Panic, peace in paradise (5/9/05)

“Way to go Mother Nature!” the scruffy young man exclaimed. “Good job, God!” another one chimed in as the small group of college-age kids watched the foaming white water scramble over the rocks. The leader of the pack told us that one could usually wade across that part of the waterway. If anybody had tried it last Saturday they would have been swept over the waterfall and probably gotten banged up a bit. I’m not sure if it was a brook, a stream or maybe a part of the Red River that we were appreciating. All I know is that it was magnificent.

The Red River Gorge area of the Daniel Boone National Forest in Kentucky truly is God’s country, and not only for the awe-inspiring beauty of it. There was more praying going on than at a church revival meeting. I’m sure we weren’t the only ones traveling down winding one-lane gravel roads shrieking silently, “Oh, God, don’t let anyone be on the other side of this blind curve. Oh, God, please don’t let anyone be coming through the other end of this tunnel. Oh, God, please keep us from sliding off this mountain. AAAAHHH! That red car is coming right at us! Thank you, Lord for letting that speeding maniac miss us. Is that a real turkey in the middle of the road? I didn’t know they could fly. Oh my God, where did the road go? Thank you Lord for getting us safely to the trail head.

“Whew.”

We had traveled down to the park to enjoy the weekend and to get away from the dreary weather at home. The dogwoods were in bloom and looked like bits of lace sprinkled here and there across the undulating seas of green that cloaked the mountains. The lingering clouds made for some great pictures as they dipped into the valleys and provided contrast to the verdant countryside.

We chose a trail and set off into the mud. The stone steps weren’t as treacherous as they appeared but I slipped anyway. I was afraid I had turned my ankle. Even though it was a bit tender I kept on walking and eventually the soreness went away.

There was water everywhere. It seeped from between the cracks of the rocks, tumbled down newly formed streams and sparkled on ferns and trees alike. The only sounds I could hear were the conversations of unseen wildlife and the babbling of the water. My husband motioned for me to be quiet. He pointed to a spot a foot away from his toe. There was a tiny lizard the color of orange sherbet. It posed for a couple of pictures before disappearing into the undergrowth.

We ended our adventure on that particular trail at the aforementioned waterfall. The group leader advised us to return the way we had come as the rest of the trail was straight uphill. We took his advice and made it back to the car safely. The next two trails were equally beautiful. At one point I let my husband go on ahead. I was surrounded by mountains. The only thing man-made was the trail beneath my feet. Silence cloaked me like a blanket. I have never felt so at peace and at home in my life.

The next trail we chose was supposed to be an easy one. It was only a half mile long. Then we saw the do-not-fall-off-the-cliff sign. As if that wasn’t disconcerting enough, at the foot of the warning sign was a monument to someone who had lost his life on that very trail. It told when the boy was born and died and enough about him to make him real to us. We vowed to be careful and sent up a quiet prayer for his soul.

At the end of the trail was an overlook. I could see forever. I rested the camera on the stone pillars, and leaned against the fence. I could have stood there all day if my husband hadn’t called me back.

We came home on Sunday, and it was Thursday before my legs quit hurting. I would love to go back again this weekend but, as always, there is too much to do at home. So when the days get too hectic and the irritations pile up, I will return in my mind to a place where stillness and beauty exist and Mother Nature elicits praise from a teenager.[[In-content Ad]]