Because Jamestown Audubon is working on a project that involves taking people to the River Walk, I took my camera for a walk down there last Wednesday.
It’s new every time, because we hike it differently every time. This time, we went “backwards.” And by going backwards it was much easier to find the old Holts Run Road.
We followed it to the beaver pond that is close to Crick’s Run.
As we arrived, it started to snow. So pretty!
These tracks confused us. I think they must be fisher… but I don’t know for sure. What do you think?
October 3-5, 2014 on Grand Island, New York – Wild Women Unite!
I’ll be teaching a photography workshop at this event. I’ve never been to it, but when Yvonne approached me about teaching, it sounded like so much fun, I think I’d go even if I weren’t teaching! Here’s what Yvonne asked me to share:
This is an event for all women: whether we are looking for a weekend relaxing with friends or looking to sharpen our outdoor skills. You can find it all at our Wild Women Unite weekend October 3 – 5 on Grand Island. The weekend is packed with learning, laughter and fun.
It begins Friday, with a meet and mingle happy hour, presenting our very own “Wild Woman Song” written and performed by Gina Holsopple. The adventure starts here, so come and sing along!
Later Friday evening there will be a presentation by Jennifer Haddow, owner and director of Wild Women Expeditions. Jennifer has been providing outdoor adventure travel for women since 1991. Listen and learn how to be brave enough to release your inner Wild Woman. She will talk about her world aventures from Iceland to Thailand and beyond. Our own Canadian Wild Woman!
On Saturday, everyone is given a chance to participate in four (out of thirty) beginner level workshops providing hands on opportunity to learn to play outdoors. This year for the first time, we are offering a “seniors” track of four workshops providing very “first step” lessons to start moving and get healthy (Grandmas allowed). Our workshops are designed to support all sorts of interests, from easy living to heart racing adventure, allowing every sort of woman to participate. Take a look at the workshops choices on our website.
Saturday evening is a barbecue and relaxing around the campfire with an Alaskan Wild Woman. CarolAnn lives in the Alaskan wilderness where her only neighbor is nature. Come listen to her stories.
This is a unique opportunity for women, 16 and older, with any level of outdoor experience to become more familiar with and comfortable in the environment while learning new or enhancing existing outdoor skills.
Warning: Be prepared to meet new friends, let your hair down, kick back and kick some butt!
Just go to the website!! https://www.wildwomenunite.com/
I awoke to snow on Tuesday morning and I was (to borrow a phrase from Karen Eckstrom) irrationally happy. I come alive in winter. The air is fresh and crisp – not heavy and humid. I sweat only from exertion, not from merely sitting. There are no bugs pestering my ears and neck. And the world is pure and clean. I decided to get to work early so I could start the day with a walk.
The light changed several times during the walk, the sun peeping out sometimes, then clouds dumping more snow at others. Here are the pictures I took in the order I took them so you can walk with me:
OK, now get to work!
Chautauqua County has several trails converted from old rail beds. Today I walked on one that starts on Route 430 not far from the intersection with Route 394 in Mayville NY. I hiked in as far as the power line, then turned around. It was cold, but once I got moving, I was comfortable. The sky was partly clear… once in a while the sun peaked through. Mostly there was nice diffused light. Some of the puddles and parts of the marshy pond were frozen.
A lot of the leaves were already down, though a few still clung to branches.
It was a gorgeous day and a lovely little hike.
My friend Sue’s family had a tradition – a breakfast at Allegany State Park. Rain, snow, or sunshine. She reinstated the tradition a few years back and I am lucky enough to be on the invitation list. This year, we stuffed ourselves on donuts, bacon, eggs, pancakes, several kinds of breads and pastries, watermelon, grapes, potatoes, grape pie, and apple crisp… and I’m probably forgetting something.
Then it was off to Thunder Rocks to explore and climb and attempt to burn off a few of those calories. My explore turned up these treasures:
The weather felt more like summer… But the views were definitely autumnal.
Hiking with Grandchildren: What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
by Ernie Allison
My father always had a firm belief that nothing provides better family bonding time than communing with the great outdoors. I tend to agree. I remember my own Grandfather picking me and my brother up for our yearly camping trip. The fondest memories I have of that grizzled man were spent hiking mountain trails.
Decades have passed and I have grandchildren of my own. As time has passed, so too has the tradition of yearly camping trips between grandfather and grandchild. My grandchildren are thoroughly 21st century youth—that is they prefer to play their video games and wander malls searching for shiny objects. I don’t really understand the appeal, but I have been told the entire experience is “cool.” The first time I brought up camping and hiking, my grandson John asked me if he could bring his portable DVD player and my granddaughter Brooke informed me that she received all the nature she desired from the bird feeder her mother had set up in the backyard. A bird feeder and an inability to be separated from a DVD player. Was that really what we as a species have turned to? Mere months later my wife and I were asked to babysit while my son and daughter-in-law were out of town on a business trip. I was determined to bring a little nature into my grandchildren’s lives. I figured I would start small. No need to shock them, so I packed my three grandchildren into my van and set off for Jump Creek, Idaho. Jump Creek is a nature hike that even casual hikers can manage. The entire path only takes about twenty minutes to walk both ways. Therefore, I determined it was perfect for my grandchildren.
Ok, I admit I might have told the children that we were going to the mall. It kept them cheery and chattering for about half of the 2 hour trip to the canyon. It wasn’t until our car hit the dessert that the real complaining started. “You should have told them in the first place,” my wife sighed, patting her brown hair. “Then we would have had 2 hours of this,” I muttered. The complaining died down momentarily when the 400 foot high canyon walls came into view. “You’ll like this. It’ll be fun. I promise,” my wife exclaimed from the seat beside me. The only answer was two huffs and one snore from the back seat. At the parking lot the whole family piled out of the car, and then after some more enthusiastic complaining, the hike began. The grandchildren were not impressed by the bunchgrass and sage. They were not impressed by the towering walls that enclosed both sides of the path. They did perk up when a hawk flew by. And there was some enthusiastic shrieking from Brooke when a snake slithered onto the path. Things didn’t really take a turn for the worst until my four-year-old grandchild Little Sally scurried back to my wife with “Pwetty Flowers.” The little girl had been the only one to show any measure of enthusiasm for the trip. She had been running from one foreign object to another, inspecting every insect, plant, and rock with the intensity that most would give to a math problem. My wife was peering up at the sky in the hopes that another bird would fly past. My wife accepted the flower without looking. Sally beamed with pride. “Ah…dear” I said, “That’s poison Ivy.” When we reached the small creek, I was still explaining the importance of not touching poison ivy, oak, or sumac. “You’ll know it’s poison ivy by its white berries at this time…” “How do we get across?” my granddaughter Brooke interrupted. “We walk on the rocks,” I said. I demonstrated after picking up Sally by tentatively stepping out onto the first stone on the path. I was halfway across when I heard a high pitch squeak followed by a splash. I jerked around to find Brooke sitting in the water. “John don’t push your sister.” The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough to leave Brooke’s shorts soaked. I shouldn’t have been surprised when Brooke grabbed onto her brother’s foot when he gleefully continued on causing him to sprawl into the water. “You jerk,” he said. What followed was a few moments of bickering and fighting from two cranky and wet preteens.
By the time we finally arrived at the 60 foot Jump Creek waterfall, I was regretting this decision to bond in the outdoors. My two elder grandchildren were hissing insults under their breath and my wife was scratching at her hands where a poison ivy rash was just beginning to develop. Only Little Sally was joyfully exploring her surroundings. The 60 foot waterfall stole everyone’s attention. It was a mesmerizing sight. The bickering died down, my wife stopped scratching, and Little Sally remained still for the first time that day. Then the refrain of “cool” from my mall rat grandchildren started. I knew then that I had made the right choice. This trip allowed me to create a memory that my grandchildren would remember forever. The fact that Little Sally shattered the moment by squealing and throwing herself into the water in an attempt to catch a rainbow pretty much sealed the moment in their memory forever. It was funny until we remembered Sally couldn’t swim. By the time I fished Sally from the water and returned to the car, my grandchildren were asking when we could take our next hike, so I think the trip was a success overall.
Ernie Allison is a freelance writer who loves spending time with his grandchildren, whenever he is able to pull them away from the screens. He is an enthusiastic birder, and if he isn’t hiking or chasing after one of his grandchildren you’ll probably find him in his backyard or in the park feeding birds.
My job has kept me tied to the computer a lot lately. Yesterday, I just had to get out, so I took a quick stroll out to the Big Pond Overlook.
Blue Vervain and Yarrow were both in bloom. Add some Bee Balm and you’d have a nice Independence Day bouquet!
Both Swamp and Common Milkweed were blooming, too.
I looked for Monarch eggs or caterpillars, but found none. (The picture above was taken during a different stroll. Can you see the egg? on the leaf of the Common Milkweed on the right?)
When I got out to the overlook, there was a mama Red-Winged Blackbird scolding, “Check! Check! Check!” She had a worm dangling from her beak. I refused to leave until I saw where she would take it. Dad called from a tree just behind me. Finally, she headed to the nest and I heard her babies peep, “Feed me! Feed me!”
A family came up behind me and I got to teach the difference between the male and female and show them the nest.
I returned to my desk amazed at how refreshed even a short walk can make me feel.
Google said it would take 1 hour and 55 minutes to drive to Letchworth from my house. I knew we’d need a stretch break, so I figured 2 hours and 15 minutes, tops. Google didn’t know about the detour on Route 39 causing our trip to be 2 hours and 40 minutes. It all worked out, since friends we intended to meet were running a tad late. And I can say with all sincerity, it was worth the drive. I can’t believe I’ve never spent time in this park!
The description at www.letchworthpark.com says this:
Letchworth State Park, with some of the most magnificent scenery in the United States, comprises 14,350 acres along the Genesee River. Within the park, the river roars over three major waterfalls, one of which is 107 feet high. The cliffs, created by the river’s path over thousands of years, approach 600 feet.
It was a gray, misty day. Some might call it “dreary.” Not I. It was a good day. Just warm-cool enough that a rain jacket over a teeshirt was comfortable while hiking. And honestly, gray days often make for better photos. (And I took over 200. Yikes!)
The park was one the property of William Pryor Letchworth who lived in the very lovely “Glen Iris” estate house – now an inn and restaurant.
Mr. Letchworth began the work of restoring the area around his estate from the ravages of civilization (timbering mostly). Upon his death, the property was given to the people of New York State. Over the years it has grown into a park of over 14,000 acres that draws over a million visitors a year.
There is plenty of evidence of the work of the Civilian Conservation Corp throughout the park: rock walls and staircases.
I took plenty of shots of the falls themselves, but surprise surprise, I found plenty of “stuff” that caught my eye.
As we looked over the rock walls toward the falls we saw all kinds of interesting flowers. Above left is the native Columbine. On the right is a flower I can’t remember ever seeing before. I don’t know what it is! Do you?
I took several photos of the plants on the edges of the cliffs with the waterfalls as a backdrop:
Tucked into the rock walls or popping out of the layers of slate that make up the cliff were plants that were new to me:
I would also love to go back to learn what blossom will emerge from this lovely foliage:
I could go on and on. Instead, enjoy this slideshow of my Flickr Letchworth set: