Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Author: poeaxtry_

  • The Overlooked Underlook Trail – Cooper’s Rock State Forest:

    The Overlooked Underlook Trail – Cooper’s Rock State Forest:

    Best For:

    West Virginia hikers seeking overlooked natural spaces, tri-state area nature enthusiasts, Appalachian folklore readers, history buffs, and anyone interested in real life trail journals.

    Trail Notes:

    • Our Hike: 1 mile approximately| rock scramble| fat man squeeze|36 minutes on trail|
    • Trail: .4 miles| 88 ft. Elevation gain| loop trail|Ghost of the fugitive cooper|
    • Highlights: Caves & Rock Formations to Explore| Overlook Views| Almost Heaven WV swing| Fat man Squeeze|many other trails accessible| climbing|Cooper’s Rock Through history|
    • Amenities: Restrooms| gift shop| playground|

    Cooper’s Rock State Forest

    Bruceton Mills, West Virginia
    dark, framed informational trail map display stands outdoors against a backdrop of dense, foggy trees.

    The Last Stop Today:

    The last stop of trek Taelor and I planned was at Cooper’s Rock. We had intended to do the overlook view followed up by the trekking the often overlooked Underlook Trail.

    We included optimistically, might I add, the rock city Trail, and the Eagle Loop, Trail which you’ll learn quickly why we decided to save them for later. Which is something I never seem to mind doing.

    We spent roughly 1 hour maximum at this state forest. What can I say though, it has always been a favorite of mine to do a quick trip to or stop by visit on my way through.

    A close-up view of a textured rock face featuring patches of moss and small, bright green rhododendron leaves growing from a crevice.

    We reached our last stop before heading home about 35 minutes after we left Cucumber Falls in Ohiopyle State Park.

    Today had already taken us from one of Maryland’s highest points, to Pennsylvania’s highest point, multiple emotional stops in a State Park from my past, and finally into the mountains of West Virginia at Cooper’s Rock State Forest.

    From there, this stop became the final stretch of a long day moving across multiple states.

    A view of the Coopers Rock overlook area, showing the small wooden fenced-in observation platform from the perspective of the trail where you are unable to access the main viewing area.
    Oh Overlook Platform, I do adore you.

    Cooper’s Rock State Forest:

    The change into West Virginia was immediate.

    The drive itself hit us with the most intense fog of the entire trip so far, which is saying something considering how much atmospheric haze we had already been moving through across these multiple states.

    The road was a whiteout at points and in others it felt almost submerged, with the forest narrowing into dense, saturated greens that never seem to change season to season.

    Every time I come through here, I become convinced the forest is greener than anywhere else I have ever been. I find myself thinking no place on earth has ever managed to be quite this green.

    A cluster of vibrant pink rhododendron buds in not nea full bloom, highlighted against a soft-focus background of green leaves.

    The Slight Replanning:

    We arrived expecting the usual overlook stop, but found the pedestrian bridge to the main overlook completely closed and out of commission.

    That was a first in all the times I’ve been here. Normally, this spot is little more than a quick pull-off to enjoy the view, for me at least. This time we planned to move differently through the land instead of just observing it from above. That closure forced a different approach to the stop.

    A cluster of light brown, moist slime-like mushrooms growing out of the textured, dark bark of a forest floor near rocks and foliage along the trail.
    I love a fun guy.

    The Often Overlooked:

    Even with the main overlook inaccessible, we pushed into the Underlook Trail. This shift ended up being the main point of our stop instead of a bonus we planned to include.

    The trail drops you beneath the cliff line, directly under the structure most people only ever see from above. It turned into a short but technical loop, with rock scrambles, fat-man-squeeze like passages, and uneven stone underfoot.

    We finished the route by climbing back up through a rock section that reconnects hikers to the main overlook area. This added a nice physical edge to what otherwise would’ve been a simple stop.

    It was a short trail, but it didn’t feel like a short moment in the context of the day.

    A towering, rugged sandstone rock formation lining underlook trail at cooper’s rock featuring the signature vertical cracks common to this area’s cliffs.

    Internal Batteries:

    By this point in the trip, we were running on empty in a very real way. Even if I am good competition for the energizer bunny that keeps going and going, sometimes even I lose steam.

    This stop came after a stacked run that started in Ohio as the take off point at three o’clock in the morning and went across multiple states.

    All of it back-to-back, with no real recovery window, just as I like it. So even a little over a mile here carried weight. Nothing about it felt minor at that stage.

    Photo shows author a few years ago seated on a large rock ledge in the forest, positioned with feet on a green sign that warns against climbing in the area holding an American pit bull terrier and corgi on leash.
    Throwback.

    A West Virginia Native:

    As a West Virginia native who was later transplanted to Ohio, thankfully still close to many of the places I grew up loving. I naturally found myself revisiting old memories here. This stop pulled up older layers of memory for me.

    At one point, Tae and I approached a sign I had once rested my feet upon while holding the leashes of my dog, Luna and a friend’s dog for a photo. Which allowed me to pose for another rendition the same photograph retaken all these years later, and sadly no puppies this time.

    Author with his arms outstretched seated in a rocky, forested area, surrounded by large boulders and green trees with feet on no climbing in area sign, recreating the image above this one.
    Redo!

    Almost Heaven Swings:

    As a West Virginia native that means I am also a sucker for those almost heaven, West Virginia swings. I have seen three in person now including this trip.

    • The one at the waterfront in Wheeling West Virginia.
    • The one overlooking Oglebay Park, also in Wheeling.
    • And now the one at Cooper’s Rock State Forest Morgantown, West Virginia.

    We had planned to also trek two other trails here, and there are many more still, but we left them for another time. What we did cover was enough for us.

    A tall, wooden rectangular swing frame for almost heaven WV swings frame stands in the middle of a misty forest clearing, with two people posed inside it.
    Almost heaven West Virginia.

    The Missing Overlook:

    For the first time in all the years I have visited Cooper’s Rock, the overlook itself was closed. As we approached the familiar pathway, bright caution tape stretched across the entrance and the bridge across was no where to be seen.

    Standing there in the fog, staring through the barriers, my mind immediately started trying to fill in the gaps.

    Had a storm damaged it? Had years of Appalachian winters finally taken their toll? Had a fallen tree taken it out?

    2: A narrow passage or slot canyon formed between two massive, weathered rock walls along the underlook trail cooper’s rock, leading into a dark interior.
    Squeeze, Fat man… Squeeze!

    When a familiar landmark suddenly disappears, it’s easy for the imagination to have a bit of wild fun.

    As it turns out, the closure was part of a major bridge replacement project. The aging structure had reached the end of its lifespan and was being completely rebuilt.

    While I was disappointed to miss the overlook view, there was something fitting about it. Sometimes the view you always include isn’t the one that leaves the strongest impression.

    A large, craggy boulder resting in the forest setting, with smaller rocks and leafy branches surrounding the base.

    Overlooked Underlook Trail:

    Before setting out beneath the overlook itself, know that the Underlook Trail is far from a typical overlook access path. Though less than half a mile long, this rugged loop delivers more adventure than many trails several times its length.

    Instead of leading to the famous overlook, the trail drops below it, winding through the sandstone formations that define Cooper’s Rock. From beneath the cliffs, hikers gain a completely different perspective, with towering rock walls overhead and glimpses of the Cheat River Gorge through breaks in the trees and stone.

    The terrain quickly becomes more hands-on. Narrow passages weave between massive boulders, small cave-like openings invite exploration, and several sections require scrambling over uneven rock. One memorable stretch resembles a natural “fat man squeeze,” guiding visitors through tight sandstone corridors before opening back into the forest.

    Taelor stands a dirt path that winds through a dense, foggy woodland area with lush green bushes and trees lining the trail. She is pointing toward the ground and wearing plaid pajama pants and a sweater.

    Despite its short length, the trail can feel surprisingly technical. Loose rock, exposed roots, uneven footing, and a final scramble back toward the visitor area demand careful footing. Sturdy footwear is recommended, especially after rain when rocks become slick.

    Rhododendrons, West Virginia’s state flower, line much of the trail. During bloom season, pink and white blossoms frame the rocky passageways and cliff edges, adding even more beauty to the route.

    Families, adventurous kids, and leashed dogs often enjoy the trail’s cave-like atmosphere, though scrambling sections require extra caution. Its proximity to the visitor area also makes it one of the forest’s most accessible adventures despite feeling removed from the crowds above.

    For those willing to explore beneath the overlook rather than stand atop it, the Underlook Trail offers one of the most distinctive experiences in Cooper’s Rock State Forest. The land itself carries a timeline far older than any modern visit.

    A person wearing a long-sleeved shirt and plaid pants leans forward while scrambling over large, uneven rocks on Underlook Trail, Cooper’s rock.
    Work for it.

    Long Before Cooper’s Rock:

    Long before overlooks, trails, parking lots, and swinging benches decorated these ridges, people were moving through this landscape.

    Archaeological evidence from the greater Monongahela and Ohio River Valley suggests that Indigenous peoples traveled these mountains for thousands of years, hunting game, gathering plants, and navigating the rugged terrain long before European settlers arrived.

    The towering sandstone cliffs and overlooks that draw visitors today would have served practical purposes as well. Natural rock shelters provided refuge from the elements, while the high vantage points offered views across the Cheat River Gorge and surrounding valleys.

    Over the centuries, various Indigenous peoples, including the Monongahela culture and later the Shawnee, Cherokee, and Haudenosaunee nations, utilized the region for travel, hunting, and resource gathering.

    A steep, moss-covered sandstone slope rising from the forest floor, scattered with fallen leaves and small plants.

    Wanderlust & Wonder:

    Standing beneath those same cliffs on the Underlook Trail, it is difficult not to wonder how many generations passed through these mountains before any trail signs, bridges, or state boundaries existed.

    Long before Cooper’s Rock became a destination, it was simply part of a much older landscape that countless people knew and depended upon. Later stories would begin to attach names and identity to the same ground.

    A close-up view of a dead tree branch lying on the ground, covered in patches of white, bracket-style fungus
    More of the fun guys, I like to find on my treks.

    The Name in the Stone:

    The name “Coopers Rock” is tied to a local legend from the early 1800s. According to lore, a barrel maker, known as a cooper, fled into the cliffs after running from the law.

    Hidden in the sandstone formations near what is now the overlook, he is said to have built a small workshop tucked into the rock itself.

    From this hidden space, he reportedly cut timber, crafted barrels, and traded them quietly with nearby settlements, staying out of sight within the mountain walls.

    Over time, the cliffs where he was believed to have hidden and worked became known simply as Coopers Rock, and the name stayed long after the story faded into regional folklore.

    Hikers and rock climbers spending time in the deep rock of the Underlook after dark have long claimed to hear the phantom clink-clink-clink of a ghostly hammer striking iron hoops, as if the fugitive cooper is still working on his barrels.

    Eventually, the land shifted again, this time into public work and preservation.

    A hazy, atmospheric view of a forest path leading toward a large, weathered sandstone rock formation on Underlook Trail Cooper’s Rock State Forest.

    Civilian Conservation Corps – Cooper’s Rock:

    Cooper’s Rock State Forest officially became protected public land in 1936. Not long after, the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) arrived and began transforming the area into the destination visitors know today. The sound of hammers striking stone and axes clearing brush echoed through the rugged hills as CCC crews worked among towering sandstone outcrops and dense stands of recovering timber.

    State Park or Forest:

    While Cooper’s Rock is classified as a state forest, it functions much like a state park and is managed through the West Virginia State Parks system. Thanks to both conservation efforts and the work of the CCC, what was once heavily logged land, marked by stumps, muddy clearings, and scarred hillsides, has gradually transformed into a lush forest of hardwoods and evergreens. That transformation didn’t stop with construction, it continued into how the land is managed today.

    A view looking between two large, towering moss-covered sandstone rock faces, creating a deep, narrow canyon pathway filled with fallen leaves.

    Closing Out Our Appalachian Trek:

    What started as a familiar stop at the end of a long multi-state push shifted into something more physical, more grounded, and more exploratory than usual. The closure at the bridge didn’t remove the experience, it redirected it.

    The Underlook Trail became the unexpected center of the visit, turning what is usually a quick overlook stop into a more hands-on encounter with the cliffs themselves.

    Instead of viewing the gorge from above, the day ended inside the structure of the land, moving through sandstone corridors, tight passages, and the underside of a place most people only ever see from a distance.

    A rugged forest path winding through a rocky landscape, with large boulders and tall trees creating a shaded canopy.

    By the time we left, the exhaustion from the day had already settled in fully, but so had the weight of everything we had moved through: multiple states, multiple elevations, and multiple versions of the same Appalachian terrain layered across different landscapes.

    Coopers Rock wasn’t an outlier in that system; it was a continuation of it, shaped by the same geology, the same ecological patterns, and the same long human history that defines the region.

    Even without the overlook view, the stop still carried its own version of clarity. Sometimes the landscape doesn’t offer what you expected, but instead reveals what you were actually meant to move through on that particular day.

    A deep, dark fissure or narrow cave opening nestled between massive, textured rock walls in the woodland.

    TLDR:

    Trek the Underlook Trail with us while the main overlook bridge being closed. The hike took roughly 36 minutes on trail.

    Our route included rock scrambles, tight squeezes, and uneven stone footing. It reconnects back near the overlook area.

    The key features included cliffside sandstone formations, small cave-like sections, and narrow passages under the overlook structure. Elevation gain was minimal but terrain is technical.

    Cooper’s Rock carries historical layers including Indigenous use of the region for travel and resources. Later folklore attributes the name to a fugitive cooper said to have hidden and worked in the cliffs.

    The Civilian Conservation Corps developed the area into public land in the 1930s. It remains part of the West Virginia State Parks system.

    This stop is defined by movement through the rock system rather than the overlook view. The experience is shaped by terrain, not distance or scenery alone.

    A dark, natural msmall cave entrance framed by large boulders and thick, surrounding forest greenery on Underlook Trail, Cooper’s rock State Forest, Morgantown, West Virginia.

    Plan Your Appalachian Trek:

    WV State Parks – Welcome to Cooper’s rock State Forest & Cooper’s rock State Forest trails

    WVU DIY Outdoors Guide – Cooper’s Rock

    Savage Mountain Maryland & Ferncliff Ohiopyle Trail

    : A low-angle, close-up shot of a leg with blue jeans and black thumbprint croc standing on a dark, wet forest trail, covered in scattered leaves and dirt. Next to breaking in the ground to show the size comparison between the authors foot and the indentation of the Earth.
    Bigfoot is that you?
  • Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle- Top 3 Accessible Waterfalls in PA:

    Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle- Top 3 Accessible Waterfalls in PA:

    Best For:

    Outdoor advocates seeking a Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle State Park Waterfall Trail Guide, Pennsylvania waterfall seekers, nature journal enthusiasts, Appalachian hikers, low budget travelers, and spontaneous nature trip lovers.

    Trail Notes:

    • Our trek: was roughly 1 mile| 22 minutes | sunshine
    • Trail: out & back roughly 0.3 miles if you stick to it strictly | connects to the Great Gorge Trail & Meadow Run Trail | dog & kid friendly
    • Caution: Lower level accessed by wooden stairs | microspikes recommended in colder months | trekking poles and traction shoes are helpful | footbridge (not required to access the falls view) and is under repair in sections
    • Highlights: footbridge, very accessible 30+ ft waterfall, multiple trail access points, creek crossings, river access, and recess caves.
    • Extras: Fear of Missing Out | Nature’s Urgency | following your Ears

    Ohiopyle State Park

    Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania
    Grey Honda civic mirror, green trees lined by overcast skies, cars in lot behind brown cucumber falls Ohiopyle brown sign with yellow font.
    The welcoming comity.

    Our Big Trip:

    I loaded up my Honda Civic in Central Ohio early May 5th, 2026 after a four-day work week. I was running on that mix of tired and ready that only road trips seem to create. If I’m being honest, a lot of my Wednesday-after-work hiking plans feel like a smaller, more concentrated version of this.

    Start of wooden footbridge painted brown with reflective parts near white metal sign with black font on concrete warning no rappelling or boating near Cucumbers Falls Ohiopyle.

    Our Plan:

    Our plan was simple: sleep a few hours, head out, meet up with Tae, and then grab a few hours of sleep in Cadiz before finally pushing out for the real fun later that night, or more accurately, early the next morning.

    Once we got there, we made sure Tae’s daughter was settled in for the night and squared away for the next day with her grandma, which is where she wanted to go mind you. After that, Taelor and I went back to her place and crashed for a bit ourselves.

    Headed Out:

    When we woke up in the early hours of May 6th we were ready to go and rolled out of Cadiz just after 3 a.m., to start our drive toward our first stop. I chose our first stop to be the farthest point out, in the Savage Mountains of Maryland, so we could work our way back toward Ohio.

    From there, the route shifted a few times, in the way trips like this tend to. We worked Pennsylvania’s highest point into it on the way to Ohiopyle, from Mount Savage.

    Seeds of conservation sign before starting on the trek towards the overlook point at Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle State Park surrounded by green spring foliage.

    We even managed to sneak in an overlook before heading back to our main event. By the time we hit Cucumber Falls, we’d already added two extra stops that weren’t originally on the map before finally making it to our last Pennsylvania stop on the trip.

    Our Last Stop Ohiopyle:

    This was our fifth stop of the trip, our last stop in Pennsylvania, and our third and final stop in Ohiopyle, which left us only one more stop in West Virginia before heading home.

    You should know that I originally had this spot filed in my head as Cumberland Falls while I was mapping the trip out, on the trip, and afterwards as well.

    It wasn’t until I was deep into drafting the journal that I realized I’d been mixing it up with the wrong waterfall the entire time. This one was Cucumber Falls in Ohiopyle, not another waterfall named after Kentucky’s Cumberland Falls.

    If you’re reading this and thinking I sound sad to be headed home, you probably know me pretty well. If not, then you too are probably someone like me, who suffers from FOMO (fear of missing out), and can’t curb the feeling that there’s more to do or that you simply will never do enough, to do it all.

    Bird’s Eye view of the stream above Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle up to the drop off. Shown with water flowing over rock and stream lined by green foliage and distant tree tops.

    Let Your Ears Lead Your Way:

    You should be able to hear the falls before your eyes take in the length of the footbridge or the wooden staircase dropping into the gorge. That low, constant roar starts leaking through the trees early. It’s misleading and soft at first, just as you exit the parking area.

    Image of man in blue jeans, black crocs, and black t-shirt with pink hair standing in front and to the side of Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle on a dry mostly flat rock shown around him are middle of stream boulders and green spring growth.

    For a moment, it almost sounded like distant traffic you can’t seem to place for certain.

    Then, as you started walking through your mind trying to locate it, the sound grew louder instead of resolving. You don’t quite notice yet that it is building as you move further from anywhere traffic would actually be.

    Then you see the start of the bridge, to your left. The trail tightens up ahead, just beyond it, and the sound stops being background noise and becomes directional, almost physical.

    Now you are no longer left wondering where the waterfall is. Your ears have been leading you to it all along. This is an almost natural GPS your body follows without thinking, if you’re a hiker like me at least.

    A man pictured from the back wearing blue jeans, black croc shoes, and a black T-shirt climbs over and up the bouldering and rocky outcropping midstream at Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle. Image is surrounded by green Spring, wild foliage and trees.

    FOMO Hiking:

    After parking and getting our gear together, Taelor and I started on this short trek. First we walked to the bridge that sits above the falls and crosses the stream. This is not part of this trail system and not required to do, but fits in perfectly with my FOMO hiking style.

    There were caution cones and warning signs posted along parts of one edge of the bridge. We minded them for the most part. Meaning Tae stayed clear of them, while I somehow stepped past them without noticing until after the fact.

    While I was, like always, trying to check out the stream and views before reaching the falls. So for a moment we stopped and looked at the creek above Cucumber Falls. Allowing us to just watch the water as it moved toward the drop.

    Water drips down and off moss covered rock walls inside and along the recess cave behind a Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle. Moss also lines the ground in front of the wall. Image is close up.

    Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle Observation Points:

    • The footbridge offers a look at the stream above up to the drop-off that is known as Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle.
    • The overlook area before the wooden steps, which offers you a view from just above eye-level.
    • The base of the falls, the many points on trail, and the bouldering areas midstream giving you the many ground level options.
    • The view from inside the cave, behind the waterfall and out through the waterfall toward the stream.
    Image showing the edge of Cucumber Falls in the far right frame of the photo, centered and taking most of the image is the rock-lined recess cave behind Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle.

    From there, we made our way down the nicely manicured trail toward the observation point, where we were able to take in our first view of the waterfall.

    This one just slightly above eye level. Though we passed the main overlook first without stopping.

    Who is Keeping Track of Specific Order Anyway:

    There were a few older people already up there (though that really means nothing, considering I’ve started treks at the same time as elderly hikers and still been lapped by them).

    A high-angle, vertical shot of a stream cascading over weathered, moss-covered boulders at Cucumber Falls in Ohiopyle State Park. A weathered, fallen tree trunk spans across the stream, resting between large, textured rock formations. The water flows in a soft, white-foamed rush around the rocks. In the background, a lush, temperate forest of young, slender trees and dense greenery stretches upward, creating a peaceful, verdant atmosphere typical of the Appalachian mountains.

    We kept it flexible, and instead of doing the obvious thing first, we decided to move downward toward the base first. We let the allure of the louder, closer version of the Cucumber Falls pull us in and decide the order of the experience.

    When we did finally make it up to the overlook later, we timed it around a break in the crowd so people already there could actually enjoy the view without feeling like they were being cycled out.

    I don’t feel much like Cucumber needs urgency. Nothing in nature really makes me feel the need to rush someone along like a four way stop. I feel like the wilderness handles people better when we are not trying to rotate through it on a forced schedule.

    vertical view of Cucumber Falls cascading over a recessed rock ledge into a quiet pool below. The composition is filled with the intricate details of the area: large, lichen-spotted boulders, a jumble of driftwood logs creating natural dams, and a canopy of bright green, spring-time trees above. The scene is grounded and tranquil, showcasing the dense, natural layers of the Appalachian landscape.

    Of course, we followed the path down the set of wooden steps to the base for a completely different perspective. The roaring falls had fully taken over the space. Announcing itself as the main character before we even finished the stairs.

    It wasn’t just something we were hearing anymore either. The sound was vibrating through the air, the wood, and the railings. You could feel it before you could fully see the entirety of Cucumber Falls.

    The closer you get to the base, the more the air changes. It gets colder, almost sharper. Mist collects in pockets between rock and wood, while downed trees and branches created the perfect home for fungi and moss species.

    The sound no longer behaved like distance in any normal way; noise turned into pressure the closer to the bottom we were. Everything felt louder but somehow more contained, like the space is almost folding the sound back in on itself.

    Upon reaching the bottom, we were able to access the cave-like rock shelter behind the waterfall and cross portions of the stream to reach a more straight-on view of Cucumber Falls. I also scrambled over the sandstone rocks and other bouldering material that surrounded the base of the falls.

    Small Packages:

    Which allowed me to explore several smaller cascades and breakaway waterfalls that branch off from the main flow. I typically call these transgender male waterfalls because like me they have small packages.

    A close-up, vertical shot capturing the raw textures of the stream at Ohiopyle State Park. A small, vibrant waterfall surges between two large, moss-covered boulders. A tree grows directly out of the stone, its roots clinging to the rock face, surrounded by delicate ferns and scattered fallen branches, emphasizing the rugged and wild beauty of the forest floor.

    The Terrain:

    The terrain around the stream was slick in several places. More than once I nearly lost my footing, and a few crossings ended with me stepping directly into the water, rather than falling on my face or ass-end.

    Despite the wet feet and occasional close call, exploring the stream and smaller cascades added a lot to the experience and made the extra effort worthwhile.

    Though I chose to do so in my Thumbprint Crocs, albeit in “four-wheel-drive mode,” my hiking shoes, left at home, would have been much more useful here. Trekking poles and any other gear you chose to use for more slick, wet, or muddy runs would have been useful as well.

    It may be a short walk but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wild in places. Those who chose to stick to the traditional maintained areas of the trail should do fine either way.

    Rocky ledges that from the start of the recess cave behind Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle, muddy uneven ground makes up the bottom of the image with what seems to be a bench formed in the rock wall.

    Most Accessible Waterfall in Pa:

    Cucumber Falls is one of the most recognizable waterfalls in Ohiopyle State Park and is often considered one of the most photographed waterfalls in Pennsylvania. The falls drop approximately 30 to 36 feet over a sandstone ledge along Cucumber Run before continuing toward the Youghiogheny River.

    One thing that makes Cucumber Falls so popular is its accessibility. Unlike many waterfalls that require longer hikes or difficult terrain to reach, visitors can access views of the falls from a relatively short walk from the parking area. The overlook provides a view from slightly above, while a staircase leads hikers down to the base of the waterfall.

    A person with bright pink hair, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, is carefully navigating the rocky terrain near the base of Cucumber Falls in Ohiopyle State Park. He is captured in a moment of movement, reaching toward a tree trunk for stability amidst a landscape of massive, lichen-covered boulders and dense forest greenery. The waterfall descends in the background over a recessed ledge, creating a serene, rugged atmosphere that highlights the natural beauty of the Appalachian area.

    Why Cucumber Falls Stands Out:

    What makes this waterfall stand out from many others in the region is the ability to explore around it. Visitors can access the rocky basin below the falls, scramble across portions of the stream, and in appropriate conditions even move behind the waterfall itself.

    The sandstone formation beneath the falls creates a recess cave-like area that allows for a unique perspective looking out from behind the curtain of water.

    Those who chose to take it up a notch can do so by exploring beyond the overlook, which reveals additional viewpoints of both the waterfall and the stream that feeds it.

    Tons of Trails to Trek:

    The trail system in this section of the park also connects visitors to the Youghiogheny River. Many come here to watch white water rafters and kayakers take on the mighty river.

    Others may choose to continue their treks beyond the waterfall to the Great Gorge Trail, which is connected to the small out and back trail here. Another trail interconnected to these is Meadow Run Trail.

    Whatever you plan to trek here, do note that the length means no difference to the terrain. Wet sandstone, exposed roots, loose rock, and stream crossings can create slippery conditions, particularly near the base of the falls.

    Visitors planning to explore beyond the designated viewing areas should be prepared for wet footing and changing trail conditions.

    Not So Seasonal:

    Cucumber Falls is a year-round destination. Spring runoff often increases water flow, summer brings lush vegetation and blooming rhododendrons throughout Ohiopyle, fall adds seasonal color to the surrounding forest, and winter can create ice formations around the falls when temperatures remain below freezing.

    A first-person, downward-looking perspective from inside the rocky stream at Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle State Park. The water swirls intensely as it flows over dark, textured stones toward a small cascade. In the lower portion of the frame, the rounded toe of a Thumbprint Croc shoe is visible, alongside a small piece of grey-blue phone charger cord, highlighting a moment of real-world connection amidst the wild landscape.

    Due to its accessibility and popularity, Cucumber Falls can become crowded, especially during weekends, holidays, and peak summer travel periods. Early morning visits often provide a quieter experience and better opportunities to enjoy the falls without large crowds.

    Our Time Here:

    We spent a lot of our time here with me climbing over large boulders in the creek or looking back at Tae. Constantly, I found her doubled over in laughter at the places I’d get myself stuck.

    Would you believe it if I told you my socks were at one time dry? I somehow plunged them over and over again into the stream here.

    We laughed more and explored more in this small area than many of the others allowed. Though we did run into more people on trail here as well, most of them were not FOMO hikers like myself and seemed to almost sprint back to their cars after seeing the falls and checking off the box for their stop.

    TLDR:

    Cucumber Falls is one of the most accessible waterfalls in Pennsylvania, and is only a family-friendly short walk from the parking area to access the overlook and base of the falls.

    The waterfall drops roughly 30–36 feet, offers multiple viewing options, stream access, a recess cave, and additional smaller cascades nearby.

    Wet sandstone, loose rocks, stream crossings, and muddy conditions can make areas near the falls slippery.

    Cucumber Falls connects to the Great Gorge Trail and Meadow Run Trail, making it a good starting point for longer hikes in Ohiopyle State Park.

    The falls are worth visiting year-round, though crowds are common during weekends, holidays, and peak summer travel periods. Early morning visits generally provide the best experience.

    Plan Your Trip:

    Ferncliff Loop & Meadow Run Waterslide

    AllTrails – Cucumber Falls, Ohiopyle

    Ohiopyle Co – Cucumber Falls

    Great Allegheny Passage

    An individual with long pulled up light pink hair, light brown leggings, grey 3/4th zip-up sweater standing with 2 fingers up in a peace sign near the start of the rocky outcropping that lines the recess cave near Cucumber Falls Ohiopyle.
  • Legacy That Stays – Unusual Ways to Leave Your Mark:

    Legacy That Stays – Unusual Ways to Leave Your Mark:

    Best for:

    Creative architects, animal lover’s building a legacy, eccentric rockhounds, and modern-day explorers.

    Poeaxtry_ in sand

    The Vault:

    • Name and track a whale, sea turtle, or adopted animal in real time.
    • Leave your mark through benches, trees, trails, or public spaces.
    • Discover how geology, rockhounding, and “type localities” create lasting records.
    • Turn your identity into a digital legacy through domains, games, and creative projects.
    • Explore strange legacy paths, from novelty zoo naming to scientific discoveries.
    • Ask what matters more: symbolic immortality or simply feeling less replaceable?

    If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

    Beyond the Ordinary:

    Most people settle for their name on a keychain, novelty license plate, or even a generic office plaque, but the real thrill lies in the unconventional.

    After all do you really want another mug with your name on the front?

    At first I thought this was just one of those ego things. Get your name on a star, slap it on a plaque, call it a day. Then I started finding people tracking sea turtles, naming cocktails, sponsoring trees, funding discoveries, and carving out weird little corners of existence and slapping their names on them.

    The more I looked at it, the less it felt like vanity and the more it felt like people trying to leave fingerprints behind..

    Don’t we all want to leave our mark in at least one way?

    Whether you are sponsoring a piece of land or carving out your own corner of the internet, these gestures turn a standard identity into something far more interesting and textured.

    Why do people do these types of things? For some people it’s equal to a “fountain of youth” play on the desire to be remembered.

    Other times I think people are just tired of feeling replaceable.

    A name attached to a trail bench, plant-species, or any other place in the world just seem to hit differently.

    Pink and green foliage in the frame with Poeaxtry & the Prism Logo

    Fingerprints Left Behind –

    People Aim to Leave a Mark:

    The most profound things named after us, some people would say are the thing in nature or even living things. Many environmental organizations offer the chance to name a specific animal. Local zoos sometimes allow visitors and donors to help name baby animals.

    You may even be able to set it up so you can follow the animal you named on their migratory path via tracking apps. This can be seen as a living, breathing extension of self.

    Why People Do This:

    • Direct Connection: It creates a stronger link between everyday life and the natural world.
    • Cost Dynamics: Typically ranges from $25 to $500 depending on the level of “sponsorship” and the rarity of the species.
    • The “Cool” Factor: You aren’t just donating; you are watching “your” animal migrate in real-time on a map.

    Space & Nature:

    If your gaze is aimed just a bit higher, space is the ultimate frontier for a namesake. When you sponsor a star or a create a custom star map for a specific date you get a symbolic yet permanent anchor in the universe.

    If you are like me and you think on more grounded terms, sponsoring a park bench or a tree in an urban green area could be exactly the namesake you’re looking for. They also work to provide a physical spot for reflection and relaxation in nature.

    Once typically used for memorials these are now becoming popular with living people as a way to “own” a piece of their favorite trail or park.

    Poeaxtry. By: Axton N.O. Mitchell- Ink. Soul. Unleash. Ft. Crystals, a book, and a raven. "Where words wonder wild"

    The Quirky, the Rare, & the Edible:

    We all love things that taste yummy, so maybe the best things named after you are the ones you can eat. I don’t know many people either who would complain about being made to laugh.

    What do you think would you rather have your namesake be something funny or yummy?

    Local restaurants often have “secret menus” or signature dishes for instance: burgers, cocktails, or desserts, named after their most loyal or colorful patrons.

    Usually this comes from becoming a regular and being part of the community around a place rather than paying a flat fee. It represents a “Hyper-Local Legacy.”

    • Animal Adoptions: $25–$150 (Includes tracking and digital certificates).
    • Novelty Naming: $10–$20 (e.g., naming a cockroach at a zoo for a comedic/spiteful tribute).
    • Public Infrastructure: $500–$5,000 (Benches, bricks, or trees in municipal parks).
    • Personalized Items: $100–$1,000+ (Custom signet rings, engraved instruments, or bespoke puzzles).
    Poeaxtry's Poetry Prism Ft Blog image, Crystals, wands, and herbs

    Collaborative Layers – Connecting the Named to the Known

    To see how these concepts grow, we have to look at how they connect to the specific ways we interact with the world around us.

    The Geological Connection – Rockhounding & Discovery:

    In the world of geology, finding a unique specimen can lead to a “Type Locality” or even a new mineral variety being associated with a person or place.

    Like the tracking of a whale, a rockhound might “name” a specific find or a favorite trail location in their journal. This connects people to something much older than themselves, making the “naming” a historical record.

    Instead of just making a purchase which evolves it from a simple name on a paper to a permanent entry in a geological log.

    The Artistic Imprint – Bespoke Digital Domains

    In the digital age, a personalized website domain, a character in an indie comic book, or even doing a voice-over for a new game serves as a modern signet ring. It’s a digital plot of land.

    Like when you self-publishing a book, having a digital space named after you is a way to format and edit your own legacy in real-time. It grows as you add content, shifting from a few posts to an entire archive.

    This is the most accessible form of modern naming, costing as little as $12 a year for a domain, yet it offers the most control over how that name is perceived

    Poeaxtry logo in a black-and-white chalk-style design featuring three shark illustrations beneath bold arched lettering. The artwork shows a hammerhead shark, a sharp-toothed shark, and an orca-like character side by side against a dark textured background, creating a playful yet edgy ocean-inspired graphic.

    Unusual Additions – The Genetic & Scientific Frontier:

    If you really want to lean into the rare and quirky, consider the “Genetic Legacy.” Companies now allow you to name a specific, unique strain of a plant (like a new rose hybrid) or even a custom-engineered scent profile. These aren’t just items; they are biological markers.

    It is rare, highly unusual, and carries a high price tag (often thousands for plant patenting), but it ensures that your “name” grows, blooms, and exists as a physical part of someone else’s garden or home.

    Another rare path is the “Discovery Path.” Scientists often name newly discovered species of insects or bacteria after donors or colleagues. While you can’t usually “buy” a new species of mammal, you can often fund the research that leads to the naming of a new beetle or fern.

    It’s the ultimate flex for someone who wants their name to survive in scientific journals until the end of time.

    Poeaxtry by Axton Digital Business Card black Background. Photo of axxton and boots, pendulum, brain planter, and pen motif

    A Namesake:

    Seeking out things named after you is an exercise in creative branding and personal history. From the high-budget “immortality” of a park bench to the quirky, low-cost novelty of a namesake cocktail or a tracked sea creature, these items bridge the gap between who we are and what we leave behind.

    It’s about finding that one rare, unusual, or oddly specific thing and putting your stamp on it. You aren’t just buying a name; you’re building a prism through which your identity is reflected back at the world.

    Poeaxtry Leaf minimal Featured image

    TLDR:

    People leave their mark in far more ways than most people realize. Names can be attached to a number of things even unusual personal creations.

    What starts as novelty often becomes something more meaningful. These connections create lasting ties to nature, communities, creativity, and the world around us.

    The deeper drive is often not ego at all. Many people simply want to feel remembered, less replaceable, and leave fingerprints behind in their own way.

    Read More & Claim Yours:

    World Wildlife Fund – Whale/Animal Tracking & Adoption

    International Star Registry – Star Naming Facts & Symbolism

    National Park Service -Commemorative Benches, Trees, and Bricks

    The story Behind a Name or The Mirror of Others

  • What Am I Outgrowing Survival Mode, & The Strange Grief of Becoming Yourself:

    What Am I Outgrowing Survival Mode, & The Strange Grief of Becoming Yourself:

    Best For:

    Individuals still healing from toxic relationships, adult children unpacking old wounds, people struggling with feeling “behind” in life, people learning to set boundaries, or anyone rebuilding their identity after losing themselves while outgrowing survival mode.

    The Vault:

    • Why survival mode sometimes disguises itself as personality.
    • The grief nobody talks about when you outgrow yourself.
    • Why healing can make you feel behind in life.
    • Signs you may be carrying survival habits you no longer need.
    • What mushrooms, muddy trails, and growth have in common.
    • What moving into a bigger home taught me about making room for myself.
    • Learning the difference between becoming someone new & becoming more yourself.
    • Questions to ask when old versions of you no longer fit.

    Outgrowing Survival Mode & Pieces of You :

    Storia: Future Self Coach the app I use to journal asked me a question the other day that had absolutely no business coming in this hot: “What are you outgrowing?”

    Pause one second. That’s a really personal question for a little digital flower on my phone to get my wheels turning about. If you know me you know I can’t give a simple single lane answer, like Shrek and onions I have layers.

    I couldn’t just keep it short and collect my emotional participation trophy. Instead, I found myself sitting there staring at the screen like I’d just been personally attacked by a houseplant that doubles as a journal.

    The longer I sat with it, the bigger the question became.

    Most of us think about outgrowing obvious stuff that might be a little cliche. We usually land on things like our thought patterns, trends, dead-end jobs, and toxic relationships .

    Maybe old habits if we’re feeling extra fancy in that moment. What we don’t typically do is think about outgrowing ourselves.

    Did you realize the moment you outgrew survival mode, old wounds, or your people-pleasing tendencies?

    I didn’t think so; This is where things got uncomfortable.

    “Sir, you seem to think suffering is part of the admission price for love.”

    I started realizing some of the things I thought were personality traits might’ve actually been three survival habits in a trench coat wearing a fake mustache and trying not to look too obvious.

    What a rude way to wake up.

    Outgrowing Survival Mode: Candid photo of a 17-year-old trans man with shoulder-length dark hair sitting beside a desk with one knee pulled up, holding a cigarette between two fingers and looking toward the camera with a relaxed expression. He wears a gray shirt and green mtn dew pajama pants.

    “I want to be 17 again so I can ruin my life differently. I have a lot of new ideas.”

    Naturally I did what any emotionally responsible adult with Wi-Fi would do: I sat with it, overthought it, wandered into some memories, accidentally found a few hard truths, and somehow ended up questioning whether growth is really becoming somebody new.

    The worst part was, realizing it wasn’t at all wrong.

    Unfortunately.

    Could growth be finally making room for the person you’ve been all along?

    Let’s get into it.

    Survival Wears a Lot of Costumes:

    For a long time I think I confused surviving with living, and surviving wears a lot of disguises. Sometimes survival looks obvious; your friend staying in those relationships too long because she is hoping her effort can save something. What about when you try carrying things that were never yours to bear the weight of. It would seem along the line you learned that loving people meant absorbing damage.

    I don’t know where half of us got these invisible instructions from, but a lot of us seem to walk around with this idea that to deserve love we need to prove how much pain we can tolerate first.

    Real quality life advice there, I mean seriously five stars. I would not recommend.

    The thing is, I don’t even think I realized I was doing it while I was doing it. Does anyone?

    I feel like most of us don’t, at least. You’re inside it while it’s happening, and that places you much too close to the situation to see the full picture. You’re making decisions with the understanding you have at the time, and later on Future You shows up with all this wisdom and acts real judgmental like, “Well obviously…”

    Oh wow.

    Thanks.

    Real helpful now.

    Along the Way I Outgrew the Old Me:

    People talk about outgrowing jobs, relationships, ways-of-thinking, and phases. Yet, they don’t talk enough about outgrowing the emotional things. We seldom hear people be vulnerable and say, “I outgrew the old me.”

    If we’re being totally honest, there is grief there too. A longing for pieces of yourself you thought you left behind hidden just below the surface, lurking and waiting for you to notice its presence.

    Even the version created out of survival is still us. As much as it hurts the you that decided to do the thing you regret the most, is still you. The version who always carried too much or accepting less than he deserves, embarrassing as it is was still me.

    I spent years trying to understand myself while it felt like everybody else had already figured out the assignment. I watched people much younger than me who were building careers, buying houses, finding direction, and walking around acting like they came with factory instructions.

    “Sir, that wasn’t falling behind. That was pruning and you were trying to grow during a drought.”

    Meanwhile I was over here assembling myself out of grief, poetry, trails, unanswered questions, and whatever scraps I could forage.

    It turned out that building yourself is still building something. I eventually just realized it doesn’t come with a graduation ceremony, round of applause, or typical beauty.

    The Call of Nature:

    I swear nature notices things before I do.

    I was up at Flint Ridge recently with Luna after days of heavy rain. The ground was completely soaked. As if the earth had hit capacity and physically could not hold another drop of water.

    Hey rain clouds Mother Earth called and said Ohio has had enough.

    Somehow this local hike I’ve done more than most others is where everything woke up. Mushrooms everywhere,the tiniest growths pushing up through wet ground as if they’d been waiting on exactly that moment. Green everything, soaked in the color of regrowth. Even the Earth outgrows itself.

    Large white mushroom rising from the damp forest floor after heavy rain at Flint Ridge, surrounded by green leaves and fallen branches, symbolizing quiet growth and regrowth.
    “If mushrooms can grow through shit so can you.”

    Now if that ain’t a rude little metaphor.

    Growth does that. Makes you swear you’ve carried too much already, then life says, “Here hold this have some more.” When you’re at your capacity and feel like there’s no room left.

    Yet, more and more things continue to grow there anyway.

    Outgrowing Yourself or Making More Room:

    Funny enough, I’m literally moving right now. Just a few doors down, but the new place is bigger, more space for our lives to actually spread out a little.

    There’s room for my rock garage creative stuff, side endeavors, reading corners, quiet spaces, and Kelsey’s things. Boy oh boy, does Kelsey have a lot of things. There will also be space for Luna to run inside a fence; our kitty boys can run around too. We will be able to exist more freely without everybody feeling stacked on top of each other.

    I keep thinking growth may look a lot like that too.

    Outgrowing yourself doesn’t have to mean becoming somebody new. It doesn’t mean you are throwing away every version of who you were before in the trash can. It’s just the realization you’ve been trying to squish your entire life into spaces that were too small.

    The old versions of us weren’t failures out right or at all. Maybe they were just rooms we eventually grew too big to be in anymore.

    Maybe You’re Not Lost – Final Thoughts:

    After all of this, I think that little flower app owes me an apology or at least some flower. Yes, singular, meaning pass the Mary Jane. That question had entirely too much audacity.

    I started this whole thing thinking I was going to answer a simple prompt, grow my digital flower, and move on with my day. Instead I ended up wandering through survival habits, old versions of myself, grief.

    Close-up of a purple wild iris growing beside a wetland area, with tangled tree branches and green leaves filling the background. Sunlight filters through the trees over the forest floor and water.
    “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” -Anaïs Nin

    Rude.

    Through this I did come to realize outgrowing your old self doesn’t have to mean getting rid of every piece of you.

    I think a lot of us do this on accident and spend years thinking we’re behind everyone else, convinced we missed some grand orientation meeting where people handed out life manuals. Until one day we wake up and realize maybe we weren’t failing. We were just building something different, ourselves.

    Look at all the layers of you buried under survival, guilt, and what you let weigh you down. Did you also think you had to?

    “Sir, respectfully, you’ve been calling yourself lost while you were busy growing roots.”

    I’m curious now:

    Is there something you are you outgrowing, you haven’t admitted to yourself yet?

    What habits, relationships, or beliefs started as survival but quietly unpacked their bags and moved into your personality?

    Are there old versions of you that you still carry around? Do you miss the ones you let go, or just miss how they helped you survive?

    Feel free to answer any of these questions in the comments, write your answer in your journal, or sit with it and just think awhile.

    Don’t blame me if a tiny flower app starts calling you out too.

    TLDR:

    Growth is not always dramatic. Sometimes it looks like outgrowing survival habits, old wounds, and versions of you that once kept you safe.

    Many of us mistake coping mechanisms and survival responses for personality traits. We do not always realize it until they stop fitting.

    Feeling “behind” in life does not always mean you failed. You may have been busy building yourself in ways others missed.

    Outgrowing old versions of yourself can hurt even when growth is necessary; healing isn’t a pleasant ride through and through.

    Growth isn’t always becoming a new person. It is also making room for the person you have been all along.

    Ask yourself: What am I outgrowing right now, and what parts of me no longer fit?

    Pink haired man sitting on the edge of airplane rock overlook. Which is overlooking the vast green forest landscape, or Hocking Hills State Forest, he is forming a heart shape with his hands.
    “Enjoy the peak when it comes, but don’t forget to look back at the beautiful valleys you crossed to get there.”

    Read Some More:

    Psychology Today – Chronic Stress & Survival Mode as A Personality Trait

    ShiftGrit – Mourning Versions of Yourself

    Storia -Let’s be Friends on

    Doing Enough a Journal Entry

    Daily Gratitude Journal Entry

  • Grief, Estrangement, & Losing My Mother:

    Grief, Estrangement, & Losing My Mother:

    Best For:

    Parent loss & grief journal readers, estranged adult children, readers with absent parents, readers who cope with loss through dark humor, and creative writing journal enthusiasts.

    The Vault:

    • A letter to an estranged father; the questions & abandonment he leaves behind.
    • How children learn self-blame, survival patterns, & hyper-independence.
    • Losing my mother & realizing she was the foundation holding everything together.
    • The difference between losing a parent & losing your person.
    • Dark humor, grief, & the strange ways people survive loss.
    • The ordinary moments & memories grief steals long after someone is gone.
    • What remains after parent loss, estrangement, & learning to carry both.
    A candid, slightly blurry vintage photograph showing a woman leaning in to affectionately stick her tongue out at a baby who is facing her, creating a playful and intimate moment.

    Self-Care Pitstop:

    Take a quick pause before we get into it; this post may feel heavy for some readers. We are talking about grief, parent loss, estrangement, and some painful family experiences. Please read this at your own pace, take breaks if you need them, and give yourself room to breathe. The post will still be here if and when you come back.

    Who would you like to talk to soon?

    Grief, Estrangement, & What Remains After Loss:

    I can’t promise you this will be a clean story about grief, estrangement, or family. It does not stay in one place long enough just like me.

    It moves between different kinds of absence: the father I do not speak to and the mother I relied on until she was not there anymore. Between the kind of parent that builds a foundation without you realizing it, and the one that teaches you your first life lesson about trust, distance, and heartbreak.

    Grief does not stay in one shape. She shifts depending on the day, the place, or the smallest trigger. Some days I can feel her coming before she arrives. Other days she hits without warning and takes everything with her for a moment.

    Estrangement & the Weight of Waiting:

    Jake,

    It’s your oldest son, you know, the one you love so much. The one you know nothing about but we will get to that in a minute.

    I finally figured out why your nick-name is “Jake the Snake” I always assumed it was but a silly rhyme, since you’re afraid of them.

    Oh, to be young and innocent again….

    Fuck that. I’m glad I grew to see that it was you who was never good enough for me. I never asked to live with the questions you left me holding onto at such a young age. Left to blame myself for decades and never you until more recently.

    A screenshot of a mobile text message conversation titled "Cok Roach," dated February 14, 2025. The message is a long, vulnerable text expressing a desire for a relationship with their father, asking for a meeting, and articulating frustration regarding his lack of effort and his treatment of others compared to the sender.
    The last message Jake will receive from me, started like this.

    The Only Man I’ve Waited On:

    I just wanted to let you know, again that the parent is the one responsible for maintaining the relationship with their child underage, or not. Though especially when they are underage.

    This was never my responsibility. I didn’t leave you on the porch, I never should have had to beg you to come get me, Jake. You made your six year-old old call you back-to-back, weekend after weekend. You do know that you could have just not called right, or just not offered to come get me.

    You ditched your kid before I could spell my name, but you couldn’t answer your phone?

    Did it make you feel good to know your kid was waiting on you ?

    Did it make you feel good to wait until I lost my mom to try and shift your blame onto her? Spinning excuses like a spider in his web, yet you do know I remember most of it.

    I remember the phone calls, broken promises, and you never showing up.

    You cannot gaslight me, Jake. I mean “Dad.” That is why it has been a few years since I have spoken to you at all and even longer since I have seen you in person.

    I can still taste the bile in my throat every time one of the excuses I made for you comes back to mind. You were not innocent in any of this, and honestly, you were never much of an actor either.

    I cannot believe you had the nerve to try to tell me “you have a father that loves you though.” On a post about me missing my dead mother. You and I know she was the only parent I had. Well actually. Did you get your father of the year award?

    Pop Quiz:

    So “Dad” let’s play a game! You love me? Do you? I have some questions I’d like you to answer for me:

    • what are either of my middle names?
    • When is my birthday including the day, month, & year?
    • On what street & city do I live in?
    • What are my favorites: Color? Food?

    I’ll even make it easy for you Jake. If you know the answer to just one question I’ll speak to you again.

    I’d put a million dollars on it too and never break a sweat. I know you don’t know me at all , Mr. Father of the year.

    Farewell.

    A screenshot of the ending of the same mobile text message conversation. The message expresses deep hurt and exhaustion regarding the sender's attempts to connect with their father, questioning their worthiness of his time and the impossibility of receiving his attention. His father reacted to the message with a thumbs up emoji shown screen.
    This is how it ended, the in between isn’t needed when his reaction paints the story’s end best.

    Forced Weight & Blame Games:

    You want to hear the fucked up part?
    Your kids will carry the weight of blaming themselves for damn near anything and everything. On top of the blame you gift wrapped up for them they will make excuse after excuse just to protect you.

    Isn’t that a shame? Kids would rather blame themselves and carry every ounce of that weight before they ever think to place any of it on you.

    Not that I’m saying I’m grateful I never had to depend on you for survival, but honestly? I would not have made it.

    Kids are not sitting there thinking, “Wow, this adult is failing me.”

    They think:

    “What did I do?”

    “What did I say?”

    “What is wrong with me?”

    Somehow blaming ourselves feels safer than accepting the reality that our own parent simply did not show up the way they should have.

    Kids start believing they can fix it too.

    Maybe I can ask for less.

    Cry less.

    Need less.

    Maybe I need to be quieter, easier, better, smarter somehow.

    At least then there is a reason. At least then there is something to hold onto.

    Looking back now? You and your actions piss me off. I spent years carrying guilt with your damn name written across it while you spent years pretending none of it belonged to you.

    Estrangement teaches children lessons they never signed up for. Children never see this coming, they don’t even know what to look for.
    If we are being honest, I doubt any of us do even now. Trust me, there is no orientation packet waiting at the door either. One minute you need to hear your father’s heartbeat to fall asleep, the next your mom wants a divorce and he takes it out on you, at least in my experience.

    Family portrait of Jake with his three children in the early 2000s, all gathered closely together and smiling in front of a studio backdrop featuring water and flowering trees.
    I look thrilled don’t I? *Rolls eyes*

    Learned patterns of Abuse:

    You learn how to wait, patiently even. And on the days he actually picks up when you call, or, gasp, calls first, you wait on the porch, bags packed, ready to go, but the man doesn’t show.

    The next day, for me typically Saturday, he calls early, says he was stuck at work, promising to see you tonight. You grabbed your bag, the one that is packed and ready to go at any time just in case he wants to stop and pick you up. Again the man doesn’t show; I wonder if he knows how many dinners you had while refusing to move from the porch in case today he finally came.

    You never knew when the day would come; you just know he does actually come some. Your hope starts to dissipate, dwindling away to damn near empty, and it’s almost like he can sense it. A sixth sense for knowing you’re about to give up, so that’s when he decides to typically show up.

    Time after time, excuse after excuse, you make it okay for him because kids become experts at protecting the people they love.

    Maybe work ran late.

    Maybe traffic was bad.

    Maybe something important happened.

    Because if there is a reason, then maybe it hurts less.

    You do not want to sit with the possibility that your dad simply is not coming through. So excuses become defense, and defense slowly becomes survival.

    What Estrangement Teaches Children:

    A lot of these kids learn hyper-independence as second nature. Acting as if you do not need anyone, depending on people starts feeling like a set-up with a hidden agenda. Asking for any simple thing feels dangerous, choosing silence over disappointment every time. These Survival skills have a rude habit of unpacking their bags and refusing to leave even years later.

    People really act like abandonment stays in childhood, as if one day you turn eighteen and it packs its tiny suitcase and says, “well, my work here is done.”

    Yeah, no. I fucking wish. You know what, tell that to my borderline personality disorder please. Maybe the little bitch will pack up all the baggage he brought and finally leave.

    These types of things can mess with people mentally, your brain starts learning patterns whether you asked it to or not. You don’t even have to try and keep track of them; it’s all optimized. It will be noticeable in the way you start second-guessing yourself, expecting disappointment, preparing for people to leave before they even grab their coat.

    Emotionally?

    Oh that gets messy; now anger and grief are roommates and apparently neither one pays rent. Well you won’t like this I just heard they don’t clean up either. You can be pissed and still hurt. Just like you can know somebody failed you and still wish they had shown up anyway. Human beings are inconvenient like that.

    Relationships?

    Thanks dad all this shit you handed me tends to show up in these areas too. Have you noticed the way you always over explain yourself? What about that extra reassurance you need? Do you live in a state of expecting people to leave?

    I bet you are a black belt at keeping walls up! Asking anyone for help leaves you with shame and guilt. Look what having needs in the first place got you. Left on the porch, week after week. Obviously every child with a deadbeat for a parent does not turn out the exact same way. Though our brains so learn patterns and kids who spend years waiting on their parent to love them can grow into adults still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

    One of them left traces everywhere; the other exists in scattered pieces.

    Axton N.O. Mitchell

    Love, Memory, & What I Didn’t Understand:

    A woman with long hair and white sweater holds her baby who smiles with a ponytail. Blue background department store family photo.

    Dear Mom,

    I did not quite understand while you were here just how much of my world was held up by you. I knew I was always safe with you. I knew I never had to worry about you leaving me. I have a hard time understanding the situations of people who have no bond at all with their mothers, and I think that’s because I could never see you choosing to walk away from me.

    I also don’t think I fully understood the size of what you were to me until you were forced to leave me as well. When a person has always been there, you start believing somewhere deep down that they always will be. Almost as if we forget death exists until we are given no choice but to look deep inside its existence.

    I wonder if you know the one constant I have ever experienced was you. You know the thing I remember the most about softball, basketball, and martial arts? You, in the crowd, cheering the loudest of all. Every single memory, you are there. You always made sure you showed up because I mattered to you, and it mattered to me.

    Looking back now, in retrospect, I see things differently than I did when I was younger. I see somebody trying their hardest with the little they were given. I see a woman who, despite everything thrown at her, showed up for the people she held close, and she raised a little sad girl into the man you see today. You carried responsibilities, stress, fears, and still made more than enough room for me and all my pieces inside of it all.

    A candid, high-angle snapshot showing a child wearing a green shirt sitting on the floor in front of a recliner while their mother sits in the chair behind them. Mom has a white shirt on while actively putting curlers in the kid’s hair. Both are making silly, exaggerated faces at the camera. A brown dog dog is positioned right next to them, looking toward the lens with a calm expression.

    Strength:

    When I was younger, if you asked me what strength looked like, my answer would have been a reflection on something physical. Nobody teaches you that it doesn’t always come dressed up as something big, forceful, or loud. A lot of the time, strength wears different outfits and looks like stretching what you have, yet always, without fail, making it enough.

    Strength looks like making sure your kid has what they need while quietly going without things yourself, or being exhausted and still showing up. You were the best example of strength I have seen throughout my life. You took all my problems, sorrows, worries, and painful places on as your own.

    You loved me through it all.

    I wish I had understood sooner how much love was hiding inside the things I thought were ordinary. I always knew you were extraordinary, but I wish I learned just how rare the bond we shared was before you took your leave. I just want to actually tell you that your presence just made everything better.

    Your Ordinary:

    At this moment, and every moment since you left this life, I have known I would give anything for your ordinary again.

    Axton age 12 left side, red shirt, mom right side grey sweater.

    I would do pretty much anything for one more ride in the car with you. I’d have the Yung Joc album ready. Remember you used to overplay it so much, and now I play it when I miss you. I would gladly sing along with you too. I might as well. I already try to pretend that while I’m listening and singing along, you are too, wherever you may be.

    To be blessed by one more random conversation, or if I could steal one chance to hear your laugh from the other room one more time, I think I would be able to tread lighter for at least a few days. I would even take another instance of you yelling for me from across the house, “turn the volume up please, hoopie.” One more chance to see your smile and not in a picture, dream, or immediately realize that it is a memory.

    I miss things I never thought I would have to miss.

    • Being able to call you.
    • Your last phone number still saved under your name.
    • Getting voicemails from you. I still have the last one you left and I do not think I will ever delete it.
    • You making fun of me.
    • The feeling of knowing that no matter how ugly life got, somewhere out there was still my mom.
    • I even miss existing at the same time as you.

    That sounds ridiculous until you lose somebody it is here that you will truly understand .

    Mom, I am so sorry.

    I wish I could tell you I didn’t mean to take all the bullshit out on you that I have. I spent years not fully seeing who was standing right in front of me. I am sorry I didn’t understand that the love I kept searching for from another parent was already there inside you too. The truth is, you loved me in a way that made it okay to be me, and you loved me enough for way more than that.

    You never made me feel like I had to become somebody else. You fought me to try and love me during years where I struggled to love myself. Through anger, confusion, pain, and everything else life brought my way, you loved me. You loved me when I felt not worthy of anything.

    I don’t think I say this enough, even now: you were my best friend. Not in the casual way people say, “my mom is my best friend.”

    I mean really.
    You were my person.

    • the only one I trusted always.
    • the one I relied on.
    • the place I went when things hurt.
    • You were home.

    That is why this feels so unfair, even still.

    A close-up, high-angle selfie of two people. On the left, the person wears a black baseball cap and a green-and-black plaid shirt, playfully sticking out their tongue to show a tongue piercing. Next to them on the right, their mother is smiling warmly.

    Pickup the Phone:

    People pretend like grief is just missing someone, like the grieving are experiencing sadness akin to crying on anniversaries and hard days.

