Journals of recent hikes, including accessibility, who went, kid- and dog-friendliness, weather, and nearby trails or other nearby cool spots. Posts layer photos with trip-specific moments, reflections, and thoughts. Other journals show past adventures and past nature spot reflected on based on a prompt or thought, some photos maybe added when available.
Second one in a month. I’d looked it up before driving out to Blue Rock State Park, and every trail map and hiker report said the fire tower cab was open. So I drove. I hiked. I climbed.
And it was locked. I wouldn’t care if it wasn’t supposed to be open, the view was still amazing.
No interior. Just wire railing, rusted stairs, and that strange feeling of being high up and let down at the same time.
But the trail still gave me something. Actually, two things. Two Heart-Shaped Fossil Plates, Found By Accident
They look so tiny!
I wasn’t fossil hunting, not really. But like always, my eyes stay low to the trail. Always scanning for the strange and the almost-heart-shaped. And there they were. These two fossil plates, shale-gray and layered, both shaped like hearts. One had coral lines across the surface like it had been pressed into memory. The other was chunkier, heavy in the hand.
I keep these for my fiancé. Wherever I go, if the earth offers me a heart, I take it to them. And then kelso puts them in a heart jar.
I’m a sucker for fungi photos
These two are the latest in the growing pile. None of them are polished or perfect. Most still have dirt in the lines. But that’s the point. They’re not shaped by effort they’re just found, already waiting. Like gifts from the earth for me to take home.
The Tower Was Closed, But the Trail Gave More
The cab being locked wasn’t that big of a deal. I’d imagined sitting cross-legged on the floor of the tower, eating a snack, writing a line or two. Smoking a joint. Just being above the trees for a while.
Instead, I stood on the platform, held the railing, and looked through the metal. I did get to see a cute tiny lock a couple but in the fencing on the side together. I love locks on the wild.
Sometimes the ground gives more than the sky.
I got to see Luna from way up above. My friend sky and her baby stayed on the ground with her.
Second visit in 8 days / brought a friend this time
Back again, second time in just over a week. I didn’t plan on becoming someone who returns to the same place so soon, but here I am. Fossil Park’s got a hold on me, apparently.
This time I brought a friend. They’d never been either, and she didn’t know what to look for, what was real, what was just rock. Same as me the first time, honestly. But where I was breaking apart crumbly layers of mud and shale, they were out there going at full boulders like a one-person demolition crew. I looked over at one point and they were dead-serious trying to crack open a rock the size of a car battery. I told them, “You’re working too hard. You look for these.” And I handed her some shale. Eventually she caught on, just as I had. As for me? I found a rock shaped like a heart. That’s already a good day.
The water tower that marks the parking lot
But this one had fossils stretched across the surface… tiny patterns and lines like pressed flowers, just petrified. It’s rough, imperfect, and absolutely getting added to the little collection I’ve been building for my fiancé. I always keep heart-shaped rocks for them. This one just happens to be 375 million years old and covered in dead sea life. Felt right.
We took our time heading back. Talked. Wandered. Didn’t even feel rushed. That’s two visits now, and I’m already thinking about the third. Might be soon.
I went up to Monroe, Michigan the other day. Let’s be real, their prices are cheaper. It’s legal in both Ohio and Michigan. So, who gives a fuck? I’d been meaning to combine one of these trips with a fossil stop. A few weeks ago, it hit me. Fossil Park in Sylvania, Ohio is only like a half-hour away. It is right on my way home. Easy win, right?
And yeah, even with the gas prices up in the USA (thanks Trump for lowering them NOT). In Michigan, it’s still cheaper, and way more worth it. Even considering, the closest Ohio one is right around the corner from my house. The THC is weak, the taxes are wild, and they’re trying to take half your soul in regulation fees. Fuck Ohio.
I was hoping to finally catch Lake Huron on this run. I thought the ride back wasn’t going to be that long. Then I actually looked at the apple map. Curious to see the distance just from Port Huron to my place. It slapped me in the face with a full five-hour drive. So Huron’s getting bumped to a future trip.
Instead, I shifted gears and headed to Fossil Park. I’m really glad I did. All things considered, I really need to make sure I have an inhaler with me at all times!
Fossil Park isn’t a “hike” in the usual sense. It isn’t a forest, no huge trail, no hills, no beautiful waterfalls, or views. It’s a designated fossil dig zone. This area is set up with trucked-in Silica Shale, which is a layered rock that splits into sheets. It is not the crumbly mud ball I had in my head. I spent the first hour breaking up clay blobs. A dumb ass, sweating and squinting at my phone trying to figure out what shale actually looks like. To save you the same time I wasted, here’s a little Spoiler: it’s the flat, flaky, grayish rock. You’re welcome.
