Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Author: poeaxtry_

  • Turning Hate into Art – How I Use Blackout Poetry to Reclaim My Story:

    Turning Hate into Art – How I Use Blackout Poetry to Reclaim My Story:

    Best for:

    Readers focused on how individuals protect their mental health in online spaces & reclaim agency after experiencing cyberbullying or harassment, Allies wanting to understand the lived experiences of trans individuals, Independent creators who love authentic visual storytelling, & Transgender or Gender nonconforming people who are looking for empowering ways to fight transphobia.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: 🕰️ 3-5 minutes | Weight: ⚖️ Balanced between Vulnerability & Empowerment | Mood: 🚫 Defiant & Reclaimed 

    Cyber Bullying:

    Transphobia often arrives uninvited, in your comment section, direct messages, or through unsolicited opinions from people who think they know us better than we know ourselves. Dealing with these encounters can be draining, but I’ve found a powerful tool for catharsis and healing: blackout poetry.

    By taking words intended to erase or invalidate me and physically blocking out the hostility, I am able to strip away the noise and redefine the narrative on my own terms.

    There is a deeply exhausting weight that comes with opening your phone after you get to work only to find a notification from an anonymous individual who felt entitled to weigh in on your existence. Transphobia doesn’t just stay on screen; it lingers in your chest, triggering that immediate spike of frustration and cognitive fatigue.

    Passive consumption of that toxicity leaves you holding emotional baggage that was never yours to carry in the first place. Turning to blackout poetry isn’t just an artistic decision, it’s an active, physical release. It allows you to take that trapped, stagnant energy and channel it into something controlled, intentional, and entirely yours.

    Screenshot showing original instagram direct messages to me and my responses.

    Facing Unprovoked Hostility:

    The original exchange was a classic example of transphobic microaggressions and deadnaming. Someone took it upon themselves to message me with unsolicited comments about my identity, deadnaming me with their original statement “Arielle, you will always be a woman”, followed by convoluted logic mocking my transition and personal details.  

    When faced with messages designed to diminish who you are, it’s easy to feel frustrated or invalidated. My direct response was straightforward. I simply reminded them that my name is legally Axton and I attempted to disengage from their weirdness. The emotional energy from encounters like this do not always disappear just because you hit “send.”  

    Blackout poetry and other forms of found poetry can serve as tools of subversion, transforming existing texts into entirely different messages. This works by taking texts meant to control, censor, or harm, and flipping them on their head to tell a completely different story.

    Harassers rely on digital tools to make trans people feel isolated, small, or silenced. When you step into the role of the editor, the power dynamic completely flips. They thought they were issuing a definitive statement about who you are, but they actually just supplied the raw canvas for your next piece of art.

    Reclaiming that space isn’t just a personal victory; it’s a statement to every other trans person reading that we do not have to accept the narratives handed to us.

    The Transformation – Blacking Out Hate:

    Rather than letting those hostile words linger as a source of stress, I decided to treat the screenshot as source material.  

    Blackout poetry works by taking an existing text and censoring or covering up the majority of the words, leaving only a selected few to form a brand new message. In this case, the process became literal reclaiming:  

    • Erase the Noise: I used black lines to redact the unsolicited opinions, the invalidation, and the deadname.  
    • Center the Truth: By cutting away the transphobic commentary, only one clear, undeniable truth remained: “You will always be… Whatever you say… Axton.”  

    By literally painting over their attempt to define me, I reframed the entire interaction. Their hostility became nothing more than background noise, while my self-determination took center stage.  

    It’s hard to overstate the sheer absurdity of another person using their energy to create an anonymous account to belittle you while also believing they hold the authority to debate your lived reality, your legal identity, or your body.

    The impulse when reading a hostile message is often to fight back, to write a detailed defense, or try to reason with someone operating entirely in bad faith. However, engaging directly is a trap designed to drain your energy while feeding theirs. Recognizing that realization is the turning point. I did not need to win an argument in a DM thread with someone who refused to see me; I needed to strip their words of their weight and demote their entire argument down to meaningless noise.

    Why Reclaiming Matters:

    Creating art out of hate isn’t about ignoring the reality of transphobia, it’s about depriving it of its intended power. Transphobic comments are meant to make trans and nonbinary people feel small, wrong, or silent.

    When we turn those words into art:

    • We regain agency: We choose what stays and what gets erased.  
    • We set the boundary: We decide that their opinion doesn’t get the final word, our truth does.  
    • We practice radical self-love: Transforming something ugly into something empowering is a profound declaration that our identity is ours alone to define.  

    The actual process of redacting the screenshot carries a deeply satisfying, almost therapeutic feedback loop. As thick black strokes cover up the unsolicited commentary, you watch the aggressive intent dissolve in real time. Hunting through a toxic paragraph to find words becomes a scavenger hunt for truth amid a sea of nonsense.

    Visually, the end result speaks volumes: the harsh, ugly commentary is buried, leaving behind a stark, clean graphic that highlights only what matters.

    You aren’t just editing an image; you are physically redacting their power over you.

    Blackout poem made from hateful and transphobic instagram messages make a difference in the meaning behind the message.

    Moving Forward:

    To anyone else navigating unsolicited hate or invalidation: your identity belongs to you, not to the people who refuse to understand it. Whether through blackout poetry, music, other visual art forms, or simply stepping away and living joyfully, finding ways to reclaim your narrative is a vital form of self-care.

    You don’t have to let hateful commentary lie dormant in your archive or rent space in your head. Whether you pick up a digital brush over a screenshot, grab a sharpie and an old piece of junk mail, or turn rejection into music, the act of creation will always outlast the act of hostility.

    The person who sent those messages is left behind in the dark, buried under blocks of ink, while the art created from their mess moves forward into the world. Self-care isn’t always quiet. Sometimes it is active, bold, and fiercely protective of your peace.

    “My name is Axton, and no amount of hate can erase that truth.”

    Read More:

    Blackout Poetry – my first. Fight Me – a poem on transphobia.

    Scholastic HQ – Reclaiming through Blackout Poetry.

    The History of Blackout Poetry.

  • Now Available by Subscription Only:

    Now Available by Subscription Only:

    Best For:

    Readers who enjoy Psychological Thrillers, Individuals sick of owning nothing and pretending to be happy about it, and people looking for independent authors.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: ⏰ 5-6 minutes | Weight: 🥊crushing & suffocating| Mood: 🚫exhausted & clinical|

    The Scars of Fitting In:

    This piece is the fifth of the ten piece collection of short stories, that I am currently working on. I will continue to share these periodically across my platforms, including WordPress, Substack, Wattpad, and other publishing spaces.

    Each story in this series stands alone, but together they form a broader examination of the systems that shape us. 

    These works are released intentionally over time, allowing space for reflection rather than consumption. 

    This series blends literary fiction with social commentary and psychologically thrilling concepts. Here I spend time focusing on lived experience, psychological impact, and the long shadow of making decisions for others . New entries will be published as they are completed.

    Now Available by Subscription Only:

    The first thing I learned about being poor was how to live without all my needs being met. A long time before I became an adult and I truly understood The Health App I understood to some degree that money bought health and happiness.

    I didn’t go without all feelings and body functions though, the app would never allow that. The government has regulations about minimum human functionality, and the companies that own our bodies have lawyers to make sure those regulations are followed to the “T”.

    There are baseline services everyone receives, provided we keep our accounts in good standing. A heartbeat and enough blood pressure to keep us upright. Enough brain activity to prove we are still customers worth billing.

    Everything else is based on a subscription. I check mine every morning before getting out of bed, like clockwork. I also check it every night before I go to sleep, just incase.

    The app is called Human+, though most people I know call it simply “The Body App.” It is connected to an implant behind all citizens ears, inserting of the device is done by doctors at each child’s birth, and each device contains a different serial number.

    Your device is with you through every stage of your life. It remains under your parent’s control and linked to their bank accounts until your eighteenth birthday. This is how we monitor our health, manage our biological needs, and pay for the privilege of remaining functional.

    The interface inside Health+ is clean and pleasant, with rounded buttons, soft colors, and little green checkmarks beside every service you currently have.

    Today I open my app clicked the button for the dashboard showing my own body.

    • HEART FUNCTION: ESSENTIAL ✅
    • RESPIRATION: ESSENTIAL ✅
    • DIGESTION: BASIC ✅
    • BLADDER CONTROL: PAUSED ❔
    • BOWEL REGULATION: PAUSED ❔
    • BLOOD SUGAR MANAGEMENT: BASIC ✅
    • PAIN REGULATION: EXPIRED 🚫
    • SLEEP QUALITY: EXPIRED 🚫
    • TEMPERATURE REGULATION: ESSENTIAL ✅
    • EMOTIONAL STABILITY: TRIAL PERIOD ENDED 🚫

    A banner at the top congratulates me on maintaining my Essential Human package for thirty-seven consecutive days.

    I am proud of that. Thirty-seven days without a missed payment, a late fee, or a forced downgrade. Thirty-seven days of keeping myself alive without borrowing funds from my future-self.

    My paycheck is due to hit my account on Friday, but rent comes out the following Monday. There is also the electric bill that is already overdue, and the interest on my deceased mother’s medical debt has grown faster than I can seem to pay it down.

    I have learned overtime to organize my life around billing cycles instead of days of the week. A good week is always one in which nothing important expires.

    I plan to upgrade my heart rate subscription on payday because the Essential package seems to maintain only the minimum rate I require to keep moving, but it does not keep me feeling well.

    The premium tier however, will adjust my heart rate to allow for fun physical exertion, stress, and more laborious work activities. Without it, climbing the stairs to my apartment too frequently makes me dizzy, and walking to work feels like running a race with a hand pressed against my chest.

    The upgrade cost more than my groceries for three days. I decided I need to make the purchase anyway.

    The app celebrates with a brief animation of a pulsing red heart, and my body responds almost immediately. The pressure in my chest eases, my heartbeat settles into a comfortable rhythm, and the gray haze that has been following me all month began to lift.