    Grief is realizing my first instinct is still to call or text you and you cannot answer. When something happens and I think, “I need Mom,” before reality catches up, grief lives there. Learning that there are some losses you do not move on from, but continue living by just learning how to carry them. I still have not figured out how to carry the entire weight of losing you. I doubt I ever will.

    I didn’t just lose my mom.

    • my safest place.
    • my best friend.
    • the person who loved me before I even knew who I was.
    • I lost home.

    And I will forever be changed because of it.

    Love always,

    Axton.

    A close-up selfie of three people smiling brightly together (left to right: Axton, Mady, Stacy (Axton’s Mom)

    What Does Not Leave With Them:

    I think one of the hardest parts about losing a parent is realizing you can know something logically and still feel something completely different emotionally. My mom used to tell me she would never leave me. Not in some huge dramatic speech either. It was one of those things said in regular moments that quietly become part of our relationship. The kind of thing you believe without question because certain people feel permanent.

    Before anybody starts with technicalities, yes, I know she did not choose this. I know death chose it. I know she did not wake up one day and decide she was done being my mom. I know all of that already.

    It still hurts because knowing somebody did not choose to leave you and feeling left anyway are apparently two completely different things.

    I know my mom loved me and fought to stay. I understand she would have stayed if she could have.

    That being said I still feel abandoned.

    I still catch myself wanting to argue with reality over it too. Somewhere inside me there is still a version of me saying, Nope. Absolutely not. Give her back. Like if I get angry enough maybe somebody will realize a mistake was made and fix it.

    Eight days before my thirtieth birthday I lost my mom, and I do not think I understood until then just how much of my life had her fingerprints on it.

    My family dissolved. Not because my sisters disappeared and not because people suddenly stopped existing. My mom was one of those people holding pieces together in ways you do not notice until they are gone. Then suddenly things shift. Things change shape. Things stop feeling familiar. Everything felt different afterward.

    We all know life and death are part of things. We all know people die eventually. I have lost people before.

    Nothing felt like this because losing people and losing your person are not the same thing.

    A close-up selfie of Axton and his mother. The mother is on the left, wearing a red baseball cap, and Axton is on the right, wearing a plaid shirt.

    My First Phone Call:

    My mom was my first phone call. Not only when life fell apart either.

    I’d call her for:

    • Good things
    • Bad things
    • Random things
    • Stupid things
    • Things that didn’t even matter
    • advice
    • If I was excited.
    • When I’d get annoyed.
    • A lot of the time though I just wanted to hear her voice.

    Sometimes I still want to call. Not metaphorically either, literally. Something happens and for a split second my brain still goes, call Mom, and then reality catches up.

    A close-up selfie of Axton N.O. Mitchell on the left and his mother on the right.

    Voicemails, Text Messages, & Memory:

    I still have her last voicemail saved, our texts, and Facebook messages as well. I read them when missing her gets a little too loud. I wish I had more of our random conversations though.

    Somehow out of everything I miss, one of the things I would give anything for is another one of those damn animal videos she used to send all day long.

    My sisters and I used to joke about them and roll our eyes because if she was awake there was a good chance another one was coming.

    Now I would give anything for my phone to light up with even just one more.

    That is the stuff grief sneaks up and steals. It is not always giant moments either, it takes ordinary things especially.

    I still miss hearing her yell, “cabs are here,” like Pauly D, or Gordon Ramsay playing in the background. I would love to go back to sitting around watching Snapped, Wives with Knives, and Killer Kids, just to name a few. I would give anything to taste cabbage rolls, mashed potatoes, and corn, made like you would fix. I miss being called Hoopie, and I used to think I hated it.

    A Facebook messenger preview sent to Axton by his mom screen shot showing messages, ft Top Message: a scenic photograph of a forest under a dramatic, cloudy sky, titled "Lower Falls Yellowstone" from the National Park Service. Bottom message: A meme shared featuring a black cat looking directly at the camera with the text, "I don't always vomit," overlaid on the image.

    Grief Isn’t What I Thought it Was:

    I think grief changes with time, but not in the way people imagine. In the beginning it felt like drowning constantly. Always existing inside the hurt. I would wake up feeling the weight inside my chest. I could only forget for about half of a second and then I would remember again.

    Now it comes in waves; now I can laugh, work, have good days. I sometimes go stretches where I genuinely feel okay.

    Then out of nowhere I am crying in my car on the way to work and I feel stupid as hell; I have to walk inside with eyes that are puffy. I have to walk inside wondering if everybody can tell.

    Half the time I cannot even tell you what caused it. Sometimes it is a song, a memory, or absolutely nothing.

    All I know is grief can go from sitting quietly in the corner to putting me on my ass out of nowhere.

    Sometimes I get residents at work who resemble my mom in certain ways and everything inside me gets weird.

    A smile.

    The way they talk.

    A facial expression. Then suddenly I am standing there questioning why I am even doing what I do.

    I moved because grief started attaching itself to places too.

    Roads hurt.

    Streets hurt.

    The Urn Moment:

    I could not keep looking at these places while my brain kept expecting to find somebody who was not there anymore.

    I think grief also did something to my sense of humor. I make a lot of dead mom jokes now; I know that I make people uncomfortable with them sometimes too.

    Somebody says, “your mom,” and I hit them with, “Dude, she’s dead.” Or another person says, “fuck your mom,” and suddenly I am explaining, “Ew, she’s dust,” because she got cremated.

    I hand people my mom’s urn and tell them, “say hi to Mom,” before they fully realize what I just handed them. Then I wait for the delayed look on their face when it finally clicks.

    Before somebody acts like dark humor means it hurts less, trust me, I can joke about my dead mom and still end up crying in my car three days later because a resident smiled in a way that reminded me of her.

    I can laugh and still miss her.

    Apparently grief can make you devastatingly sad and a smartass at the same time. This kind of humor is part of how I survive it.

    After my mom died, part of me attached itself to the living things still connected to her too.

    She had two dogs and a chinchilla. Then in 2025 two of them passed away. In 2026 the last one left us too.

    In between, we lost her husband too.

    Then one day it hit me that outside of my sisters, every living connection I had left to my mom was gone too.

    That hurt in a way I was not expecting.

    They were not just animals.

    They were family.

    Little reminders that pieces of my mom still existed outside of photos, objects, and memories.

    Then one by one those disappeared too.

    Apparently grief likes collecting things in pieces.

    I still talk to her out loud on hikes, I still miss her, and honestly I still have not figured out what the hell I am supposed to do with any of this.

    Axton Mitchell & Mom Last Photo together
    Axton & Mom last photo together November 2020. I love you, mom. Rest in Paradise.

    Carrying The Pieces

    I do not think grief resolves. It does not really end or settle into something clean. It just shifts over time, depending on the day and what gets triggered.

    Some days it is quiet in the background. Other days it is not. It can show up in ordinary moments without warning. Usually before I have time to prepare for it.

    There are still habits that remain, the things I reach for without thinking, or say out loud even though there is no one there to answer me. There are reminders of her that still exist in small, everyday details that never fully stop meaning something.

    I do not think the missing part goes away. You just learn how to function while carrying it.

    That is what this becomes: not something finished, but something you continue living with.

    “Where one planted permanence and poured in light; the other planted pain, watered by precarity.”

    – Axton N.O. Mitchell”

    TLDR:

    Parent estrangement does not always end in adulthood. Sometimes the waiting, self-blame, and survival habits follow you long after childhood ends.

    Kids with absent parents often blame themselves before they ever blame the adult who hurt them. You start believing you can somehow earn the love you should have received freely.

    I spent years waiting on a father who rarely showed up and years not fully understanding that the parent who always did was my mom.

    Eight days before my thirtieth birthday, I lost her. Losing my mother was not just losing a parent; it felt like losing my safest place, my best friend, and home itself.

    Grief did not leave me with only sadness. It left me with dark humor, old voicemails, random memories, and a thousand ordinary things I never thought I would miss.

    Some losses do not end or resolve neatly. You just learn how to keep carrying the pieces.

    Continue Reading:

    Healthline – Navigating the Grief of Losing a Parent

    Parents – Why Adult Children are Divorcing their Parents

    A Poetic Reflection on Parents who Left Us Waiting – Milk

    Celebrating my mother’s life after loss & maintaining our bond

  • Meadow Run Ohiopyle: A Narrative Field Journal on Memory & Place

    Meadow Run Ohiopyle: A Narrative Field Journal on Memory & Place

    Best For:

    Ohiopyle return thrill-seekers, hikers with Appalachian dreams, readers who enjoy nature journals, experimental creative nonfiction enthusiasts, individuals questioning childhood memories, and seekers of trail realities.

    Trail Notes:

    • Logistics & Timeline: May 6th, 2026 |approx. 1PM EST|approx. 1 mile in 35 mins.|Meadow Run Trail Ohiopyle State Park Pennsylvania|Dog-friendly on leash|Free State Park Entry & Slide use|
    • Conditions & Weather: sunshine following earlier heavy morning rain |wet | slick rock outcroppings|
      high-velocity water flow|
    • Physical Limits & Gear Reality: Navigated terrain in trunk-kept footwear| hard reassessment of physical boundaries |violent reality of the bedrock chute|
    • The Psychological Arc: confrontation memory distortion |contrasting supervised childhood recollection & the wild terrain|
      emotional anchoring in wild spaces|
    • Gorge Environment & Wildlife: temperature drop in gorge| Great Laurel Rhododendron| fly fishing in the oxygenated pools| threat of timber rattlesnakes & copperheads|
    • Park Philosophy: lack of hand-holding|No, excessive safety signs | landscape communicates its risks to the hiker|sign fatigue vs. natural selection|

    Ohiopyle State Park

    Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania
    Natural waterslides caution sign, metal with brown paint background and white font in front of a dense green forest.

    Cresting the Threshold:

    There is a fine line between Appalachian confidence and outright delusion, and usually, it takes a cold dose of moving water to tell the difference.

    When returning to a place you haven’t laid eyes on since over two decades it is always a gamble; you expect the waterfalls and chutes to look smaller, the trees to look different, but at least you know the memories will hold steady…

    The rushing water of the natural waterslide at Meadow Run Ohiopyle Pennsylvania, cascadeds over rugged, layered stone ledges into a stream. The scene is framed by large, moss-covered boulders and a lush Appalachian forest with tall, mature trees. The focus is on the dynamic movement of the water as it flows over the distinct, rocky terrain of the creek bed.

    Wild spaces have a way of rejecting our nostalgia and forcing a few sudden, sharp choices. I didn’t know stepping into this pocket of the gorge wasn’t just going to be about tracing a map from my past it was about finding out what happens when your eyes zoom out to see one of the most dangerous things you have ever done in your life.

    Chaos and Comebacks:

    After leaving Ferncliff Trail Loop, on May 6th 2026 at around 1pm est. It was time for Tae and I to make a pit stop . I definitely needed to go get some car and people fuel. Our plan was to go to Cucumber falls after the fuel stop originally.

    However as fate would have it we drove directly past the natural slide area in route to the gas station. I had intended on looking to see where it was before we headed out of this area since it was the only other place I had been here as a child.

    Though fate aligned us and provided me with the opportunity to stop before we went to cucumber falls since we turn onto the road for the falls across from the parking lot to the natural slide. It was directly between the two.

    A selfie of two people standing in front of a wooden fence near the parking lot that is overlooking the natural waterslide at Meadow Run Ohiopyle State Park. The man on the right, has short, vibrant pink hair, glasses, and a black t-shirt featuring a graphic print of a skull surrounded by a sunburst. Beside him stands his friend and hiking companion, who is wearing a grey, zip-up fleece jacket over a black shirt, holding a phone in her hand. The background features the rushing water of the creek bed, rugged, layered stone ledges, and the lush, green canopy of the Appalachian forest.

    Don’t Talk About it Be About it:

    I was talking shit about how I was gonna do the slide again. Telling Tae I didn’t care how cold it was and how she was a baby. Elaborating that since she wouldn’t do Mount Davis High Point observation tower with me and now this too?

    Yea, she was a babyyyyy. The majority of the way to get gas and back after we had agreed to stop there next this was the tone in the car.

    Let’s Explore, Some More:

    We stopped here to really explore in the area. I am still excited every time I park that like in Ohio the State Parks in Pennsylvania are free too.

    We pulled in by the Park signage, I parked my car, and noticed only one other car was in the lot. At the top of the stairs there are a few other signs, one is a warning sign about the dangers of the waters here. The other is one of those three sided ones a lot of parks, and trail heads use that have plastic over the front and contain pamphlets.

    On the other side of the stairs was one of those weird-looking heavy metal latching trash bins. I recently found out are used to keep the bear out.

    As we crested the staircase that leads down to the natural slide area I slowly started to grasp just how insane this slide was. My tone changed almost instantly, every drop of cockiness was washed away.

    Three tiny white cap mushroom grow in between forest floor foliage of brown leaves and twigs with grass showing in the far background.

    Taelor had not yet noticed that I had decided already against sliding down anything here, after taking it in even at this distance. To be fair, my sudden personality change did not come completely out of nowhere.

    I am not Sliding Down That:

    I was in a car accident directly after I turned twenty-one, and as a result have 4 herniated discs in total. Two are located in my lower back and the other two in my neck.

    Every good hiking enthusiast, nature lover, outdoorsman and any others who have an affinity with the outdoors knows this already. However, incase you don’t, a large part of staying safe out here and continuing to do so is simply knowing your body’s limits.

    Is Meadow Run Safe? Sure if you have the Dr. on speed dial.

    The first thought I formed was the only one I needed to know; this looks like a definite hospital trip, for me at least. Since my lifelong waterslide comeback tour died almost immediately, I started actually looking around instead.

    We did so little at this stop all those years ago I had not even realized you could hike too, on The Meadow Run Trail. This popular 3-mile loop commonly is praised for stunning scenery, massive rock formations, and beautiful river views. These usually accompany notes to tread carefully, or point out slippery footing from mud and technical terrain.

    A vertical view of the natural waterslide at Meadow Run Ohiopyle, featuring rushing white water carving through dark, layered, and weathered rock formations. The stream is flanked by steep, textured stone ledges on either side, leading into a lush Appalachian forest filled with dense green foliage and tall trees.

    The Natural Waterslide & The Fisherman:

    The Natural Waterslide at Meadow Run is highly celebrated as a thrilling and unique geological wonder. Visitors do frequently caution people in regards to slides physically unforgiving, bumpy nature.

    How’s Meadow Run Waterslide? Well, it has been known to leave riders bruised and battered, if that helps.

    While walking around the general area of the water slide I show Taelor the things here and there regarding fossils, rock formations, and my childhood trip. Next to the pool at the bottom is a fly fisherman in action.

    This sight prompted me to look at Taylor and say, do you really think that someone could catch a fish in the bottom of this? After I got home and looked up a few things again, I find out yes, this is actually a very good area for certain species.

    After we had walked the same side as the steps side of the slide in full, Tae laughing, asked me if I was ready to go down it yet?

    I’m not sure if she figured out that I definitely wasn’t doing it before she asked. It was almost like I prepared to answer for this moment: “You know what, I think last time I spent enough time in the water.

    A view of the creek at Meadow Run, where water churns and flows around large, smoothed boulders and partially submerged logs. The foreground features a scattering of smaller river stones, leading into the main channel where the water creates gentle rapids. The entire scene is set against the backdrop of a dense, vibrant green Appalachian forest, with tall trees rising from the bank.

    The Trail at Meadow Run:

    I love to hike and I didn’t realize there was a trail here until now. We don’t have to do the whole thing since we have already done a bit and we have a bit more to do, still….

    If you don’t mind, I’d like to see a little of this as well. I spent my first trip focusing on the water. Let’s keep this one about the land and seeing the water from it.”
    Of course she agreed why wouldn’t she?

    With that, we headed back up towards the trailhead, which is just after the start of the slide. We logged roughly one mile in 35 minutes taking our time walking the trail area and the rocky ledges along the waterway.

    A selfie of Axton, standing on the rugged, layered stone ledges beside the natural waterslide at Meadow Run Ohiopyle State Park. He has short, vibrant pink hair, glasses, and is wearing a black t-shirt with a skull-and-sunburst graphic. In the background, is the rocky bank and waterway which is surrounded by a lush Appalachian forest.

    When the rain from earlier decided to not return, we were able to take our time picking the different ways we wanted to get over the rocks.

    Oh yea and I was so hellbent on not forgetting anything and rechecking that I forgot my hiking shoes at home. Leaving me to do most of these areas in thumbprint crocs or my mom’s old hiking boots, which I did wear on this area.

    I just don’t love to wear them all the time and keep them in my trunk with a few other things I may need for a spontaneous hike. I also wore my trunk-kept athletic shoes earlier in the rain on Mount Davis early this morning. I wouldn’t suggest doing the same if you aren’t physically prepared to do so.

    I mean come on I did most of my stops on the blue ridge parkway area of NC during the summer of 2025 in Nike slides, safely. That doesn’t mean you should try it too. Actually, speaking of questionable choices…

    Ohhhh That Smell:

    I got a good laugh while we were scrambling over the rocks, at taelor who was taking an ungodly amount of time to pick the way she was going over the rocky outcropping and her foot placement as well.

    Laughing still, at the wheels visibly turning in Tae’s brain as she took each step, we noticed a smell. Sniffing the air like blood hounds we knew that smell all too well. I had honestly forgot to look up Pennsylvania laws, so we had tried to keep it lowkey.

    I know you know nobody can smell anything better than a pot smoker that smells weed in the air. Like a gift from God, we ran into the culprits.

    A low-angle, close-up shot of a single brown mushroom growing from a mossy log on a forest floor. The mushroom is in sharp focus, while the lush, green canopy and dense undergrowth of the Appalachian forest behind it are slightly blurred.

    AWKWARD:

    When we passed one another I took my opportunity, and asked the two of them what the law was? Adding it was for my own personal knowledge, since I live in a legal state and I just was looking for more information to know where and how we needed to smoke safely.

    One of them asked, “wait, why do you think it’s us?” The four of us laughed almost in unison before I could catch my breath to inform them that they looked like we’d all probably hangout and smoke each other out. Plus the only person we saw otherwise was the fisherman.

    They laughed again, and one of them asked the million dollar question, “Then why does it matter?” We parted with a wish for each group to have a good day. After gaining player XP for our little side quest, we kept it pushing.

    Flora & Fungi on the Trail:

    On the trail I had a pleasant surprise. The fungi, moss, flora (like mountain laurel among others), and different rock features this area offered without demanding you hike through the full trail was a rewarding bonus to any hike.

    A low-angle, close-up shot of four white tiny, delicate mushrooms with pale caps growing directly from a fallen, weathered twig on the forest floor. A vibrant patch of green moss sits to the left, and the background is filled with the soft, out-of-focus textures of leaves, twigs, and dense forest foliage.

    Though coupled with the water features here it just goes to show why this trail is so popular. I can imagine what the rest of it has to offer those who decide to trek the entirety. Being back here again did keep pulling me into one thought though.

    Childhood Memories:

    Maybe my small childhood attention span was fully enamored by it back then. I did wonder a good bit after seeing it again how I slid down this when I was only twelve. The pictures do not do it justice it looks somehow more brutal than in my memory.

    That may also be because my memory includes safety features that did not exist in reality. Once that thought got stuck in my head, more little pieces started resurfacing. My new problem seemed to be that I suddenly wasn’t so sure how many of them I should trust, if any.

