Tag: nature journaling

  • Flint Ridge Trail, A Winter Walk Through Deep Time

    Flint Ridge Trail, A Winter Walk Through Deep Time


    Iron stained flint druzy quartz at flint ridge
    Huge flint chunk with druzy quartz

    On January 6th, I walked the Flint Ridge to the Creek Trail, a modest distance, just under two miles, but heavy with time. This was not a mileage day, it was a listening day. Winter had stripped the woods back to their bones. No leaves to soften the view, no green distractions, no canopy to hide the land’s shape. Just stone, bark, frozen ground, and the quiet pressure of cold air sitting against the skin.

    January in central Ohio does not ease you in. The air was sharp without being cruel, cold enough to keep the trail firm and the mud locked in place. A thin crust of frost clung to shaded patches, crunching under my crocs. While open stretches stayed dry and reliable. Wind moved lightly through the ridge, not howling, just enough to remind you that winter was in full effect. And she was paying attention. This coldness rewards preparation and punishes distraction, gloves on, layers balanced, breath steady.


    Location, Location, Location…

    A frozen pond and bare sticks and tree branches
    Frozen pond with barren tree limbs and sticks

    Flint Ridge sits in Licking County, Ohio, preserved today as a State Memorial. Long before trail markers, paved lots, and signage, this ridge was one of the most significant prehistoric flint quarry sites in North America. For more than 10,000 years, Indigenous peoples returned here again and again to extract flint. This stone is prized for its durability, predictability, and clean fractures. Projectile points, blades, scrapers, and tools made from Flint Ridge flint have been found across much of eastern North America. This is evidence of vast trade networks and migration routes that existed long before colonial borders or state lines.

    Geology

    A small frozen pond at Flint Ridge in Licking country ohio. some some holes in the ice, snow dusted woods floor and bare trees
    One of the ancient quarries filled with frozen rainfall

    The geology is the reason the ridge exists at all. Layers of Mississippian-age limestone hold dense seams of high quality flint, exposed through erosion and time. What you see today, shallow pits, uneven ground, subtle rises and dips, are not random. They are the physical record of careful extraction methods repeated across generations. These are not careless scars. They are marks of knowledge, restraint, and survival.

    Trails

    Walking this trail in winter makes those features easier to read. Without undergrowth, the old quarry depressions stand out clearly, small bowls in the earth that catch shadow and light differently. You are not just walking through woods, you are moving across an active historical document. This one was written in stone and absence.

    The Flint Ridge to the Creek Trail begins near the quarry landscape and gradually descends toward water. The grade is gentle, approachable for most hikers, and well suited to days when you want presence over push. Underfoot, the ground feels distinct, firmer, and rockier in places. Almost, as if the land is reminding you what it is made of. Dogs and kids are welcome. Though the trails aren’t exactly ADA accessible, there is a nice-paved part with educational sines and a museum.

    As the trail drops, sound becomes more noticeable. Water moving beneath thin ice, then opening up again, a distant-low conversation that cuts through the quiet. The creek is not wide or dramatic, but it anchors the hike. Stone and water have always worked together here, shaping tools, shaping trade, shaping movement.


    Dogs

    Brown dog with blue collar
    Luna

    As mentioned, it is a dog friendly trail. Though, hiking it with a dog in winter adds another layer of attentiveness. Leashes are required, and for good reason. The terrain is uneven in spots, and the historical features deserve protection. Winter conditions also mean watching paws for ice buildup and cold exposure. I always make Luna don booties. You need to remember water even when temperatures are low. Always stay alert near the creek edge. The trail length makes it a solid outing for dogs who enjoy exploration without overexertion, especially on colder days.


    Ethics

    Flint Ridge State Memorial is a protected site, collecting flint or removing natural materials is prohibited. This matters. Rockhounding ethics are not optional here. The ridge has already given enough. The act of leaving everything where it lies is part of respecting the thousands of years of use that came before modern recreation.


    Winter field dusted in snow with trees in the distance
    Field view at flint ridge park

    More trail traits

    The trail itself is well-marked and easy to follow, even in winter. Foot traffic keeps it visible, and the shorter distance makes it accessible while still feeling meaningful. This is not a destination built around spectacle. There is no overlook designed for photos, no dramatic payoff at the end. The reward is cumulative, built step by step. The pieces of flint and quartz you see along the way, and the history.


    More trails and things to see

    Flint Ridge State Memorial also includes additional trails and an interpretive center. Education here goes deeper into the archaeology, geology, and cultural significance of the site. Even without stepping inside, the land teaches quietly. It shows how landscapes hold memory, and how walking can be a form of respect when done intentionally.

