by: Ryan
With the exception of our stop at S.P. Dinsmoor's Garden of Eden, which I totally recommend if you ever find yourself anywhere near Lucas, Kansas, we raced across Kansas and Missouri as quickly as we could. Both are "purdy" in their way, but as far as I can tell, there's just not that much there. We arrived a little before dinner time at the campground of Giant City State Park in Makanda, Illinois. We found a nearly empty campground, one sign stating that the ranger was off duty, and on other instructing us to make reservations online. Luckily the sign also had the ranger's number on it. The ranger told us just to pick out a spot and he'd come by to register us later. Sometimes, you can have too many choices. We must have done three laps around the campground before settling on a spot. There was one other group in the campground, which was lucky because after watching me walk around for awhile gathering damp firewood a nice guy named Kelly came over and gave me a great big pile of his leftover firewood. Upon arrival, we had been greeted by huge and crazy horseflies and black flies that careened kamikaze style into the truck and trailer. We thought we might have to spend the night hiding from the bugs, but for whatever reason, they had no interest in us; they just really hated my truck, I guess. We actually spent as very comfortable night in the unpopulated camp around the fire, getting showered, and enjoying the nice sleeping weather.
In the morning we checked out the visitor's center where we were besieged by the resident naturalist who clearly could do with a bit more tourist traffic. After watching a short video, he took us and an other family through the highlights of the park and warned us about the copperhead snakes and poison ivy. He informed us that while the snakes are there, it was very unlikely we'd see one, and that the poison ivy is everywhere. The park does have a ridiculous amount of poison ivy; it took Kinsey about 15 minutes on the trail to drop her sunglasses into a nice patch of it.
The first stop was the lodge, built in the 30's out of hand hewn timbers and locally quarried sandstone by the men and boys of the Civilian Conservation Corps. We found the lodge and attached restaurant as empty as the rest of the park and wondered how it is that places like this can afford to stay open and maintained. The lodge itself is a truly masterful piece of work. Every surface, from the limestone block, to the wooden beams, stair treads, and floorboards showcases it's maker's mark. We explained to the girls a little bit about the New Deal and the CCC. We talked about how much of the national and state parks' trail networks and facilities that we had been enjoying all summer were made possible by that legislation and by the hard work of so many young depression era men. It really is amazing how well so much of their work has held up for over 70 years.
The attraction for which the park is named, Giant City, is an odd assembly of limestone rock formations that call to mind the buildings and streets of city blocks. Geologists believe that mildly acidic rain over many millions of years have cause crevices in the rock to erode evenly into the "streets" that we find separating them today. Deserters from the Union and Confederate armies hid in the shelter of these rocks together, and their names are among the first of many inscribed on them. Some of the overhanging caverns have ceilings that are still stained by the smoke of native American fires. We went for a hike around and through these strange rocks and beautiful woods. Despite the historical richness and mystique that surrounded us, the girls were probably more taken with the cute little cat that followed us around as we explored the trails. They named him Pushko.
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A grown over "Giant City" street |
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Strolling down the street |
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Hanging out under balancing rock |
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The limestone erodes strangely where there is veins of some tougher mineral running through it. |
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More weird erosion. These rock "webs" reminded me of my friend Joe's microscope paintings where he paints or draws what he observes through a microscope. They often have the quality of otherworldly landscapes.
http://josephyetto.com/home.html |
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Pushko. |