    My First Trip:

    When I came with the church youth group as a child I did this slide a few times over. There are a few specific things I remember from different parts of this trip, some of which I have figured out since are simply untrue. I know we came here first to do the slide before we did the multiple class level rapids later in the day.

    Our rapids experience was a chaotic mess by all accounts but a blast the same.

    A tranquil view of a stream flowing past a weathered, layered rock bank above the natural Waterslide. Overhanging rhododendron branches with green leaves reach toward the water, which is clear enough to reveal the rocky, textured bed beneath the surface.

    Newsflash Memories Lie:

    I specifically remember a pool at the bottom that had a larger drop than the one I saw this trip. Did the water continuing to erode the rock changing the portion you were able to see?

    With this I swore employees of the park were here, you would think that was logical. I remember some at the start and finish guiding the sliders way. Yet, our trip in the beginning of May proved none were here. Was it simply too early in the season for them to truly be needed? Maybe my memory implanted them there unconsciously, but for what purpose?

    I don’t remember paying, but as a kid I wouldn’t have, and there is no one here to take my money. Well yea, because Meadow Run Natural Waterslide at Ohiopyle State Park in Pennsylvania is free,

    I also thought they gave us mats for the ride down, currently I see no mats present to even grab on your own. Along with these things I too know the slide hurt, as my back smacked off of rock walls the entire way.

    On second thought, maybe I should say I thought in reference to all of this since my memory is proving unreliable.

    Though I can see the section that at one point dipped further down and took me all the way under then brought me back up. Shaped like a “u” motion, but who even knows if that was the case?

    Let me be Vulnerable:

    To be completely transparent, this bothered me more than I expected. The more I sat with it afterward, the more I realized I was not just questioning this place. I was questioning how much of what I remembered was actually memory and how much of it my brain may have filled in on its own.

    A side-profile view of a prominent sandstone ledge overhanging a section of Meadow Run, showcasing the distinct, layered rock formations characteristic of the area. Below the ledge, the stream flows over a rugged stone bed, framed by a mossy tree trunk and a dense, verdant Appalachian forest canopy that filters the light across the gorge.

    The Protective Illusion of Memory:

    Memory has a weird, almost shocking way of editing reality after the fact. Childhood memories especially are not exact recordings. They are closer to reconstructions. Psychologists call part of this process schema fill-in.

    Schema:

    A schema acts like a blueprint in your mind. When we look back at blurry memories, the brain fills in missing spaces with details that feel like they should have existed. Recreational places often come packaged with expectations of structure, supervision, and safety. So later on, your mind can quietly slide those details into memories that never actually contained them.

    Emotional Anchoring:

    This also connects to emotional anchoring. Feelings tend to survive better than logistics do. If an experience felt organized, safe, or supervised, that emotional reality can become stronger than exact visual recall.

    A woman stands on the rugged, flat stone ledge along the banks of Meadow Run. She is wearing a grey, zip-up fleece jacket and patterned, tie-dye style pants, focused on examining a small object held in her hands. The scene is shaded by large, overhanging rhododendron branches, with the rushing water of the creek flowing beside her and a dense, green Appalachian forest in the background.

    Retroactive Protection:

    Then there is retroactive protection. After frightening experiences, especially during childhood, the brain has a way of softening rough edges over time. The memory itself stays intact, but some details reshape into versions that feel a little less threatening.

    Which honestly makes places like Meadow Run interesting. There is very little structured protection here. No polished amusement park setup. No obvious safety net. Just enough chaos that I doubt I’m the only person whose childhood memory got creatively edited over time.

    The reality stands in sharp contrast to places like Sliding Rock in North Carolina. While both are natural waterslides, they offer completely different experiences with the wild.Meadow Run basically hands you rock and water, then says:

    “Good luck.” Then as an afterthought it adds: “Hope you’ve got a few bars of service.”

    A high-angle view of the natural waterslide at Meadow Run, showing rushing white water channeling through a narrow, weathered sandstone chute. The stream is framed by steep, layered rock ledges on both sides, with a vibrant green canopy of lush trees arching over the gorge.

    Which did make me stop and wonder: why did this place feel so much rougher than I remembered?

    Turns out the answer starts with the rock itself.

    The Hydrology of a Bedrock Chute:

    Why does Meadow Run feel so different? Despite being called a natural waterslide, that is not really what it is. And no, it is not technically a waterfall either.

    Waterfalls drop freely over an edge. Meadow Run stays attached to the stone itself, forcing water through a narrow sandstone chute that creates an extremely concentrated, high-velocity flow. The same geology that carved this place into a thrill ride also carved real hazards into it.

    As water cut through fractures in the rock, it formed deep circular pockets called eddy potholes. During lower water they look interesting enough. During higher flows from heavy rain or snowmelt, they can become hydraulic traps capable of producing violent recirculating currents.

    Locals even have something called the football test. They toss a football down the slide and watch it disappear into swirling pockets before eventually resurfacing downstream.

    A close-up view of layered, moss-covered sandstone formations. Small, delicate purple wildflowers grow from the crevices and mossy surfaces of the rock, highlighting the rugged textures and natural growth found within the forest environment.

    Flash flooding adds another layer of risk. Meadow Run drains a large watershed, meaning storms miles away can raise water levels fast with almost no warning. Mix that with slick sandstone, underwater shelves, hidden crevices, and jagged rock formations, and suddenly this feels a lot less like a waterslide and much more like wild river terrain.

    The slide itself rarely makes headlines for fatalities. That does not mean rescue crews stay bored.

    Fractures, back injuries, and swift-water rescues still happen regularly. People have a funny habit of discovering things one moment too late. Nature has never really cared much about rounding its corners for safety. Still, Meadow Run does something oddly soft after all of that. In between the chaos and hazard warnings, the place still manages to feel strangely secluded too.

    Life Inside the Gorge:

    For something built around rushing water and chaos, the gorge somehow feels strangely sealed off from the outside world.

    Massive Great Laurel Rhododendrons crowd the trail edges so heavily that sections almost resemble green tunnels. Between the steep gorge walls and heavy canopy, the temperature drops noticeably. Walk down the stairs and you may genuinely wonder who left the air conditioning running outside.

    If you are like me, seeing fishermen standing near those plunge pools feels ridiculous at first. I actually had to double take.

    A top-down, close-up shot of a single, light-brown mushroom cap emerging through a damp forest floor covered in a mosaic of fallen brown leaves. Nearby, a patch of bright green moss grows on a dark, decaying piece of wood, providing a sharp color contrast against the earthy tones of the leaf litter.

    The man, his waders, and his fishing pole followed me home mentally and annoyed me enough that I looked into it just to make sense of it. Turns out he knew exactly what he was doing. The rushing water constantly pumps oxygen into the pools while carrying insects and smaller food sources downstream. Basically, the current built a buffet.

    Despite feeling like a place that would absolutely destroy anything entering it, several trout species thrive here. Meanwhile the larger wildlife around Ohiopyle generally stays hidden. Black bears roam the park but usually avoid crowded places like Meadow Run.

    The creatures hikers are more likely to accidentally meet sit much lower.
    Listen carefully, at least for one species.

    If you hear one before you startle it, your day improves immediately.
    Timber rattlesnakes and copperheads blend into rocks and leaf litter so well that locals joke worrying about bears while ignoring your feet is peak Appalachian logic.

    A side-angle view of a rushing stream as it flows past large, mossy boulders and weathered rock formations. The water is churned and turbulent in the foreground, while the background features a dense Appalachian forest with lush, vibrant green foliage and tall, mature trees

    That whole balance and battle between beauty and risk kept sticking with me. The park itself seemed in on the joke.

    Wild Spaces & Park Philosophy:

    One thing that stood out to me returning here as an adult was how little warning exists around something that feels this intense. That is not accidental.

    Pennsylvania parks intentionally avoid covering every trail with warning signs because of something called sign fatigue. Too many signs eventually become background noise and people stop reading them altogether.

    Instead places like Ohiopyle focus on major hazards while leaving the landscape itself to do some of the talking.

    Almost like:

    Open your eyes. You see the danger. Act accordingly. I still cannot decide whether that feels more like park management’s version of survival of the fittest or natural selection.

    A low-angle, eye-level shot of a large, decaying log resting on the forest floor, its surface heavily textured and blanketed in patches of vibrant green moss and small shelf fungi. The surrounding area is densely wooded, featuring thick rhododendron bushes and a canopy of green leaves filtering the overhead light.

    Probably somewhere in the middle. Once you notice it though you start seeing it everywhere.

    Bear-proof trash cans replace giant warning boards. Wildlife information gets moved into visitor centers and brochures instead of cluttering trails.

    The goal is not removing risk,but keeping it wild. Otherwise this just becomes another carefully manicured and curated park.
    Unlike spas, theme parks, and places designed for relaxing, the wild does not care about your comfort level.

    Maybe this is exactly why places like the Natural Waterslide stay with people for years. Even if our brains occasionally rewrite parts of the story afterward.

    Before I completely get lost and wander off into my next hike, there was one last thing I realized while looking into all of this.

    The Geological Intersect:

    Realizing how raw and unmanaged this place felt immediately brought me back to the research from Ferncliff Peninsula.

    If you caught the hiking journal, Intimacy in the Returning: Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle, then these stones underfoot will feel familiar. Meadow Run and Ferncliff share the same geological DNA. Since they both sit on Homewood Sandstone they contain many of the same prehistoric plant fossils, including Lepidodendron trees and Calamites horsetails.

    A close-up, top-down view of a single light-purple wildflower in full bloom, featuring five distinct, delicate petals sprinkled with tiny water droplets. Below the main blossom, soft, fuzzy green buds are visible, set against a blurred, lush green forest background.

    If you want the deeper fossil breakdown or larger geological story, that all lives over in the Ferncliff journal. The area there used this sandstone to create rocky overlooks and roaring falls while Meadow Run took the exact same materials and turned them into something else entirely.

    Where Ferncliff showed broad river shelves; the natural water slide answers with what happens when water finds a tiny flaw in stone. Then decided to spend thousands of years exploiting it.

    Clearing The Residue of the Wild:

    Leaving the canopy behind doesn’t mean the trail stops living inside your soul and in your being. The true weight of an unmanaged space is that it stays under your fingernails and inside your thoughts long after you’ve tracked the mud back to the floorboards of the car. After that the best ones will typically continue to live in your brain and camera roll for a long time still.

    We step into these wild wildernesses looking for a chance at a clean break from the chaos and confusion. Though when we are ready to leave them, and move on. We usually end up leaving carrying a different set of baggage, too bad this one forces us to carry the weight of questioning.

    A rugged, shaded path through a wooded area, featuring stacked, moss-covered sandstone slabs that form a natural stairway. A fallen tree trunk stretches diagonally across the scene, under the canopy of overhanging rhododendron branches with lush green leaves, set within the dense Appalachian forest.

    Don’t look into the blueprints we use to build our past for too long. Nature doesn’t offer a neatly wrapped gift or a polished warning sign; it just recedes into the background, leaving you to sort through the internal shifts alone left in the wake of the high-velocity-current.

    You pull away from the ledge with a little more dust on your boots, than two decades and some change ago, a fresh spark in the tank, and the quiet understanding that some places are meant to be witnessed from the edge, not conquered.

    TLDR:

    Two decades blurred the reality of memories. Standing at the edge of the Meadow Run Ohiopyle Natural Waterslide shattered a soft childhood memory, replacing it with immediate, real danger.

    We navigated the slick, sandstone gorge in trunk-boots and experienced a forced brutal reality check. This demanded a hard reassessment of physical limits against an unforgiving landscape.

    A woman is seated on a large, layered rock ledge alongside the rushing water at Meadow Run in Ohiopyle State Park. She is wearing a grey, zip-up fleece jacket and patterned, tie-dye style pants, looking down at her phone. The ledge is part of a rugged, weathered stone landscape surrounded by a lush Appalachian forest with tall trees and dense green foliage.

    Leaving the canopy means carrying the internal shifts home. While it leaves you with a quiet understanding that some wild, chaotic spaces are meant to be witnessed from the edge, not conquered, but it’s okay for me at least I did it multiple times twenty plus years ago.

    Plan Your Visit:

    Mount Davis – Pennsylvania’s highest point

    Mount Savage – Our first stop Maryland.

    AllTrails – Meadow Run

    A scenic view of a rushing stream cascading over rocky terrain. A large, weathered tree trunk lies diagonally across the water, partially submerged in the flowing current. The stream is framed by large, moss-covered boulders and the dense, green foliage of the surrounding Appalachian forest.
  • Intimacy in Returning: Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle – Falls, Friends, & Forgotten Things

    Intimacy in Returning: Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle – Falls, Friends, & Forgotten Things

    Best For:

    Hikers planning Appalachian or Pennsylvania waterfall hiking trips, geology-curious walkers interested in fossil-bearing sandstone, readers who use nature to process memory and time, emotional based nature journaling enthusiasts, and visitors exploring the river gorge systems and historic trail landscapes at Ohiopyle State Park in western Pennsylvania.

    Trail Notes:

    •  Logistics: May 6 | 2.2-mile loop | 1 hour 19 minutes | sunshine breaking after rain
    • Conditions: Earlier rainfall left the ground fully saturated. By the time we started, temperatures had climbed into the mid-60s, creating humid air, persistently sticky mud, slick sandstone surfaces, and some wet roots that provided obstacles through shaded forest sections.
    • Markers: Ferncliff Trail is blazed in yellow markers, painted on trees and continuing directly across exposed sandstone along the riverside section of the trail near Ohiopyle falls.
    • Rockhounding: Fossil photography is encouraged throughout Ohiopyle State Park. Though, do note that removing, chipping, or damaging rock or fossil material is strictly prohibited.
    • Experience: This loop trail functioned as both nature exploration and memory return. The trek intermixed river geology, forest terrain, and a personal reconnection to a landscape holding core memories.
    • Through Time: Explore a landscape shaped by ancient tropical swamps, Indigenous people’s history, river recreation of the past and present, as well as one return hike over twenty years in the making.
    • Forgotten Things: Ferncliff had a strange habit of handing us things we absolutely did not expect, that somehow made the entire place feel even more surreal…

    Ohiopyle State Park

    Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania
    Large triangle shaped stone with black placard near the start of the trail, surrounded by a dense forest.

    Finally, Someday –

    Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle:

    There are hikes you take never thinking of returning to. If one trip offered you all you needed, there is nothing wrong with that. However, there are other places you yearn to experience again, knowing you will return before you even leave. The best places feel as if they were waiting for you the whole time you were gone. That’s how Ohiopyle State Park felt, when someday I’ll make it back finally became this day.

    Just over twenty years ago, I was carried through this gorge by the white, churning water of the Youghiogheny River. It was during that experience that the river left me with a curiosity about the land that quietly followed me home.

    A pink haired man wearing a black shirt takes a selfie on Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle.

    Ferncliff Trail more than satisfied my childhood curiosity, despite it not having a large amount of mileage to offer. Old-growth forest, exposed sandstone shelves, waterfalls layered upon water stair-steps, giant tadpoles, fossils beneath your feet, forgotten objects, and small moments that somehow felt larger than they should have.

    I left Ohiopyle with core memories years ago and the certainty that I would come back. This May, while celebrating Taelor’s birthday and my eleven years on testosterone, I learned again that some places are worth waiting for.

    We were not out here to conquer mileage only, the trail dictated our pace.

    Circling the same river from Ferncliff’s stone edges, I realized that when you finally claim a place from the shoreline instead of the rapids, it tells you a completely different story.

    One you weren’t even close to expecting.

    Up close view of lush green moss and forest floor foliage

    The Springtime Vibe:

    By the time Taelor and I started Ferncliff Trail on May 6, 2026, just before afternoon, the weather had finally shifted in our favor. Earlier rain had already passed through and temperatures were now starting to climb toward the mid-60s.

    Sunshine had started breaking through, but the trail still held onto evidence of everything that came before it. The wet tree roots, sticky mud, bordering on humid air, and slick sandstone followed us through most of the hike. This even caused me to slip around quite a few times when accessing the trails that go off the main one and down towards different overlooks or riverside views along the trail.

    Taelor standing on trail in sweatpants and a sweatshirt staring up at the broken tree overhead.

    The All the Time Vibes:

    This trail at Ohiopyle is regularly mentioned among the best hikes in western Pennsylvania for families, waterfall chasers, and people looking for a shorter trail with a lot packed into it.

    Named for the Ferncliff Peninsula, it sits on, beside the Youghiogheny River Gorge, and has a reputation for old-growth forest, unusual plant life, river views, and fossil-bearing sandstone. Typically it is cited as being a 1.8 mile loop, yet, we managed to stretch it to 2.2-miles, through side quests and explorations of course.

    A thin and unique tree growing in front of mountain laurel on the side of the trail.

    Things You Notice Before the Trail Notices You:

    People commonly mention that the atmosphere here is quiet; this one-of-a-kind experience offers old-growth forest, rapids, a river waterfall, cliffside views, trail side bouldering, and an unusual ecosystem tucked away along Ferncliff Peninsula.

    Yet not one of these things were what drew my attention initially. My attention was on a movement in my peripheral vision, high up in the “branches” of an evergreen tree. I found boxer-brief underwear in a tree.

    A black pair of boxer-briefs with a grey waistband hangs from a tree inside a dense forest.

    Yes, I said underwear, in a tree.

    A pair of black boxer-briefs had somehow become lodged surprisingly high in this pine, and honestly I don’t think Bigfoot could have tossed them there if he tried. Both Taelor and I immediately stopped because once you see something like that, your brain apparently becomes legally required to make jokes, get footage, and of course investigate.

    How do you manage to wind up in a position that puts your britches that high in a tree?

    Should we be concerned?

    Most importantly, if you ask me, I hope dude had an extra pair of underwear.

    I hope you’re not out here hiking commando, ouch!

    Showing from behind: Caucasian man with pink hair wearing blue jeans and a black t shirt has his sweater hanging off his shoulder while he walks over rocks in an opening in a dense forest.

    Tiny Cave Closet, Selfies, & Consequence:

    Not much further down the trail after our grand introduction to the mystery pair of boxer-briefs, we found a small opening in the rocks. This formed a perfect miniature cave-like closet structure. Of course, my first thought was not anything other than, “I’d live here,” and the second thought I had was

    “Selfie spot.”

    We all know my decision-making process on every trail is occasionally centered on nature photography or even selfies in places that would make for good picture backgrounds.

    Right now, I am using the word occasionally in place of often or even always. Let’s be real, did I even take the hike if I didn’t take a bunch of nature pictures, and some selfies too of course?

    Two individuals in sweatshirts put up peace signs standing inside a very small cave like structure

    Tae and I climbed inside the opening and got ourselves situated, or tried to at least. Without thinking about much I went to stand up straight for the picture, and instantly Ferncliff let me know that nature has a way of humbling people immediately after they become a little too cocky.

    I smacked my head directly into the ceiling of my little closet cave.

    Hard enough to feel it and almost instantly forget it. I know it is bound to happen again, elsewhere.

    It wasn’t close to a hike-ruining experience though; just enough to establish the cave won.

    If you’re keeping score, it is Axton zero, Cave Closet one.

    A pink haired man wearing a tie-dye sweatshirt stands close to the camera on top of boulders next to the trail centered in the back is a woman in a blue sweatshirt and black sweatpants holding her water bottle high in the air. Ferncliff trail Ohiopyle.

    Oh, I should add that I set the timer for a video on accident, which started directly after I slammed my noggin, of course. Thankfully though we did get a decent enough selfie out of the accidental video and cave ceiling situation.

    We also explored a few of the other rocky outcrops around this area and up the trail edges near here, as well. Some areas marked by a few trails you can tell have been trekked by many over the years.

