Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Tag: rockhounding

  • How My Passions Connect in my Time of Leisure

    How My Passions Connect in my Time of Leisure

    What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?

    When people ask what I enjoy doing most in my leisure time, the simple answer sounds scattered. I hike. I rockhound, craft with what I find. Practice spirituality, and write poetry or even stories. I randomly game, I smoke mad weed. On paper, those can look unrelated, yet in practice, they are all deeply connected. Each one feeds the others. Each one works a different part of my mind, body, and spirit. Together, they form a balanced creative ecosystem.

    This is not about killing time. It is about how I choose to live inside it.

    Hiking, Movement, and Listening to Land

    Axton walking in the forest toward lake superior

    Hiking is the foundation. Especially in Ohio and the surrounding Appalachian foothills, the land holds quiet complexity. Short trails, long trails, winter hikes, summer heat, all of it teaches presence. Hiking gives my body something honest to do. One foot forward. Breath in rhythm. Attention outward.

    On trail, my thoughts slow down without being forced. The noise drops away naturally. I notice rock layers, creek cuts, moss lines, erosion patterns. Hiking is where curiosity wakes up first. It is also where respect for land is reinforced. You cannot rush a trail and expect to receive anything back.

    Rockhounding, Touching Deep Time

    Rockhounding grows directly out of hiking. It is not about collecting endlessly. It is about noticing what the land reveals. Ohio is rich with flint, chert, fossils, and glacial remnants, each piece a fragment of deep time.

    Holding stone changes perspective. Rocks do not care about urgency. They teach patience, scale, and restraint. Ethical rockhounding matters to me, knowing where collection is allowed, taking only what is appropriate, and leaving protected sites untouched. This practice sharpens awareness and reinforces accountability.

    Crafting with Foraged Finds, Making Meaning Tangible

    Crafting with my foraged finds is where movement and observation turn into creation. Stone that sat quietly for millions of years becomes something carried, worn, or used with intention. I cut, polish, drill, wire wrap, or leave pieces raw depending on what they ask for.

    This kind of crafting is slow. It is tactile. It demands attention. Each piece holds memory, the hike it came from, the weather that day, the moment it caught my eye. Making something with my hands grounds me in ways digital work never fully can.

    Spiritual Practice, Intuition, and Ritual

    My spirituality is not separate from the land or the craft. It grows out of them. Walking, stone, water, fire, all of these are already spiritual teachers if you listen. My practice is personal, grounded, and experiential rather than performative.

    Rituals, tarot, pendulum work, and intention setting are tools for reflection, not escape. They help me process emotion, clarify direction, and stay aligned with values. Spirituality gives language to things that logic alone cannot hold.

    Writing Poetry and Stories, Translating Experience

    Writing is where everything comes together. Hiking provides the images, stone – metaphor, spiritual practice – themes, crafting – texture, and poetry or stories translate lived experience into something shareable.

    I write because it is how I make sense of the world. Poetry allows compression, intensity, and emotional truth. Stories allow expansion, narrative, and exploration. Both are necessary. Writing is not a hobby I turn on and off. It is a way of processing existence.

    Gaming, Focused Escape and Pattern Recognition

    Gaming serves a different purpose. It is structured escape. Clear rules. Immediate feedback. Achievable goals. After long creative or emotional output, gaming lets my brain rest without going numb.

    Games sharpen pattern recognition, decision making, and problem solving. They offer worlds where effort is rewarded predictably, which is not always the case in creative work. This balance matters.

    Weed, Slowing Down and Sensory Reset

    Smoking weed is part of my leisure time, not as avoidance, but as intentional slowing. It softens edges. It deepens sensory awareness. Music hits differently. Thoughts wander productively. Physical tension releases.

    Used responsibly, it supports reflection and creativity. It pairs naturally with writing, crafting, or quiet gaming sessions. It is another tool, not a crutch.

    How It All Connects

    None of these exist in isolation. Writing drains energy. Gaming restores it. Weed smooths transitions between states.

    This is how I stay balanced. This is how I stay creative. Leisure, for me, is not passive consumption. It is active relationship, with land, with material, with imagination, and with self.