    I stand in my kitchen and watch my bank account balance decrease, in real time. I then open the grocery delivery app and removed the eggs.

    Eggs are a luxury now. So is fresh fruit, meat, as well as anything that comes in a package labeled organic.

    I opted to buy the cheapest calories available and plan to make them last. After all my digestion subscription can handle the food, provided I do not eat too much at once. The Basic tier processes ordinary meals at a reduced efficiency, which means bloating, cramps, and an unpredictable amount of time spent waiting for my stomach to finish doing its job.

    The Full Digestive Care package promises optimal nutrient absorption, gut motility regulation, microbiome support, and relief from the humiliating biological inconveniences of eating. It also promises fewer bathroom emergencies, although that does require a separate subscription.

    The irony of paying separately to process food and remove it from my body had stopped being funny years ago. There are tiers for everything.

    The bladder package offers three plans: Basic Release, Scheduled Relief, and Total Control. Basic Release allows the bladder to empty, but it does not guarantee convenient timing or warning. Scheduled Relief provides notifications and a limited number of controlled bathroom visits. Total Control maintains continence, suppressed urgency, and allows customers to delay elimination for several hours.

    The bowel package is similar, with additional fees for predictable timing and odor control.

    One time I could splurge and I paid for Scheduled Relief. I actually worked an entire shift without worrying about whether the nearest restroom was available. I even walked home from work multiple times without the familiar dread of checking my clothes before stepping out of the building. I got to actually feel somewhat normal for two weeks.

    Like I said, I felt almost ordinary, until the electric company sent its final notice. I promptly canceled my subscription for scheduled relief.

    My first accident, after the cancellation happened at work, halfway through a twelve-hour shift. My body sent the usual notification, a small yellow warning in the corner of my vision, thanks to those handy devices. However, I had no control over how quickly the need to go escalated. I was helping someone else with their toileting needs, when the notification turned red. By the time I got away, it was too late.

    The health app recorded the incident as a service limitation. While I spent the remainder of the shift trying not to look at anyone directly in their eyes. Thankfully, I always have “just incase” clothes in my work bag, so I at least didn’t have to wear my shame on my clothes all day long.

    There was a protection plan for situations like mine, an add-on called Dignity Assurance. It covered emergency continence support and provided temporary upgrades during qualifying circumstances. The monthly fee was almost as much as my phone bill.

    I had calculated the cost several times, hoping the numbers might eventually become kinder.They never did at best the comparison stayed the same.

    However, like everything else it seems the cost to each subscription and tier slowly rises. When I check my paystub, it seems those are the only numbers that increasingly get lower.

    Blood sugar management is another expense a user cannot eliminate completely. The Essential package keeps my glucose within the narrow range required for survival, but it does not promise a stable range.

    The Basic tier monitors fluctuations and intervenes only when your blood sugar crosses certain thresholds. The Premium tier anticipates those changes, adjusts insulin delivery when applicable, regulates glucose release, and protects against dangerous swings caused by food, exercise, or stress.

    I, of course couldn’t afford the Premium tier. I don’t know anyone personally or through employment even who can afford it.

    Some mornings, I wake up with my hands trembling and my thoughts moving too quickly to follow. On these morning the health app typically displays a yellow warning that when toggled suggests a balanced breakfast, followed by a link to its preferred nutrition partners.

    The recommended meals cost more than I can afford to spend on food in a day. I always dismiss the suggestions, and chew my way through a cheap carbohydrate bar. Then I wait for my blood sugar to settle.

    Sometimes it does; Sometimes the warning remains. Yet, the app never forgets to remind me that I can always upgrade.

    There are God DAMNED… excuse me, I am so sorry.

    There are subscriptions for breathing efficiency, lung filtration, immune response, kidney function, liver detoxification, circulation, clotting, hormone regulation, fertility, sexual response, muscle recovery, bone density, joint lubrication, skin repair, hair growth, nail growth, and the production of tears.

    There are packages for taste, smell, hearing, sight, balance, and touch.

    Customers can pay to sharpen their vision, extend their hearing range, increase their pain tolerance, or even improve their sense of taste.

    Pain tolerance is particularly expensive.

    The Essential tier allows pain signals that are necessary to identify immediate threats, but the advanced package filters chronic pain, inflammation, and unnecessary discomfort. It is marketed as a productivity enhancement. The advertisements show people smiling through workouts, working late without distraction, and enjoying their weekends without the burden of aching joints.

    I had to cancel mine six months ago.

    Now every strained muscle, every headache, every sore tooth announces itself with the insistence of an unpaid debt. I have became very good at ignoring pain, which is not the same as being free of it. I know the difference between a harmless ache and a dangerous one, mostly because I learned how to search symptoms before the app’s free diagnostic window closed.

    Even sleep was by tiers.

    The Basic package provides unconsciousness, though not necessarily equal to a good night’s rest. Even dream management cost extra, and deep sleep optimization cost more than your average citizen can spend.

    Memory consolidation, circadian adjustment, and nightmare suppression are considered premium services. There is an entire tier devoted to reducing the number of hours required to feel rested, advertising if this is geared towards shift workers, students, and people who have more obligations than time.

    I bought the overnight recovery package once during a particularly difficult month. For seven days, I woke up feeling as though I had slept for an entire weekend. My concentration improved, my temper softened, and I stopped making careless mistakes at work.

    Right when I got used to it the introductory rate expired. I of course had no choice but to go back to sleeping poorly. The app calls these downgrades a return to standard service.

    It has a subscription for emotions, can you believe it? Emotional Stability adjusts the intensity of fear, sadness, anger, and anxiety. Social Comfort makes crowds more manageable. Confidence Enhancement reduces self-consciousness. Grief Management softens painful memories without erasing them. There are plans for motivation, focus, patience, and the ability to feel satisfied with what one had.

    I had kept the free trial of Emotional Stability for as long as possible. The trial ended on a Tuesday, and my world has not felt the same since.

    On Wednesday, the world felt louder. My thoughts became harder to organize, and small inconveniences called for my sharp reactions. Every text seemed urgent; all my mistakes felt permanent. I spent more time worrying about the future and less time doing anything that might improve it.

    The app offers a discounted annual subscription. I cannot even afford the monthly one.

    I am beginning to understand that poverty is not simply the absence of things. It is the constant loss of the systems that make life manageable. It is the price of concentrating, the price of sleeping, the price of remaining dry on the way to work, the price of eating without pain, and the price of keeping a heartbeat strong enough to climb the stairs home.

    The wealthy buy complete bodies.

    Their heart rates adjust to their workouts. Their digestion processes expensive meals efficiently. Their immune systems receive early updates when new pathogens appear. Their sleep is optimized, their hormones are balanced, their moods regulate, and their reflexes remain sharp. They can pay to suppress nausea during travel, prevent motion sickness, accelerate wound healing, regulate sweat, and eliminate the smell of perspiration.

    Some people even pay for enhanced memory, improved reaction times, and a heightened capacity for pleasure. Others buy additional hours of wakefulness and recovery packages that make exhaustion a problem only for people who can’t afford the solution.

    Their children grow up believing a body is something that always works. Mine is something I have to maintain.

    Every month, I rank my needs according to urgency. I place my survival first, employability second, and dignity somewhere way at the end. This all depends on how much money remains in my account. I cancel the services I can tolerate living without and renew only those whose absence threatens my ability to earn the money I needed to restore them.

    The system has a name for this in the app it is called Personal Optimization. My mother always called it being broke. She died owing the company money.

    Her final account contained years of deferred payments, emergency service charges, and interest accrued during a prolonged illness. Even after her death, the balance still remains attached to her estate.

    I inherited what she owed before I inherited anything she owned. The company offered a compassionate repayment plan, provided I maintained an active Human+ account and enrolled in automatic deductions.

    I accepted because the alternative was losing my own coverage, which we all know by nowmeans losing my own life.

    Sometimes I explore the idea of stopping my payments altogether. The app had a page explaining the consequences in friendly language. Certain premium functions would be suspended first; Secondary services would follow. Essential functions would remain active according to the minimum standards established by law, although the company reserved the right to charge administrative fees and recovery costs.

    There was no explanation of what happened when a person could not afford the minimum. But There was only a button to review payment options.

    On Friday, my paycheck arrived.

    I paid rent, electricity, and the minimum installment on my mother’s debt. I also refilled the small bottle of pain medication I kept for emergencies. Then I opened Human+ and reviewed the subscriptions available for renewal.

    My heart rate package was due in four days and digestion would renew in six. My blood sugar management was already scheduled for automatic payment. The sleep package was expired, and the emotional stability offer had dropped to its standard price.

    At the bottom of the screen, beneath the services I used every day, was a feature I probably won’t ever be able to afford.

    The Full Sensory Access.

    The package promised the restoration of every available sensation at its highest supported level. It included enhanced taste, refined touch, optimized hearing, and a complete range of emotional responses. The demonstration video showed a woman standing in a field, her face lifted toward the sun, experiencing the warmth of the light, the movement of the wind, the scent of flowers, and the overwhelming pleasure of being alive.

    I watched it twice, closed the page, and I tried not to throw my government provided cellphone.

    I have enough money to renew my heart rate subscription or buy the food I needed for the following week. I could not do both without missing another payment. My account offered a short-term credit advance with interest, but accepting it would add another debt to the balance I was already struggling to reduce.

    I chose my heart.

    The purchase completed with a soft chime and the animated heart popped-up and pumped proudly on the app screen. My chest settled into its familiar rhythm, and the app confirmed that my cardiovascular service would remain active through the next billing cycle.

    I put the phone down and sat down to separate my last bit of food into rations.

    I ate my food for today with utter displeasure, the food was cheap, bland, and difficult to digest. My stomach cramped as the Basic package began processing it. The app registered my symptoms, displayed a suggestion to upgrade, and added another notification to my account.

    I dismissed it.

    Outside, the evening light faded over the buildings. Some people passed beneath my window, moving with more ease than those around here. Somewhere, someone was crying.

