewhat out-of-focus katydid.

There were views of ravines and other ridges, but especially interesting were the rock formations.

Must come back at rhododendron blooming time. Also note the patch of ferns at the bottom of this photo.

The cove trail has its satellite trail, just as the rock shelter trail left from the rock bridge trail. Along this trail there was some golden glory.

There was also a tree trunk with long, narrow scars. Perhaps these were from a deer rubbing itchy velvet on its growing antlers? The marks are not symmetric enough to be bear clawing; anyway, black bears are unusual in this part of Ohio.

One of the passages was slick on our downhill return, aggravated by the leaf litter. Fortunately there were walls to touch.

Joan and I ended our hiking day well satisfied that we had not wasted this precious late-autumn day. And we did a good turn, in that we carried a deceased mylar balloon and busted pair of sunglasses out of Rhododendron Cove.