    What I enjoy most in my leisure time is not any single activity. It is the way they weave together into a life that feels intentional. Each one reminds me to slow down, pay attention, and create something honest out of what I am given.

    Time is not something to kill. It is something to inhabit.

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  • Living Freely: My Five-Year Leap Into Full-Time Creation

    Living Freely: My Five-Year Leap Into Full-Time Creation

    What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?

    What’s the biggest risk I’d like to take but, I haven’t yet?

    Walking away from the time clock for the most part and toward the trailhead.

    See, I’m an STNA (that’s Ohio’s term for CNA everywhere else. We just had to be the different one). I love what I do. Yes we all need money to live in this hellscape. But I love it not for the paycheck, but for the people. The elderly deserve care from those people who care to be there. However, I also dream of caring for my own future with the same hands that hold theirs.

    The risk?

    Transitioning from working full-time and then some weekly for someone else’s company to working full-time for myself for Poeaxtry_.

    My goal is that with-in the next five years, I will flip the ratio.

    I want Poeaxtry_ to sustain me, not the other way around.

    I can only imagine being able to wake up and know that my “job” is carving smiles into stones, engraving good karma into keychains, and polishing perfect statement pieces. All from rocks I’ve hounded myself.

    To be able to sell handmade spell bags, wands, tinctures, sprays, and charms born from dirt and devotion not just in my spare time.While I also publish solo poetry collections (mine and other people’s) and community anthologies that spark conversation, change, and creativity not just sales.

    Having a designated divination room, sounds so good almost too good to be true. A place for friends and new folks to get readings: pendulum or tarot. Readings set-up virtually or through local appointments.

    Imagine being able to travel, explore, hike, forage, and rockhound in the wild. While sharing accessible adventures for those who can’t get out there. Or can, but need the guidance to do so safely.

    Hosting open mic nights that echo through real and virtual rooms along with silent art galleries that speak without sound. Creating and collaborating under The Prism, where inclusion and artistry collide.

    I will not wait for retirement to live.

    I want to be able to grab my tent, my dog Luna, and my laptop, (other essentials obviously) and just go.

    I can just see it now: a few nights backpacking through forests, collecting stone from stream, writing wildly under the moonlight. Where the only deadlines are sunrise and the next cup of coffee.

    The poetry I’d write out there untouched, unbothered by society’s static crust.. would probably make my current work look like warm-ups. Honestly, I’m so ready for that.

    The biggest risk I haven’t taken yet isn’t quitting, but it’s believing, fully, that I can.

    Five years from now, I plan to look back and laugh that I ever questioned it.

    One thing I am no longer willing to do is give more of me to the “man.” The shackles that have me captive to society and cities are becoming loose.

    Links. Portfolio. Discord. Journal

  • Poetry, Hiking, and Building a Grassroots Creative Movement

    Poetry, Hiking, and Building a Grassroots Creative Movement

    What have you been working on?

    Lately, my days have been stitched together with rhythm, motion, and momentum. Between writing, wandering, and building, I’ve been in constant creation mode. Trying to push Poeaxtry_ forward piece by piece, letter by letter, and stone by stone.

    Poetry in Progress

    Poetry remains the pulse of everything I do. I’ve been refining collections, experimenting with new mediums, and returning to the unfiltered edges that started it all. Some pieces are bound for ebooks or zines, others will live on new mediums but, all of them carry my usual mix of grit, grace, and rebellion.

    Hiking Content & Nature Notes

    When I’m not writing or working, I’m outside gathering stories and stones in motion. My hiking content is growing. With new trails, new reflections, and new emotional field notes. Every step through the Red River Gorge or along Ohio’s riverbeds feeds my words and connects the wild to the written. Expect more field journal-style posts, rockhounding creations, and unfiltered snapshots of nature’s poetry.

    Publishing & New Places for My Books

    I’ve been exploring new ways to publish, both traditionally grassroots and digitally independent. I’m expanding The Prism’s reach and testing new outlets for my books to be seen, shared, and supported without compromising creative freedom. Accessibility and inclusivity remain my core goals: every voice deserves space, and I intend to keep building those spaces.