    I remain still until the pain in my stomach eases.

    I open the app one final time and checked the date of my next paycheck.

    Fourteen days.

    My heart was paid for. My blood sugar was managed. I could breathe, think, see, and move, provided I didn’t ask too much of any of those functions. My body was still mine in the legal sense, though the company owned the infrastructure that made it work.

    I lay down on my mattress and tried to sleep without the sleep package.

    Tomorrow, I will wake up and check my subscriptions again. I will decide which part of being human I can afford to keep.

    If I am careful, if nothing goes wrong, if my body does not demand anything beyond the services I have purchased, I might make it through another month.

    The app would call that success. I have begun to call it survival. Though, I am not sure how much longer I will be able to keep on surviving.

    Others in This Series:

    1.)Anon Aaron.

    2.) Moist. Crunchy. Purple.

    3.) There’s Something Amiss in the Clinic.

    4..) The Shelf Life of Productive Individuals.

  • The Architect of Optimism: Resetting Your Social Battery

    The Architect of Optimism: Resetting Your Social Battery

    Best For:

    Individuals struggling with balancing burnout & social obligations, readers looking for real human vulnerability in literature, & lovers of small indie projects.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: ⏰ 4-6 minutes| Mood: 🍃 Grounding & Reflective | Weight: ⚖️ Balanced between Personal Vulnerability & Social Battery Drainage |

    The Vault:

    • Victim of Enthusiasm
    • Grace, Honesty, & The Circle Who Gets It.
    • The Reset: Silence, Solitude, & Four-Legged Companions.
    • The Layers Between: Navigating the Space Where You Recharge.

    Victims of Enthusiasm:

    I know at least once a month I am a victim of past me’s enthusiasm. Okay so picture this: you’re at home, it’s a random Saturday, and you are feeling unusually ambitious.

    The next thing you know you are signing up for an action packed Wednesday hike with multiple people planning to come along.

    In this moment the future you is bulletproof.

    You have endless energy, a fully charged social battery, and zero concept of what it actually feels like to wake up still tired. You map out your trek and commit to obligations with the cheerful innocence of someone spending monopoly money.

    Then, the date on calendar page changes. The morning you were planning for arrives, and you look at the itinerary with a profound sense of betrayal.

    The you who made those plans feels like a distant, overly caffeinated stranger who had no right making commitments on your behalf.

    This is a strange kind of temporal whiplash where you realize that the version of you who booked the day didn’t have to live through the week that preceded it.

    Man in black bucket hat, black & grey flannel, and black sunglasses takes a mirror selfie in front of a large black and white spiderweb tapestry.

    Grace, Honesty, & the Circle That Gets It:

    There is an awkward choreography to canceling plans. Society teaches us to invent elaborate excuses

    • a looming deadline,
    • a sudden disaster,
    • a mysterious illness that requires immediate isolation.

    Carrying around those little fabrications can get exhausting, especially when all you really want is permission to exist in your own space without performing enthusiasm you do not possess.

    That changes entirely when you reach a certain threshold of closeness with people. With the right people, you get to skip the theatrics. You get to just drop the polite social mask and tell the truth: your social battery is blinking red, and the thought of leaving the house feels like climbing a vertical cliff face with no gear.

    The real friends don’t care, they just want you to be comfortable. Honestly more often than not, most of my friends respond with a sigh of relief because they were secretly hoping for an excuse to cancel their own obligations and put on sweatpants.

    Finding people who accept your low-energy days without taking it personally is rare currency.

    A man wearing a read and black monster sleep onesie takes a selfie with the peace sign up.

    The Reset: Silence, Solitude, & Four-Legged Companions:

    When your social debts are paid and the obligations are cleared, the real work of recovery begins. For some, recovery looks like a weekend of total hibernation, wrapped in blankets with the curtains drawn. For others, it requires a different kind of quiet, one found out where the cell service drops and the human noise fades into the background.

    I find that there is a specific kind of medicine found when walking a remote trail. Bonus points if it’s one where you might not see another human for miles. For me this isn’t about conquering a summit or setting a pace; it is about movement through space with a dog whose only agenda is sniffing the wind.

    When you are out there with an American Pit Bull Terrier leading the way through unfamiliar brush or a quiet stretch of woods, the static in your head starts to clear. The trees don’t care if you are introverted, overwhelmed, or running on empty. They just stand there, offering a steady, grounding presence that no crowded room can ever replicate.

    A man crouches behind a white and brown dog on a lush trail.

    The Layers Between: Navigating the Space Where You Recharge:

    Between the moment you cancel the plans and the moment you finally feel like yourself again, there is a delicate transition space. It is that quiet afternoon where the guilt of bailing slowly dissolves into the comfort of low stakes. You realize that protecting your peace isn’t antisocial; it is simply maintenance. Just as a machine requires downtime to cool its circuits, human minds need those deliberate pauses to process the sheer volume of daily existence.

    Ultimately, learning to honor your own limits changes how you move through the world. You stop treating rest as a failure and start treating it as a necessity. Future You is still going to make ambitious plans from time to time, and that is just part of being hopeful.

    However future you gets the final say on how to live in the immediate moment, whether that means showing up for the world or quietly stepping back into the trees.

    Man in a tan shirt, khaki shorts, and hiking shoes walks up a sandstone rock path way on trial near a waterfall.

    Read More:

    Grief Journaling. Hiking Sustainably.

    Join me on Storia.

    Join me on AllTrails.

  • Ghost Pipe Tinctures | A Return to an Old Forest Tradition

    Ghost Pipe Tinctures | A Return to an Old Forest Tradition

    Best For:

    Herbalists, ethical foragers, nature lovers, wild-crafting enthusiasts, & readers who are curious about traditional plant preparations rooted in respect for the forest.

    The Essence:

    Reading Time: 🕰️ 5–7 minutes |Weight: 🍃 Medium | Mood: 🖊️ Educational & Curious

    Ghost pipe has always felt less like something you collect and more like something you’re fortunate enough to encounter.

    The Vault:

    • What is ghost pipe?
    • Why fresh plants are preferred for tincture making.
    • My 16-ounce tincture preparation
    • Why high-proof alcohol is used
    • Ethical harvesting considerations
    • Traditional herbal context versus modern evidence
    One stem of white ghost pipe growing under forest floor foliage.

    Some Traditions Wait Patiently:

    Every spring, summer, and fall while I trek I keep my eyes trained on the forest floor.

    I search for bones, rocks, and plant material craft tinctures, wind chimes, jewelry, and other things to give away or sell in my store. Every time something white catches my attention I feel excitement perk up at the chance of finding the elusive ghost pipe.

    Some years I don’t find enough plant material to ethically gather any. Other years I stumble across small cluster after small cluster of the sometimes hard to find white plant. This year, after missing the opportunity to make any last season, I finally found enough to prepare another small-batch of tinctures.

    This isn’t about chasing rare plants or just filling as many jars as I can. It’s about paying attention to a species that appears only when the forest decides the conditions are right. Ghost pipe has always felt less like something you collect and more like something you’re fortunate enough to encounter.

    POV: from above a hand that is outstretched palm up holding ghost pipe stalks and flower cut off with about 1-2 inches of stalk left above ground.

    What Is Ghost Pipe?

    Ghost pipe (Monotropa uniflora) is one of the strangest native plants you’ll find in North American forests. At first glance it looks unnatural. Its stems are ghostly white, sometimes tinged with pink or black, and unlike every green plant around it, it contains no chlorophyll.

    Instead of making its own food through photosynthesis, ghost pipe survives through an underground relationship with mycorrhizal fungi, which themselves are connected to nearby trees. Because of that relationship, ghost pipe depends on an entire healthy woodland ecosystem to thrive.

    It’s one more reminder that forests aren’t just collections of individual plants, trees, and other flora. They’re full of interconnected communities.

    What is Pinesap:

    While botanically this plant is known as Monotropa hypopitys, pinesap is often considered a sister plant or cousin to the plant ghost pipe. Though, if you thought ghost pipe was elusive pinesap is even more so. Both organisms lack chlorophyll. This was actually the first time I noticed pinesap on a hike and I was astounded by its deep red and yellow hues.

    Pinesap a close relative to ghost pipe features distinct yellow and pink hues as well as oranges and reds

    Harvesting With Respect:

    Do know that just because I found ghost pipe does not mean I harvested every stem. I never take an entire patch. I never pull the roots either.

    Plants like these deserve to remain part of the landscape that supports them, and future hikers deserve the chance to experience that same quiet surprise when they spot them tucked beneath the trees.

    Wildcrafting carries responsibility. Take only what you’ll actually use. Always leave healthy populations behind. Do note that ghost pipe is considered rare in many places so it helps to know your local regulations.

    Remember that not every beautiful thing needs to come home with us.

    Why You Should Use Fresh to Make a Tincture?

    Ghost pipe changes quickly after harvest. Many herbalists traditionally prepare it fresh because its appearance and chemistry begin changing almost immediately once it’s picked.

    Using fresh material also avoids drying a plant that’s already naturally high in moisture. While research on ghost pipe remains limited, fresh tinctures have long been the preferred preparation among many herbal practitioners.

    My Preparation:

    This year’s batch went into many 16-ounce glass bottles. After gently cleaning away any debris, I roughly chopped the fresh plants before placing them into the jar.

    From there I covered everything completely with 151-proof alcohol, making sure every piece stayed submerged beneath the liquid.

    The alcohol served two important purposes. First, it extracted many of the plant compounds that water alone doesn’t. Second, it preserved the preparation for long-term storage while helping prevent spoilage.

    Over the last several weeks I kept the jar in a cool, dark place and gave it an occasional shake before eventually straining the finished tincture into amber bottles.

    One of my favorite parts of the process is watching the color change. What begins as pale white stems transforms into a deep purple or nearly black extract over time.

    Ghost pipe tinctures all bottled up in amber bottles with white droppers next to a white plastic ghost and a glass dome holding a skeleton.

    A Plant Surrounded by Stories:

    If you’ve spent any time researching ghost pipe online, you’ve probably seen countless claims about what it supposedly does.