There’s a fenced-in quarry where the actual digging happens. You’re only allowed to collect fossils within that enclosed space, not just anywhere in the park. Let’s follow the rules. We should use the provided trash cans. Do not bring tools (rock hammers and such). Follow whatever else they ask. So we can work to keep the cool free things cool and free!
Photo showing most of the poster type signs near sitting areas in the quarry
They’ve got:
Picnic tables and with covers used as shaded spots around the quarry. The shaded covers have metal posters showing all the fossils you can find. This is super helpful if you can see your phone. It’s not too bright to see or so hot you can’t touch it. If you can see your phone, there’s a QR code on the poster also. You can it scan and learn more. There’s a big-ass water tower, pretty much in the parking lot. Which is a cool thing to use to know you’re at the right spot.
If you’re wondering about trails, yes! And, it’s definitely not just a fenced-off fossil pit, either. The actual dig site is enclosed. The whole area has more going on. There is a network of smaller trails that connect to Sylvan Prairie Park and Pacesetter Park. I could never climb these. There is a climbing area with three multi-sided towers near the parking area. Next to it is a large covered picnic shelter just outside the dig zone. It’s certainly a spot where you can make an entire afternoon out of it! Even if you don’t spend all six hours baking in shale like I did.
So I totally ended up back here FOUR times since this trip! I made it up the wall ALSO!!! Climbing
Here’s what you can expect to find in that Devonian Silica Shale:
Trilobites (rare but incredible)
Brachiopods (look like seashells but aren’t)
Bryozoans (coral-like, colonial creatures)
Crinoids (those segmented stem fossils)
Gastropods (ancient snail-like shells)
Horn corals (singular coral fossils, horn-shaped)
I managed to grab a decent variety. Though, I forgot my bucket or even a bag. Alas, I must go back for more!
The near-death experience I mentioned:
I got there before noon, thinking I’d stay for “a little while.” Next thing I know, it’s after 6 p.m., my entire outfit was soaked through with sweat. I then notice I’m on the verge of either a heat stroke or an asthma attack. It was 104 degrees out. I didn’t even realize how bad it was. I tried to walk two minutes back to my car. Honestly, I had to keep stopping to breathe. Or sit. Took me forever. Not fun. Hydrate, people. This is how you die. Alone. Fossils in your pocket.
Even though it wasn’t a traditional hike, for me. Fossil Park earns its place in this journal. I’m sure I’ll have to go back to see the trails. I also want to see more fossils! I said that like Mr. Crocker from The Fairly Odd Parents when he’s yelling “fairy godparents.” It’s outdoors. It’s a hands-on experience. It’s a rare chance to pull 375 million-year-old fossils out of the ground with your bare hands. If you’re anywhere near Toledo, Monroe, or heading East from Michigan into Ohio, it’s an easy and rewarding detour.
I left Asheville later than I planned. Originally I wanted to be on the road by 6 AM but, sleep had other plans for me. I didn’t hit the road until 9. Honestly, I didn’t really want to leave. I was already missing Kelsey and Luna like crazy. If it weren’t for them, the drive home wouldn’t be calling.
The trip back was full of beautiful views. They motivated me to push my ass home. These views ended up being little adventures in themselves. First on the list was New River Gorge, where the air smelled like fresh pine. I noticed I could smell the rain coming for the first time in years. The Appalachian hardwoods were thick with oak and hickory trees as far as I was able to see. Man, the views over the gorge were breathtaking! The river winding through deep cliffs. I grabbed some stickers to remember the place. Though, the real prize was the silence, and also the mossy rocks laying beneath the towering trees. I visited this place often as a kid. I expected to find it less breathtaking. It was actually more stunning than I recall.
Lovers leap overlook
Hawk’s Nest was next, and man, the mushroom show there was something else. Orange mushrooms popped like little bursts of flame against the forest floor. I spotted turkey tails layered in their colorful rings, and the chicken of the woods clung to fallen logs. The trees shifted here to include more maples and sycamores, their leaves a full display of green. I wandered some overlooks, feeling the wind and watching clouds dance over the valleys. Lover’s leap is definitely a must-see! I wonder if there’s significance in the name? I got caught in a sudden downpour. It drenched me to the bone as soon as I made it to the leap’s overlook. I love the rain, and I find it refreshing, especially spiritually. The wet rocks and leaves glistened under the gray sky. The sound of water everywhere made it feel like the forest was alive. It was whispering sweet nothings to me.