    One of the educational signs on the paved trail
    Educational sign

    This January hike did not need distance to feel complete. Just under two miles was enough to feel grounded, slowed, and centered. Winter sharpened the experience, stripped it down to essentials. Stone. Water. Breath. Time.

    If you hike Flint Ridge, go gently. Stay on trail. Keep dogs leashed. Leave what you find. Let the ridge speak for itself. Bring your kinds and educate them. The story is already there, layered beneath your boots, older than any of us, and still very much alive.


    Winter mushrooms growing in a tree
    Large mushroom growths on the trail

    Want to explore more?

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    Mound Hike

  • Beaches or Mountains: Why I Love Them Both

    Beaches or Mountains: Why I Love Them Both

    Black and White photo I took in 2016 of the Santa Monica Pier!

    Well, I’m finally feeling like answering the a daily Prompt again. Today’s prompt is… Beaches or mountains, and tell us why. And you know me, I ain’t picking. I love them both, but for very different reasons, and at different times.

    I’m a mountain man. I like to hike. I like to find destinations that don’t have destinations. If nobody was around to stop me, I’d probably hike farther than I do, just to see a lot less than I do. Ohio is sacred there’s something sacred in the quiet, in the moments between one peak and the next. Being out in nature, away from people, away from screens, schedules, and most important to me no one’s bothering me about being trans. I just exist. Seeing and feeling things sometimes that’s everything. Sometimes I touch a tree, just to touch it, and whisper “thank you,” like it’s listening.

    I’m also not always trying to disappear into the woods. Sometimes I want to feel the sand between my toes, sip a mojito by the ocean, let the sun hang on my skin. And yet… even then, there’s that itch to pick up my tent, walk farther than anyone else, and not see a soul for a day or two. I’m the one who goes out over their head in the ocean when swimming, just because I can. The water is alive, and I want to be alive in it too.

    I’ve been chasing both my whole life. When I lived in Vegas, every other weekend we’d drive through the mountains just to get to LA. The mountains, the hills, the twists and turns they made the journey alive. Nature isn’t one thing to me. Clearly the ocean is nature. The woods are nature. The mountains are nature. Unless it’s Florida. I ain’t never been, and I don’t plan on it either.

    So which do I love more? I don’t. I love them both, for different reasons, at different times. The mountains feed my soul with quiet and effort. The beaches feed my soul with freedom and motion. Sometimes it’s the smell of pine. Sometimes it’s the taste of salt water on my lips or smelling it hanging in the air. Sometimes it’s just sitting still, sometimes I know it’s walking farther than I’ve ever walked before. Both remind me why I need nature at all, and both remind me why I’ll keep chasing it, wherever it is.

    Oh look it’s Sky, The Baby, and Luna!
  • Afternoon Recharge at Dennison Biological Reserve

    Afternoon Recharge at Dennison Biological Reserve

    A Sunday Reset

    Sunday is technically a work night for me. I’m a weekend warrior at the nursing home, but that doesn’t stop the pull of a perfect September afternoon. I woke up early around 2 p.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. The weather was reading a nice 80 degrees, clear skies, the kind of day that begs for a quick escape, if you cannot fit in a full escape. Luna, my dog, was already side-eyeing me like she knew what was coming, wheels spinning in my head. I swear she knows me better than anyone.

    We ran to the car, like it was a race. Of course we made a quick pit stop at the drive-thru for a zero Red Bull, before we hit the road. Dennison Biological Reserve is one of our go-to spots when we want a short burst of fresh air, greenery, and wildlife without committing to a full-day hike. It is right up the street though technically a different town. Granville, Ohio is home to this local gem. Be respectful, leave no trace, don’t interfere with the natural environment as the college uses it for their programs and is nice enough to allow public access. They even leave out doggie bowls for water! Bless!!

    Arboretum Loop Trail

    We went straight for the Arboretum Loop Trail, and today we did it twice. It’s a flat, easy loop, perfect for a brisk half mile that we covered in under 10 minutes per lap. The trail is simple but full of little discoveries. Luna bounced along the path, sniffing everything, clearly enjoying the change in scenery. I spotted a striking yellow-and-blue butterfly, among the flowers as if it had been painted there for the occasion.

    At one point, we stumbled across an entire raccoon skeleton. Luna pulled and sniffed the air curiously, but I didn’t allow her close. I also didn’t risk collecting them for chimes and wands because roundworms aren’t worth that. Though, I couldn’t help but pause and appreciate how these small, almost hidden details make even short trips feel like an adventure. That’s the beauty of these local spots accessible and full of unexpected wildlife moments.