    Some are rooted in traditional herbal practices. Others have grown through word of mouth until they’ve taken on a life of their own.

    Historically, ghost pipe has been included in some North American herbal traditions, including uses related to discomfort, emotional distress, and altered sensory experiences. However, modern scientific research is still limited, and there isn’t enough high-quality clinical evidence to confirm many of the claims you’ll find online or establish safe, standardized dosing.

    That’s one reason I think it’s important to approach this plant with curiosity instead of certainty. Learning where tradition ends and evidence begins helps us appreciate both without confusing one for the other.

    One white stalk of ghost pipe growing in the forest between sticks and leaves.

    More Than a Jar on a Shelf:

    For me, making a ghost pipe tincture isn’t only about the finished bottle. It’s another excuse to spend time moving slowly through healthy forests. It’s another reminder that nature doesn’t operate on anyone’s schedule.

    Some years ghost pipe simply doesn’t appear where I hike. Other years it does and it is plentiful. That unpredictability is part of the experience. It makes every encounter with this beautiful white plant feel earned instead of expected.

    Maybe that’s the biggest lesson this unusual little plant has to offer… Not everything rare is meant to be chased, sometimes it’s simply meant to be appreciated.

    A bunch of short white ghost pipe growing among the brown leaves on the forest floor.

    Plants, Nature, & Our Interactions:

    This jar has spent the last several weeks quietly doing its work while I continue doing mine. The forest has already given me the best part of the experience: another season of paying attention.

    Whether you make herbal preparations yourself or simply enjoy learning about unusual native plants, I hope ghost pipe inspires the same sense of wonder it continues to inspire in me.

    Sometimes the smallest plants leave the deepest impressions.

    One stalk of white ghost pipe grows among green and brown leaves in the forest floor.

    Read More:

    Sunlight & Moonbeams – Nature Poetry.

    Christopher Spring at Crystal Spring Farm.

    Etsy. USDA – Forest Service – Ghost Pipe.

  • Finishing Wildcat Hollow’s Short Loop in Wayne National Forrest-

    Finishing Wildcat Hollow’s Short Loop in Wayne National Forrest-

    Best For:

    Fungi Lovers, Nature journal readers looking for humor with their literature, Hikers planning to check out Wayne National Forest, and Others interested in nature photography.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: ⏱️5-7 minutes| Mood: ✨ Reflective & Playful| Weight: 🫶🏻 lighthearted & Deep|

    It’s wild to think about how the land takes a beating from the weather, reshapes itself, heals, grows, and carries on.

    Trail Notes:

    • Our Trek: Wildcat Hollow via the 5 mile Short Loop in Wayne National Forest | on June 24th 2026 |
    • Trailhead Arrival & Distance: 10:07 AM 64°F | 5.34 miles since we turned around | 2 hour & 53 Minutes |
    • The Roads & Trails
    • Mud, Mushrooms, & the Path
    • Deeper into the Forest
    • Things to see
    • The Stump of a Lifetime & Sunbeams
    • Full Circle & Reflection
    Two large downed logs covered in moss laying across the stream bed at Wildcat Hollow in Wayne National Forest.

    5 Mile Short Loop – Wildcat Hollow

    Wayne National Forest, Ohio

    The Roads & Trails Leading to & Through Wildcat Hollow:

    The gravel road just before we pulled into Wildcat Hollow was a bit sketchy at the tail end of the drive. The loose stones that covered the roadway made my tires slide around just enough to keep me alert. Down near the parking lot, heavy mud caked the area across the road right up to where we turned to park for the trailhead.

    The roadways here looked as if the are had suffered recent flooding. Yet, stepping onto the path at 10:07 AM with Luna on leash, the very first creek bed we hit was dry as a bone.

    Compared to the last time out here, the trail looks strikingly more wild and much more overgrown. It’s was hard to tell at first if this is was the same stretch where I thought I accidentally started the larger loop, or if the overgrowth was just tricking my memory.

    Though, I know for sure I parked at the same spot and I am almost certain that there is only one trailhead here. Now, that I have had a moment to look around the parking area more.

    Lush green moss lined the trail, and the mud was thick, squelchy, and shoe-sucking. Luna was absolutely losing her mind. This old girl was ready to sprint, but I kept stopping to dictate notes into my phone and take photos. At one point, she spun around in a circle so fast and hard that I managed to kick myself in my own shin, leaving a wet, muddy partial boot print on my leg as proof.

    At roughly 0.11 miles in, right as I thought I spotted where I missed the turn on my last trip, I realized I’d left my inhaler back in the car. Knowing I’d likely need it, we turned right around, trekked back, and grabbed my inhaler. I also chugged the rest of a Red Bull before re-entering the trail at 10:27 AM.

    Green leaf floating in a shallow stream near tree roots.

    Mud, Mushrooms, & Clearing the Path:

    Back through the sticky, shoe-grabbing mud we went. Luna continued her mission to test my posture, she pulled me through slick spot after slick spot.

    Noticeable storm damage was everywhere. Where there used to be only one large downed tree across the path, several new trees had follow suit.

    Across a campground entrance, near the spot where I remember seeing those butterflies last time I was here laid even more downed trees. Upon seeing another few dry stream beds (although by this point some were carrying water) I had started to wonder if the storm had rerouted the water.

    It’s wild to think about how the land takes a beating from the weather, reshapes itself, heals, grows, and carries on. I feel this should be used as a good reminder for the rest of us, as we go through things and heal.

    Just ahead, I pulled Luna off the trail when I spotted a hiker holding what looked like a leash. Turns out he was using a trekking pole to clear out low-hanging spiderwebs. He and his partner mentioned they had cleared the spiderwebs out for the next couple of miles to the right.

    Taking their advice, we took the right fork. Which happened to be the exact turn I missed last time.

    Right before the split, the forest opened up into a neat little camping nook framed with blooming yellow flowers and a cluster of bright orange mushrooms tucked against the wood.

    Small orange fungi growing on a branch over a shallow stream in Wayne National Forest.

    Deeper in the Forest:

    (10:55 AM – Distance 1.8 miles)

    We continued to follow the white diamond blazes painted on the trees, the trail stayed mostly shaded, with beams of sunlight filtering down through the canopy.

    Along the way downed trees and heavy brush crossed the path repeatedly, though the passage was still walkable or at least manageable in most places.

    Around mile 1.8 (10:55 AM), Luna finally decided to take a breather and sat right down on the dirt path. Yes, after dragging me uphill like a sled dog. We took a quick break for a trail smoke and some water.

    Red sharp-looking berry sits on large green leaves in Wildcat hollow.

    The forest floor here was alive with micro-details:

    • Fairy Holes & Red Berries: A massive “fairy hole” carved out of a hollowed tree trunk, alongside clusters of red sharp-looking berries on green large leaves. I’d never noticed before in Ohio.
    • Arching Logs & Fungi: A cozy campsite with a natural arching log made into a bench, accompanied by tiny brown cap-mushrooms and a purple mushroom sitting right in the middle of the trail.
    • Funnel Webs: Huge, ground-dwelling spiderwebs stretched across the low foliage… equally terrifying and fascinating to look at close up.
    POV: from below cream colored underside of orange colored mushrooms on a mossy log with the blue sky and tree tops above on Wildcat Hollow in Wayne National Forest.

    The Stump of a Lifetime & Sunbeams:

    As the morning warmed up and turned into afternoon sunlight began breaking through the high branches of the trees in golden beams. The sunbeams worked at illuminating the damp woods.

    As I approached a steep hillside, I paused at a mossy stump bathed in sunlight. What looked simple from a distance turned out to be an entire miniature ecosystem:

    • Bright orange and tiny red cap mushrooms clustered around the base.
    • Fresh, overlapping shelf mushrooms further up the trunk.
    • A tiny natural arch formed by an oak vine looping over the trail like a portal.

    A few steps later, I stumbled upon what was easily one of the most unique downed log I’ve ever seen. It was covered in lush, velvety moss, dappled in orange, white, and red mushrooms hanging juicily off the edges, with pale shelf fungi and delicate spiderwebs underneath.

    Further up the ridge, the mushrooms appeared in endless variety… squishy white shelf mushrooms others that looked almost like coral, tiny bright orange trumpet fungi, and rusty orange caps hiding under broad green leaves.

    Orange and white mushrooms grow in a lush forest near the trail.

    Trail Etiquette, Hydration, & Ghost Pipe:

    By midday, the heat picked up. We stopped at an established campsite that was covered in pine needles, so I could take off my shirt, pour cold water over my head, and fill Luna’s bowl. I always pack about eight Path reusable water bottles plus two Hydro Flasks so we never run dry on hot ridge walks.

    While we rested, Luna spent a few minutes joyfully digging through the carpet of soft pine needles, a thing I’ve only seen her do a few times now.

    A shirtless tattooed man and a brown and white dog couch in a dense forest.

    Continuing along the ridge before dropping back into the gorge, we hit a few key highlights:

    • Forest Portals: We passed under several natural tree arches bent over the trail.
    • Trail Lessons on Leave No Trace: Passing through deep mud pits served as a stark reminder of why hikers shouldn’t widen trails by walking around muddy edges. Remember that doing so tramples native foliage and erodes the soil. Wearing sturdy waterproof boots or trail shoes allows you to walk straight through the center and preserve the trail footprint.
    • Ghost Pipe (Monotropa uniflora): Near a large rock formation, I spotted several stalks of white Ghost Pipe sticking out of the leaf litter. Lacking chlorophyll, this parasitic plant doesn’t rely on photosynthesis, drawing its nutrients through mycorrhizal fungi connected to tree roots instead.
    • The sign I didn’t quite make it to last trip marking the split to finish the 5 mile short loop or continue on for the longer 17 mile loop.
    Wooden Wildcat Hollow trail sign with yellow font in Wayne National Forest.

