jdmetzger
09-23-2007, 09:44 PM
Note to readers: This isn't a ride report, and there is very little motorcycle content here. Honestly, I wasn't sure about posting it. It may be boring and uninspired... but it's already written, so why waste it? This is the campfire, after all. I didn't have a photo for the weekly photo challenge, so I have this, instead. It's been a long time since I've done any writing "just because". I felt inspired, today. This is more of a "walk report" so if you want; come take a walk with Lucy and I through the park on a cool Sunday morning. If not, there is always the stale and unimaginative thread. No responses are necessary - I'll survive with 20 views and no replies. :)
--
I had a decision to make this morning when I woke up. It was a beautiful crisp morning; in the upper 40's, with a prediction for upper 70's. Do I go riding with the GS, or do I grab the leash and take my dog to the park? I have plenty of time to go riding another time, and I've done a lot of riding this year. Today, the park idea wins out. I throw on a pair of jeans, my new walking shoes, a long-sleeved MOA rally shirt, grab the dog, hop into my truck, and drive over to Wildwood Preserve Metropark. I'm lucky enough to be a short drive from this 500 acre forest in the middle of metro Toledo.
I'm happy to see the parking lots are mostly empty when I arrive. I don't enjoy coming to the park as much in the late morning and afternoon when there are lots of people out. It ruins the peace and solitude I'm looking for. By mid-day, this park will be overrun with families, noisy children, pets that owners can't hardly control, joggers, bicyclists, and the ever popular "person walking through the forest on a cell phone". The latter is especially enjoyable, as there must be some interference from the trees that requires you to speak as loudly as possible. "Can you hear me now", indeed.
So Lucy and I start our journey on the mostly empty walking trails. It's still quite cold out, and the canopy of trees does a good job at blocking out the bit of sunlight I have. The sun is still low in the sky; leaving only small spots of light on the forest floor. I can already tell fall is approaching; much of the lush ground cover has started to die; the large ferns that grow throughout the area are turning brown, and many of the vines that cover the ground are giving way to the moss that hugs the long-dead trees that are scattered throughout the forest. We cross a wooden bridge over a rather deep ravine; a small stream running 50 or 60 feet below us. I came to this park for a few years before I even realized this bridge was here; it's existence hidden by the many trees surrounding it. The bridge runs us right into the manor house. Years ago, all of the land belonged to one rather wealthy (and well known, in Toledo) family. The land and house were owned by Robert Stranahan Sr., one of the co-founders of the Champion spark plug company. The house was build in 1938 and has 35 rooms, 17 bathrooms and 16 fireplaces. Eventually all of the land (along with their house) was purchased by Toledo Metroparks in 1970. Had the city not purchased the land, it would have been developed into a "luxury complex" of approximately 1000 homes and condos. Urban sprawl at it's finest. Fortunately, that didn't happen. The original massive house still stands; and is a sort of mini Biltmore house here in Toledo.
Behind the house and down a ravine is a boardwalk that runs along the Ottawa River. This is a big flood area, so they keep you elevated off the ground by a few feet to keep the trail open after heavy rains. This morning the water is low and three deer forage through the tall grasses to my left. Lucy takes notice of them, but realized they're a little large to chase up a tree. Two does and a fawn. They're obviously accustomed to seeing people, and hardly pay attention to us as we walk past within 15 or 20 feet. Last year I passed a group of 8 deer while on a trail further into the park. They were not interested in moving, and I was within 8 feet of one. She was not impressed with me.
As I wind my way back into the forest, I finally warm up a bit from the exertion, although my uncovered face is still ice cold. The sun has come up further and the rather dull green and brown colors give way to brighter greens, yellows, oranges, and reds. It's like going from the dull colors of "Saving Private Ryan" to the bright hues in "Wizard of Oz". The patches of sky that I can see peeking through the leaves are a brilliant cloudless electric blue. Sunlight reflects off a single strand of spider web stretched across the trail ahead of me, giving the rather odd sensation of looking at the forest through a massive piece of cracked glass.