    I often wonder, when in nature or as I reflect on previous hikes, how many of them were hikers, wild animals, families, friends, workers, or Indigenous people? What did they experience along with the beauty and changes of the natural environment here?

    A photo of a “y” shaped tree that has a downed tree branch caught in its “y” small orange fungi grows on the branch. The forest floor and green foliage is shown in the background.

    Here Lies Trail Etiquette:

    As we continued along the beginning of Ferncliff Trail, Taelor and I ran into another pair of hikers near some of the overlooks and bouldering areas. We gave them room and let them take their time checking things out because standing around for an extra few minutes in nature really is not the end of the world.

    We just used the time we would have been waiting for them to check out smaller things like mushrooms, moss, and different types of flora.

    The order in which we were originally in flipped and they ended up behind us for the next side of the trail area to discover. So, we stepped out to explore some of the large boulders beside the trail, just as they had before, and we had barely made it to the bouldering area before one of them immediately started huffing, sighing, and pacing around impatiently.

    It felt like a loud reminder that trail etiquette is pretty simple.

    Pink Budding and flowering mountain laurel surrounded by green leaves and brown twigs.

    Nature is there for everyone, not just whoever reaches a trailhead first. We got to this one first, and couldn’t get the same respect we had just given. The two of them ended up just passing this one up, after only a minute of waiting on us.

    That is their loss, not mine. If you have ever dealt with crowded overlooks, impatient hikers, or trail behavior that makes you question humanity, you know trail etiquette is common sense.

    You can read the whole guide by clicking the link here Ultimate Hikers Guide to Trail Etiquette. You’ll get the deep-dive where I break down the good, the bad, and the teenage no YOU hangup trail version, stop doing that, things.

    Dude, No Pants?

    As we continued deeper into Ferncliff Peninsula, the trail handed us discovery number two: a pair of abandoned Reebok athletic pants. They lay hanging on a fallen tree trunk near the offshoot to the overlook for OhioPyle Falls.

    Now one random clothing item on a hiking trail is strange enough on its own. You notice it, laugh about it, maybe even briefly wonder what fucked up sequence of events led somebody to leave their pants in the woods, but then you move on.

    Grey Reebok athletic pants with a black elastic waist band hang off fallen trees on the side of Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle.

    When we found a second clothing-related mystery on the same loop, somehow the situation shifted things from that’s weird into should we be collecting evidence right now?

    What made it even stranger was how few people Taelor and I had actually seen throughout the day. Despite Ferncliff Trail being one of the more recognizable hikes in Ohiopyle State Park, we had encountered fewer than ten people during the entire trek. The quietness made these odd discoveries feel amplified.

    Finding the pants somehow reached backward into my mind which made the boxer-brief situation from earlier significantly funnier as well as more confusing at the same time. At this point Ferncliff felt less like a hike and more like Taelor and I had accidentally walked into the middle chapter of a who-done-it where somebody forgot to include both the beginning and ending.

    The woods, unsurprisingly, offered absolutely no answers.

    The Overlook & Waterfall:

    Brown sign in front of dense green forest shows white text that says “waterfall downstream this area of river and falls is closed to all boating, wading, and swimming without written permission from the department.”

    Though the trail itself was not difficult by my standards, Ferncliff after rain deserved a little more respect than the “easy trail” label most descriptions suggest. The rainfall we trekked through on Mount Savage, MD this morning, and Mount Davies, PA, must have been here as well. Thankfully leaving pretty much everything saturated, making water features better than in drier months.

    I know I was grateful the sun’s rays started to break through on the ride here; by the time we unloaded the car and started toward the trailhead the clouds had all but given up. What that transitioned into on the trail was slick roots, sticky mud that sucks you in almost, and wet sandstone.

    Fear:

    Now I wonder if anyone else had an unrealistic fear of quicksand as a child?

    I know I did.

    Wait,

    I know, it was sharks in the lake, your pool, or was it your bath?

    Me first; all three.

    Nostalgic, but in a way that is creepy.

    Right though?

    The route Taelor and I took, on trail, brought us to the overlook first; no, not the offshoots I mentioned earlier. This is the Ohiopyle Falls Overlook…

    Two Caucasian individuals with pink hair put up the peace signs at Ohiopyle Falls Overlook.
    Peace up.

    Iconic.

    The strangest thing happened. While standing here, my phone continued to vibrate. I thought I had exactly zero bars of service, so I assumed it was AllTrails+.

    Wrong. It was my phone trying to prompt me to connect to Ohiopyle State Park’s Wi-Fi. I did notice that there were some businesses or restaurants across the river, accessible by car or by walking across the foot bridge over the river.

    Curious:

    Which makes me curious, have you (other than here) ever been prompted to connect to a park’s Wi-Fi before?

    I’m interested in where if so.

    I haven’t, until today.

    Is it just me or is there something about standing above a roaring waterfall while my phone is vibrating like crazy.

    Oh, hell no,

    now technology suddenly wanted to pull me back into civilization feels, which kinda feels oddly…

    dystopian.

    Youghiogheny River and Ohiopyle Falls roaring shown from overlook above surrounded by spring growth and grey skies.

    Manifesting, Trail Markers, & Stone:

    After taking in Ohiopyle Falls from the overlook, I immediately looked at Taelor and informed her that I really just wished there was a way for us to get closer to the waterfall…

    Either way, we headed back down the trail… in the direction of the car and stop number four of today.

    Well golly, what do you know, not very far back onto the trail, I see that it actually drops down onto the riverside rocky outcropping.

    My wish, the trail’s command?

    I mean, I did get exactly what I wanted.

    The trail dropped us directly onto huge exposed sandstone shelves running beside the Youghiogheny River.

    Dense green forests line both sides of the Youghiogheny River, above Ohiopyle falls on Ferncliff trail showing the stair-stepping of water over rocks before the bigger waterfall.

    Suddenly we stood beside the water instead of above it, we were able to get all the way next to the waterfall’s edge. From both where we were on the overlook and where we stood after on the riverside edge we could see water repeatedly breaking over shelves and channels before gathering into the larger plunge below.

    Instead of one waterfall, it looked like endless smaller falls layered together leading up to the grand finale that is Ohiopyle Falls. Water stair-stepped over sandstone before collecting itself again, Pennsylvania waterfalls are already defying my imagination and expectations.

    My buddy and I got slightly turned around afterward. You know, we were taking pictures of the falls, a bunch of rocks, the footbridge, and of course the river.

    Sandstone and water make up much of the Youghiogheny River, on Ferncliff trail Ohiopyle. Surrounded by green dense forest trees and grey skies.

    I was pointing out fossils here and there and identifying what I knew within the plates. These fossils made up large parts of the rocks underneath our feet. When we looked down, finally we found the yellow trail marker. I wouldn’t have ever thought to look for them directly on the sandstone itself.

    This was also just about when we realized the trail continued beside the river shelf before eventually pulling you back into the woods.

    Traversing Ancient Pennsylvania:

    Pottsville Sandstone made up the rocky outcropping underneath our feet as we continued on near the river edge. I noticed fossil impressions directly beneath us still. Showing to Taelor along the way.

    The fossil impressions on Ferncliff Trail at Ohiopyle State Park date back roughly 300 million years. These life forms were from the Carboniferous Period, when Pennsylvania existed near the equator resembling a tropical swamp.

    You can find Calamites (ancient horsetails), Lepidodendron (Scale Trees), Cordaites (ancient cone bearing trees), among others. Walking here, across the sandstone outcroppings, I truly felt like somebody forgot to put the no public access signs up.

    I do want to add that visitors are encouraged to photograph or look at fossils only. Any actions to remove or damage them remain prohibited throughout Ohiopyle State Park.

    Taller pole holds a small metal and brown trail sign, shorter picture shows history of the ancient PA tropical swamp information and facts. Surrounded by dense spring forest.

    Tadpoles, Toads, & Tiny Waterfalls:

    Next to the river’s edge as Tae and I trekked across the rocky shoreline we stumbled onto multiple shallow pools. Each one of these pools oddly enough contained tadpoles of like size in the same pools. The little babies ranged from the biggest tadpoles I’ve seen that didn’t have legs yet to miniature tadpoles almost too small to see.

    Inside one of those pools we ran into two toads mating. I know one thing is for sure, I didn’t expect to happen upon a toad porno at Ohiopyle, but look at us now.

    I genuinely also had not one clue until this exact instance that apparently toads mate in the water.

    In typical Axton fashion I decided immediately that every single nearby tadpole obviously belonged to this one wildly productive pair of toads.

    I know, I know, it’s not true, but it doesn’t make it any less funny.

    Small pool next to the Youghiogheny River, shows two toads the larger toad seems to have the smaller toad on her back while his front toad arms are wrapped around her in a hug.

    Directly past the tadpoles gone wild we also found a cute miniature rock overhang, covered in moss and underneath a hillside run-off. The nature elements of the trail totally work together here to form a tiny yet ethereal waterfall and pool.

    Everything Ferncliff Trail offered us felt ethereal or even whimsical.

    Yet these tiny waterfalls somehow collectively seemed to look at me and chant:

    “One of us. One of us. One of us.”

    They get excited when other small packages come on the scene.

    I don’t blame them, for real though, because me too.

    Small pool under sandstone rocks with water dripping from one small overhang edge creating a pool and very tiny “waterfall” green leaves, moss, and tree limbs shown around area

    Geography Accidentally Built Ferncliff:

    Did you know Ferncliff Peninsula is recognized as a National Natural Landmark? It is actually a rare microclimate.

    The Youghiogheny River flows northward from the warmer regions of Maryland and West Virginia carrying with it seeds through the corridor. When you combine all of this with the warmth trapped inside the gorge, you see plant communities not commonly found here able to survive.

    Southern plant species, lush fern growth, and ancient hemlocks survive inside this microclimate ecosystem.

    Ferncliff honestly feels like Pennsylvania borrowing a small piece of The Blue Ridge Parkway.

    In the background grey skies and river shown lined with sandstone rocks is shown, out of focus leaves and green growth, front of image lined with tree trunks center in focus pink and white Wool Sower Gall.

    People Trekking Through Time:

    Well before the overlooks, designated hiking trails, and recreational rafting brought people here, Indigenous peoples used the Youghiogheny corridor.

    These groups included the Lenape, Shawnee, and Seneca peoples who utilized these landscapes for things like hunting and movement through the greater region.

    Even the state park’s name Ohiopyle, comes from a Lenape phrase commonly translated as “it turns very white,” describing the falls found on this trail.

    Much before modern recreational hiking, movement already existed here.

    Two individuals with pink hair and black t-shirts stand on the footbridge near Ferncliff trail Ohiopyle.

    Chaos – Whitewater Rafting, Screamers & The Disaster:

    I originally came here whitewater rafting with my mom, youth group, Eric (mom’s future husband), our youth pastor at the time, and several friends. It’s funny, back then, obviously none of us knew they would become married almost two decades later.

    Long before I ever returned to Ferncliff Trail on foot, Ohiopyle State Park existed in my memory through rafting down whitewater rapids and of course complete youth-group disorder.

    Like many youth trips, people naturally divided themselves into groups, the adults picked our boating groups, and somehow they split us into two very distinct types. First there were the screamers, the young girls committed to their full dramatic production over every splash, movement, bump, or unexpected shift in the raft.

    Photo taken from ground level shows small raised area of ground with moss covering most of it as well as green forests line both floor foliage, low hanging leaves, and tree trunks through a dense forest.

    Then there were the two of us “Tom-boys” assigned as what I can only assume were human counterweights for the situation. We were much less chaotic and more willing to get dirty, I swear they probably said “put these two over there and maybe everyone survives.”

    Looking back now, I highly doubt that arrangement happened by accident.

    Adults know things.

    Boat Mom Out:

    Things started going wrong almost immediately. We launched and spun our raft in a circle for at least the first five minutes. Then the first set of rapids, very early into the trip one of the screamers’ moms fell out of the raft.

    Suddenly all the dramatic screaming upgraded into a somehow even louder category that included fits of giggling too.

    Of course our chaperone was actually stuck in rapids beside us.

    Small streams of water are shown falling over large sandstone rocks above the Ohiopyle falls on the river lined by a dense forest and grey skies.

    I remember the other tom-boy and I helping pull her back into the raft by her life vest. The other kids, the screamers yelled and horseplayed over one another and continued having their giggle fits.

    She made it out safely, within a few moments, it was all pretty fast. She had absolutely reached her limit. Knowing that we could hike the rest if we ever needed to stop, she decided to hike the full length starting here.

    If I said “I see why she left” I would be lying. I do see why her kid was a screamer.

    Unfortunately that only wrapped up the disaster involving boat number one.

    The Coed Boat – Tom-boys, Screamers, & a New Boat:

    Somewhere after the reshuffling we got moved into the boys’ raft. Not the only group of boys that came, but our specific group of friends who were boys. This decision almost immediately proved itself to be another questionable one.

    Who just let us go off no chaperone? Shame on you.

    Not long after we grouped up one of them started poking at one of the air valves. It was spitting a tiny bit of water so let’s poke it I guess? Instantly the whole bottom of the raft was deflated.

    Entire image shows background of green grass and leaves with a bunch of Pink Philadelphia Fleabane going centered in image.

    I luckily skipped this lesson in boyhood but, apparently teenage boys and inflatable objects have a long documented history of not being able to act right together. There goes this boat too.

    Jump in I Dare You:

    At this point with no empty seats left for us we ended up reassigned for a third time into the only raft in the entire group that was not there with our church. We got paired with a younger group of adult women. By this stage in the trip all organization had more or less collapsed.

    Structure and rules gone.

    Naturally we started splashing nearby rafts with water from our paddles. Following natural progression this escalated quickly into neighboring boats joining in. Soon enough we had gotten into a full water fight.

    View of the river from an offshoot on Ferncliff trail Ohiopyle showing green tree leaves, mountain laurel leaves, grey skies and rocky riverside.
    I could get used to this view.

    We all know this then led to a collective decision that jumping into the river sounded like a good idea. In our defense, the section was calm and still. What we failed to think about though was the water’s depth.

    Nobody could touch bottom of the river. We all discovered very quickly that climbing back into inflatable rafts from deep water is significantly harder than when you can touch the bottom.

    Pulling ourselves back inside became an awkward combination of flailing, failed attempts, and everyone trying to pull others back in if they were able to get out.

    By this point complete group chaos had fully taken over and honestly I think the adults had simply given up. There is a point during youth outings where supervision stops becoming control and shifts into passive observation.

    I think our trip crossed that line somewhere around boat number two.

    Maybe that disaster is part of why Ohiopyle stayed with me for so long.

    Not because everything went smoothly, but because almost nothing did; even so it was a trip I don’t see how I could forget.

    The Youghiogheny River, Ferncliff trail Ohiopyle showing green tinted waters in one of the calm sections in between the trees.

    FAIRIES!

    Within the last quarter-mile of the trek, before we wrapped up the Ferncliff Trail, the woods handed us one final weird discovery. We had already encountered boxer-briefs in a tree, then we stumbled across abandoned Reebok pants.

    This trail had an established pattern for us, and apparently wanted us paying attention.

    Near the end of the hike, we came across one of those openings in a tree trunk people often refer to as a fairy hole. Normally those already catch my attention because they look like tiny portals hidden for access to the inside realms of the old trees. You know, the sort of thing your brain immediately assigns a story to whether you mean to or not.

    For the first time I had ever seen, this one actually had a resident.

    A small wooden fairy sat inside like she was waiting for us. I genuinely had to laugh, this felt less strange than the clothing mysteries for sure.

    A large hole in the center of a tree trunk contains a small painted wooden fairy. In front of part of the tree trunk we see multiple green leaves and a flower bud still unopened.

    This loop trail had already spent the entire late-morning and early-afternoon handing us odd little moments and unexpected finds.

    Now, I know somebody placed her there intentionally. Maybe somebody thought they were adding a little magic to the trail, or maybe they left her for another hiker to find. Don’t worry, she has a good home now.

    Yes. I brought her home. I cannot tell you whether a small painted wooden fairy would have eventually caused environmental issues or not. Maybe, maybe not.

    I do know that I am not passing up a Fairy for my altar. I also know I’m not leaving her behind so other hikers think it’s a good idea to start leaving things here or anywhere else. Now she can continue existing without slowly weathering into the environment. Leave no trace, literally means leave nothing, and I found a trace of one of you here.

    Ferncliff really seemed committed to making sure we left with more than we expected.

    Muddy brown trail section showing large naturally shaped heart rock on Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle.

    Race You to the Car:

    Before Taelor and I even made it back to the car, it became obvious why Ferncliff regularly lands among Ohiopyle’s most rewarding hikes. The dense forest, waterfall, ancient geology, and quiet vibes offer something many places cannot… peace.

    This trail also showed us at least three fairly large naturally heart-shaped rocks near the edges of the trail, which is something I am always on the lookout for. I came back looking for what the land had hidden all those years ago, during my childhood.

    Grey skies, mountain foothills, dense forest, and the footbridge over the river at Ohiopyle.

    I found forgotten things, tadpoles, fossils, memories, and a reminder that some places make you wait years before they reveal the rest of themselves. Ferncliff trail somehow made 2.2 miles feel much farther than it actually is.

    Of course for me mileage has never really been the point. At the ripe age of twelve, on my original trip, I was carried by raft on the current. When I left I had more to keep me wondering than before.

    Someday finally came on May 6th, 2026, when I returned on foot and gained the knowledge I was after. Ohiopyle State Park no longer sits unfinished in my memory. When you return, I bet she meets you differently as well.

    A fairly large sized naturally shaped heart rock sits in a puddle on a very muddy section of Ferncliff trail Ohiopyle.

    TL;DR:

    Ferncliff Trail in Ohiopyle State Park packs waterfalls, fossil-bearing sandstone, old-growth forest, Indigenous and geological history, and enough strange trail discoveries to make a short hike feel much bigger than its mileage suggests.

    Forest floor look from above of brown moist foliage and a medium sized naturally shaped heart rock on trail.

    Plan Your Trip:

    Pennsylvania DCNR – Ohiopyle State Park

    National Park Service — Ferncliff Peninsula National Natural Landmark

    Ferncliff Trail Ohiopyle – AllTrails

    Etiquette for Hikers

    Image shows: front of grey car, roadway, double yellow lines, dense forest, grey skies, and fog on the way to Ohiopyle.
    Drive safe!
  • The Hikers Ultimate Guide to Trail Etiquette:

    The Hikers Ultimate Guide to Trail Etiquette:

    Best For:

    Rookie hikers just discovering the woods have an unwritten rule book, hikers who wish to learn trail culture, Appalachian whimsical wonderers, Leave No Trace learners, content creators navigating shared spaces, and anyone who has ever walked onto a trail and immediately wondered what the rules were.

    Man in pale green shorts, green and orange croc junipers, black T-shirt, and pink hair with a beard exhales smoke from his dab pen towards a woman in black hiking shoes, black shorts, and a blue t-shirt there is a cloud of smoke between them.

    The Vault:

    • Trail etiquette a social contract not a court of law.
    • Safety beats ego, every time.
    • Rules are defaults & not universal laws.
    • Local culture & terrain change things up.
    • Leave No Trace goes far beyond litter.
    • Most trail conflict starts with poor awareness.

    The Unwritten Rule Book:

    Trail etiquette gets talked about online like somebody carved ten new hiking commandments into a stone tablet and dropped them beside a trailhead kiosk. Yield uphill, stay on trail, keep noise down. Pack out your trash, and do not bother wildlife.

    Simple, right?

    Maybe, until you actually go hiking.