    New Mediums Still Under Wraps

    Some projects are still secret… new mediums, new blends of voice and vision that don’t fit in any current box. Let’s just say they’ll connect the poetic, creative, and digital in unexpected ways. When they’re ready, you’ll know.

    Consistency & Community

    I’ve been working on showing up both consistently and intentionally. Whether it’s posting, crafting poetry collabs through The Prism, or connecting with nature, every move is about growth that stays rooted. I’m not just building a brand… I’m building a movement.

    All of this ties back to my purpose: to create spaces for minority and ally voices, to protect and publish truth through creativity, and to keep Poeaxtry_ alive as more than a name. And as a living, evolving community of creators.

    It’s been a season of creation, collaboration, and quiet groundwork. Every poem, hike, and idea adds another layer to what’s coming next. And a stronger community, a louder voice, a deeper impact.

    Want to grow with me?

    Follow Poeaxtry_ for prompts, collabs, and updates on the next wave of releases, and if you’re a creator looking for a home for your words, The Prism is always open.

    So now I ask you what are you working on? Where are you showing up for yourself or others?

  • The Spill: Revolt, Solo Zines, Collabs, and moving vol 9

    The Spill: Revolt, Solo Zines, Collabs, and moving vol 9

    This is Volume 9 of The Spill, the newsletter where I gather up recent Poeaxtry_ news. What I have been pouring into lately: the projects, the gear, the hikes, the collabs, and the small but steady steps toward building something lasting.

    Twitch Possibilities

    The Twitch space is opening wide with possibilities. Think gaming sessions, live rock slicing, witchy streams with tarot readings, pendulum work, spell crafting, foraging rituals, and even virtual rockhounding trips. Poetry readings will land here too. This is a place where all the threads of Poeaxtry_ can weave into something more interactive.

    Revolt & Multi-Platform Mission

    The Revolt server (think Discord, but different) is live, and it’s part of the bigger mission: being present in multiple places so no one in the community is locked into an app they don’t like or use. Our hub is meant to be open and accessible wherever you feel most comfortable, not confined by corporate walls.

    Discord Makeover

    The Discord itself is getting a proper refresh: clearer names, straightforward descriptions, and more sections to come. No fluff, just an easier way to find what you need and connect with who you want.

    Gear Upgrade

    Content creation just got an upgrade with a new tripod that’s going to make stream and recordings cleaner across the board. It doubles as a SELFIE STICK! A “gym bag” I found has transitioned into my field pack. It is loaded with pockets, clip-on options, and even an expandable section. Add an inflatable camping mat to the list (a masons type resell bin score, green and sustainable), and yes shoes! I got new Chuck Taylors that’ll sneak their way into a hike or twenty.

    Fossils & Rockhounding

    Lately I’ve gotten fossils from Sylvia’s Fossil Park and in Richmond, Indiana. So I’ve been cleaning whole plates and full pieces. The finds out there are incredible: brachiopods, trilobites, corals, and other ancient remnants that remind me why rockhounding is so much more than collecting. It’s connection to time itself.

    Collabs & Publishing

    Both of my current collabs are still open! Kelso Volume 1 has officially been published! On top of that, I’m already working on another solo zine. The momentum doesn’t pause here.

    Adventures & Trips

    Last week had been packed: Blacklick Sky Canopy, Millikan Falls, and the Columbus Rose Garden all got their share of footsteps in the same day. This week, I’ll be heading to Conkle’s Hollow in Hocking Hills on Thursday, September 25 for another stretch of trail time and inspiration.

    The Spill is always about what’s moving, what’s being built, and what’s on the horizon. Volume 9 marks another turn in the path, with community spaces growing, creative work expanding, and small joys. fossils to new gear… carrying forward.

    Poeaxtry’s links

    Ko-fi

    Wattpad

  • My ideal rough week and Earth’s Hidden Gems

    My ideal rough week and Earth’s Hidden Gems

    Describe your ideal week.