Cathedral falls
Cathedral Falls was the third stop. It’s the kind of hidden gem you hope for. The water was cascading down carved stone surrounded by ferns and moss thick enough to hide a whole world beneath. The cool mist from the falls was a perfect refresher. It was by far the most crowded place I stopped by size. There may have been fewer people in number. However, 15-20 people in that area made me more uncomfortable than usual.
Little roadside wv falls
The “little roadside fall” right down from Cathedral falls was the perfect punctuation mark on my journey home. The little cascade served as a reminder that nature always has a story to tell. Even if you’re the only one driving past to notice it. Which is what kept me at my last stop for so long. I was the only one there, and it felt meant for me.I’m back now, tired but full, carrying all these moments with me. The plants, the fungi, the waterfalls, the memories all make this place more than just a spot on the map. They’re the pulse of the mountains, the wild heart of Appalachia. They remind me of home, and that I am pure Wild and Wonderful to the bone.
Last year, I was standing on the edge of Lake Superior in Munising, Michigan. It was mid-June, but the breeze off the water still bit through my clothes. Kelsey and I bought a camping fan, and we definitely did not need it. Shorts were also unused for the most part. I didn’t go all the way in, honestly, not even knee-deep. I rock hounded and just let the lake touch my calves. That was enough. It was cold, but not unbearable. Bracing. That’s the word I’d use. It also wasn’t hot out at all so, why would I get in water that cold. I remember thinking, “Okay. That’s not as bad as I expected.” I absolutely do not wish to swim in it, though! I stood there for a few minutes, toes curling into sand and broken rock. Continued breathing it in, feeling the lake tug gently at my ankles and feet. Then I walked back out of the lake. Easy like Sunday morning.
Sliding Rock
This year was different. I found myself in Western North Carolina, in the center of a July heat wave. My sister introduced me to Sliding Rock. Look below to see a picture. It’s the natural rock waterside. It comes with tourists in a line so long we were across the creek. The sounds of nervous laughter in front of us mixed with splashing, and shrieking. It was hot, my car thermostat was reading triple digits. The sun made the stone slick and warm. I waited my turn and tried to psych myself up. Then I sat down on the rock, pushed off, and honestly barely got momentum. I, no sooner hit the pool at the bottom, though, and I froze. That cold that doesn’t just shock your skin, it locks you up. I couldn’t breathe. My chest physically felt stuck. It didn’t matter that it was July or that I’d just been sweating and cursing the sun. That water hit harder than anything else I have felt.
I was so confused. Sliding Rock? That’s just a little creek in the woods. Lake Superior is, well, Superior. It’s gosh darn massive and glacial and famous for being cold. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much worse Sliding Rock felt. I didn’t even go under the water in Munising. Not really. Just my lower legs. But at Sliding Rock, I was fully submerged, head and all. I am sure that is what makes a difference. Still, I got curious. I looked it up.
Lake Superior in mid-June? Anywhere from 40 to 50 degrees Fahrenheit (ca. 10 °C), sometimes colder. Sliding Rock in mid-July? Consistently around 50 to 55 degrees. So technically, the lake is colder. But it didn’t feel that way.
I keep coming back to that. I feel like sometimes we trick ourselves. The numbers don’t matter as much as the moment. I expected Lake Superior to be cold, so I braced myself. I only dipped partway in. With Sliding Rock, the heat had lulled me into false confidence. I didn’t just dip, I slid. That cold slapped me across the face. It stole my oxygen. It stuck to my skin even after I climbed out, dripping. Though stunned, I was still smiling like an idiot. As I listened to my adult sister beg to go again and again like we were children, and again.
It reminded me how nature doesn’t always work in neat measurements. Sometimes it’s about the moment. It’s about contrast. It’s also about what you think you’re ready for. Others, it is what humbles you anyway.
Anyway, if you’ve done both, I’m curious to know what felt colder to you?
Also, so you know, we arrived at sliding rock a little over an hour before close. Jade, my sister, putting on some front like she was going to hate it. Jenna, our other sister, and Jade were here years prior. Not gonna lie, the experience was almost nostalgic. The 9-year age difference really prevented me from truly being a kid with my sisters. If it wasn’t for that feeling, I wouldn’t have slid again. There’s something about your grown sibling demanding to go down the slide again. It’s like a child at a park where you can’t deny another slid. Sliding rock greedily stole my breath each dip.
Years ago my mom and I saw a true crime episode Pictured Rocks National Lake shore was the crime scene. Neither of us had heard of PRNLS before. Both of us became hooked on the beauty instantly. Call it obsessed over nature. Thus creating our shared dream to visit together. Though mom didn’t make it physically we scattered her cremains of the ledge, including her in the experience still.
