Tag: waterfalls

  • Winter at Cantwell Cliffs – can’t be done without Spikes

    Winter at Cantwell Cliffs – can’t be done without Spikes


    First Trip

    On January 20, around 4pm, Luna and I pulled into the Cantwell Cliffs trailhead inside Hocking Hills State Park. This is a place known for deep sandstone gorges, rugged terrain, and a waterfall that peeks over the cliff edge in wetter seasons. Cantwell Cliffs sits in a more remote and quieter area of Hocking Hills. It is no less dramatic in its geology and vibes though. 

    Cantwell CLiffs brown park signage in the snow
    Cantwell Cliffs

    This trail is carved by the erosion of water through Blackhand sandstone, forming towering cliffs up to 150. And of course my favorite type: unique narrow passages like Fat Woman’s Squeeze. 

    Winter had settled in hard this week. The stone steps that lead down toward the waterfall, steps that usually give way to moss, soil, and leaf litter, now completely glazed in ice. Around 0.4 miles in, with Luna leashed and alert but feeling my unsure cues, we turned back. I have to listen then instinct speaks, my instincts told me we had gone far enough. The air was cold, the footing slick, and every step demanded focus. I don’t take dangerous risks in this manner. We turned back at the top of the frozen steps, crocs crunching ice on the trail and silence surrounding us.


    Axton in Jeans and a Yellow jacket, Kelsey in a black jacket behind axton, and kylie with a peace sign up behind axton aswell at cantwell cliffs
    Kylie, Kelso, &Axton

    Return Trip: January 23 with Company and Better Eyes on the Trail

    A few days later, on January 23, I returned with my partner and our friend Kylie, a perfect team for winter hiking. Sharp eyes, quick laughs, and an easy readiness to pivot plans when conditions demand it. The trail, a loop with both rim and canyon routes, was still icy, our confidence grew as we descended beyond the first switchback. 

    We made it farther this time, to where the waterfall usually tumbles over the cliff’s edge. Today the water wasn’t exactly falling, it was frozen. The rest of the trail simply impassable without traction devices. The ice was thick, smooth, and unyielding, a reminder that winter beauty can be equal parts breathtaking and brutal. So we called it there, admired the frozen gorge and soaked in the steep walls rising around us. 


    Comment and share a time you knew you should turn around. What was the moment you knew the risk was not one you needed to take? How did you prepare better for your next visit?


    Frozen waterfall at cantwell cliffs.
    Cantwell cliffs frozen waterfall

    Trail Realities

    Cantwell Cliffs’ trails are moderate to strenuous. They are a mix of rim views and valley floor loops that can take one to two miles to complete. The stairs and rock steps that are fun in spring and fall become tricky in winter without gear. This hike is one where maps matter, muddy or frozen conditions demand caution, and everyone, dogs included, need attentive footing. 

    The park allows well-behaved pets on leash, so Luna’s presence was completely in line with trail etiquette. But winter on ice makes most four-legged friends slower and more cautious. 


    Gear on the Way: Poles, Headlamps, Spikes

    I already ordered hiking poles and a couple of headlamps. Incoming night hikes? DUH! Those poles will add balance and support on uneven rock steps to say the least. Next on the list is spikes. Microspikes or traction devices that bite into ice and make icy slopes climbable rather than perilous. On the next order, spikes are a priority. We may save the full trail for spring melt. Water flow will return to the falls and the trail will soften underfoot.


    Ledges view from inbetween them at Cantwell Cliffs
    I love Rocks!!

    Cantwell Cliffs in Context: History, Geology & What Makes It Worth It

    Cantwell Cliffs is not just a destination for waterfall views. It’s a State Nature Preserve with history dating from its conservation roots in the early 1900s. Formal preserve designation happened here in the 1970s. Remarkable and remaining still one of the less visited, more rugged parts of Hocking Hills. The gorge and cliff walls were formed over millions of years as Blackhand sandstone eroded. Thus creating deep box canyons, overhangs, and passages that feel alive with time. 

    That raw geology is what makes winter hikes like this one special. The trees are bare so contours pop in the light. You can almost read layers of stone like a palimpsest. Waterfalls turn to glassy ice sculptures waiting for a safer season to sing again. 


    Looking Ahead: When the Water Really Falls

    If you wait for spring snowmelt and seasonal rain, Cantwell Cliffs often contains a beautiful fall. Though modest yet lovely it cascade over the rock shelter that feels earned after the descent. 

    Winter is beautiful, but spring may be our comeback. Poles, daylight stretching, and warmer ground.

    Cantwell Cliffs reminded us of what winter hiking really asks: patience, respect for conditions, humility, and the willingness to turn back. When instincts give you blessings rather than push forward you listen to the warning, and you come back. Luna was safe, we were safe, and the cliffs still stand ready for the next chapter.


    Share with someone who you think appreciates following natural instincts when outdoors.


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    Conkles Hollow
    Conkles Hollow Gorge


    mid way down the steps view
    I could stay here for a while.
  • Pictured Rocks, Lake Superior & The Upper Peninsula in June 2024

    Pictured Rocks, Lake Superior & The Upper Peninsula in June 2024

    Axton with black hair and black glasses in a Nirvana shirt with Kelsey in black and gold glasses and a black shirt in front of a waterfall in Munising.

    Think back on your most memorable road trip.


    You remember some trips for laughs and snacks, others leave a quiet ripple in your bones. June of 2024 was the latter. A week I spent in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula with my fiancé. Camping at Munising campgrounds, wandering Lake Superior’s massive shore, hunting stones, honoring memory by scattering my mom’s ashes into the cool blue water. We enjoyed many local coffee beverages while watching waves roll in like heartbeat rhythms.

    Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore sits on the southern edge of Lake Superior. The largest freshwater lake in the world by surface area. Its cold deep water a clear, glassy mirror to the changing Michigan sky.

    The cliffs of Pictured Rocks rise 50 to nearly 200 feet above the water. They are streaked in minerals that paint reds, oranges, greens, blacks and whites into sculpted sandstone faces. These formations stretch for about 15 miles along the 42-mile lakeshore.

    Campfire inside a fire ring on a beach

    Camping & Nights Under the Sky


    We stayed five nights at the Munising area campgrounds. Pulling our tent up near the lake edge. We listened to waves crash into dusk and we were woke by bird calls before sunrise. Campgrounds on the lakeshore are primitive but magical. Each site has a fire ring and picnic table. Of course you are also under a vast sky with little to no cell service. Every moment felt rich and unfiltered.


    Rock Hounding & Lakeside Wandering

    Axton walking in the forest away from lake superior


    Picking stones isn’t allowed directly inside Pictured Rocks due to protection rules. So we headed a bit farther east near Grand Marais and along Twelvemile Beach. We found uv reactive slag, agates, jasper, granite, and more!


    Lake Superior View

    Beaches, Waterfalls & Cliffs


    The lakeshore has beaches from sandy Miners Beach to the long empty waves at Twelvemile Beach. They are all mostly framed by deep green forests and airy sky. Waterfalls drop in emerald forests, the region offers dozens of cascades, from Mosquito Falls to Chapel Falls. Each a place you can pause, breathe, and listen.

    Munising Falls, Munising Mi

    When you finish reading this, comment and tell me about a trip you took and why it stayed with you.


    Views From Water & Trails


    From boats that cruise past sea caves, Miners Castle, and the East Channel Lighthouse, to paddling into hidden coves near Lovers Leap and Grand Portal Point, Lake Superior’s moods shift from glass calm to wind-ruffled waves. Trails thread through forests and above shorelines, revealing endless angles on water and stone.


    Bates Motel sign on the way to UP Michigan.

    Local Flavor & Small Town Finds


    Days of sun and trail work were punctuated by coffee stops and local eats in the Munising area. Pasties, fresh fish plates, pizza, and icy cups of coffee that hit great after sandy hikes. It’s small town food with big soul, the kind you taste better after a day of wind and sun.


    Why It’s Unforgettable


    We went to roam… to wander… to remember and to love… and every vista answered with something new. Lake Superior’s hush gives you room to think, Pictured Rocks’ colors make your eyes linger, and the Upper Peninsula’s quiet kindness reminds you that the best journeys aren’t just about the places you go. The ones that stay with you matter most.

    Kelsey and Axton take a selfie infront of iconic Kitch-iti-Kippi

    Kitch-Iti-Kippi

    On the way home we stopped at Kitch-iti-kipi, Michigan’s largest natural freshwater spring tucked into Palms Book State Park near Manistique. It felt like the perfect last chapter to a week of wide water and wilderness. The spring’s enormous crystal-clear pool, roughly 200 feet across and about 40 feet deep, pumps out over 10,000 gallons of emerald-green water every minute from limestone fissures below. This keeps the water near a steady 45° Fahrenheit year-round and so clear you can see deep into the bowl’s shifting sands. Of course there were many trout beneath the surface. Visitors glide on a manually operated raft over the quiet, mirror-like water, passing ancient tree trunks and limestone-encrusted rock as if suspended in time itself. Seeing that “Big Spring” under the vast Upper Peninsula sky reminded us that some places stay with you long after the road bends away.

    A photo of the Big Spring

    Share with someone who you think would enjoy what Munising and the surrounding Michigan areas have to offer.


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  • Piatt Gorge and Raven Rocks: Waterfalls and Heart Rocks

    Piatt Gorge and Raven Rocks: Waterfalls and Heart Rocks


    Axton in a black hat, black jacket, and jeans with his dog in front of a waterfall
    Luna and I at Piatt park

    Today’s hike didn’t go how Cyble and I had envisioned it. Yet, unlike normally when the destination changes and everything’s worse tbis ended up better than I ever expected. I woke up thinking Morgantown was the same distance from Newark as Wheeling and that was a dumbass mistake. Yet, sometimes you win, sometimes you learn. Instead of heading straight to Cooper’s Rock near Morgantown, West Virginia, Cyble and I took a detour that turned into one of the most beautiful, muddy, quiet, awe-inspiring hikes I’ve done in Ohio.

    We drove from Newark to Cambridge, Ohio, and ended up at Piatt Gorge in Woodsfield. From there we went on to Raven Rocks, about 19 miles away in southern Belmont County, and spent the whole day chasing waterfalls, heart rocks, caves, creek crossings, laughs, slips, and exactly zero people.

    Axton in a black hat, black jacket , and jeans sitting on a large rock

    Piatt Gorge: Caves, Waterfalls, and Heart Rocks

    Piatt Gorge was incredible. The trail loops through rich hardwood forest, switchbacks, and rock shelves. We took the west side trail through a massive cave-like passage that opens up into a waterfall. Waterfalls were everywhere: some roaring, some trickling, some dry even though it was raining. Every waterfall was perfect for photos, and some spots looked swimmable, though I didn’t see any signs saying you could or couldn’t.

    Two falls flowing into eachother at Piatt park
    Double falls at Piatt park

    I had both Luna and Cyble with me and they got all the views, all the rocks, all the laughs. I fell twice, didn’t get hurt, and got some hilarious photos. At one point I collected two heart rocks at the same spot and gave them to Cyble for her and her boyfriend Hunter. I brought home twenty-four little heart rocks, I photographed one huge heart rock big enough for five people to sit on, another large one under a waterfall that I left because it was too poetic, two orange slabs with red and black stripes, two cool conglomerates, and some other orangey stones I liked. Six of these went straight onto my altar.

    Photo from inside cave at Piatt park
    Inside a cave at Piatt park

    The trail was wet and muddy with a few creek crossings. It’s kid- and dog-friendly, but some cliffy sections will pose situations where help for kids and others may be needed. Benches are scattered along the path, but it’s not ADA accessible. Shoes that can handle mud are a must.

    Another fall at Piatt park
    Another fall at Piatt Park

    Planning a day trip from Newark, to Cambridge, or nearby Ohio towns? Piatt Gorge is perfect for waterfalls, caves, and heart rocks. Grab a friend, your dog, a camera, and some waterproof shoes. You’ll want to take your time and explore the cave and waterfall sections.


    What’s your favorite Ohio cliff or fall?

    Tell us in the comments!


    Raven Rocks: Cliffs, New Signs, and Quiet Trails

    Cliff waterfalls at ravens rocks in Ohio
    Cliff falls at raven rocks preserve

    Next, we went to Raven Rocks nature preserve in Beallsville, Ohio, which is open to the public but privately owned. The 0.4-mile loop at the trailhead drops into ravines with sandstone cliffs and small waterfalls. There are new wooden steps replacing the old ones and trail signs now that weren’t there last time I visited. The place was quiet with no one else around, giving a sense of being completely immersed in nature.

    Raven rocks scenery photo with streams and fall leaves
    Scenery photo at Ravens rocks

    Trails were wet and muddy, with some creek crossings and cliffy areas that need attention if you’re bringing kids. Dogs are allowed and Luna’s energy made the hike even better. We picked up some garbage in the parking lot and carried it to the bins. Please remember to respect the trails.


    Cooper’s Rock: The Classic Dream

    Though we didn’t make it there today, Cooper’s Rock near Morgantown, WV, still calls to me. It has miles of trails, overlooks of the Cheat River Canyon, and rock formations that make for epic hiking and photography. After today, I’m even more excited to return.


    Trail Notes and Tips

    Trails in these locations are muddy and slick after rain, so wear shoes you don’t care about. Creek crossings are simple but need attention. Kid- and dog-friendly doesn’t mean easy, cliff areas need supervision. Pack out trash and respect private property. Every fall, every splash, every heart rock, and every waterfall is part of the experience.


    So tell me what do you collect on your trail adventures?


    Axton holdings up a nice sized heart shaped rock with a treeline view behind it
    Heart shaped rocks call to me

    Today’s hike exceeded expectations. Piatt Gorge and Raven Rocks are beautiful, challenging, and unforgettable. Share this with someone you want to explore these trails with. You’ll get laughs, muddy shoes, incredible photos, and the quiet magic that only hidden Ohio trails can offer.


    Two other epic Ohio hikes: Hike hike


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  • Not Escaping—Just Living: Why Hiking Isn’t About Running Away

    Not Escaping—Just Living: Why Hiking Isn’t About Running Away

    Hiking journal prompt : What are you running away from out here?

    There’s something about stepping onto a trail that feels like coming home. The air changes. The noise quiets. The mind unclenches. Hiking, for me, isn’t about escaping. And it’s about belonging somewhere the rest of the world seems to have forgotten. When I head into the woods, I’m not running from life; I’m walking straight into it. Every sound, every smell, every touch of sunlight through the trees reminds me what it means to be here.

    The Misunderstood Prompt

    I’ve seen the prompt a dozen times:

    “What are you running away from?”

    And every time, I roll my eyes.

    Because I’m not running.

    I’m walking and it is done intentionally, deliberately into something better.

    People seem to think hiking or wandering into the woods must be about escape. About running from stress, pain, or responsibility. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Some of us aren’t escaping; we’re returning.

    Hiking as Connection, Not Escape

    Nature has never been about avoidance for me. It’s about connection. It’s where I can breathe air that doesn’t taste like electricity and exhaust. It’s where I can hear my thoughts echo off canyon walls instead of drowning in noise. It’s where I process. And not because I’m hiding, but because I can.

    Why I Hike

    There’s something about standing at the base of a waterfall, water roaring louder than any voice in your head, that reminds you how small and infinite you are all at once.

    Or the way a rock formation curves like Earth sculpted itself out of curiosity.

    The clear streams, the swimming holes nobody’s touched but the wind, the silence that hums with life. It all of it feels like beauty that demands presence, not avoidance.

    The Joy of Simplicity

    And you know what else? It’s inexpensive joy.

    It doesn’t always require subscriptions, equipment, or luxury.

    It typically asks only for time and attention: two things society has taught us to ration like currency.

    We live in a world that keeps us glued to screens, boxed inside jobs that drain more than they fill. Hiking is rebellion in motion. It’s choosing to step out of that cycle. And not to run from it, but to remember what living actually feels like.

    Not Running Away—Running With It

    So no, I’m not trying to escape anything.

    I’m not running from the world.

    I’m running with it.

    Every step on a trail, every rock I turn over, every scent of pine or honeysuckle that stops me in my tracks, is a reminder that I belong here. That we all do.

    So next time you see someone wandering deep into the trees, don’t assume they’re lost or running away. Maybe they just know something you’ve forgotten:

    The wilderness doesn’t demand reasons.

    It only asks that you show up.

    Walking beside memory

    It’s also something that connects me deeply to my mother. Hiking was something we both loved, together and apart. Some of my favorite memories are of us out on trails, discovering wildflowers, or stopping just to listen to birds we couldn’t name. Now that she’s gone, hiking has become something sacred. It’s how I reach for her when I can’t call her. It’s how I feel closest to her… on those quiet trails where the world slows down enough for me to remember her laughter, her patience, and the way she always pointed out the smallest, most beautiful things I might have missed.

    Hiking isn’t about distance, it’s about depth.

    It’s not an act of escape; it’s an act of return. Out there, I remember who I am and where I came from. I find my mother in the wind, my peace in the rivers, and my purpose in the rhythm of my own steps. So no, I’m not running away. I’m finding my way home, over and over again.

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  • A Serene 4-Mile Loop at Mohican State Park: Big & Little Lyons Falls, & Dam,

    A Serene 4-Mile Loop at Mohican State Park: Big & Little Lyons Falls, & Dam,

    It was around 70 °F when we set out today. I think that’s close to a perfect temperate for wandering among waterfalls, woodland, and scars left by the river currently and years ago. The crew: Luna, Kylie, and me. We parked by the covered bridge at Mohican State Park and embarked on a loop that wove us past 2 cascading falls, a dam and spillway, forested slopes, and the gentle murmur of the stream flowing through.

    🌿 Trail & Park Overview

    Mohican State Park spans about 1,110 acres, nestled in Ashland County, Ohio, along the south shore of Pleasant Hill Lake.  The Clear Fork branch of the Mohican River carves a gorge through the park. Surrounding it is the Mohican-Memorial State Forest, which adds many miles of trails to explore. 

    The hike we did is a combination of what’s called the Pleasant Hill & Lyons Falls Loop or Covered Bridge → Little & Big Lyons Falls → Pleasant Hill Dam route.  Though many sources list that loop as ~2 to 2.5 miles, I stretched ours into an “almost 4 mile loop” by taking side paths, lingering, and sometimes doubling back for shots. 

    The covered bridge by which we parked is a picturesque structure over The Mohican River, built in 1968 using native hardwoods.  It’s a frequent trailhead point for the falls loop and a favored photo spot. There’s a link at the end of the post for an album containing the photos i took!

    Big Lyons Falls (the “larger” fall) and Little Lyons Falls are named after historic characters Paul Lyons and Thomas Lyons (yes, Thomas allegedly wore a necklace of 99 human tongues in lore).  Big Lyons is often described as having a more dramatic drop into a canyon-like cliff amphitheater; Little Lyons offers views from above, a box-canyon feel. 

    After the falls, a side spur leads to Pleasant Hill Dam and the “morning glory” spillway (a flood control feature) that adds a modern, engineered contrast to the raw rock and forest.  The dam and spillway are part of the hydrologic control for the Pleasant Hill reservoir system. 

    The return path follows riverbanks, crossing small footbridges and boardwalks, letting you drift back to the covered bridge. 

    📷 Our Experience & Photo Highlights

    We parked at the covered bridge, as before when Luna and I visited during the fire tower hike. Thus, the place feels familiar, comfortable. With the selfie stick + tripod, we paused at multiple vantage points: on bridge itself, on a walkway by the dam, under a boulder, and close to the falls. At Big Lyons, the amphitheater pour with, wet rocks, and water access we recorded videos walking under. We climbed stairs near the falls, careful on slippery surfaces (wet rock + moss = tricky). Little Lyons offered a vantage from the top edge of the drop; we explored carefully, watching our footing. I am clumsy.

    We detoured toward the dam & spillway, capturing architectures meeting water, especially at the “morning glory” opening. Our loop felt longer than standard because we paused, lingered, and sometimes retraced paths, or lingered longer. My dog trotted ahead excitedly, nose to stone and river spray, bounding between roots and rocks. The 70 °F warmth made the forest feel lush and alive, especially when we broke into sunlit clearings.

    📝 Tips & Observations

    Footwear & grip matter. Moss, wet rock, stairs near falls = slippery. Timing light. Early or late in day gives softer side-light on falls and river. Bring gear and protection. Water spray + humidity can fog lenses. Know trail mileage is flexible. The “loop” is often marketed shorter, but you can extend or wander. Dogs are allowed (on leash). I kept mine leashed, especially near drop edges. Use the covered bridge as start/anchor. It’s accessible and scenic. It is a great staging point. Pause for sound & mood, not just visuals. The river murmuring, leaf rustles, quiet corners enrich the story.

    Pursuit of happiness

    Photo album from Mohican

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  • Choosing More: Trails, Bonfires, Waterfalls, Love, and Creativity

    Choosing More: Trails, Bonfires, Waterfalls, Love, and Creativity

    What could you do more of?

    My thoughts:

    Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I need more of. And not in the material sense, but in the marrow of my days. The kind of “more” that fills, steadies, and fuels. The kind of “more” that shapes a life worth remembering. It’s not about excess, it’s about abundance in the things that matter most: trails, laughter, waterfalls, family, community, creation. These are the moments that root me, the pieces of life that remind me why I keep pushing forward.

    I want more Ohio winding trails, through forests, hills, and hidden ridges that still call my name.

    The backwoods bonfires, with sparks lifting like prayers into the dark.

    Then of course more s’mores, sticky fingers and laughter mixed with smoke.

    Relaxing trips to the lake, the sun reflecting on ripples like glass.

    That leads to more camping trips, with the quiet hum of crickets and the steady breath of earth beneath me.

    I’m a sucker for a waterfall, tumbling like time itself.

    And I could use more kayaking, with my arms burning but spirit alive.

    I’d love time with Kelso, their presence steady as a compass.

    And time with my sisters, weaving memories out of ordinary afternoons.

    I’ll always want time with my mom. May she rest in paradise. Though, I am carrying her in every quiet moment, every place where the wind sounds like her voice.

    I want more of these moments because they are the anchors: where the noise quiets and the core of living rises up clear. Trails, rivers, bonfires, and late-night laughter don’t just fill time; they carve it into memory. They remind me I’m not just moving through life, I’m part of it… woven into the forests, the water, the people who walk beside me.

    I want more because “more” isn’t greed, it’s gratitude. It’s choosing to multiply the things that heal instead of the things that drain. More connection, more earth beneath my boots, more stories written in smoke and stone. These are the things that make the days stretch wide and give me the energy to keep pushing, keep creating, keep fighting for the world I believe in.

    The list Continues:

    All this make me want More sunrises on trailheads.

    And then sunsets bleeding across horizons too wide for words.

    I wish for journals filled, ink poured like rivers of thought.

    I’d love a good rockhounding trip, uncovering pieces of the earth’s hidden heart. UP MICHIGAN is always on my list!

    I want advocacy, protests, standing up when silence would be easier.

    And More poetry read aloud, words stitched into air.

    With this I need more community built, where every voice finds its place.

    I love more time with my dog. The walks, snuggles, the simple grounding presence only she can give.

    And time with my cats, their quiet purrs stitching calm into my days.

    Who wouldn’t love more time gaming? We know play matters too, and escape can be just as healing as creation.

    I would die for more time making physical products for my shop: witchy items, jewelry, keychains, and more. The tangible art that keeps my hands moving and my spirit rooted.

    And more time on writing retreats, they don’t need to be fancy! I just need the only noise to be pen to paper and the only task is to let words flow free.

    Spending time connecting with other poets and creators, trading sparks and building bonfires out of shared voices.

    More more more ! Give me more! experiments, more mistakes, more chances to grow without apology.

    Why?

    Because if I’m honest, FOMO: the fear of missing out, lurks in the background. Not about the shiny, curated things the world flaunts online, but about missing the marrow of my own life. Missing the trails I haven’t hiked yet, the poems I haven’t written, the moments with the people and creatures I love most. Fear of missing the work that matters, the fire that only comes alive when I’m fully in it.

    So this is my reminder to myself: don’t let fear decide. Let more decide. More moments, more presence, more joy stacked up like stones marking a trail forward.

    Because life isn’t about less. It’s about leaning into more, the kind of more that fills you up without emptying the world.

    Wanting more doesn’t make me restless, it makes me aware. Aware that life is short, that moments slip by, that time with people I love and places that restore me cannot be taken for granted. So I’m choosing more. More presence, more connection, more experiences that outlast the scroll of a screen.

