Lost at Chimney Rock
I just got back from a week-long Kentucky adventure road trip with my friends Grant and Michelle. This is one story we will never forget.
One day, Mom, Tina, Grant, Michelle and I (along with Tinkerbell) decide to go for a short hike over at Natural Arch. On the way, we see a mother and daughter stranded about a mile from a gas station. Not having a solid time-frame until later that evening, we pull over and offer them a ride. With them, our group out-numbers our seats by one person. It's a little awkward, but we figure it's a small price to pay for the overall good of the deed.
We wait while they get a can of gas and drop them off at their truck saying goodbye. No one exchanges names; just thank-yous and good luck for the rest of the day.
So, back on track, we arrive at the grounds of Natural Arch and pay the $3.00 fee. The hot pink fee envelope also requests your license plate information, the number of people in your group and any comments or concerns. We fill it out, laughing at the amount of information they want to know about the few hikers that come to this superbly remote attraction.
Natural Arch is this massive, amazing rock archway that formed naturally and has been a site of awe since the days of the first Native American Indians. The sight of it is really humbling and almost takes your breath away when it appears, suddenly looming overhead as you climb over a huge boulder blocking the trail.
The Natural Arch path is only a quarter of a mile long, so we look around to see where else we can explore. Our options are a five mile loop hike or a one mile hike to Chimney Rock. Chimney Rock sounds pretty cool, so we follow the arrow, feasting our eyes on wild mushrooms, frogs, flowers, trees and waterfalls all along the way. After about 45 minutes, we are not sure if we have missed Chimney Rock or what, because one mile should not take this long.
Though a distinctive trail, it was obvious by the overgrown brush and the lack of litter that this is not a well-traveled tourist route.
Our path slowly descends into a deep valley and gradually begins to climb up again, we finally come across this great natural rock formation with an open center and we figure it must be Chimney Rock. It is well-worth the journey and we play in it for a while, admiring the layers of sediment and the erosion in the rock. Then, instead of retreating back the way we came, we decide to continue on the path, leaving Chimney Rock as a simple attraction along the way rather than a destination.
Figuring we are on the five mile loop, we keep a moderate pace and chatter away as we admire more foliage and forest critters. During the hike, we come to several forks in the trail and have to make a choice. There are no signs from which to base our decision, so we reason, without real logic, to go one way or another at each intersection. A couple of hours go by and we are trying to convince ourselves that we have chosen the correct route and will pop out right next to our car at the beginning of the entire trail system. Such is not the case.
Just as we realize the fact that we are no longer on the right path, we also realize it's going to be getting dark soon. A few hours more and we will have to start thinking about building a fire for the night. It gets pretty pitch dark in the woods after sunset, so we march onward, looking and praying for any sign of civilization.
I have some difficulty jumping across a wide creek, and I wind up with flooded shoes. Major bummer considering we're going to be out here a while. Upon recovering from my misstep, I see what appears to be an occasional fishing hole for some locals. There is a small fire ring, many scattered beer cans, and a shotgun shell littering the landscape. Just above eye level, pieces of aluminum foil are wrapped around several nearby tree trunks. A seatbelt strap dangles, knotted on a branch about 12 feet above.
Still tripping on the Blair Witch film, Michelle and I linger behind, creating a tale of the terrifying corruption and hillbilly chaos that surely must occur on this very spot. We freak ourselves out and give up the exploration to join the group.
They have found tire tracks! Surely this is the way out! So we follow the tracks until our path dead-ends into the end of a gravel road. In the distance, through thick brush and trees, we can see a rather ominous community of unkempt mobile homes.
We rejoice at the site of civilization!! "Not necessarily!" Mom warns "A lot of people here have guns and they do not appreciate trespassers." So we reluctantly choose to follow the gravel road, hoping to easily figure out where we are and how to get where we need to be. This road winds uphill...WAY uphill. The grade is staggering. Around every bend we expect to crest this hill and around every bend is more incline. We are tired, thirsty, sweaty, hungry, lost and now we have to make our way up a freaking mountain!
We take a break. Tina and Grant lay flat on the gravel no longer concerned about cleanliness or bugs. I fall behind to go to the bathroom and squat over what I desperately hope is not poison ivy. Mom tries the cell phone for service and Tinkerbell laps a mud puddle. Later, we pass another narrow gravel road directing traffic to a cemetery...not encouraging. Finally, reaching the summit, we are impressed only by the fact that the descent is actually beginning.
Curve after curve, the abandoned road is endless. Still in good spirits, we sing the Gilligan's Island theme and other songs about being lost or wanting to go home. We fabricate stories of our desperately dramatic rescue and wonder how long it will be until someone notices that we are missing. We discuss staying overnight on the side of this road and contemplate going back to the creepy mobile home neighborhood. As we begin to debate whether it would be wise to turn back and retrace the four-hour hike or continue forward on this seemingly endless road, we round another bend and discover something totally unexpected - the Deer Slayer.
A crumpled teal Pathfinder with those words emblazoned on the windshield rests in the road ahead. A man and a woman quickly fill a hole with dirt and stand suspiciously looking into the woods. Without regard to the identities of the couple nor attention to the fact that they have a large shovel in tow, we approach waving frantically. They quickly jump into their truck and I fear the worst. Will they ignore our cries for help? Run us down and bury us back here? So many thoughts rampantly flood my mind.
They pull forward to meet us. We explain our story. The blonde woman with her heavy southern drawl laughs and her dozen gold hoop earrings catch the light. When they're not running into unsuspecting deer with the truck, the man and his wife gather wild flowers for their yard. They frequently pick up lost hikers along this old road - we find out we've come a very long way.
Somehow, the five seats of the Pathfinder accommodate the seven of us and our dog uncomfortably for the ten minute drive back to our car. Ten minutes on back country roads is an astonishing distance to have walked through the woods. We laughed uncontrollably at how far we had come, and at how much further it would have been before we actually arrived somewhere useful.
After exchanging some stories, gratitude and laughter, we part ways with the Deer Slayer without so much as an introduction or handshake.
Reviewing a map displayed near our car, we determined that we had walked about 12 miles in the woods and another 2 on that treacherous gravel road. Our walking tour nearly covered the entire expanse of the map and our rescue location was well OFF the map!
We stop on our way out to leave a comment on one of those hot pink envelopes. All we ask is for a few signs where ever the trail divides. I'll be going back to check...with far more gear in case I end up staying the night.
One day, Mom, Tina, Grant, Michelle and I (along with Tinkerbell) decide to go for a short hike over at Natural Arch. On the way, we see a mother and daughter stranded about a mile from a gas station. Not having a solid time-frame until later that evening, we pull over and offer them a ride. With them, our group out-numbers our seats by one person. It's a little awkward, but we figure it's a small price to pay for the overall good of the deed.
We wait while they get a can of gas and drop them off at their truck saying goodbye. No one exchanges names; just thank-yous and good luck for the rest of the day.
So, back on track, we arrive at the grounds of Natural Arch and pay the $3.00 fee. The hot pink fee envelope also requests your license plate information, the number of people in your group and any comments or concerns. We fill it out, laughing at the amount of information they want to know about the few hikers that come to this superbly remote attraction.
Natural Arch is this massive, amazing rock archway that formed naturally and has been a site of awe since the days of the first Native American Indians. The sight of it is really humbling and almost takes your breath away when it appears, suddenly looming overhead as you climb over a huge boulder blocking the trail.
The Natural Arch path is only a quarter of a mile long, so we look around to see where else we can explore. Our options are a five mile loop hike or a one mile hike to Chimney Rock. Chimney Rock sounds pretty cool, so we follow the arrow, feasting our eyes on wild mushrooms, frogs, flowers, trees and waterfalls all along the way. After about 45 minutes, we are not sure if we have missed Chimney Rock or what, because one mile should not take this long.
Though a distinctive trail, it was obvious by the overgrown brush and the lack of litter that this is not a well-traveled tourist route.
Our path slowly descends into a deep valley and gradually begins to climb up again, we finally come across this great natural rock formation with an open center and we figure it must be Chimney Rock. It is well-worth the journey and we play in it for a while, admiring the layers of sediment and the erosion in the rock. Then, instead of retreating back the way we came, we decide to continue on the path, leaving Chimney Rock as a simple attraction along the way rather than a destination.
Figuring we are on the five mile loop, we keep a moderate pace and chatter away as we admire more foliage and forest critters. During the hike, we come to several forks in the trail and have to make a choice. There are no signs from which to base our decision, so we reason, without real logic, to go one way or another at each intersection. A couple of hours go by and we are trying to convince ourselves that we have chosen the correct route and will pop out right next to our car at the beginning of the entire trail system. Such is not the case.
Just as we realize the fact that we are no longer on the right path, we also realize it's going to be getting dark soon. A few hours more and we will have to start thinking about building a fire for the night. It gets pretty pitch dark in the woods after sunset, so we march onward, looking and praying for any sign of civilization.
I have some difficulty jumping across a wide creek, and I wind up with flooded shoes. Major bummer considering we're going to be out here a while. Upon recovering from my misstep, I see what appears to be an occasional fishing hole for some locals. There is a small fire ring, many scattered beer cans, and a shotgun shell littering the landscape. Just above eye level, pieces of aluminum foil are wrapped around several nearby tree trunks. A seatbelt strap dangles, knotted on a branch about 12 feet above.
Still tripping on the Blair Witch film, Michelle and I linger behind, creating a tale of the terrifying corruption and hillbilly chaos that surely must occur on this very spot. We freak ourselves out and give up the exploration to join the group.
They have found tire tracks! Surely this is the way out! So we follow the tracks until our path dead-ends into the end of a gravel road. In the distance, through thick brush and trees, we can see a rather ominous community of unkempt mobile homes.
We rejoice at the site of civilization!! "Not necessarily!" Mom warns "A lot of people here have guns and they do not appreciate trespassers." So we reluctantly choose to follow the gravel road, hoping to easily figure out where we are and how to get where we need to be. This road winds uphill...WAY uphill. The grade is staggering. Around every bend we expect to crest this hill and around every bend is more incline. We are tired, thirsty, sweaty, hungry, lost and now we have to make our way up a freaking mountain!
We take a break. Tina and Grant lay flat on the gravel no longer concerned about cleanliness or bugs. I fall behind to go to the bathroom and squat over what I desperately hope is not poison ivy. Mom tries the cell phone for service and Tinkerbell laps a mud puddle. Later, we pass another narrow gravel road directing traffic to a cemetery...not encouraging. Finally, reaching the summit, we are impressed only by the fact that the descent is actually beginning.
Curve after curve, the abandoned road is endless. Still in good spirits, we sing the Gilligan's Island theme and other songs about being lost or wanting to go home. We fabricate stories of our desperately dramatic rescue and wonder how long it will be until someone notices that we are missing. We discuss staying overnight on the side of this road and contemplate going back to the creepy mobile home neighborhood. As we begin to debate whether it would be wise to turn back and retrace the four-hour hike or continue forward on this seemingly endless road, we round another bend and discover something totally unexpected - the Deer Slayer.
A crumpled teal Pathfinder with those words emblazoned on the windshield rests in the road ahead. A man and a woman quickly fill a hole with dirt and stand suspiciously looking into the woods. Without regard to the identities of the couple nor attention to the fact that they have a large shovel in tow, we approach waving frantically. They quickly jump into their truck and I fear the worst. Will they ignore our cries for help? Run us down and bury us back here? So many thoughts rampantly flood my mind.
They pull forward to meet us. We explain our story. The blonde woman with her heavy southern drawl laughs and her dozen gold hoop earrings catch the light. When they're not running into unsuspecting deer with the truck, the man and his wife gather wild flowers for their yard. They frequently pick up lost hikers along this old road - we find out we've come a very long way.
Somehow, the five seats of the Pathfinder accommodate the seven of us and our dog uncomfortably for the ten minute drive back to our car. Ten minutes on back country roads is an astonishing distance to have walked through the woods. We laughed uncontrollably at how far we had come, and at how much further it would have been before we actually arrived somewhere useful.
After exchanging some stories, gratitude and laughter, we part ways with the Deer Slayer without so much as an introduction or handshake.
Reviewing a map displayed near our car, we determined that we had walked about 12 miles in the woods and another 2 on that treacherous gravel road. Our walking tour nearly covered the entire expanse of the map and our rescue location was well OFF the map!
We stop on our way out to leave a comment on one of those hot pink envelopes. All we ask is for a few signs where ever the trail divides. I'll be going back to check...with far more gear in case I end up staying the night.