    There’s nothing like a week dedicated to hunting beauty. Whether that is from the rocks I am hounding or the falls we are chasing. We are surrounded by natural beauty and creative inspiration. My ideal l getaway unfolds somewhere with diverse geology. A place where I can find fossils in the morning and crystals or semiprecious stones in the afternoon, all while soaking in breathtaking landscapes and the suns rays.

    Dawn to Midday: The Hunt

    Each morning starts with Luna’s cold nose nudging me awake as first light filters through the tent. Kelsey stirs beside me, already reaching for the camp stove to brew coffee. Our campsite sits far from designated campgrounds and tourist trails just wilderness, silence, and possibility. Oh yea and a composting toilet.

    After a quick breakfast, I grab my field kit. The essentials hammers, chisels, brushes, and collection bags organized for efficiency or just Aldi bags (if I’m being honest). The morning hours belong to serious specimen hunting, when my eyes are a little more sharp and my patience abundant. Some days I explore exposed rock faces rich with marine fossils; other days I sift through creek beds for tumbled treasures or I chip carefully at promising outcroppings.

    Luna explores nearby, occasionally bringing me sticks instead of rocks (still working on her training after all this time). We like it out here since she doesn’t need a leash. My partner alternates between helping me search and capturing the landscape through their camera lens. We work in comfortable silence, occasionally calling each other over when something interesting appears.

    Midday to Afternoon: Water and Wonder

    When the sun climbs high and the day heats up, we transition to water exploration. A series of waterfalls create the perfect swimming holes. There are some shallow enough for Luna to splash in, others deep enough for proper diving. The cold water shocks against sun-warmed skin, creating that perfect contrast that makes you feel completely in the moment.

    After swimming, we spread our morning’s finds across sun-heated rocks to dry and examine. I pull out my loupe to inspect the details of particularly interesting specimens or finds. I love the crystalline structure of a geode, the delicate imprint of an ancient fern, and the perfect spirals of a fossil shell. Each piece tells a story millions of years in the making.

    Evening Rituals: Fire and Flow

    As afternoon fades, we return to camp to prepare for evening. May i build the perfect campfire while Kelso seasons thick-cut steaks with just rosemary, salt, and pepper. The simple preparation lets the quality of the meat speak for itself when it sizzles over open flames.

    With dinner preparations underway, I settle into my hammock strung between two sturdy pine trees. This is when I roll a blunt of quality green, taking slow, appreciative draws as I flip through my journal to go over notes for the day’s finds. The combination of physical exertion, successful discoveries, and gentle relaxation creates the perfect mindset for creativity.

    As twilight deepens, we feast on perfectly flame cooked steaks and fire-roasted vegetables. Luna lies nearby, gnawing contentedly on her own special treat, occasionally looking up to ensure her humans are still present.

    After dinner, the campfire becomes our center. My partner roasts marshmallows for s’mores while I pull out my laptop, the words flowing more freely here than they ever do in civilization. Poems about ancient oceans, the patience of stone, and the fleeting nature of human existence emerge onto the page.

    Days of Discovery

    Each day follows this rhythm but with different locations to explore. One day might focus on sedimentary layers rich with fossils; another might take us to mineral veins in metamorphic rock. We hike to panoramic overlooks where the landscape reveals its geological story in exposed strata.

    In the evenings, we alternate between different campsites, each offering its own unique character. We spend one night beside a waterfall, another on a ridge with sunset views, a third in a grove of ancient trees whose roots have witnessed centuries.

    The Essence of Escape

    What makes this week ideal isn’t just the specimens collected, though my bags grow heavier with treasures each day. It’s the rhythm of existence dictated by sunlight rather than screens, the deep conversations that emerge around campfires, and the way that disconnecting from everything else connects me more deeply to what matters: creativity, companionship, and the ancient stories told by stones.

    As the week concludes, I carefully wrap each specimen in paper, noting observations. But the real treasures are the filled digital journal pages, the renewed connection with kelso, Luna’s evident joy, and the lingering sense of peace that comes from a week lived exactly as we choose.