I’ve done so much this trip, I can’t even keep track of the days anymore. Seriously! I thought this was Day 4, but it turns out we’re on Day 5. Which was actually yesterday!since I post the day after. Time doesn’t move normally. It’s challenging when you’re chasing waterfalls. You skip small towns, and try to fit an entire mountain range into your memory.
But that’s the magic of it.
Today we started with a roadside stop. It was not a tourist destination. It was not marked on any guide. This one was just a waterfall pouring its way down a rock face, belonging there more than we did. We pulled over without planning to. Sometimes the best parts of travel aren’t even the places you mark on the map. They are the ones that interrupt you.
Look at this view!
After that, we drove to Living Waters Ministries. It is a piece of private land in the mountains. They open it to the public, so everyone can share in the quiet. There are bridges and trails that wind around multiple waterfalls, and the whole place feels spiritual. And not just because it’s a ministry, but because the water itself speaks in hushes. We saw flowing falls, mossy stones, and gentle shade that made us linger longer than planned. I even found a plethora of orange mushrooms!
I love spaces that don’t gate keep peace. There’s something so honest about that. About letting the land be seen, letting the sound of water be free.
We closed the day on the French Broad River Overlook Bridge. We watched the sun stretch across the sky. It touched every color in the crayon box. Golden hour felt like a painting, like a hymn. I didn’t need to talk. I just breathe, just exist there with my sister and the air and the light.
This trip has been long and heavy in some ways, but moments like this… they guarantee you are lifted.
🛣️ What’s Next: my Route Home
I am heading back slowly, making time to stop at a few more gems before we leave the mountains behind.
Warrior’s Path State Park in Tennessee, for a breath of forest and maybe one last skip along the lake. Hawk’s Nest State Park, WV because every trip needs a cliff view and a cable car, right? New River Gorge, that grand, wild canyon bridge where the earth opens wide.
Each stop feels like a pause, a prayer, a final thank-you to the land that’s held me.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for being here. You allow me to keep sharing this journey one journal entry, one stop, one miscounted day at a time. 🌿
The video of today’s waterfalls and that wild sunset is up on TikTok. It is also available on Instagram and many other places now (@Poeaxtry_). If you’ve ever stood under a waterfall or cried at golden hour, I think you’ll get it.
Today wasn’t about checking off a hike or chasing a view. It was about carrying something that mattered and, then, choosing to leave it behind.
We started at the newly rebuilt Rainbow Bridge in Lake Lure. The lake is low right now. It is almost emptied out in parts. The road between it and Chimney Rock is brand new. The whole region is still healing water, roads, foundations. But someone rebuilt that bridge on purpose. Someone made it soft, intentional, open.
We brought our mom’s dog’s collar with us. We walked to the bridge, took our time, and tied it gently to the rail. And we talked. Out loud. Not just about the dog, but about the years. About what the collar held, what it represented. It was small, but it held weight. And letting it go there didn’t feel like loss. It felt like care.
Afterward, my sister took us somewhere I’d never even seen before: an old highway bridge in Saluda, North Carolina. She just said, “I think you’ll like it.” And she was right. It was broken and quiet, the type of structure that doesn’t ask for attention but still holds your eye. We got out and climbed around some nearby, and in the hillside, we found crystals. They were sharp and half-buried. We dug them out by hand. It felt like something the earth was offering back.
Our final stop was Standing Rock, where the air felt thinner and everything stretched out in front of us. We stood together. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t light, either. Yet, it was beautiful.
We didn’t plan to do all that. We just followed where the day took us. The roads we took through flood-scarred towns hurt in a way I didn’t expect. It led us to a memory we hadn’t made yet. We didn’t come back with much. Just crystals. Just peace. The collar stayed on the bridge. But what it meant stayed with us.
Yesterday was a waterfall day. North Carolina left nothing to be desired.
We hit Bridal Veil Falls, Dry Falls, and Triple Falls back to back and somehow, each one felt completely different. The Bridal Veil was soft and strange, like it didn’t quite want to be seen but couldn’t help it. Dry Falls had weight. You get to walk behind it. Even though the mist still found your face, it felt like standing inside power. Then there was Triple Falls was layered, loud, and fast. It didn’t ask permission. It just was. The waterfall offered an awesome opportunity to swim or wade. AND ROCKS!
I’ve hiked a lot of places, but, something about the mountains in North Carolina is different. Like you’re not just watching water and rocks. You’re watching time. Energy. Release.
There’s always something about that final moment when you stop moving and just look. That one view that makes your whole body quiet. It’s like the world steps back for you. Even just for a minute.