There is activity all throughout the forest; squirrels and chipmunks rustling about through the dead leaves, acorns dropping to the ground, and birds calling in the distance. It's really a perfect morning to be here. The very few people I pass on the trails all look as happy as I feel, and each one gives me a friendly greeting as we pass. These aren't the phony, hollow greeting you might get from people at work, or walking through a store. Their faces light up as they flash a smile. They really MEAN what they say. it IS a good morning. All of us are appreciating it, escaping the day-to-day grind for a little while.
The trail continues to wind on, along a bluff, and next to a small stream. I pass a stand of dead trees in the middle of the forest, and realize they are Ash trees; killed off by unnatural nature; a bug brought to the area, likely on a freighter from China. Victims of global trade. Some of the parks actively cut down all of their ash trees before they were completely dead, but these are still standing; ghosts of the forest.
I walk down the trail and thinking about how it might be fun if I could bring my GSPD out here for a ride through the forest. Then I think about how quickly that would ruin a place like this if it was allowed; noisy two-strokes, deep ruts, trash, spilled oil, jerks. I continue along the red trail. The park color codes all of their walking trails to make it easier to find your way. Generally my route is yellow to blue, a connector that runs between blue and red, then red, then part of orange, all the way back to the parking lots. I have always avoided a large section of the orange "Prairie Meadow" trail, as I prefer to walk under the cover of trees and not bake in the sun. Today I take a risk and boldly walk into the prairie, as I decide it will still be cool enough to be comfortable, even in the sun. I cover about 50 feet in the open, only to find the trail leads right back into the trees. The transition point between the hot dry prairie and the cool damp forest is foreboding. it feels and smells like an old dirt floor basement in the early summer; warm, humid, and stale. Moving further into the trees brings back the cool temperatures I've previously been enjoying. All this time I have avoided this section of trail because I simply assumed it was going to be a certain way. It has me wondering how often I might have done the same thing in life. A good example of "things aren't always what they seem". So, like Lewis and Clarke (but not as exciting), I press on through this new (to me) territory, and I enjoy every minute of it.
The trail runs right to the edge of the park; along some unused train tracks, with some commercial businesses on the other side. One of the businesses has a few 55-gallon drums that are "ticking" as the sun warms them. This gets me thinking of my trip to the James Bay, back in July. When I stopped for gas at kilometer 281, there was a similar stack of 55-gallon drums making the same ticking noises, though it was substantially colder and overcast, and up there I felt more... empty. It's amazing how such a small thing can evoke such a large memory. I get to thinking about all of the other places I've traveled to this year, all the things I've seen, the experiences I've had, and some of the truly amazing people I've been lucky enough to meet and talk to.
At this point, the sun is fully in the sky, and more sunlight is finding it's way to the forest floor. Some of the leaves appear almost unnatural under the intense light; sort of "Olympia AST green". Now I know how I'd look walking through the forest with my riding jacket on. It gets later in the morning and I begin to see more people jogging and walking through the park. Two older ladies are stopped, complaining about the mosquitoes (of which I haven't even thought about since my arrival). Their problem becomes obvious the moment I walk past them and get slapped in the face by their perfume. Ah yes; "French Whore in a Flower Shop", quite a beguiling fragrance if you're a small flying insect. I hope they left the park before running into any honeybees.
Now I'm on the final stretch; trees on one side, a meadow full of tall, dying grass on the other. There are a few bushes here and there with brilliant red leaves; fall is coming quickly, although the increasing temperature tells me it's not quite here, yet. We finish our walk across a large grassy field; and back to the truck. For once Lucy hops in the truck without any coercing, and tries to show me her appreciation as I lean in to remove her collar.
Now it's back into traffic, back home, and sadly, I'll be working from home today, on a Sunday. I have a massive software upgrade to complete; probably eating up most of today and tomorrow morning as I have to go into work early. Still, I'm calm, relaxed, and happy. When I return home I decide to get one of the fresh bagels I picked up yesterday (OK, mostly fresh) and sit outside to have my breakfast. The sun is shining, but I still hear a few crickets making noise - probably hiding in the landscaping. Lucy is back at the tree guarding us from the dastardly plots of the squirrels, although she keeps doing "drive-bys" in an attempt to get a handout. She is, of course, successful. I decide to grab my laptop and work from here. Why sit inside when it's so beautiful outside? The bikes sit idly in the garage, and there is no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision, this morning. I end up sitting a while after finishing my breakfast; not really doing any work, just thinking and dreaming. Eventually, I connect in to work and get moving on my obligations...