    This is freedom: rocks, water, words, love, and enough green to keep the edges soft. This is my ideal week.

    We all wear masks metaphorically speaking

    Poeaxtry’s🔗

  • Fossils, Falls, and Full Bags – An Evening in Richmond, Indiana

    Fossils, Falls, and Full Bags – An Evening in Richmond, Indiana

    Overlooking thistlewaite falls from the stairs
    Thistlewaite falls

    Yesterday’s “hike” wasn’t really a hike. Not the kind with switchbacks and summits, anyway. This was slow, head-down wandering… moving from one patch of rock to another, eyes scanning for anything that didn’t quite match the rest.I first saw Thistlethwaite Falls on TikTok just yesterday morning, in fact. I’d just woken up, still half tangled in my blankets, when this video popped up showing this cute fall you could get right in. The next video showed the fossils. You know I was SOLD! It was one of those moments where the phone goes down and you just know you’re going. Within hours, we were in the car, snacks packed, bags ready, heading toward Richmond with no real plan except “play in a waterfall and find as many fossils as possible.”

    Front view of thistlewaite falls in Richmond Indiana
    Thistlewaite Falls

    It was me, my home slice Sky, and the baby, out on a late-summer day at Thistlethwaite Falls in Richmond, Indiana. The water spilled wide over its limestone ledge, humming in that steady, drum-like way waterfalls do. The spray caught in the warm air, carrying the smell of wet stone. And right there, underfoot, was where the real action was… fossils embedded in the rock like the past had been gift-wrapped for us to find.

    We started small, a crinoid here, a shell impression there but things escalated quickly. Before long, I was hauling multiple bags of fossils back up from the falls to the car. And then back down again. And then up again. The baby, apparently inspired by all this rock action, decided to test her throwing arm. At one point, I took a direct hit to the head and felt it rattle around my skull like a maraca. Sky caught a rock to the face not long after. Adventures are never without their battle scars.

    Rock haul from Thistlewaite in my floorboard
    Rock haul featuring a baby cup

    Next stop was Richmond’s Fossil Park, which felt like a fossil hunter’s open-air market . A broad gravel bed scattered with chunks of rock, each one a possible time capsule. This is where I found some of my favorites: a few pieces with shimmering quartz inclusions, and a whole brachiopod! The dude has both valves, hinge and all . It was like it had been waiting all this time just to be found. The creek bed here and the gravel is also just basically nothing but fossils and stuff. That’s actually where I found one quartz piece.

    Mural at the fossil park in Richmond Indiana
    Mural at fossil park

    The front floorboard of my car became a rock bed of its own, layered with crinoids, coral pieces, and other prehistoric odds and ends. Along with two bags in the back seat full… well overflowing if I am being honest. The sun was dropping toward the horizon by the time we finally looked up around 7:30 p.m. and the baby’s rock-throwing streak had given way to full on running baby.

    We never made it to our planned third stop. Time just slipped through our fingers, as it tends to do when the hunt takes over. I’m not mad about it. That place will still be there. And now, I have more than enough reason to go back . Let’s pretend as if the fossils alone weren’t reason enough.

    Rockhounding isn’t fast, and it isn’t clean. It’s slow, deliberate, and sometimes chaotic. It’s a mix of patience, luck, and a little chaos courtesy of the smallest member of the crew. But it’s always worth it. Because in the end, you walk away with more than just rocks. You walk away with pieces of the earth’s history and the stories you’ll tell about how you found them.

  • Exploring Cuyahoga Valley National Park and Nelson’s Ledges

    Exploring Cuyahoga Valley National Park and Nelson’s Ledges

    3 people sit outside devils ice box
    The whole gangs here outside Devils ice box

    Hiking Journal: Cuyahoga Valley National Park and Nelson’s Ledges State Park. Rocks, Trails, Laughs, and a Sunset Swim

    Today I hiked Cuyahoga Valley National Park… starting with the shorter trail to Brandywine Falls. The waterfall had a lot less water than typical I think but it was still a pleasure to see… The trail was lined with a boat load of fossils as a lot in Ohio are.