    Suddenly you’re standing on a muddy incline while a trail runner appears behind you at concerning speed, somebody’s off-leash dog named Moose believes personal space is a government conspiracy, and a horse is approaching while you’re trying to remember whether you’re supposed to step uphill, downhill, freeze in place, or simply evaporate into the forest.

    This is where things begin coming apart at the seams.

    Trail etiquette isn’t a list of wilderness law; it is closer to environmental science, social awareness, safety, regional culture, physics, and human behavior all crashing together on a sliver of dirt through the woods.

    Man with a beard wears jeans, a black sweater, and a black hat on sits on top of large boulder with the peace sign up.

    The rules matter, though what matters more is understanding why those rules exist and the reality of the never-ending exceptions.

    That is where most new hikers get blindsided. Oh did I mention you have no teacher of the unwritten rule book. There is no mentor to explain the nuance flips either. All while no one has even mentioned to you that tiny fairy houses, Bluetooth speakers, and dog poop bags somehow can become topics capable of launching full-scale outdoor debates.

    So let’s try to fix that.

    The Right‑of‑Way:

    The first thing many hikers learn after they hear of hiking etiquette is that uphill hikers get the right of way.

    The reasoning behind this makes sense, climbing takes more effort. Stopping halfway up a steep incline can destroy rhythm and force somebody to restart momentum with legs that are already questioning their life choices.

    One of the least discussed trail secrets is that uphill hikers are not typically not that annoyed when they get to stop. A lot of times they are actually thrilled.

    You just gave them a socially acceptable excuse to stand still for fifteen seconds or longer and they get to pretend they were “letting you through” instead of negotiating a peace treaty with their lungs.

    Yes, many experienced hikers even joke about this unofficial phenomenon. Someone climbing may make eye contact, smile, step aside, and wave you through. This is what we will call the Oxygen Break Fake-Out.

    Man in black hat, glasses, grey shorts, and black t-shirt sitting on a wooden bench on trail with a brown APBT in front is bare trees. Ultimate hiking guide.

    The move here is simple, just accept the offer, and make sure you say thank you. It is best to keep it moving here; do not create one of those painful wilderness politeness standoffs where both people repeatedly insist the other go first. Y’all sound like middle school girls trying to “no you hangup” their first boyfriends to death.

    We are definitely not getting any younger and this is slowly aging us in real time.

    This rule flips in more serious ways too. Let me paint you an image, I want you to imagine that someone descending has a heavy overnight pack. Now add in some wet roots, mud, loose gravel, or even narrow footing.

    Stopping suddenly for this hiker is not a small inconvenience. When you wear a heavy pack your center of gravity changes, as does your momentum. Your knees will suddenly begin filing complaints with upper management, they might even call Human Resources.

    The move is always safety first.

    Trail etiquette exists to reduce problems, not create them. Nobody receives a trophy for technically following right-of-way while sliding sideways into a bush or by demanding they be let go first since they are moving up hill yet you’re wearing a pack double your weight.

    The Multi‑Use Trail Matrix:

    Shared-use trails create some of the biggest instances of confusion in hiking culture. Now we are incorporating multiple forms of movement, speed, and trail use that are all trying to occupy the same space.

    Textbook rules usually simplify things by saying mountain bikes yield to hikers, and hikers and bikes yield to horses. On paper, of course that sounds clean, organized, and easy to memorize. In reality, trails are not flat sidewalks, and once terrain enters the equation, things become much more complicated.

    Mountain bikes create one of the biggest areas of confusion because many hikers assume a bike can simply stop the second another person appears ahead. Yet the truth is that technical trail riding does not always work in that manner. Riders may be descending steep grades while navigating exposed roots, loose gravel, muddy switchbacks, narrow corridors, blind turns, or rock gardens with limited visibility.

    Did you know that on difficult terrain, suddenly braking when riding a mountain bike, is not always a simple action? Locking your brakes can cause skidding, damage the trail surface, destroyed traction, or even end up sending the riders over the handlebars.

    That does not suddenly mean mountain bikers own the trail or that hikers should launch themselves into nearby vegetation every time a set of handlebars appear in the distance. This just means that physics occasionally changes the conversations we have.

    The move here is predictability. If durable ground or a safe place to stand exists nearby, make your movement obvious and early rather than waiting until the last second and making a panic decision. One of the fastest ways to create confusion is when both people suddenly begin trying to guess what the other person intends to do.

    Hikers sidestep.

    Riders adjust.

    Then hikers readjust.

    Clear blue skies and leaf bare trees behind a Caucasian man in a black hat with a brown thermal long sleeved shirt.

    Suddenly everyone is performing an accidental wilderness dance routine nobody agreed to participate in. Making a clear movement creates less confusion and often times less risk.

    Horses:

    Horse etiquette somehow gets even messier because many hikers hear one repeated instruction over and over: always step downhill.

    People repeat it like it’s a sacred wilderness law, but experienced riders will often tell you the same thing instead, just ask first. Horses are prey animals, and different horses react differently to people, gear, movement, dogs, and other surroundings.

    When one horse may want you uphill where it can clearly see you; the next horse may prefer you to stay downhill. Some horses calm down if you speak so they recognize you as a person, while others react better to stillness and space.

    The move with horses is simple and easy, you just let the rider guide the interaction. The riders typically understand their horse’s behavior better than a generalized sign or internet rule ever could. While horses are incredible animals, they are also fully capable of deciding that trekking poles, backpacks, rain jackets, or the wrong leaf moving in the wind are evidence of woodland sorcery.

    Respecting the rider’s instructions creates safer interactions for everyone involved.

    Groups & the Ego vs Eco Debate:

    Large groups change the trail experience in ways many hikers do not immediately think about. Most people notice the obvious differences first: more voices, more footsteps, and a larger physical presence moving through the woods.

    These groups also create larger social and environmental footprints. This is where trail etiquette starts becoming more complicated than simply asking who should step aside.

    The textbook version of trail etiquette usually says larger groups should yield to solo hikers or smaller parties. This reasoning seems straightforward, one organized unit moving together should theoretically have an easier time making space than forcing a single person to weave through a moving train of people, trekking poles, backpacks, and canine companions.

    Man in grey tank top and khaki shorts sits ontop of a concrete square opening to the tunnel “Hell hole” Columbus.

    It sounds efficient, maybe even polite. Reality tends to be much messier.

    Imagine you’re on a narrow trail cutting through wildflowers, soft soil, moss, or fragile vegetation. If a group of twelve hikers all step off trail at once so one person can pass, what initially looks like good etiquette can accidentally create environmental damage.

    Trails do not suddenly widen overnight. Trail widening usually begins through repeated small moments exactly like this. All it takes is one boot that leaves the hardened path, then another, and another.

    Over time, these tiny destructive decisions repeated hundreds of times create entirely new paths where none were meant to exist.

    Suddenly the question changes. Instead of asking, Who should move? We should be asking, What creates the least impact?

    In some situations, one solo hiker stepping onto a large rock, gravel patch, or durable surface creates far less environmental disturbance than moving an entire group off the trail. What initially looked like breaking etiquette can actually become the more responsible and future friendly choice for nature.

    This becomes even more noticeable with school groups, youth programs, guided hikes, and even scout troops. These large organized groups do not always move with the same awareness or flexibility as smaller hiking parties. Their leaders may be managing younger hikers, keeping people together, monitoring safety, or making sure nobody accidentally disappears down the wrong trail because they saw an interesting mushroom fifteen feet into the woods. In these situations, forcing a complicated passing situation may create confusion for everyone involved.

    Nelson-Kennedy Ledges, August 2025
    Nelson Kennedy Ledges Summer 2025

    The move here is understanding that etiquette is not about ego, proving who technically has the right-of-way, or who has more claim to the trail at a given moment.

    The goal is and should always be minimizing impact while keeping movement safe and manageable. Sometimes that means the group shifts, other times the solo hiker moves, and others still have everyone pause for a few seconds and use their common sense.

    Once enough people enter the equation, etiquette quietly stops becoming a traffic rule and starts becoming environmental math.

    The Sonic Landscape:

    There are very few topics on trails that can create an argument faster than the talk surrounding noise pollution. Obviously people go into nature for wildly different reasons, and these reasons shape how they experience sound in the outdoors.

    Some people hike for silence because they are trying to disconnect from work, notifications, traffic, and the endless background noise that follows modern life everywhere else. Other people watch birds while listening for their specific calls and movement. A lot of people are processing grief, mental health, hardships, stress, or major life events. Then there are those who just want to hear wind through trees or water moving over rock without interruption.

    For many hikers, the natural soundscape itself is part of the destination, and your music is ruining it, honestly.

    That is exactly why the Bluetooth speaker debate starts dumpster fires in hiking communities almost immediately. To one person, low-volume music during a hike may feel harmless. Yet the next person asked , may not agree. They say it can feel like somebody unexpectedly dragged them out of the woods and back where they didn’t want to be.

    The frustration often is not just the sound itself. It is that one person’s choices suddenly alter the atmosphere for everyone else sharing the space. It is also overwhelming or even overstimulating for neurodivergent people who may feel like this is the only place they can exist without the overstimulation.

    Reality complicates this too because silence is not universally safer. In areas with dense vegetation, limited visibility, or large wildlife populations, hikers sometimes intentionally make noise.

    Man I’m socks, sandals, bright blue short, black t-shirt, and black square glasses stanfds under a recess cave in NC.

    In bear country, for instance people may call out, talk regularly, clap occasionally, sing the entire trail over but not carry a tune or even announce their presence so wildlife hears them long before an encounter happens. Surprising large animals at close range can create dangerous situations, so sound becomes a safety tool rather than a disturbance. Context changes everything.

    The move here is awareness rather than absolute rules, like we have seen in most cases with trail etiquette.

    Understand where you are, who is around you, and what purpose sound is serving. Safety noise and personal entertainment are not the same thing automatically, though they can be. One earbud, bone-conduction headphones, or lowering volume around others often become middle-ground solutions because they allow people to enjoy audio without turning the trail into a moving soundtrack nobody else agreed to join.

    Four-Legged Chaos:

    Dog conversations on trails also are known for becoming emotional quickly since most everyone seems to believe their situation is the exception. Most dog owners genuinely love their animals as well as seeing them as companions, family members, and trail partners. That part all understandable. The problems begin when personal familiarity starts replacing situational awareness.

    Brown & White APBT sits on a Wooden armchair in Granville, Ohio at Spring Valley Nature Preserve - Bully Breeds

    Almost every regular hiker has heard some version of the phrase: “Don’t worry, my dog is friendly.” The issue is that friendly does not automatically equal appropriate. Friendly dogs are still known to jump on people, run ahead around blind turns, chase wildlife, startle children, approach reactive dogs, and create stressful situations for strangers. The dog owner understands the dog’s personality. The stranger does not and the reactive dog doesn’t have to stay home because you’re not willing to be considerate of everyone else (including your dog).

    This creates one of hiking culture’s biggest disconnects because people often interpret hesitation personally. Someone stepping away from a dog may not dislike dogs at all. They may have allergies, trauma, cultural differences, fear from previous experiences, or simply not want interaction.

    Etiquette becomes less about whether a dog means well and more about recognizing that strangers did not consent to the interaction.

    There is also the mystery of dog waste bags. Somehow trail systems across the world developed a strange phenomenon where people bag dog waste, carry it briefly, and then typically they will leave colorful little plastic packages beside trails intending to retrieve them later.

    Luna the Red-Nosed American Pitbull smiling and standing in the stream at Indian Falls in Dublin, Ohio

    Some absolutely do come back for them, others forget, and the rest may even leave them on purpose. Either way, hikers collectively seem united on one thing: nobody enjoys finding surprise poop ornaments decorating the forest floor.

    Trail Runners & Surprise Encounters:

    Trail runners and hikers can occasionally operate like two neighboring countries with different customs trying to share the same roads. Neither group is inherently wrong, but their movement styles create very different expectations.

    Hikers often settle into slower rhythms. They stop for photos, look at plants, examine mushrooms, pause at overlooks, and maybe even smoke some devils lettuce. Trail runners move differently, usually working to build momentum, maintain pace, and often cover ground quickly.

    Caucasian man shirtless and tattooed sits on a large rock in a cave located in red river gorge Powell county Ky

    This difference creates one of the most common surprise encounters on trails: sudden passing situations. Many hikers can think of Calista one instance that the experience of quietly enjoying a trail only to hear “on your left” from somewhere directly behind them moments before a runner appears. It removes approximately six months from a person’s life expectancy in the moment.

    Most of the tension here is not actually about speed, but exists in the surprise. Humans generally dislike unexpected movement entering personal space, especially in environments where awareness is focused ahead rather than behind. Runners sometimes feel frustration when hikers wear headphones or block trail flow. Hikers complain they sometimes feel startled or rushed. However, both trail experiences can exist at once.

    Good etiquette here is surprisingly simple. Runners benefit from announcing themselves early and slowing slightly when approaching crowded or narrow sections. Hikers help by remaining predictable and allowing space when possible. Nobody needs to leap into vegetation or perform emergency evasive maneuvers. Shared movement works best when people stop treating every pass like a tactical military operation.

    Content Creator Etiquette:

    Modern trails are now increasingly including individuals with cameras, tripods, drones, phones, action cams, and creators who document outdoor experiences. Hiking and content creation now overlap constantly, which means entirely new etiquette questions have appeared alongside them. Years ago people argued about dogs and speakers. Now people argue about filming, staging shots, and whether a trail overlook can temporarily become somebody’s production set.

    Most people do not care if someone stops for a quick photo. The tension usually begins when content creation starts changing the experience around other people. We see that when tripods are left blocking narrow sections, repeated takes occupying popular viewpoints make a bottleneck in trail movement, stepping into fragile vegetation for better angles, flying drones in areas where they disturb wildlife, and more visitors can quickly create frustration.

    Caucasian man with pink hair, square black sunglasses, a black tank top and facial piercings stands in a lush green forest.

    The issue usually is not documentation itself. It is scale and impact. There is a major difference between capturing your experience and unintentionally turning shared spaces into temporary film sets. Most conflicts happen when people stop noticing how much space they are taking up physically or socially.

    The move is actually simple, create with awareness, take all the photos you need, record your memories, document the experiences, but please also remember the trail remains a shared space before it becomes content.

    The Artifact Problem:

    Tiny objects somehow create enormous arguments in outdoor communities. Fairy houses, painted rocks, hidden trinkets, tiny doors attached to trees, tree carvings, trail signs vandalized with permanent markers, memorial decorations, and miniature woodland surprises tend to divide hikers almost immediately. Some people see joy, creativity, and community. Others see clutter, future litter, and a lack of care.

    The reason these debates become so intense is because they sit directly in the middle of one of hiking culture’s oldest tensions: human expression versus preserving wild spaces. Leave No Trace principles generally discourage introducing objects into nature because individual actions repeated over time create cumulative impact. One tiny object becomes ten. Ten become fifty. Suddenly an area begins changing.

    Dundee Falls Trail Tree carving

    Neither reaction appears from nowhere. The person who finds wonder in a tiny fairy tucked into a tree and the person who finds feelings of frustration about human additions entering wild places can both genuinely care about nature. They simply envision different relationships with it.

    Somehow, against all logic, tiny woodland decorations repeatedly become capable of launching full-scale debates with enough energy to sustain hiking forums for weeks.

    Appalachia & Regional Trail Culture:

    Trail etiquette changes depending on where you hike because trails develop cultures just like communities do. Appalachia especially carries its own personality. Hiking through parts of the Appalachian region often feels different from heavily trafficked parks or fast-moving outdoor destinations because there is a stronger social culture woven into many trail systems.

    We even tend to greet strangers more frequently, having full conversations at overlooks, and passing information about trail conditions happens casually.

    light purple haired tattooed man stands in knee deep blue green water in the pool of a small slot canyon waterfall, shirtless in green shorts surrounded by cliff walls

    Someone may tell you about a washed-out section ahead, ask where you are from, or warn you about a snake near the next bend. There can be a stronger feeling that trails operate as shared community space rather than simply routes from point A to point B.

    That does not mean everyone wants long conversations or that every Appalachian trail magically becomes a family reunion. Still local culture matters. Trail etiquette is not only rules and environmental guidance; It is also learning the social languages of the locals in these places.

    The mountains, like people, tend to have personalities of their own.

    Feral Hikers Etiquette:

    The biggest misunderstanding about trail etiquette is believing it is about memorizing strict locked in rules. People often want one-hindered prevent answers because they feel easier. The truth is that the trails rarely operate that neatly once terrain, weather, wildlife, safety, and actual humans enter the equation.

    The deeper you get into hiking culture, the more obvious it becomes that etiquette is really about awareness, safety, and common sense.

    Pink haired Caucasian man in a black hoodie and tan book bag standing in front of a waterfall at rockmill near Lancaster, Ohio.

    What impact are you having on the trail beneath your feet? What effects do your actions have on the wildlife?

    Do your actions have an impact on the other hikers sharing the trails with you?

    Most of the time, if you can answer those questions honestly, the rest of the puzzle just sort of solves itself.

    TLDR:

    Trail etiquette is less about memorizing rules and more about understanding why those rules exist. Trails snd terrain can change constantly, so safety, common sense, and knowledgeable hikers find the fixed answer quickly.

    Many trail rules have exceptions and are not set in stone, people however, rarely explain these facts. The polite move and the safest or lowest-impact move are not always going to be the same thing.

    Most etiquette problems come down to awareness. Protect the trail, respect shared spaces, and try not to become the person accidentally starting a Bluetooth speaker or an off-leash dog civil war on a switchback.

    Two dark haired people in dark colored shirts and glasses stand in front of a waterfall in Munising, Michigan.

    Keep Learning:

    National Park Service – Hiking Etiquette/ Staying Safe/ Types of Trails

    Sustainable Hiking Tree Carvings

  • The Fear that No Longer Deserves Space – Storia Prompt

    The Fear that No Longer Deserves Space – Storia Prompt

    Best For:

    Individuals struggling with self-worth, readers interested in emotional journal entries, writing advocates in search of useful daily journal applications, and people who are passionate about mental health through self-help.

    The Vault:

    • Reflections from a daily journaling practice using Storia: Future-Self Coach
    • How gratitude & guided journaling can support emotional wellness
    • A personal response to the prompt: “What is the fear that no longer deserves space in your life?”
    • Hiking & nature as reminders of resilience and belonging
    • Friendship, vulnerability, & learning to stop trying to earn acceptance
    • Lessons from working as an STNA in long term care
    • Creative work, self doubt, & building a small business anyway
    • Advocacy, publishing, & creating opportunities for marginalized communities
    • Letting go of the fear of not being enough

    My Daily Journaling Ritual:

    Recently I have been holding myself accountable for actually completing my daily journal. I have been doing this by building a daily journaling routine with an app called Storia: Future-Self Coach. I aim to focus a little more time daily on the things I have to be grateful for and the ways I am building my emotional intelligence.

    This iOS-only app combines guided journaling prompts, mood tracking, gratitude features, voice journaling, progress tracking, multiple journals, and personalized reflection tools designed around helping users better understand themselves and connect with future goals.

    Storia also includes community prompt areas, privacy-focused features, and encrypted journaling spaces, which is important when you want some of these thoughts to stay your own.  

    Background and top and bottom are cream and background in the middle is white. Top and centered is the gold multiple sparkle emoji ✨. Underneath the emoji in black plain text the image says “I am embracing the journey, both through the woods and within myself.”
    My weekly affirmation based on my responses to last week’s journaling prompts.