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost
--
I had a decision to make this morning when I woke up. It was a beautiful crisp morning; in the upper 40's, with a prediction for upper 70's. Do I go riding with the GS, or do I grab the leash and take my dog to the park? I have plenty of time to go riding another time, and I've done a lot of riding this year. Today, the park idea wins out. I throw on a pair of jeans, my new walking shoes, a long-sleeved MOA rally shirt, grab the dog, hop into my truck, and drive over to Wildwood Preserve Metropark. I'm lucky enough to be a short drive from this 500 acre forest in the middle of metro Toledo.
I'm happy to see the parking lots are mostly empty when I arrive. I don't enjoy coming to the park as much in the late morning and afternoon when there are lots of people out. It ruins the peace and solitude I'm looking for. By mid-day, this park will be overrun with families, noisy children, pets that owners can't hardly control, joggers, bicyclists, and the ever popular "person walking through the forest on a cell phone". The latter is especially enjoyable, as there must be some interference from the trees that requires you to speak as loudly as possible. "Can you hear me now", indeed.
So Lucy and I start our journey on the mostly empty walking trails. It's still quite cold out, and the canopy of trees does a good job at blocking out the bit of sunlight I have. The sun is still low in the sky; leaving only small spots of light on the forest floor. I can already tell fall is approaching; much of the lush ground cover has started to die; the large ferns that grow throughout the area are turning brown, and many of the vines that cover the ground are giving way to the moss that hugs the long-dead trees that are scattered throughout the forest. We cross a wooden bridge over a rather deep ravine; a small stream running 50 or 60 feet below us. I came to this park for a few years before I even realized this bridge was here; it's existence hidden by the many trees surrounding it. The bridge runs us right into the manor house. Years ago, all of the land belonged to one rather wealthy (and well known, in Toledo) family. The land and house were owned by Robert Stranahan Sr., one of the co-founders of the Champion spark plug company. The house was build in 1938 and has 35 rooms, 17 bathrooms and 16 fireplaces. Eventually all of the land (along with their house) was purchased by Toledo Metroparks in 1970. Had the city not purchased the land, it would have been developed into a "luxury complex" of approximately 1000 homes and condos. Urban sprawl at it's finest. Fortunately, that didn't happen. The original massive house still stands; and is a sort of mini Biltmore house here in Toledo.
Behind the house and down a ravine is a boardwalk that runs along the Ottawa River. This is a big flood area, so they keep you elevated off the ground by a few feet to keep the trail open after heavy rains. This morning the water is low and three deer forage through the tall grasses to my left. Lucy takes notice of them, but realized they're a little large to chase up a tree. Two does and a fawn. They're obviously accustomed to seeing people, and hardly pay attention to us as we walk past within 15 or 20 feet. Last year I passed a group of 8 deer while on a trail further into the park. They were not interested in moving, and I was within 8 feet of one. She was not impressed with me.
As I wind my way back into the forest, I finally warm up a bit from the exertion, although my uncovered face is still ice cold. The sun has come up further and the rather dull green and brown colors give way to brighter greens, yellows, oranges, and reds. It's like going from the dull colors of "Saving Private Ryan" to the bright hues in "Wizard of Oz". The patches of sky that I can see peeking through the leaves are a brilliant cloudless electric blue. Sunlight reflects off a single strand of spider web stretched across the trail ahead of me, giving the rather odd sensation of looking at the forest through a massive piece of cracked glass.
There is activity all throughout the forest; squirrels and chipmunks rustling about through the dead leaves, acorns dropping to the ground, and birds calling in the distance. It's really a perfect morning to be here. The very few people I pass on the trails all look as happy as I feel, and each one gives me a friendly greeting as we pass. These aren't the phony, hollow greeting you might get from people at work, or walking through a store. Their faces light up as they flash a smile. They really MEAN what they say. it IS a good morning. All of us are appreciating it, escaping the day-to-day grind for a little while.