And that’s what this day gave me. A minute. Three times over.
I’ll remember the sound of each one differently. The feel of the mist. The angle of the rocks. The way I kept turning around just to see it again. I’ll remember the way the road twisted before the first fall came into view. How you never really know what it’s going to look like until you’re right up on it.
That’s what I’m chasing in life.
This was only just day 2 of my totally awesome vacation!
Blue Ridge Parkway Mountains, NC (I wish I was able to just exist in the beauty I’ve seen here.)
Weather: Mid-80s, humid, but who’s keeping track when there’s a waterfall involved?
Companions: No Luna (she’s home with her mom), just me and my sister. Even though she did ditch me halfway up a watchtower like a lil traitor. Like the time we were younger with the beer. Sorry Jenna for blaming you until last year. 😂
🌊 Looking Glass Falls: 10/10. It is perfect for the days you can’t imagine hiking to the spot. You want to cool off in such places.
So any way it is right off the road and somehow still feels like magic. Crowded as hell, yes. Worth it? Absolutely.
I didn’t swim because there were too many humans. Honestly, with my shoulder and collarbone in the shape they are, I didn’t want to risk it. It looked like a lot of work was needed to swim there. I did get my feet wet and snapped some solid shots. The rock hounding opportunity here seems large. The colors are wild. It’s as if nature said “watch this” and actually did something cool. There’s a shit ton of mica in this area, so everything’s kissed with glitter. Though I do know this area in North Carolina is said to be a dream for rockhounds.
10/10 would recommend. Doesn’t even matter how packed it is, just go. If you’re close enough to do it. It is worth it because unlike Ohio here they allow you to swim at most the waterfalls it seems. Wherever you want pretty much, if there’s water, to enjoy as long as it’s not privately owned.
🔥 Frying pan Mountain Lookout Tower
Okay. First time ever getting to the top of a real fire tower. It is different from that half-a-tower in Ohio that was closed. Ariel Park’s little teaser one scared Luna when we went. I never quite made it back there too.
This? This was the real deal. It moves like, sways-in-the-wind, “is this thing going to fall?” kind of moves. But I made it up. Alone.
Duck to get down, and under the door. While I try not to overthink the physics, and enjoy the view.
My lovely sister turned back halfway. Claimed she “already did it once.” 🙄 Whatever.
View: 10/10. Worth it, even if I had fallen to my dramatic death.
Also, note: my sister did admit she was scared. Said she’d already done it before and figured I should get my solo moment. Still, many eye rolls. 😒
On the climb up, we found those weird blue rocks along the roadside, where the azurite vs. spray paint debate began. Whole day was giving side quests.
And at the top?
🛝 Sliding Rock
Sister said it’s usually locked up, but it was opened inside today, and they were in there cleaning too. Kinda makes me wonder what they’re planning — I saw online that some towers get turned into Airbnbs or rentals. I would totally live in one if I didn’t have to take those same stairs every time.
We did it. We slid. Three times.
She only came because I hadn’t been yet… then she was the one yelling “Again! Again!” like it was a carnival ride.
If we’d had more than an hour ’til close? We’d probably still be there sliding right now.
Water was straight-up glacial. Like Lake Superior-level cold. Maybe worse. Still fun.
🪨 Bonus Rock Nerd Notes
You can’t smoke on my sister’s apartment property (🙄), so I’ve been banished to the gravel area behind the lot. But turns out?
Pretty gravel.
Some quartz, definitely. Some mica sparkle everywhere. Found some wild black and orange specks. Discovered some blue rocks, too Google says azurite. I say: might be spray paint. Still picked it up. Some have coppery streaks, so… maybe? Either way, funny or cool. North Carolina gravel is mysterious and dramatic, just like I like it.
🗺️ Coming Up
Tomorrow: Chill day. Might sneak out for a few solo peeks 👀 Monday: Cummins Falls, TN finally! After that: more Blue Ridge wanderings, mica hunts, and sparkly rock sleuthing.
Final Thoughts
Mountain water: colder than my patience.
Sliding Rock: better than a theme park.
Fire towers: wobbly nightmares with perfect views.
Sister: mildly traitorous, but redeemed herself on the slides.
Mica: everywhere.
Blue spray-paint rock: iconic regardless.
This whole region? Vibes unmatched.
Going up that tower felt exactly like climbing a sync point in Assassin’s Creed or one of those fire towers in Far Cry. My brain was glitching, but the view? Totally worth the XP boost.
Also I did indeed do all this in Nike slides. My shoes were in the car, and I kept saying I need to switch them. Then forgetting again.