    Full Circle & Reflection:

    Near the end of the short loop, we passed the massive rock face and “Rock House” shelter. This was the exact landmark where I had turned around on my previous trip out here. Seeing it from the opposite direction made everything click: I hadn’t taken a different trail back then, I had just hiked it in reverse and spent too much time lollygagging off-path!

    After tackling the final set of switchbacks down into the gorge and completing the loop, the visuals spoke for themselves. From high ridgelines to muddy stream bottoms, Wildcat Hollow put on one hell of a show.

    A brown dog stands on a slender dirt trail in a lush green forest at Wayne National Forest in Wildcat Hollow.

    Read More:

    My first trip – Wildcat Hollow.

    Turkey Run State Park.

    All Trails Wildcat Hollow short loop.

    Wildcat Hollow – Google.

  • Hemlock Falls Preserve – A Short Pause in Butler, Ohio:

    Hemlock Falls Preserve – A Short Pause in Butler, Ohio:

    Best For:

    Ohio hikers & travelers seeking less crowded locations in nature, Readers interested in independently written hiking journals that offer more than polished trail notes, & individuals who enjoy real iPhone nature shots without all the editing.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: ⌚️ 5-7 minutes| Mood: 🌿 Contemplative & Grounded| Weight: 🥾 Rooted in Leave No Trace – Respectful & Serious

    Trail Notes:

    • Our Trek: Luna & I | Hemlock Falls Preserve in Butler, Ohio | June 19th 2026 arrived at 5:15 PM | Loop Trail though we did it out-and-back | .6 miles in 25 minutes|
    • Seasonal Shifts – Revisiting a Trail during Multiple Seasons
    • The Hidden Entrance & No Amenity Preserves
    • Ecosystem Resilience
    A look up at the blue sky through the lush green trees at Hemlock Falls Preserve in Butler, Ohio.

    Hemlock Falls Preserve

    Butler, Ohio

    Hemlock Falls Preserve – Shadows & Seasonal Shifts:

    If you are like me you also enjoy returning to trails you’ve already trekked in different seasons. You will also know the beauty in the experience of returning to a familiar trail and getting to experience it from a whole new perspective.

    Last winter season, near the beginning of 2026 a storm full of a heavy snow filled the skies. The landscape was bare and white, the waterfalls were frozen solid, the snow was near knee-deep in some places, and every turn felt more like a guessing game than the last. The entire preserve was cloaked under a blanket of white.

    I found myself itching to come back to Hemlock Falls in Butler, Ohio as spring neared its conclusion..  

    Let’s walk a quick early-evening out-and-back trek (on this loop trail). Where we completed 0.6 miles in 25 minutes; though Luna and I decided to cut the loop short at the second waterfall and boulder field.

    Don’t forget to respect the delicate ecosystems right in our backyard.

    Hemlock Falls Preserve was full of unexpected wildlife encounters, vibrant summer shifts waiting to take over, and the quiet reminder of why we always pack out what we pack in.

    A patch of medium sized yellow mushrooms growing across a downed tree surrounded by the foliage of the woods floor at Hemlock Falls Preserve.

    Navigating the Hidden Trailhead & No-Amenity Realities:

    Finding Hemlock Falls can test your patience if you are relying on cell service, which tends to drop out unpredictably around the area. Then comes the parking situation itself which was remarkably understated:

    • The sign… if there is one I’ve never seen it
    • The modest gravel entrance which is marked by one orange barrel on either side
    • The small under ten car lot almost unseeable through the lush trees
    One of the orange barrels that mark either side of the gravel entrance to the small parking lot at Hemlock Falls Preserve.

    If you aren’t paying attention or you blink it is easy to drive right past it. Which is why I was confused for a second when my gps said “you have arrived.”

    Then I saw the barrels as I passed them, instantly I remembered turning there a few months prior, so I used the next pull-off spot to turn around.

    Once you arrive, you will probably notice almost immediately that this is a preserve stripped of modern conveniences. Here you will not find any trash cans, bathrooms, picnic tables, or grills. This was a vital reminder of an important part of the Leave No Trace rules for wild spaces: pack out what you pack in.

    When you leave your trash behind it places an unfair burden on park employees (if existing), volunteers, and ecosystem health, especially in areas where public budgets are stretched razor-thin.

    A Caucasian man with tattoos on his hand and arm holds out a lit joint on a lush trail at Hemlock Falls Preserve. A dog is seen on leash at the bottom of the photo.

    Ecosystem Resilience – Why Staying on the Path Matters:

    The trails here weave through a fragile, protected landscape and park employees have placed numerous signs on trail to remind visitors to stay strictly on the designated paths. Ensuring that you are only walking on the established trail helps to protect endangered and sensitive flora.

    Most importantly wandering off-trail risks trampling delicate undergrowth and fragile habitats that can take years to recover. Did you know that trekking off trail in protected natural areas can cause them to become either:

    • permit only experiences in order to control the amount of foot traffic, or
    • completely closed to the public?

    Stay on trail and listen to the park signage so all of us can continue to compare seasonal changes at places like Hemlock Falls Preserve all over.

    A tall slender waterfall flows over rocks and moss surrounded by lush spring growth at Hemlock Falls Preserve.

    Hemlock Falls Preserve – Two Waterfalls:

    During this particular hike, the contrast in the waterfalls from the winter visit was striking. The first waterfall you come to (sits where you can best view it from the wooden footbridge) was so small it seemed to have almost nothing to freeze had now transformed into the highlight of this trek, fed by recent seasonal rains.

    The second waterfall I approached left me confused. In the winter it was massive with thick waves of frozen water covering the area surrounding it and now, it wasn’t even a trickle…

    A man in a hat and a black tank top crouches behind a red and white colored dog on trail in Butler, Ohio.

    Canine Companions & Unexpected Wildlife:

    Hiking with an American Pit Bull Terrier brings its own set of logistical considerations, starting with hydration. In temperatures hitting 80 degrees or higher packing enough water for the both of you is the most important thing. I will also not take Luna hiking once it heats up for the season at all unless the trail has guaranteed access to a body of water for mandatory dog-cooling sessions.

    The real excitement of the afternoon, however, came courtesy of a sharp-eyed canine companion. Before there was any human awareness of movement in the brush, a sudden burst of absolute, undivided attention from the trail dog signaled something big. Breaking through the quiet was a magnificent, fully-antlered buck.

    He was a breathtaking reminder of who really owns the woods.

    The hike also brought up a quiet reflection on the scarcity of wild snakes I’ve seen as an adult. Despite spending countless hours outdoors, running across a garter snake or any other species feels like a rarity these days, making those fleeting, startled encounters feel all the more memorable.

    A brown and white medium sized dog smiles while looking at the camera. She is standing in a small stream that is mostly dried up in front of a moss covered down tree. She is on a yellow leash with a blue collar.

    Destination Guide – Hemlock Falls Preserve:

    • Location & Ownership:

    Hemlock Falls is a treasured natural area located off Bunkerhill Road in Butler, Ohio (Richland County). The property is stewarded and protected by the North Central Ohio Land Conservancy (NCOL) and associated regional park partnerships, serving as a pristine jewel along the region’s scenic trail networks.  

    • What You Will Find at Hemlock Falls Preserve:

     💦 The Waterfalls: two striking waterfalls nestled within a lush hemlock gorge, shifting dramatically from frozen pillars in winter to a flowing cascades after seasonal rains.  

     🌺 Flora, Fungi, & Fauna: A rich canopy of mature hardwoods sheltering an abundance of sensitive mosses, ferns, and vibrant seasonal fungi.

     🪨 Terrain: Relatively flat paths featuring loose rock, exposed tree roots, and rich woodland foliage. It is family-friendly and dog-friendly, though not ADA accessible.  

    • Essential Rules & Guidelines:

     🎒 Pack Out what you Pack In: There are zero amenities like trash cans, picnic areas, restrooms on-site. Leave the space cleaner than you found it.

     🥾 Stay on Trails: Strictly obey all posted signage warning visitors to keep off fragile, protected ecosystem zones.

     🐕 Leash Your Dogs: Pets are welcome but must remain on a secure leash at all times, with waste properly packed out.  

     ⏰ Hours: Open daily from dawn to dusk.  

    An up close picture of green ferns growing on the trail with the sun light shining through them.

    Out of the Woods & Back on the Road:

    As the evening wound down, navigating the rural roads back home introduced a different kind of local transit: sharing the asphalt with horse-drawn Amish buggies. Learning the nuances of rural right-of-ways, speed adjustments, and respecting local transit adds more to think about when you are exploring Central Ohio‘s backroads.

    From passing up the entrance and revisiting a winter favorite in late-spring to sharing a breathless moment with a large buck and marveling at fungi, a quick 0.6-mile walk can hold an entire world of experience.

    It’s all part of the rhythm of the trail…. sweat soaked shirts, wet paws, floppy ears, and wild wilderness waiting around the bend.

    Close up of a white coral fungi growing out from underneath dead leaves on the trail at Hemlock Falls Preserve in Butler, Ohio.

    Read More:

    Hemlock Falls – Winter Hike. Malabar Farm State Park. Leave No Trace.

    Hemlock Falls – Google. AllTrails.

  • My Journey Back to Hosak’s Cave – Salt Fork State Park:

    My Journey Back to Hosak’s Cave – Salt Fork State Park:

    Best For:

    Nature enthusiasts looking for low-commitment options for both solo & family nature walks, Readers looking for nature & hiking journals that are more than just trail logs, History buffs, & Travelers looking to enjoy State Parks in Ohio.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: 🕰️ 5-7 minutes | Weight: 🥾Grounded in Reality| Mood: 🫂 Gently Resilient & Reflective|

    Trail Notes:

    • My Trek: June 18th 2026 | 6:35 PM |Hosak’s Cave Trail – Salt Fork State Park | .54 miles out-and-back trail completed in 1.5 hours|
    • Places that hold Memories
    • The Rising Lake
    • Sights of Hosak’s cave
    • Geology, History, & Modern Uses
    • Reality Check
    • Salt Fork State Park a Repeatable Place
    Salt Fork Lake at Salt Fork State Park near the parking lot for Hosak’s Cave Trail. The photo shows the lakes small rippled waves, the blue sky, and the lush tree-line surrounding the lake.