    As a person who enjoys reflective writing already, guided prompts often become an interesting way to uncover thoughts I probably would not have sat down and explored on my own. There is something powerful about being asked a question and realizing the answer reaches much deeper than expected. This app is able to do this time and time again.

    It is also important that I mention that daily gratitude journaling and reflective practices have become connected to mental health conversations. When we take the time to intentionally process emotions, recognize patterns, identify fears, and acknowledge moments of growth, we also create space for greater emotional awareness.

    Do note that though many find it to be a helpful tool, journaling does not magically solve your problems of difficult periods of life. This tool can help you to organize your thoughts that may have otherwise felt tangled together. Sometimes writing creates a pause that exists just long enough for us to hear ourselves.

    The Storia Prompt: “What is the fear that no longer deserves space in your life?”

    Today, one of my prompts asked, “What is the fear that no longer deserves space in your life?”

    Initially, my answer felt simple.

    The fear of not being enough.

    Once I started writing, I realized that fear had roots extending into some of my hiking trips, friendships, full-time job, creative endeavors, and advocacy efforts.

    This journal became something less focused on the fear itself, transforming the answer into what looked more like the evidence I needed to finally dismantle the fear altogether.

    Upon reviewing my response to today’s journal prompt, I knew the realization was one worthy of being shared.

    The Journal Entry:

    The fear of not being enough.

    For a long time, I carried this feeling that I had to constantly prove my worth. That I had to somehow earn my place or earn someone’s love. I felt I needed to work harder to earn success. As well as the feeling that I could never earn belonging.

    For some reason I believed being enough was something I had to achieve and that I couldn’t have just been born enough. I thought it was waiting somewhere ahead of me, at the end of some impossible checklist.

    Life, however, has slowly but thankfully shown me something different. I learned that my achievement of becoming enough was never waiting at a finish line. It was already within me.

    I simply had to learn how to see it.

    Hiking Trails:

    Hiking became one of the places where this realization started to take form. The trails have an unmatched ability to strip everything down and remind me what really matters.

    Pink-haired man in a black hoodie and jeans stands on an oddly built square shaped wooden frame made out of logs under what looks like an empty door frame that is attached to the wooded square frame in the middle of a dense forest.

    Out there, ridges, gorges, trees, and flora do not care about titles, accomplishments, appearances, the price of your gear or expectations. They only ask us to keep moving.

    I have hiked through rain, knee-deep snow, after the overnight shift exhaustion, uncertainty, steep inclines, droughts, fog, and moments where I genuinely doubted myself.

    There were times I questioned whether I could keep going, but every summit reached, every muddy pair of hiking shoes, and every mile completed became proof that I was capable.

    Hiking taught me that I do not need to move at anyone else’s pace.

    I do not need to be the fastest person on the trail or even reach the end in some extraordinary way. I only have to keep showing up and continue forward.

    Nature has repeatedly reminded me that I belong exactly where I stand.

    Friendships:

    New friendships challenged that fear in a different way. Opening yourself up to people can feel terrifying when you carry the belief that who you are might never be enough or may equally be too much.

    There is always the possibility of being misunderstood, rejected, or left behind. Yet I am grateful to have met people who stayed.

    Five individuals are photographed while standing in the darkness of night on a snow-covered trail, some trees in the distance are barely visible, their five sets of glowing eyes stand out the most among the shadows of Moonville Tunnel.
    A snowy and spooky group night hike to Moonville Tunnel.

    People who accept me, care for me, and connect with me for me. These people replaced the fear that I held that I would only be enough when transformed into someone else.

    For once I allowed people to know the real me. It is these relationships that pushed back against old narratives and helped me continue to outgrow fears.

    I found in these people the knowledge that meaningful connection is not built through perfection. It grows through honesty, vulnerability, and authenticity. The acceptance I found here became a reminder that I never needed to earn my right to belong in anyone’s life.

    Caregiving:

    My work as an STNA specifically in long term care facilities also shifted the way I view worth. Caring for others demands a lot physically, emotionally, and mentally. As well as the fact that a lot of what caregivers do happens quietly and often without recognition.

    Here I learned that value is not always measured through praise or attention. Value can exist in the smaller moments like sitting beside someone when they need comfort.

    Close-up headshot of a man with black hair and a dark-medium length beard wearing silver tunnels in his stretched earlobes and a red undershirt with a black scrub top. The corner of his white name tag is shown in the image with black font. He sits or stands in front of a drink vending machine.
    This is a photo of me from the fall of 2019. I had just made the transition from being a caregiver in a group home setting to being a STNA.

    When you act in a way that helps someone preserve their dignity, make another person feel seen during difficult moments in their life, or even provide end-of-life care, your value doesn’t need to accompany a loud act of praise.

    This work showed me that I do not need to achieve something extraordinary every day to matter. My presence, compassion, and effort matter more to my residents than most people will ever know until it is their time to know.

    Small Business:

    Building my small business and pursuing creative endeavors brought an entirely different set of challenges as well as a new set of ways to see my worth. Creating something born of your own ideas while confronting self-doubt over and over again is not an easy feat.

    There were, and still are, moments where I question whether my ideas matter, if anyone is listening, or wonder if what I create is good enough. Comparison has a way of creeping in and sinking in its teeth. Working to convince creative people they are falling behind.

    A hollowed-out projection tv turned into a stand that holds rocks, crystals, fossils, specimen jars, and other items made by Poeaxtry.
    The table above is just one of the Poeaxtry stands you can find in a few stores across Ohio. This photo shows the table before it was set up entirely.

    Working in spite of this, I keep creating. Every article written, project completed, risk taken, and idea pursued became evidence that fear does not get the final word here. Though growth does not happen through perfection, we know and have seen that growing happens through persistence and continuing to show up.

    Creativity & Advocacy:

    By advocating and creating opportunities for marginalized communities within publishing and creative spaces I have gained a deeper understanding of my worth. Advocacy work can feel overwhelming. We understand that there is always more work to do and more people who deserve support. So it becomes easy to feel like whatever you contribute will never be enough.

    Black wrinkled background with trans-color font and a trans symbol shows quote text from Axton Mitchell’s original poem The Echo. “I am not the scream. Not even the shout. I am the echo no one warned you about.”
    Original Poem by Axton N.O. Mitchell. Click the image to read the full poem.

    I have wrestled with that feeling over and over again. I have also questioned whether small indie-driven actions will ever create meaningful change. Over time, though I have come to realize that change is never built through massive movements or grand gestures alone. Change happens through creating space, opening doors, and helping someone feel seen when they have spent too long being overlooked.

    I do not have to carry the entire burden of changing the world. I only have to continue contributing where I can.

    My Worth:

    Feeling that I am enough was never about proving myself or reaching some level in life. The evidence of my true worth had been there all along.

    My worth exists in every trail I have finished, person I care for, friendship I built, creative risk I took, and opportunity I tried to create for others. The fear of not being enough no longer deserves space in my life; when life itself is a constant reminder to me that I already am enough.

    Final Thoughts:

    Sometimes fear survives because we do not stop long enough to see it let alone to challenge it. I know at least when it comes to myself, I allow old narratives to stay in my mind as facts, even when my life consistently provides evidence against them.

    As I looked back through this prompt, I quickly began to realize the fear of not being enough did not disappear because of one life-changing event, but over time it slowly lost the ability to take up space through my real lived experiences.

    A photo of a man with a pink mullet-hawk haircut wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black thumbprint hiking crocs shown from behind as he puts his arms out for balance while crossing the creek on large stones in front of a large waterfall in a dense forest.
    Living my best life.

    When reflecting on my hiking trips I found proof that persistence mattered more than perfection. Doing the same with my newer friendships allowed me to discover that authenticity creates stronger connections than pretending ever could. I have begun looking at more aspects of my life under different lights to see the truth hidden throughout my layers of trauma and personality.

    I have noticed that growth rarely arrives all at once. More often it decides to show up in my life as muddy hiking boots, difficult conversations, emotional exhaustion, unfinished projects, or moments where we choose to continue anyway.

    When I look back often I am able to see that I have been carrying evidence of my worth much longer than I realized.

    TLDR:

    Today’s Storia journaling prompt asked me what fear no longer deserved space in my life. My answer became the fear of not being enough, as well as the reality behind why I have clearly outgrown this fear.

    Reflecting on hiking, relationships, my work as an STNA, my small business, creative endeavors, and advocacy efforts reminded me that my worth was never waiting at a finish line.

    The evidence of this had been there all along.

    Sometimes growth is not about becoming enough; sometimes growth is realizing you always have been.

    Continue Your Journey:

    My Storia Friends link

    Science Direct Looks at the Proof Behind Gratitude Journals

    Read My Emotional Mothers Day Journal Entry

    Read More About My Emotional Prompt Journal for Nature Lovers

  • Indie Publishing & Capitalism – The Battle of Ethics:

    Indie Publishing & Capitalism – The Battle of Ethics:

    Best for:

    Struggling poets, independent authors, and creative activists seeking to bypass the traditional gatekeeping of the literary industry.

    The Vault:

    • Indie publishing support for free – who this offer exists for & why.
    • Community over profit Model & Philosophy behind my brand and indie small press.
    • Our “review economy” & our aim to provide radical accessibility.
    • How capitalism contributes to artistic burnout.
    • Balancing third-shift work with creative goals.
    • My long-term vision for a grassroots creative ecosystem.
    Text shown In image is in pink or blue shade: Poeaxtry. By: Axton N.O. Mitchell - Ink. Soul. Unleash. Featuring line-art Images of a Crystal, book, and raven. "Where words wonder wild"
    One of the first brand images I made for Poeaxtry.

    What job would you do for free?

    When Creativity & Survival Collide:

    For years I have found myself wondering what happens when creativity collides with survival. We sadly exist in a world where nearly everything is monetized, or based on premium monthly subscriptions, so helping others create without expecting profit can feel strangely rebellious.

    Somewhere between my never-ending string of overnight shifts, editing manuscripts, and building my personal brand and independent publishing house, I realized the answer to the question “What job would you do for free?” was never hypothetical.

    Black pendulum board with white font and pentagram centered with a piece of selenite. Above sits a hand made gourd jar with crystals of different make-up shown in both sides of jar. Multiple red spell bags with gold and silver accents hold natural herbs, stones, and other materials.
    Love spell bags used for calling-in, building, or finding genuine connections.

    The Heart of the Hustle – Why I Offer Indie Publishing for Free:

    In our society we treat every waking moment as a potential billable hour; we have even found that constant productivity feels demanded of us. The act of helping someone else create something or even creating something yourself just for the sake of its existence feels like a radical rebellion in today’s society.

    The Answer:

    For me, the answer to the age-old interview question, “What job would you do for free?” isn’t a hypothetical daydream, and is much closer to my lived reality.

    Iconic Waterfall in Hocking Hills State Park, ohio is shown behind Caucasian man wearing a graphic multi color t-shirt, checkerboard black and white backpack straps showing. The green-hued waterfall pool and sandstone cliffs showing in the background.
    Your voice deserves more than capitalistic conformity. Publish Authentically.

    Through Poeaxtry and the Prism, I have committed to providing a launchpad for voices that the mainstream industry often silences or ignores.

    Publishing, Editing, & Formatting:

    I do so by offering indie publishing, professional formatting, editing, and design at no cost on a first-come, first-served basis, for creatives from any minority community. I am attempting to strip away the financial barriers that keep powerful, real stories locked in digital desk drawers.

    This mission is born from the belief that art is a human right, not a luxury reserved for those with the capital to pay for high-end vanity presses. When I talk about “indie publishing for free,” I am not just talking about a lack of a price tag; I am referring to the democratization of information and the preservation of culture from the bottom up.

    Digital Collections & the Review Economy:

    For me, this mission goes beyond simply putting words on a page. My brand operates on a philosophy of radical accessibility. We do this by offering free digital collections to those who are personally affected by some of the themes reflected on in the work, that may be through shared trauma, marginalized identity, or specific lived experiences.

    If a collection speaks to your survival, you shouldn’t have to pay to see yourself reflected through art and, you don’t have to ask for it either. I provide the forms upfront, no need or use for shame here.

    When you see the state of our economy, it is plain for anyone to see why I also offer anyone else who is not quite in the place to pay, my collections in exchange for an honest review.

    Image shows the stone and rock covered ground with an upload view of a Caucasian hand palm up holding a full horn coral specimen that includes a small section of the fossil matrix material still.
    Check out my horn coral fossil left behind from the prehistoric tropical sea that once made up most of Ohio.

    This “review economy” helps build a community of feedback and visibility that doesn’t require a credit card for access. While it also ensures that the art here remains as accessible as an open-ended conversation rather than just another fully pay-walled transaction.

    If you compare this model to modern capitalism, the “currency” is your engagement, boosts, and human connection, each holding far more long-term value for a grassroots author than a few dollars ever could.

    The Capitalistic Hellscape – Why Art is Suffering:

    If we didn’t live in what I can only describe as a capitalistic hellscape, the scope of this project would be infinite. However, the truth for the moment is we do live in a system that views humans as “resources” to be extracted rather than beings to be nurtured.

    This systemic pressure forces creators to commodify their deepest emotions just to keep the lights on.

    Many artistic creatives seem to agree that the greatest thief of art isn’t a lack of talent, but a lack of time.

    Cover art for the waterfall confessions guided prompt journal, includes cartoon artwork of individual sitting beside a waterfall.
    Cover art for Waterfall Confessions, a guided prompt journal I created and published.

    Burnout & the Effect it has on Your Creativity:

    The horrors of our current economic structure mean that most of us are too tired to be brilliant or too burnt out to function in a creative manner when we actually have the time to be.

    We are seemingly trapped in a cycle where survival will always precede self-expression.

    When we have to choose between buying groceries, car insurance, rent, or paying for a professional for our book’s cover art, editing, or formatting, I already know our art will lose every time. This is why I work at providing these services for free.

    I see this as my greatest act of defiance; it is a way for me to tell the system that our stories cannot be bought, sold, or suppressed by our bank balance.

    The Reality of Third-Shift:

    The reason I am not currently offering even more for free such as: workshops, physical prints, or direct mentorships, boils down to the crushing weight of working the “9-to-5.”

    Though let’s be real, for many of us, the typical 9-5 now spans a greater time frame.

    The current reality I recently faced at my “day job” involved a rather demanding schedule which consisted of two 12-hour shifts and two 16-hour shifts. I have recently switched this up some and currently work an average of four twelve-hour shifts, per week.

    However, no matter your sleeping pattern when you work that many hours a week you will at least be tempted to spend your “free time” in a state of recovery rather than discovery. Again I am grateful I recover most while I am also in discovery mode.

    Shows a white wall and part of the black restroom sign with white font where someone places a trans-flag colored sticker with a white snail image that says “A trans person peed here and you didn’t even notice.” inside a white thought bubble.
    Sticker I left in a trailhead bathroom while on a five mile hike directly after clocking out. Proving that actionable advocating does not have to be hard.

    The exhaustion for some may not just be physical; known to visit others by way of a spiritual tax. In a healthcare setting being in “go-mode” for sixteen-hours straight leaves little room for error. Though night-shift rounds are not always as demanding as their daytime counterparts. This is where I find the time to work towards creative goals and a small extra paycheck nightly.

    Thanks again capitalism, seriously…

    This burnout-inducing cycle is sometimes a hurdle between my creative output and my ultimate vision for a fully accessible creative-hub that respects both the economic truth of America as well as my time. This is the perfect example of how capitalism kills things that make life worth living.

    My Creative Vision:

    In a world where our basic needs were met; labor wasn’t extracted from people for crumbs falling from above, the publishing press I run would be vastly different.

    I would:

    Rock shop working area backdrop is made from trans-flag, black mushroom flag, and multiple colored tapestry in line in front of the backdrops are multiple tables and stands containing rocks and other spiritual items in boxes and other containers, and the floor has scattered minerals and stone items that are being sorted before cleaning.
    A view inside of my messy workshop showing part of my altar, some of my rock collection mid-sorting, a shelf holding other rocks, and one of my working tables.
    • Host Daily Community “Sprints”: these would act towards providing real-time, hands-on editing and book design sessions. Open to anyone considered part of a minority community that also has a story to tell, regardless of their technical skill level or ability to pay.
    • Establish a Physical & Digital Archive: This is the permanent, digitally stored as well as tactile space for handmade zines and indie works. Existing for these to be shared, interacted with, read, and archived for future generations.
    • Launch a Global Gift Initiative: We would ship physical poetry, art, and minority literature collections to rural libraries and community centers worldwide. Without the looming shadow of shipping costs or production overhead to affect our ability to share.
    • Full-Scale lessons & Mentorship: I would enjoy being able to spend my days teaching the technical side of rockhounding, polishing stones, and/or digital publishing. Using this time to help others build their own platforms of resistance and products from found materials.

    The Collective Struggle of the Creative Class:

    I for one know that I am far from alone in this struggle. Across the globe, musicians, artists, and word-lovers alike are all echoing the same sentiment: we are being worked to death, leaving our mediums of choice blank.

    The “starving artist” trope is not a romantic rite of passage; it is a systemic failure. When we look at the history of art, much of the work we celebrate today was only possible due to patronage or, the cost of living allowing for a simpler, slower pace.

    A fossilized off-white in color fully intact specimen of a snail shell is shown on a wooden table next to a permanent marker for size.
    One of the more recent fossils I’ve found and one of my favorite specimens thus far.

    Today, our pace is pre-set to hyper-speed and, we are all expected to be productive at work or producing “content” for viewing at a breakneck speed.

    That goes without even mentioning that most of us do this all for close to free in the name of giant corporations. Yet, we are the ones basically paying a subscription premium to exist.

    Paving the Way Forward:

    Despite the exhaustion felt after some of the overnight shifts mixed with the emotional-weight of my work week, every hour I spend on anything creative is a brick in the path I am paving.

    I aim to work toward a future where my brand isn’t just a side project squeezed between shifts, but a sustainable ecosystem for myself and other members of marginalized communities.

    I’m building the infrastructure now, through digital collections, community-building, spiritual items, and natural items too. All of my individual creations and projects are about creating an entryway.

    Butternut Cave, Malabar Farm State Park Ohio. Find Your Tribe in White Bold Text Smaller text: Connect with an intentional community that supports radical artistic vision.
    Find your tribe: connect with an international community that supports radical artistic vision.

    This is me playing the long game with every manuscript I format for myself or another indie author. Using each win collected as another reminder that we are still here.

    We are done shouting into the void.

    One day, I intend to walk through that door into a full-time commitment to the arts, leaving the endless night shifts behind to finally focus entirely on elevating the voices of the grassroots artistic and writing community.

    I am aligned with the movement focused on helping each other build the world we want to live in. Even if I have to do it one-by-one through each free access code, publishing opportunity, or open-mic night I provide.

    TLDR:

    I offer free indie publishing support to other individuals in any community considered marginalized due to my deep-rooted belief that storytelling and artistic expression should not be locked behind financial barriers.

    Through Poeaxtry and the Prism, I am trying to create more accessible pathways for marginalized creatives.

    Black Heading white font reading Poeaxtry image shows the creators response to a house bill in Ohio aimed at attacking gender nonconforming adults and other LGBTQ+ community members.
    Here we stand ten toes down for our whole community.

    This experimental piece explores burnout, overnight work culture, capitalism, and the tension between survival and creativity. It also outlines my long-term vision for a community-centered publishing space.

    Further Reading:

    Print 2 Demand – Indie Publishers are Shaping the Future

    Ness labs – Burnout & When the Creative Tap Runs Dry

    Success Reclaimed – Doing Enough

    Permanent Ink- Iden