The trail continues to wind on, along a bluff, and next to a small stream. I pass a stand of dead trees in the middle of the forest, and realize they are Ash trees; killed off by unnatural nature; a bug brought to the area, likely on a freighter from China. Victims of global trade. Some of the parks actively cut down all of their ash trees before they were completely dead, but these are still standing; ghosts of the forest.
I walk down the trail and thinking about how it might be fun if I could bring my GSPD out here for a ride through the forest. Then I think about how quickly that would ruin a place like this if it was allowed; noisy two-strokes, deep ruts, trash, spilled oil, jerks. I continue along the red trail. The park color codes all of their walking trails to make it easier to find your way. Generally my route is yellow to blue, a connector that runs between blue and red, then red, then part of orange, all the way back to the parking lots. I have always avoided a large section of the orange "Prairie Meadow" trail, as I prefer to walk under the cover of trees and not bake in the sun. Today I take a risk and boldly walk into the prairie, as I decide it will still be cool enough to be comfortable, even in the sun. I cover about 50 feet in the open, only to find the trail leads right back into the trees. The transition point between the hot dry prairie and the cool damp forest is foreboding. it feels and smells like an old dirt floor basement in the early summer; warm, humid, and stale. Moving further into the trees brings back the cool temperatures I've previously been enjoying. All this time I have avoided this section of trail because I simply assumed it was going to be a certain way. It has me wondering how often I might have done the same thing in life. A good example of "things aren't always what they seem". So, like Lewis and Clarke (but not as exciting), I press on through this new (to me) territory, and I enjoy every minute of it.
The trail runs right to the edge of the park; along some unused train tracks, with some commercial businesses on the other side. One of the businesses has a few 55-gallon drums that are "ticking" as the sun warms them. This gets me thinking of my trip to the James Bay, back in July. When I stopped for gas at kilometer 281, there was a similar stack of 55-gallon drums making the same ticking noises, though it was substantially colder and overcast, and up there I felt more... empty. It's amazing how such a small thing can evoke such a large memory. I get to thinking about all of the other places I've traveled to this year, all the things I've seen, the experiences I've had, and some of the truly amazing people I've been lucky enough to meet and talk to.
At this point, the sun is fully in the sky, and more sunlight is finding it's way to the forest floor. Some of the leaves appear almost unnatural under the intense light; sort of "Olympia AST green". Now I know how I'd look walking through the forest with my riding jacket on. It gets later in the morning and I begin to see more people jogging and walking through the park. Two older ladies are stopped, complaining about the mosquitoes (of which I haven't even thought about since my arrival). Their problem becomes obvious the moment I walk past them and get slapped in the face by their perfume. Ah yes; "French Whore in a Flower Shop", quite a beguiling fragrance if you're a small flying insect. I hope they left the park before running into any honeybees.
Now I'm on the final stretch; trees on one side, a meadow full of tall, dying grass on the other. There are a few bushes here and there with brilliant red leaves; fall is coming quickly, although the increasing temperature tells me it's not quite here, yet. We finish our walk across a large grassy field; and back to the truck. For once Lucy hops in the truck without any coercing, and tries to show me her appreciation as I lean in to remove her collar.
Now it's back into traffic, back home, and sadly, I'll be working from home today, on a Sunday. I have a massive software upgrade to complete; probably eating up most of today and tomorrow morning as I have to go into work early. Still, I'm calm, relaxed, and happy. When I return home I decide to get one of the fresh bagels I picked up yesterday (OK, mostly fresh) and sit outside to have my breakfast. The sun is shining, but I still hear a few crickets making noise - probably hiding in the landscaping. Lucy is back at the tree guarding us from the dastardly plots of the squirrels, although she keeps doing "drive-bys" in an attempt to get a handout. She is, of course, successful. I decide to grab my laptop and work from here. Why sit inside when it's so beautiful outside? The bikes sit idly in the garage, and there is no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision, this morning. I end up sitting a while after finishing my breakfast; not really doing any work, just thinking and dreaming. Eventually, I connect in to work and get moving on my obligations...
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost