I had just finished reformatting my very first e-book,
the one that started everything. I didn’t change much, just softened it visually, made it feel more like me again. A small act, but somehow it felt like reclaiming the beginning. I also cave it a whole new book cover.
With a little light left in the day, I grabbed Luna’s leash. That’s all she needed, no words, just instinct. She was at my heel in seconds.
We climbed into the Honda, just the two of us, and headed out.
Roughly thirty-five minutes to Dublin. It’s one of those drives that doesn’t feel long if your heart is quiet enough.
Stop One Indian Falls- Dublin, Ohio
We hit Indian Falls first.
It’s not huge, but I’ve been wanting to check it out, so it felt like a good place to start.
We did the little loop around. Luna sniffing everything like it was her first time outside in her life. Of course, I had to let her get in the water for a second. Which meant, obviously, photos were required. Wet dog, sunshine, that kind of magic. Her joy’s contagious.
Stop Two: Hayden Falls Dublin, Ohio
After that, we drove maybe four minutes down the road to Hayden Falls.
This spot didn’t have any of those “no swimming” signs, so people were actually in the water this time. Wading in. Laughing. It looked inviting. Like, deeply inviting.
Had I dressed for it, I probably would’ve been in there too.
Yesterday, I took a trip to Cedarville, Ohio. My companions were two close friends, Luna, and one of my friend’s toddlers. It was my first time exploring Indian Mound Reserve. We took about two hours with stops. The drive itself was peaceful. We had the kind of conversations that set the mood for a day of adventures and recharge. The weather hovered around the mid-50s with an on and off drizzle. It was not enough to drench us. However, it was just enough to make everything smell like clean earth and wet bark. The kind of rain that makes the greens greener and turns even ordinary trails into something soft and cinematic.
I shouldn’t plan or control the map.
We planned to do the 2.5-mile Rim Trail, but thanks to some confusion on AllTrails, and my attention span didn’t help matters. So, we ended up doubling back and weaving in circles until we’d clocked over 4 miles. Despite the detour, it didn’t feel like a mistake, just part of the adventure. The trail wound us through a vibrant forest. Red and purple flowers began to bloom. These were early declarations of late spring. Waterfall views made the mud and missteps worth it. The whole area hummed with the sound of running water, and it followed us nearly the entire hike. There’s something about that like being gently reminded to keep flowing forward, no matter how tangled the path becomes.
The trail itself was a bit rugged in parts, especially after the rain. Tree roots snaked across much of the path. The muddiness made for a comical dance. This was especially true since I had worn my etnies. I rarely wear hiking boots. I slipped or slid numerous times. Each slip reminded me that I probably need to actually wear my boots. Still, I wouldn’t change it. There’s something about feeling the ground fight back a little that makes me feel more alive.
We crossed numerous wooden bridges and steps, weaving over and across the large creek that cuts through the park. Some of the trails we passed weren’t even marked in AllTrails yet. This tends to happen in less populus areas. My little unofficial footpaths and secret side trails waiting to be explored another day. The water access points were everywhere. With so few people on the trail, it felt like we had the whole preserve to ourselves. That kind of quiet is rare. It is broken only by the babble of water and the chatter of a toddler discovering nature. This is especially true even in Ohio’s backwoods.
Even though I wasn’t alone, the experience was still refreshingly personal. There’s a rhythm I fall into on hikes like this, a balance between noticing everything and thinking about nothing. It’s where I process things I don’t have words for. I watch Luna splash, sniff, and smile. Then, I remember why I do this. The road and the forest matter to me in ways that a house or a routine never could.
I’ll eventually return to Cedarville to explore the other trails and waterfalls. This first visit was only the rim of what’s possible there. I want to hike them all, but honestly that’s nothing new. There’s something sacred in learning a place like that. One muddy mile at a time.