    Brandywine falls CVNP Ohio
    Brandywine falls

    Next, I explored the ledges area inside Cuyahoga Valley, where massive, moss-draped rock formations rose like ancient towers around us. I ran my hands over the rough stone… feeling the weight of time pressed into every crack and crevice

    .

    Ghost pipe white pipes in my hand
    Ghost pipe

    I yelled the classic line “Jack, paint me like your French girls” at my buddy Jack… exactly like in Titanic… sprawled out on a rock under a ledge. It was ridiculous and hilarious… so I did it again… on a tree limb at Nelson’s Ledges State Park. My friends Jack Trisha and I laughed so hard at those moments… pure, wild fun that cut through the whole day.

    We drove to Nelson’s Ledges State Park next and took the loop trail… exploring Devil’s Hole and Devil’s Icebox. The cave was cold and dark… a welcome break from the sun. Moss covered the giant rocks thickly here as well … and webs sliced across the surfaces like delicate art. One web even contained a mushroom it was too cute. Oh yea I spotted a frog in Devil’s Icebox… well it actually scared the shit out of me diving into the water in the dark. I

    The waterfall there was anticlimactic… we ended up on the top and we walked across it, which i had gotten amped about the sound must have echoed through the rocks. When we got to the bottom I was searching for a view or the bottom everywhere but all I found was a giant rock to perch on. Far above, I spotted a tiny trickle of water… so small it felt like nature was trolling me.

    After the hike, we ended up driving to Euclid beach to rockhound and finish the day swimming in Erie… the water cool and cleansing after the long day on the trails. We watched the sunset paint the sky in fiery colors… a perfect close to an intense day of exploration and laughter.

    A man laying on rocks at the ledges
    Paint me like one of your French girls

    All day long I kept filling my pockets with rocks… smooth ones, jagged ones, colorful ones… little trophies from the wild. I even twerked on a ledge because sometimes you just have to own your weirdness in the woods.

    Honestly the whole day felt like natural therapy for body and soul.

    Twerk twerk twerk a man twerks on the rocks
    Twerking

    The day started with wild joy. You know the kind that fills your lungs and makes your chest ache with laughter. I was yelling and joking with Jack, doing dumb poses like my usual goofy self sprawling out on rocks and trees. Those moments were pure freedom… a break from everything weighing on me. The trails, the waterfalls, the smoke drifting through my lungs… all felt like a balm. For a while, I was untouchable… fully alive in the moment.

    But living with BPD means the pendulum swings fast and hard. Just as I felt that raw joy, a wave of grief would crash in without warning as usual. On the drive home, the joy shattered. I cried for nearly half the trip. I wanted so badly to tell my mom about the day… about every rock I picked up, every waterfall I saw, every ridiculous pose I pulled. She’s been gone almost four years. She loved the outdoors as fiercely as I do. I could almost feel her walking beside me on those trails, but I couldn’t tell her any of it. That silence hit harder than any fall.

    The grief wasn’t just sadness… it was a stabbing loneliness wrapped in frustration and helplessness. It tangled with memories of her voice, her laughter, her love for nature. I replayed moments in my head, wishing I could share the day’s wildness with her, the funny moments, the stunning views, the tiny frog in the Devil’s Icebox. Instead, I had to carry it all alone.

    That’s the cruel edge of BPD… the intensity of feeling everything all at once. The joy and pain live side by side, sometimes so close you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I laugh out loud and then dissolve into tears minutes later. It’s exhausting and relentless but also part of what makes me who I am. I just know she would have ate the ledges up. And that makes me feel as if I’m losing her all over again each time. Instead of just whatever grief is I feel the entire weight repeating itself again and again each time I go through these “waves.”

    Even with the crushing grief, there’s a stubborn hope. Hiking those trails, swimming in Erie’s water, watching the sunset… it all grounded me. It reminded me that life keeps moving… that moments of wild joy and deep sorrow can coexist. That I can survive the rollercoaster, even when it feels like I’m drowning.