    Salt Fork State Park – Hosak’s Cave Trail

    Cambridge, Ohio

    Salt Fork State Park – Trail Weather:

    After you hike enough trails in the same region of the world you come to realize that every trail has its own unique experience. Though I think it is common knowledge that no two treks, even over the same trail will ever be the same. I still find some days that the hardest terrain to cross isn’t the mud or the incline, it’s the geography of memory.

    When you step away from the group you just were hiking around Indiana and Illinois with and point your wheels toward home, old favorites and ghosts of memories line the shoulders of the road.

    On this particular day, being able to choose a route passing the turnoffs for Piedmont, Tappan, Barkcamp and Seneca, while still heading home. I knew exactly where I wasn’t going… Barkcamp.

    This State Park is one I try to typically keep behind a locked door in my mind. There are to many good and bad memories that have grown heavy with the fading sounds of old laughs, a gorge of grief, and the unmistakable scent of fish scales mixing with stale lake water that stays in your nostrils like the stagnant memories in your mind.

    I’ll return to the small stinky lakeshore overflowing with memories, eventually; some places just demand too much from you. Salt Fork, on the other hand, just lets you breathe, and it has never let me down.

    A small white capped mushroom grows between green weeds and dead leaves at Salt Fork State Park on Hosak’s Cave Trail.

    The Rising Lake & the Shifting Shore:

    Arriving at the park, the recent heavy rains had left their signature across the banks of Salt Fork Lake. The lake was swollen, pushing far out of its ordinary bounds to swallow the lower treelines and soak the grassy slopes. Yet, out across the gray expanse, a steady, forward-pushing current kept the surface alive, gently rocking the shoreline waves.

    There is a strange sort of medicine in water that refuses to stay put. It’s a reminder that sometimes movement isn’t about covering distance, but about standing still long enough to let the world move around you while you find your center. Naturally, that stillness pulled me down the familiar path toward Hosak’s cave.

    Image shows trees near Salt Fork Lake with a foot or so of lake water around their trunks.

    Sights at Hosak’s Cave:

    Even the trails you think you know by heart keep secrets in the blind spots.

    At the typical trailhead, the quiet, shrine-like memorial sat heavy in the shade behind it the usual entrance to the trail was blocked. Thankfully just a bit further down to the left, I caught sight of a distinct newly made entrance for the trail. This entrance as just an opening cut into the shrubbery with a short connector to the original trail. After exploring a little around the connector trail and the beginning of the trail, it seems they are updating and fixing the trail’s amenities

    The path opened into a pocket of thriving nature and human coexistence:

    •  A few wild blackberry bushes heavy with promise.
    • A massive, pile of logs stacked in a pile to update trail amenities
    • A sunlit puddle teeming with healthy, darting tadpoles.
    • Fat, content frogs
    • Moss alongside brilliant clusters of wild mushrooms & late spring blooms
    • A monument with trinkets and offerings marking the old trail entrance
    • Two bats flying around under the cave & in-and-out of the waterfall
    • Tree markings & Trail Signs

    Pushing deeper toward Hosak’s Cave, the air changes instantly dropping what felt like several degrees as the towering sandstone overhang swallowed the sun. The footprints left by modern people on trail are only a few steps away from the stones of history. If you look closely you will see where the modern trail gives way to much older ground.

    An orange and yellow leaf sits in the center of the image on a mostly dried up rocky area of the creek.

    Geology, History, & Modern Uses:

    Geologically, these dramatic rock shelters across southeastern Ohio were carved over hundreds of years as acidic groundwater and surface runoff slowly weathered away the softer shale and sedimentary layers beneath the heavy, resistant Conemaugh-era sandstone caps. Long before this region became a protected state park, these natural alcoves served as vital weather breaks for prehistoric peoples, indigenous tribes, and early settlers navigating the rugged, wooded drainage basins of Guernsey County.

    Today, the cave remains a living ecosystem as well as apart of a trail in a state park. When I stood beneath the massive stone ceiling and I allowed the waterfall to wash over me, the acoustics amplify the steady flow of water over me. As I looked up into the shadowed fissures of the dark rock, small, erratic movements caught my eye: a couple bats were in silent, acrobatic loops, using the cool shelter as a roost before emerging at dusk to hunt the forest canopy.

    Moss covers a large rock in the forefront of the image; in the back to the left of the image sits part of Hosak’s Cave in Salt Fork State Park.

    Two Dead Batteries& the Drip of Reality:

    At eight o’clock, reality tapped me on the shoulder in the form of a 5% battery warning. Time to head back.

    The return trip revealed just how much the recent rains and park maintenance had rearranged things. A fresh gravel path now ran to the side of the memorial area, and the old wooden footbridge across the stream is completely gone. Which explained the strange view I caught upstream while scrambling up the steep embankment.

    I also spotted some mushrooms on the far side of the down logs, half-hidden in the damp shade. The impressively large mushrooms were growing in a cluster. Naturally, I tried to grab one last photo. The moment I framed the shot, the screen flickered, went black, and of course my phone died.

    Naturally, when I finally got back to the car I realized that the battery decided to follow suit. Thank God for the self-jumping battery box that I had waiting in the trunk.

    A man wearing a black backwards hat and partially wet grey tank top takes a selfie while smoking a joint at Hosak’s Cave in Salt Fork State Park.

    Salt Fork State Park a Repeatable Experience:

    It’s funny how an early-evening meant to quiet the mind can pivot into a minor crisis that adds right back to the ever-growing pile of things to manage.

    I went looking for a brief escape from the noise, and I walked away with two dead batteries, muddy hiking shoe, and soaked clothing. Standing there in the cooling air as the woods settled into evening, I realized that’s the point of the wild.

    It doesn’t solve your to-do list; it just makes you care a little less about how heavy reality can be.

    Image shows waterfall coming over Hosak’s Cave at Salt Fork State Park with lush trees growing from above the cave. A bat with its wings spread flies just to the right of the stream of water falling over the caves edge.

    Read More:

    Salt Fork State Park – Kennedy House.

    Salt Fork – Hosak’s Cave – A Previous Trip.

    Hosak’s Cave – Google.

    AllTrails – Hosak’s Cave.

  • The Christopher Spring Stop That Started a Multi-State Trail Blitz:

    The Christopher Spring Stop That Started a Multi-State Trail Blitz:

    Best For:

    Cross-state hikers looking for local roadside oddities, readers interested in chaotic travel journals, travelers who appreciate learning the history of a place, & people who enjoy pranking or goofing off with their friends.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: ⏰ 5-7 minutes | Weight: 📕 Light & Historical | Mood: 🌍 Irreverent & Earthy

    The Vault:

    • The Origin: Crystal Springs Farm was bought by Thomas Christopher in 1901, anchoring a roadside lifeline right off Route 9 in Cadiz that still pulls drivers in today.  
    • The Caretaker Tony Pietrangelo
    • The Before Trip Stop: Gallon jugs and Hydro Flasks get filled to the brim before any serious miles stack up on the odometer.
    • Steubenville Shenanigans: A lidless cup of roadside water makes an unexpected flight path straight onto a passenger getting back into the door.
    • The Circuit: A quick top-off in eastern Ohio sets the fuse for a multi-state trail blitz across Turkey Run, Shelbyville, the Falls of Ohio, & the Big Four Bridge Trail.

    The Christopher Spring

    Cadiz, Ohio

    Filling Up & Falling Out at Crystal Springs Farm:

    My fellow roadtrip lovers and multi-state trekkers know some stops are made out of necessity while others are made because they offer something too good to pass up. On June 16, 2026, Tae and I packed out of her house with a simple mandate: stock up on water, ship out, and hit the dirt across state lines.

    Before we even thought about scanning horizons in Indiana or tracing limestone cuts in Illinois, we packed the car, filled up on gas and, grabbed road snacks. All that was left was to fill up our jugs and bottles with water. I personally love spring water as a child we used to stop in the Snowshoe Mountains every year to fill up our jugs from fresh springs on our way home from trips to see family in Cass, West Virginia. So I jumped at the opportunity to fill up at a nearby Cadiz, Ohio spring that holds some great history. Plus who doesn’t love saving a few bucks?

    Man wearing a black backwards hat, black sunglasses, and tan t-shirt drives while a long haired girl sits in the passenger seat putting up a peace sign wearing a grey sweater.

    Spring Water & History in Cadiz, Ohio:

    If you coast down Ohio State Route 9 in Cadiz, just south of the post office, you’ll hit Christopher Spring without even trying. Many people drive past without paying it mind on their daily commutes, but if you’re looking for it you cannot miss it

    Thomas Christopher bought what was then Crystal Springs Farm back in 1901, carving a family name into the local history. He even dedicated the spring to his daughters. Fast forward through generations of passing hands (including the Liggett family legacy) and modern stewardship under operations like Crystal Springs Farm, and the pipe is still spilling ice-cold groundwater out into the open air for anyone with an empty vessel.  

    It’s an open-access lifeline that locals still hit up daily, hauling gallon jugs or metal Hydro Flasks to beat the tap water taste. We pulled up, killed the engine, and let the pipe do its work, filling a couple of gallon jugs and our few Hydro Flasks.

    It’s really inspiring to think of it as history you can actually drink; subterranean water that holds a steady, biting chill even when the June humidity is sitting heavy on the asphalt.

    White sign outside of Crystal Spring Farm for Christopher spring with black text describing the locations history green lush grass and trees grow behind the sign.

    The Caretaker Who Kept the Spring Alive:

    You can’t talk about Christopher Spring without talking about the guy who actually kept it flowing. Tucked right into the stonework and greenery next to the spring sits a memorial plaque for Tony Pietrangelo.

    Tony Pietrangelo was a local caretaker who spent decades looking after the grounds, cleaning the area, and making sure the water stayed flowing. He sadly passed away in December 2013 at 95 years old. Tony’s footprint is baked into every drop of water that spills from this pipe.

