On June 25th Joan and I rose early for another hiking safari, hoping to avoid the worst of the day's predicted heat. We began with another first-time visit, to the Rockstall Nature Preserve, which is managed not by a state or local agency but by Camp Akita. The main attractor here is a rock-walled cove with two semi-seasonal waterfalls; depending on the recent weather, water may be flowing or trickling down the sandstone formations. Or, in winter, frozen into icicles.
The parking area area sits just off Highway 83 but is unpaved and can be gullied, so be careful about blasting in at high speed.
The trail starts out broad and level.
Here and at many other places we saw exuberant colonies of ground cedar,
which has a long history of medicinal use. The spores have a high oil content and are instantly flammable, so other applications of this plant have included flash photography and stage productions.
The trail soon branches, but either choice is fine: the path is a loop. Joan and I chose the clockwise way, and soon descended a long stairway into the cove. This photo looks back at the descent.
You know immediately that you've entered a different microclimate, surrounded by eroded sandstone and its layers.
Water has also carved out shelves and recess caves.
Some formations have had chunks chewed off by freeze-thaw cycles.
Joan and I strolled on, and soon the cove widened.
At the head, the first waterfall.
In closeup.
The second waterfall is to the right, but with the route seemingly blocked by debris and a tall mound.
One side of the mound, when you walk over to it, hosts an obvious path, and from the top there's a good view of the other waterfall.
From this point the loop continues across the top of the mound and then up steps carved into the rocky wall. They must have been chipped out long ago, being smooth now. The trail flattens and arrives at the small stream feeding the fall; from there, it rises more gradually and crosses several short bridges on its return to the intersection. Back at the parking lot, Joan and I consumed some chocolate in celebration of our success and avoided a melted mess in the rising heat.
We drove the short distance to the Boch Hollow north trailhead, the starting point of our hike six weeks earlier. With the woods now adorned with summer attire rather than spring blooms, I'll just share a few photos.
A closeup of an orchard orbweaver spider that was just a few feet off the trail (photo taken with zoom!)
A slightly off-focus image of an ovenbird, sometimes accused of an angry call and baleful glare.
Greenery flourished on this pond between the north and (closed) west trailheads.
The light wasn't good for this flycatcher, but I so seldom get my camera aimed before flycatchers dart away...
By early afternoon the heat had grown oppressive, and Joan and I had put several miles in, so it was time to drive back to Columbus, well satisfied.
On May 23rd Joan and I returned to Boch Hollow State Nature Preserve, this time at the East Trailhead,
to tread the paths we hadn't taken on our first visit. A short gravel path led towards the woods.
Within ten minutes we saw this pair of flycatchers, variety undetermined (they're hard to tell apart except by song).
Shortly thereafter we entered the woodlands.
Due to the heavy rains since last time, the paths had more frequent and larger muddy spots. Once Joan and I got a little water over the top of our
boots crossing a creek, but nothing serious. Just muddy boots.
Most birds were, as usual, unwilling to pose. This is a murky shot of a female rose-breasted grosbeak.
After descending the first ridge and crossing a small creek we arrived at the cemetery. Many stones and blocks were unreadable; this, the largest, came closest. The first photo captures its natural colors under leaf-filtered light. (Click on the image to enlarge.)
I played with the contrast, edge detection, and other filters of the GIMP -- Gnu Image Manipulation Program -- and some portions were more legible, some still not.
A wonderful solo slump block, far from any companion formation.
More fire pinks, threatened with future obscurity by higher greenery than ten days ago.
Wonderful closeup of a showy orchis, now in full bloom.
A wood thrush.
Charming, diminutive long-spurred violet.
From the non-photosynthetic kingdom, a shelf fungus flourishing on a fallen log.
The unusual looking plant is the hairy/large-leaf waterleaf, but it's not blooming yet.
When the trail paralleled another low-lying area I spotted some movement almost on the ground. It was a bald-faced hornet! (The species is actually a yellowjacket wasp, not a true hornet.)
These eusocial beasties nest higher up in paper colonies, but this one was going round and around one of the thorns of a bush, less than a foot off the ground. We still haven't puzzled out what it was up to, unless it's chewing wood to expand the nest.
But the biggest treat by far came at the end of the hike. On the same trail we had entered by four hours before, a luna moth was snoozing on a trunk off the trail by bare inches. You must click on this one!
Joan and I count ourselves very fortunate as this large moth is nocturnally active and is in its adult stage, as here, for only 7 to 10 days. This one showed no signs of wear and tear, and must be quite young. We hope no-one, nor their dog, disturbed it the rest of the day.
Sidebar:
A disheartening behavior we commonly saw in these state nature preserves is people bringing their dogs. Pets are not allowed in the preserves, and the signs at the trailhead make this clear. The most charitable interpretation I can make is that they arrived without any knowledge of the rules, and then had a choice: go home, or break the rules. (I wouldn't condone leaving a dog in the car.) But most, I surmise, feel that their pets are so well behaved that it's OK. It is not. There are plenty of other parks where pets are welcome.
Last evening at sunset, May 31st, Joan spotted one of the fledgling barred owls in trees behind our house. Called down, standing from a slightly different vantage point, I could see that both baby owls were perched on the same branch.
Every time we moved they would check us out.
2020 has been a great owl year. And there seem to be fewer squirrels around than a month ago ...