    I carry my mom with me on every hike… in every rock, every ledge, every waterfall. She’s the silent witness to my wildness and my pain. Not being able to tell her feels like a wound that never will heal. But maybe that’s why I keep going back to the trails… to feel close to her again, to live out loud, to be unapologetically myself.

    This day was everything. It was loud laughter, sharp grief, and a fierce refusal to stop moving forward. That’s the truth of living with BPD and loss. It’s messy and raw and brutally beautiful.

    View all photos/videos

  • Future Travel Plans: Permit Hikes, Rockhounding, and Yearly Return to WNC

    Future Travel Plans: Permit Hikes, Rockhounding, and Yearly Return to WNC

    What are your future travel plans?

    Every year, without fail, I make a point to return to western North Carolina, usually in January (before this year). To see my sister It was a personal promise, to my mom. Now it is a form of spiritual maintenance, and something I know will never change unless my sister moves. The Blue Ridge Mountains are already calling me back, and I’ve been home less than a week. Yet I already know I will answer. Still, before WNC see’s me, I have several other trips locked in that I’m really excited about.

    Trip one:

    On August 7th, 2025, I’ll be exploring permit only hikes in and around Hocking Hills, Ohio. This will consist of us completing three out of four of the permit-only areas. I’ve been approved already, and the sign-up is free on the Ohio DNR website. My buddy and her little kiddo will be joining me. We’ll be exploring Boch Hollow specifically Laurel Falls, Little Rocky Hollow, and the Saltpetre Cave State Nature Preserve. These aren’t your typical walk-in hikes. They’re protected, limited-access preserves that need permits to guarantee the safety of the biodiverse natural areas. I’m incredibly grateful to understand and respect the importance of maintaining the natural ecosystem’s integrity. Permits in Ohio are mainly for monitoring foot traffic. They help preserve these specific biodiversity areas and preserves.

    Trip Two

    Just a few days later, on August 12th, I’ll be heading up to Cuyahoga Valley National Park (CVNP) in Cleveland. I’m meeting up with a friend to explore for the day. The Ledges Trail is already on the itinerary. We plan to fill the day with more stops inside CVNP. Then we’ll explore along Lake Erie afterward. There’s potential to do rock hounding. I’m hoping to discover some lake-worn treasures. I even find fossils during the visit. As well as definitely chasing some waterfalls and Ohio ledges.

    Future plans

    Before September, or in early September, my pal and I hope to go backwoods camping in Virginia. Maybe her kiddo will join too. The spot is close to the Devil’s Bathtub area. It will be at minimum 200 units (I can’t recall if it was meters or feet) from the water. The area is known for its beauty. It boasts a waterfall into a clear, freezing swimming hole. If you didn’t know, legend states this is the only water source cold enough to bathe the devil. Sadly, this plan isn’t locked in just yet. Though, it’s something I hope comes together fully.

    Beyond those specific date or places, I’ve been collecting a list of nearby destinations. These places are across Indiana, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Ohio. They all are less than or equal to 5 hours from home each way. These include hidden waterfalls, scenic overlooks, historical fossil sites, quirky statues, and other neat things. I like to travel spontaneously, so this is probably as “planned” in the future as I get. If you exclude my annual western North Carolina trip to see my sister.

    Port Huron

    I’ve also had Port Huron and Petoskey, Michigan on my mind. The idea of finding real Petoskey stones excites me. I do not want to barter for them, which is enough to almost make me head there now. I find the idea of exploring the Lake Huron shoreline to be incredibly appealing. Between the lake stones, fossils, and the open water, it feels like the perfect mix of grounding and adventure.

    Nature, movement, and discovery are always part of my year. I make space for new trails, new stones, and new memories. Whether it’s a permitted hike in Ohio or a spontaneous camping trip in Virginia, I embrace new adventures. Even if my travel plans shift along the way, my commitment to exploration never fades. I have a deep lust for wonder.

  • Rest and Rock Hounding Hesitation in Appalachia— Day 6

    Rest and Rock Hounding Hesitation in Appalachia— Day 6

    After an epic week packed with hiking, climbing, swimming in fresh water and the swimming pool at my sisters. We were running all over hell’s half acre, exploring the hills of Appalachia. Today was a day for much-needed rest. I slept all night long and then slept in until after my sister got off work. She worked the 9 AM to 5 PM shift (yuck). I had the place all to myself during that time.