    When you stop by to fill your jugs today, you’re not just drinking from an old farm inheritance; please stop and take a second to view Tony’s memorial, the old barn on the hillside, and the other informational signs when you stop to collect your water.

    Memorial stone for “Tony Pietrangelo” at Christopher Springs in Cadiz, Ohio.

    Steubenville Spills to State Line Trails:

    Of course, road trips don’t run on hydration and gas alone; they are fueled by friction and funny ideas. Not long after we rolled out of Cadiz we made a pit stop in Steubenville, Ohio. This is where the trip’s internal climate shifted from peaceful nature documentary to low-stakes comedy.

    Somewhere between Tae stepping out for snacks and sliding back into the cloth seats, I made the executive, entirely ill-advised decision to use the cup that I had filled at the spring to drink while driving as a projectile. As Tae was climbing back into the car, the parasites in my brain took over, and that water found a new home across her shirt.

    The laughter that erupted lasted longer than the half a second of silence that filled the air initially. Then just like that, we were back on the move, Tae’s damp clothes dried in the AC as the miles melted down toward the Indiana boarder.

    That single splash set the tone for everything that followed over the next few days. We weren’t just driving; we were covering ground with mud caked on our shoes and laughter filling our lungs.

    White Christopher Spring sign with spring flowing out of a pvc pipe in front of it, with trees and an old barn sitting behind it on a lush green hillside, with blue skies and small white clouds.

    Where We Trekked:

    By the time we headed home we had a soundtrack made of the highway’s hum and nature’s symphony. We trekked a cross-section of the Midwest that tested our legs and our patience. From scrambling through the sandstone canyons and ravines at Turkey Run State Park to navigating the water-locked timberlands of Shelbyville State Fish and Wildlife Area, every stop felt earned.

    We crossed the downed logs at the Falls of Ohio State Park to stare down ancient fossil beds exposed by the current, and finally we walked the historic railroad bridge of the Big Four Bridge Trail as the sun peaked out through the clouds over the Ohio River.

    You start with cold ground water running, add a little cabin fever and a rogue cup of water, and suddenly you’re deep in the trees wondering how far the map will let you go before dark.

    Read More:

    Highpoint Pennsylvania Hike with Tae.

    Interview with Tae reflecting on our first few hikes.

    Crystal Spring. Find a Spring.

    Follow Our Trek:

    Turkey Run State Park.

    Shelbyville State Fish & Wildlife Area.

    Falls of Ohio State Park.

    The Big Four Bridge Trail.

  • Big Four Bridge Trail – Walking Above the Water:

    Big Four Bridge Trail – Walking Above the Water:

    Best For:

    Casual hikers who like urban exploration, individuals looking for an easy riverfront outing, photographers who enjoy urban scenery, history lovers interested in old infrastructure, & anyone who likes the idea of casually walking from one state into another.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: 🕰️ 7-9 mins | Weight: 🌉 Light & Observational | Mood: 🎸 Chaotic, Curious, & Amused

    Trail Notes:

    • Our Trek: June 17th at 5:30 pm |1.9 miles| 35 minutes | Started in Indiana crossed over the Ohio River into Kentucky & back into Indiana
    • Walking across the Ohio River on a former railroad bridge
    • Barges, sailboats, city skylines, & industrial riverfronts
    • Live music seemingly following us across the bridge
    • An adult-powered piggyback child-transportation system
    • Political graffiti, sidewalk chalk, and unexpectedly strange plants
    • Why it is called the Big Four
    Blue concrete “Big Four Station” sign near the parking area for the Big Four Bridge Trail.

    The Big Four Bridge Trail

    Jeffersonville, Indiana & Louisville, Kentucky

    The Bridge Trail That Became Much More:

    Some hikes are about getting into the woods and getting away from everything. Others are about exploring more urban areas. Taelor, her son, and I cleared the 1.9-mile out and back trail in approximately 35 minutes on June 17th at 5:30 PM.

    We found ourselves at the Big Four Bridge in Jeffersonville, Indiana, after leaving The Falls of Ohio State Park. Here the trail crosses the Ohio River from Jeffersonville, Indiana toward Louisville, Kentucky. The temperature was on the warmer side around 85 degrees Fahrenheit. Thankfully, there was a light sprinkle in the air, and the wind was already making its presence known.

    The Big Four Bridge Trail:

    The trail itself is pretty straightforward. It is a paved, out-and-back trail that is just under two miles in length and contains steps at both ends. There are benches, a ton of people, bikes, families, city views, river traffic, and enough things happening around you that calling this a “hike” feels like underselling it.

    Our group had barely gotten started before somebody started playing an electric guitar. This man had a full set up, amps, cords, the guitar, and even a decent mohawk. This experience sums up the trail’s overall vibe and set the tone for the trek.

    Someone else tried to give us bubbles shortly after we walked past the bridge’s rockstar.

    Somewhere between the music, the boats, the city skyline, and the question of what state we were actually standing in, the Big Four Bridge became one of those places where the trail itself almost disappears beneath everything happening around it.

    POV: from in ground of the big four bridge standing on the trail showing the beams and yellow signs for no pets & warning to slow down.

    Walking Over the River:

    The Big Four Bridge carries pedestrians and cyclists above the Ohio River, creating a long, elevated path with two very different landscapes unfolding on either side of the bridge.

    On one side sits Louisville’s cityscape, where you see buildings that rise above the neighboring bridges into the sky. As we walked across the bridge, we watched as a church steeple that started as a tiny point in the distance gradually became one of the more prominent things in our view.

    On the other side, the scenery felt almost industrial. There were brick buildings, wooden docks, radio towers, barges, and sailboats making up the river traffic.

    It felt like four different worlds depending on which direction you looked. Yet, somehow they were all occupying the same trail.

    The river itself was moving below us, green and restless with the wind and waking boats. Sailboats shared the water with enormous barges, and at one point we could even see a sunken barge in the river. There was also a visible change in the color of the water where the different streams appeared to meet.

    The wind whipped across the bridge hard enough to become part of the trail’s experience.

    Close-up photo of iron bridge beams showing the sky and the Ohio River in the distance on the Big Four Bridge Trail.

    The Big Four’s Soundtrack:

    There seemed to be music everywhere.

    At first, directly before we climbed the stairs to the bridge, there was a woman jamming to familiar alternative rock tracks, followed closely by the electric guitar player with his amps and cords.

    Next, we approached the sound of what seemed like a symphony which grew louder as we cleared the distance. The classical music ensemble came from two separate informational booths.

    As we continued across the bridge, the music seemed to get louder and louder. The interesting thing about the Big Four is that the bridge does not isolate you from the cities on either side. It puts you directly in the middle of them.

    Sirens could be heard in the distance. Police vehicles were seen on the interstate off the trail. Pedal bikes zipped past us and e-bikes flew by. A barge horn eventually joined the soundtrack.

    The entire trek had become a collage of sounds. It was chaotic, yet somehow enjoyable.

    An iron informational booth that tells some of the history of the bridge and plays classical music sits in front of iron bridge beams with the Ohio river in the distance on the Big Four Bridge Trail.

    Somehow the Child Became a Backpack:

    Taelor’s son seemed to be having a fantastic time. There were benches to climb on, open pavement to run across, and plenty of opportunities to turn a simple walk into an obstacle course.

    Eventually, I ended up with the child on my back. I’m not quite sure how this happened.

    The boy zoomed from bench to pavement to bench, while we continued making our way across the bridge. Later, when it became my turn for another piggyback ride, Tae bribed him with the promise of ice cream afterward instead of piggybacking. Thank God.

    Trekking with a child seems to change the definition of distance. Two miles suddenly becomes less about how far you walked and more about how many times you stopped, climbed, carried someone, negotiated, looked at something interesting, or answered a completely unrelated question.

    Honestly? That is part of what made this walk memorable.

    A look at the Ohio river from the big four bridge trail showing barges, a partially sunken barge, and the different colored river water meeting.

    The History Beneath Our Feet:

    The trail’s name had me confused for the better part of the hike. I thought “Big Four” referred to the four bridges. The answer is much more railroad-related.

    The name comes from the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway, a railroad commonly known as the Big Four. The original Big Four Railroad Bridge opened in 1895 after construction began in the late nineteenth century. The railroad connection became an important transportation link between Jeffersonville and Louisville, particularly as rail and river transportation helped fuel the growth of both communities.

    The bridge we experience today is not the untouched 1895 structure. The existing bridge was rebuilt in the 1920s, with the current structure dating to 1929. It was eventually decommissioned as a railroad bridge in 1968 and sat abandoned for decades.

    There is also an especially grim piece of history attached to the original construction. Historical documentation records that 21 workers died during construction in 1893 when a crane blew over.

    Today, people walk across it carrying drinks, pushing strollers, riding bicycles, taking photographs, listening to music, and carrying tired children.

    A man in a backwards black hat and black t-shirt takes a selfie on the big four bridge trail in Jeffersonville, Indiana.

    A structure that once carried trains now carries weekend plans.

    Railroad to Walking Trail:

    The Big Four spent years abandoned after its railroad life ended.

    Eventually, the idea of turning the bridge into a pedestrian and bicycle crossing became reality. The bridge was rehabilitated and reopened to the public in 2013, with the Southern Indiana approach completed in 2014. The result is a non-motorized connection between Louisville’s Waterfront Park and Jeffersonville.

    That transformation is one of the things I like most about the place. Nothing about the bridge feels particularly wilderness-oriented.

    Here you find no deep woods or rocky switchbacks. Instead, the historical and modern-day urban infrastructure is the landscape.

    The steel structure is the trail and the Ohio River is the view. Louisville and Jeffersonville are the backdrop and the people using it are part of the scenery.

    “Slow” yellow diamond shaped sign with “fuck ice & maga” graffiti as well as a drawn penis and stickers on the big four bridge trail.

    Modern-Day Big Four:

    Today, the Big Four is much less about getting somewhere by train and much more about people deliberately coming for the bridge.