    Why These Small Trips Matter

    Even short trips like this make a difference. Being outside, moving, seeing wildlife, and noticing details like a butterfly’s wing or the pattern of leaves in sunlight. At least for me is a reset for my brain. It doesn’t matter that we only did a mile; walking, breathing fresh air, and being somewhere alive with natural details gives me the kind of mental recharge that sticks with me for hours. The sunlight is a big part of what makes this so important for someone like me with seasonal affective disorder. Though I would argue sunlight is important in boosting almost every individuals day… in the right situations.

    Autumn leaves freshly fallen on the Ohio trail
    Autumn Leaves on The Arboretum Trail

    These little adventures remind me that you don’t always need a full day or a long trail to feel recharged. Even a short loop or two at a local reserve can be enough to clear the head, reset perspective, and get me ready to handle the rest of my day… or night at work. Now I’ll be feeling much lighter and more grounded.

    Local Highlights

    Wildlife spotting: Butterflies, raccoon skeletons, birds, and the occasional squirrel or chipmunk. Trail accessibility: Seasonal vibes: September afternoons bring warmth, crisp air, and long shadows… perfect for photography or just breathing it all in.

    Dennison Biological Reserve is one of those gems that’s easy to forget until you need it. Quick, local, low-commitment, but high in payoff for mood, energy, and mental clarity. Even a single mile, a short loop, can remind you why you keep chasing little moments of nature.

    Though just to note there is also a close to 2 mile loop here and another closer to 3.5 mile loop. That both sit on a privately owned no access allowed lake/pond. Please respect others and their property and do not disturb the private lake areas.

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    Nature

  • Sliding Rock Felt Colder Than Lake Superior—But Was It?

    Sliding Rock Felt Colder Than Lake Superior—But Was It?

    Lake Superior

    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

    Sliding Rock Parking lot sign, brown, sign, green trees. Sign tells you not to move rocks!

    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.

    Sliding Rock Natural Waterfall in Western North Carolina

    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.

    Pictured Rocks National Lake Shore, Bridal Veil Falls in the Distance, Clear Blue Sky, Lake Superior appearing unmoving.
    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.

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  • Between the Safe and the Wild: What Are You Chasing?

    Between the Safe and the Wild: What Are You Chasing?


    Are you seeking security or adventure?


    Axton Mitchell, summer 2024, Munising, Michigan Waterfalls
    Axton N.O. Mitchell Summer 2024 Munising, Michigan

    Adventure. Always. I’m not here for the safest route. I’m here for the one that makes me feel something. I live in Ohio, and while I haven’t explored every inch of Hocking Hills, I go there a lot. It’s familiar in a way that still surprises me. The cliffs and trails change every time. Their appearance depends on the season, the weather, or the way I showed up that day.

    A man and his dog sitting on  Coopers rock.

    I’ve stood under waterfalls in Michigan, North Carolina, and all across Ohio. I’ve seen a lot in West Virginia too. I’m chasing the sound that drowns everything else out. Just today, I hiked out to a bridge in Saluda, North Carolina? To take a photo. It wasn’t long, extreme, or even all that remote. But it still gave me that feeling I’m always after: the “you had to be there” moment. That’s the shit adventure I crave. The quiet, personal, and absolutely necessary. There were also a lot of gems and crystals around this bridge. Score x2!

    Triple Falls

    I’ve added, North Carolina, to the list just this week. Two days ago, I climbed a fire tower alone. I watched the trees stretch out like they had something to say. There’s clarity I only find on the trail. The best is always on hikes with waterfalls and views, the kind that make you work for it. The kind where your legs burn. Your back aches. But it’s all worth it when the trail opens up. There’s nothing but space in front of you.

    Summer 2022 Axton Mitchell Hocking Hills, Logan, Ohio
    Axton N.O. Mitchell Summer 2022 Hocking Hills, Ohio

    I dream about hiking to the base of Half Dome. I want to see the desert waves in Arizona. I want to be swallowed up in the fog and forests of the Pacific Northwest (around Seattle and Portland.) I want to take the lesser-known routes too. The trail that passes under the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia. The guided hike through Black Water Falls with the swinging bridges.

    Security is stillness. Adventure is movement. It doesn’t have to be chaos but, it has to be ahead. Sometimes that means turning off the main road. Sometimes it means stopping just to look. I don’t know exactly where I’m headed, but I do know I want to keep moving. Not for the thrill, but for the truth I only ever find out there.

    Pictured Rocks National Lake Shore, Bridal Veil Falls in the Distance, Clear Blue Sky, Lake Superior appearing unmoving ,