    Even though I planned to go rock hounding, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. It wasn’t that I was confused about which trail to take. I had that mapped out, but, the real problem was what happens after the trail ends. Once I got off the trail, there would be no service for my GPS. I’ve already experienced that all week. The idea of wandering through those hills, and getting lost, was honestly scary. Since at least my sister knew how to get us back towards her house and service to load the map.

    I mean, what if I took a wrong turn in the woods and got kidnapped by feral mountain creatures? Or worse… what if I found myself stuck in some endless loop of forest and couldn’t find my car? If I managed to get to my car, would I remember the way back to the apartment? I know I can’t navigate without GPS? Yeah, my mind goes there.

    I stayed put. I didn’t want to leave my sister’s door unlocked while she was at work. Also, I wasn’t about to wander around the woods with zero signal or company. The spots we saved on the map will still be there next time. Then I won’t be alone and she can come with me.

    Honestly, after a week full of adventure, I was wiped out and needed the rest more than anything. I had to prepare for the long drive home, too, which was still ahead. I woke up when my sister got home from work. She had another shift the next morning, so the house was quiet. I finally left late the next morning after sleeping until about 8 am. It was my own slow, reluctant goodbye to the mountains. The temper tantrum internally because GOD DAMN! I really have to go back to OHIO!

    The best part of adventure is knowing when to pause, rest, and prepare for the next one. So you don’t over do it and have to postpone the next one or more.

    Much love,

    Axton N.O. Mitchell

    My trip home was a little different than announced. You know as usual. If you didn’t notice I post these the day after so I’m technically home right now. And I also didn’t make a day one post for the real day one because I drove the entire night before so we all just hung out,

  • The Things That Make Me Lose Track of Time-in The Best Way!

    The Things That Make Me Lose Track of Time-in The Best Way!

    Which activities make you lose track of time?

    Some things just pull me into a rhythm so deep that I don’t notice the hours passing. I’ll forget to eat. I’ll forget to check my phone. When I finally look up, and it’s dark outside or way later than I thought it was. That timeless focus doesn’t happen with most things, but it happens to me in very specific moments.

    Hiking is one of the first thing I found. There’s something about being on a trail where I don’t know exactly where it ends or what I’ll find. When the sounds of the world disappear, I only hear the crunch of my steps. I also hear the rush of water, wind, or leaves. Then I settle into my body in a way that makes everything else fade out. Whether it’s a steep climb or a gentle creek side path, I lose track of time. I become one with the woods.

    Rock hounding is something I love. I will spend hours hunched over riverbanks, dry creeks, or piles of rock debris. I’m always searching for a glimmer of something hidden. The longer I stay, the more I see, and the more I see, the more I want to keep going. It’s never really about the end result. It’s about the process of looking. Honestly, it really is about the small discoveries. It’s about that quiet rush when I find something beautiful that the earth tucked away for me to notice.

    Exploring towns pulls me in. Forgotten roadside stops capture my interest. Waterfalls are equally compelling. Just wandering through places with history or color captivates me in the same way. I like stumbling into things I didn’t plan on. Murals, statues, old buildings, chalk art, or just a view I didn’t expect. When I’m on foot in an unfamiliar place, I usually don’t check the time. I only do so if it’s necessary.

    Then there’s the creative side of me that gets lost too. Writing poetry, making zines, laying out pages or trying to pull together themes for a collection. This takes me out of everything. I blink, and four hours have passed. I’ll go back and read something I don’t even remember writing. That space of creating is one of the few places I feel like I can just exist without pressure. It’s just me and the page. Me and the words. And that feels safe.

    When I lose track of time, it typically means I’m doing something I actually care about. Something that connects me to myself or the world in a way that feels grounding or real. I don’t think losing track of time is a bad thing. I think it’s one of the few times I’m fully here.

    And I need that.

    I think we all do.

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