    The Jeffersonville side is anchored by Big 4 Station Park, which includes walking paths, benches, a playground, picnic areas, restrooms, parking, and other amenities. The city describes the area surrounding the bridge as one of Jeffersonville’s premier parks and a destination for people from throughout the community.

    One of the more interesting things about this urban trail is that you cannot always tell whether the person passing you is exercising, sightseeing, commuting, or simply killing an hour.

    The Big Four accommodates many different types of people.

    A sail boat sails down the Ohio River under the big four bridge trail.

    Signs, Chalk, Graffiti & Everything Else:

    There are signs along the way reminding visitors about trail etiquette and restrictions, including a few stating pets are not permitted and warnings to slow down.

    We passed political graffiti and sidewalk chalk with messages ranging from “Jesus is King” to anti-ICE statements.

    Official park signage, historical infrastructure, graffiti, and even a penis drawn somewhere it absolutely did not need to be all prove this was not a curated museum exhibit.

    It was a public place being used by actual people, and people are messy. That became a big part of the character of the walk.

    Other bridges seen from the Big Four Bridge Trial as well as the skyscrapers in the city making up the urban view.

    The Walk Back

    The return trip felt different even though we were walking the same trail. We knew what was coming. The guitar player was still playing and the classical music was still drifting across the river. The cities were still there and the boats were still moving.

    By this point, the entire trail felt like a collection of sounds layered on top of one another.

    I realized this was probably the closest thing to a wilderness soundscape that an urban exploration could offer. It was ridiculous.

    I loved it.

    Up close view off small light blue berries in the park below the trail

    Back Where We Started:

    Eventually, a sign beneath us told us we were back in Jeffersonville. We crossed the Ohio River into another state, turned around, and walked back. There was a circular-looking rainbow-colored building in the distance, and the skyline we had watched grow closer earlier was now receding behind us.

    Sometimes a hike ends with a profound realization. Other times it ends with an unanswered question.

    POV: from above Tae and her son going down the steps at the big four bridge trail.

    The Big Four Bridge Trail:

    We finished the trail at about 6:05 p.m. Two miles is not exactly a long hike by my usual standards. Distance has never really been the point here.

    The Big Four Trail is an experience built around movement through a very concentrated piece of the region. You have the Ohio River beneath you, Louisville on one side, Jeffersonville on the other, old railroad infrastructure below you, modern recreation happening around you, and enough human activity to make every few minutes feel different.

    It is part bridge walk, part city walk, part history lesson, part people-watching expedition. It is also apparently part piggyback marathon.

    The Big Four Bridge left me laughing, surrounded by sound, slightly confused, and unexpectedly reflective about the Ohio River itself.

    I went there expecting to walk across a bridge. Instead, I got a guitar player, a symphony, church chalk, a child on my back, an ice-cream negotiation, and a reminder that the river I knew growing up can look like an entirely different creature somewhere else.

    That is the strange thing about trails: the best ones do not always take you farther into the wilderness. The best trails give you a different way to see something you thought you already understood.

    View of the park below the trail as well as artwork and trees.

    Read More:

    Turkey Run. Thistlethwaite.

    AllTrails.

  • Echoes in the Limestone: Falls of Ohio State Park

    Echoes in the Limestone: Falls of Ohio State Park

    Best for:

    Readers interested in Indiana Preservations, hikers planning a trip to Southern Indiana, geology enthusiasts, & individuals who enjoy nature journals.

    The Essence:

    Read Time: 🕰️ 8-10 minutes | Mood: 🍃 grounded & inspired | Weight: 🪶 light & free |

    Trail Notes:

    • Date & Time: June 17th 2026 at 4-5PM
    • Location: Falls of Ohio State Park Indiana
    • The State Park & the Confusing Name
    • Mammoth Fossils & the Nature Center
    • Preservation & Geography
    • Bridges & Dams
    Two oddly shaped brown and tan mushrooms grow out of the side of a fallen tree at Falls of Ohio State Park.

    Falls of Ohio State Park

    Clarksville, Indiana

    Fossils & No Falls:

    There are no waterfalls at this park, and it is not located in Ohio. That doesn’t make it any less appealing it just makes the name make way less sense. You will find an abundance of fossils here, as well as a dam that resembles multiple waterfalls, and a large train bridge.

    The natural world often preserves its most ancient chapters in unexpected places, where the relentless flow of water carves away the modern veneer to reveal a prehistoric past. Along the borders of the Ohio River, ancient seabeds lie exposed to the open air, offering a rare portal into a forgotten geological epoch. Stepping into these landscapes changes the entire rhythm of an afternoon, shifting attention from the routine pace of daily life to the deep, silent timescale of fossils and ancient stone.

    Two birds sit on a rock near the water at Falls of Ohio State Park in Indiana.

    Woodland Paths & Sports-Mode Mishaps:

    The afternoon started with a familiar battle of wills: trying to coax a seven-year-old out of the car. After some heavy convincing, he finally declared that his shoes were in “sports mode,” bolted out the door, and promptly took a tumble within the first five steps.

    Once the initial wipeout was out of the way, however, there was no turning back. Getting him to slow down or chill while we tried to take photos became the new challenge.

    POV: looking down on trail at a Caucasian man’s tattooed leg, wearing green croc junipers and grey shorts.

    The Trail:

    Right off the trailhead, we spotted wild mushrooms tucked near the path, alongside a surprisingly interesting outdoor classroom area.

    The trail quickly opened up into a landscape teeming with history. There are fossils scattered everywhere along the path, and stepping inside the interpretive center even revealed a woolly mammoth fossil exhibit.

    The atmosphere of the trail had its own distinct local flavor, complete with a few local dogs on the walk and the unmistakable scent of weed drifting through the air.

    By the time the clock hit five o’clock, we had cleared the few available trails here. To enter and leave the area that I would struggle to call a beach we had to scramble over massive piles of drift logs.

    While walking along the beach we explored the exposed rock formations and looked into the small cave-like openings. This felt almost like stepping onto another planet, every inch of the stone under our feet were made of massive fossil plates.

    The kid who threw a fit just to get out of the car ended up having the absolute time of his life, demanding to know where else we could explore next. That’s just how kids are, keeping the adventure alive right to the end.

    POV: from above showing dry dirt shore of the Ohio river at Falls of Ohio State park. Included in photo are some of the logs that had to be scrambled over.

    The Ancient Architecture:

    The Falls of the Ohio State Park is a unique geological and ecological sanctuary situated along the Ohio River in Clarksville, Indiana. Unlike typical waterfalls driven by vertical drops, the “falls” are actually a 2.5 mile series of rapids and cascading limestone ledges where the river drops about 26 feet over a relatively short distance.

    This dramatic descent historically created the only major navigational hazard for early riverboat travelers, requiring flatboats and steamboats to navigate carefully or portage around the turbulent stretch. Today, the park serves as a protected National Wildlife Conservation Area and state park. The goal here is preserving one of the largest exposed Devonian fossil beds in the world.

    When river levels drop during the late summer and autumn months, vast acres of limestone emerge from the water, allowing visitors to walk directly across an ancient seafloor that spans hundreds of millions of years of Earth’s history.

    Small cave like indentation in the rocks lining the beach area full of fossil impressions.

    Coral Reefs & Devonian Seas:

    The reason fossils are so overwhelmingly abundant here comes down to ancient geography. Approximately 390 million years ago, during the Devonian Period, the region that is now the American Midwest sat near the equator, completely submerged beneath a shallow, warm tropical inland sea.

    This prehistoric ocean swarmed with marine life comparable to modern coral reefs. As ancient corals, brachiopods, bryozoans, crinoids, and stromatoporoids lived, died, and accumulated on the seafloor, their calcium carbonate skeletal structures were compressed and lithified into dense layers of limestone over millions of years.

    Because the Ohio River continually scours away the overlying mud and sediment, these massive fossil plates are exposed in stunning preservation. Walking across the limestone shelves reveals intricate patterns of horn corals, honeycomb corals, and crinoid stems frozen directly into the bedrock. It is a living museum where stepping stones are literal fragments of an ancient tropical reef.

    A mix of loose fossils found on the beach at Falls of Ohio state park held in the palm of a hand with a water bottle and large rocks in the background.

    Industrial Horizons – Dams & Massive Rail Bridges:

    While looking down reveals millions of years of natural history, looking up and across the landscape frames the heavy footprint of human engineering. Dominating the immediate view from the park are two monumental structures: the McAlpine Locks and Dam system and the sprawling, industrial spans of nearby railway bridges crossing the Ohio River.

    The dam regulates the powerful river currents, drastically altering the natural water levels that once defined the wild, roaring rapids of the historic falls. Parallel to the water management structures, the massive steel lattice of the historic railroad bridges stretches across the horizon. These industrial iron giants frame the ancient riverbanks, creating a striking visual contrast between the heavy infrastructure of the 19th and 20th centuries and the 390-year-old fossil plates resting quietly beneath their shadows.

    Photo shows large dry rock formations full of fossils, the Ohio river, the dam, and the train bridges all located at Falls of Ohio State Park in Indiana.

    Feeling Small:

    One of the main things that keeps me coming back to places like this in nature is the reoccurring realization just how small we are. Looking from the bridges, to the dam, to the fossils, and back to the massive Ohio River it is impossible not to feel almost microscopic here.

    Leaving the riverbanks behind, the transition back to the everyday world comes with a lingering sense of perspective. A landscape built from ancient coral reefs, framed by steel bridges and modern currents, leaves a quiet mark on anyone willing to scramble across the logs and look down at the stone beneath their feet.

    Man in a black backwards hat and black t-shirt poses with a girl in a maroon shirt at Falls of Ohio State Park in Indiana.

    Read More:

    Thistlethwaite Falls. Fossil Park.

    AllTrails. Falls of Ohio State Park.

    Image shows scattered puddles on large rocks making up the beach area at Falls of Ohio State Park. In the distance the picture shows the Ohio river, the dam, and blue cloudy skies.