    Your turn:

    What would you want more of? Where do you feel time calling you? Share it with me, and let’s hold each other accountable to seek more of what matters, and to build lives overflowing with meaning, not scarcity.

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  • 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.

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  • Hocking Hills permit-only areas

    Hocking Hills permit-only areas

    Permits, Towers, and Thorns – Hiking Boch Hollow, Little Rocky Hollow, Ash Cave Fire Tower, and Saltpetre Cave in Hocking Hills

    Man wearing sunglasses and a hat, with blue hair, and a ginger bear takes a selfie on Ash Cave fire tower.

    Hocking Hills is more than its famous trails. The big three most people favor are Ash Cave, Old Man’s Cave, and Rock House. Hidden across the region are secluded preserves and secret waterfalls. There are also caves that are a little more remote and harder to reach. Yesterday, my bestie, the baby, and I set out to explore three of these off-the-beaten-path gems. We visited Boch Hollow State Nature Preserve, which is home of Corkscrew Falls. We also explored Little Rocky Hollow State Nature Preserve and Saltpetre Cave State Nature Preserve. And a fire tower to add to my list of climbed and conquered.

    Luna, my usual hiking companion, stayed home since our three of the stops were strictly no pets allowed. I promised her I’d bring home plenty of pictures (and maybe some trail snacks).

    Stop 1: Boch Hollow State Nature Preserve – Corkscrew Falls (Permit Only)

    Corkscrew Falls is one of Hocking Hills’ most striking hidden waterfalls. Located inside Boch Hollow State Nature Preserve, it’s only accessible with a free ODNR permit.

    The short 0.2-mile trail delivers instantly. A spiraling cascade drops into a jade-green pool. It is framed by mossy sandstone and shaded by a dense forest canopy. The quiet here is unmatched, thanks to the limited access. Though I definitely spotted 4 human footprints in the stream. It is good to point out that we should stay out of the water and on trail as directed. So we don’t ruin it for the rest of the population.

    Permit only Corkscrew Falls in Hocking Hills, Ohio
    Boch hollow corkscrew falls

    Stop 2: Little Rocky Hollow State Nature Preserve (Permit Only)

    A one-mile entrance trail leads to this remote preserve. The last stretch drops steeply into the hollow. Cool air and dense greenery make the hike feel like stepping back in time.

    This is one of those Hocking Hills hikes where you won’t hear much beyond your own footsteps. The terrain is rugged but rewarding.

    Stop 3: Ash Cave Fire Tower – Tower #5

    Fire Tower Ash Cave Hocking Hills, Ohio

    My fifth tower climb brought in sweeping views of the Hocking Hills region. From the top, green ridges roll endlessly into the distance, broken only by patches of sunlight. The climb was steady, the breeze constant, and the view was worth every step. 3 fire towers done in Ohio, 1 in North Carolina, and a smoke stack climbed in Mount Vernon.

    Green trees and blue caves sweep out in the view from the fire tower in Hocking Hills, Ohio
    Ash cave fire tower view

    Stop 4 – Saltpetre Cave State Nature Preserve (Permit Only, Attempted)

    We ended the day attempting to reach the Saltpetre Caves, but the trail was choked with thorny vegetation. Every route seemed blocked, and after enough scratches and laughter, we turned back.

    Even without seeing the caves, this stop added to the day’s adventure. It also added to the list of places I’ll return to better prepared.

    This hike was a mix of hidden waterfalls, quiet preserves, and challenging climbs. The day started at the secluded Corkscrew Falls. It continued with the sweeping views of Ash Cave Fire Tower. This journey proved Hocking Hills’ beauty extends far beyond its most famous trails.

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  • Coming Home from Asheville: Adventures at New River Gorge, Hawk’s Nest, and Waterfalls in the Rain

    Coming Home from Asheville: Adventures at New River Gorge, Hawk’s Nest, and Waterfalls in the Rain

    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.

    Hawk Nest State Park Signage at the overlook
    The New River Gorge Bridge and the Newest WV National Park

    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.

    Axton in the rain at Lover's Leap overlook in a blue t-shirt
    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  Gauley Bridge WV mid summer
    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.

    The fall known only as little roadside falls less than a mile from Cathedral Falls
    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.