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I was expecting about 30 people to join me on this Saturday morning hike near the Trinity, but I also knew that the cold fog hovering about the city would keep some people under warm blankets. My concerns all but evaporated when the first hiker showed up. Within the hour, the cul-de-sac at the trailhead was filled with cars, which carried bodies eager to see what the Buckeye buzz was all about. At 10:03 A.M., after a short introduction by Jim Flood, a Master Naturalist and one of the original blazers of the trail, we went up and down the levee into the world of the Trinity River Bottomland, which to those who care, can be seen on Mapsco 56-L as Rochester Park.
The damp air within the Bottomland itself seemed to press firmly on my skin and depress the temperature all the more. Somebody mentioned something about how the moisture around the bottomland is supposed to moderate the temperature and make it warmer in the winter. I sure didn’t feel it! I ain’t saying he was wrong, I just don’t know a whole lot about it. I did know though that we were headin’ along the River Overlook Trail to, well, look at the river! The Trinity ain’t no Grand Canyon Colorado or Giza Pyramid Nile, and most urbanites in Dallas wouldn't know the difference between a toilet and the river, but I think it’s a neat little thing to do on a Saturday morning, if I do say so myself. I actually did write a poem about a canoe trip along this very stretch of the Trinity once on a golden September day not long ago. The air then was warm, the sky bright and Fall’s yellows and reds were beginning to speckle the trees aligning the banks. This Saturday, however, the river was flowing much lower than it was on that bright day of poetry on account of the lack of rain we’ve had over the past couple of months. Thus, revealed were plastic bags and cups and other things clung to the naked winter tree branches, which showed the ugliness we humans can render, as we always have and probably always will, unto nature. While overlooking the sloping, soiled banks, a fellow walker asked me if there have ever been any efforts to clean up the trash and restore the river to some of its pristine glory. I told her that as much as I myself would love to see that, I think such efforts would be tantamount to trying to save the Titanic with a teaspoon. All of the street trash combined from Fort Worth, the Mid-Cities and most of Dallas gets flushed down rain gutters and dumped into the Trinity on a weekly basis. We could collect some trash on a Saturday, but it would all be back on Monday after a heavy Sunday rain. What’s the solution to this? Is it draconian legislation or ecological education? I dunno. Man, by his nature, alters his environment, and sometimes towards destructive ends. It seems to me we’d have to change human nature itself to fix the problem, and I just don’t see us changing ourselves so much anytime soon, unfortunately… Well, the only thing I was aimin’ to change in that moment was the direction we were walking. We backtracked a little on the trail to connect with the Buckeye Trail itself. I was eager to the find another trail under construction that leads to White Rock Creek, which confluences with the Trinity about a mile east of the main Buckeye Trail. The man who blazed this network of trails told us that a big ol’ Burr Oak and a really orange Bois d’Arc (pronounced “bo-dark”…the horse apple tree) marked the beginning of the trail to White Rock Creek. As I came across these two landmarks, I was a little apprehensive about leading everyone into a jungle-like morass, which in large swaths still stretches along a large portion of the Trinity. Fortunately, pink plastic tape tied to trees guided us safely along a somewhat obscured earthen trail, and so on we went. To the right, through the thinned winter brush, we could see stretches of the river. To our left the bottomland forest of Rochester Park stretched over a mile to the north before encountering Hwy. 175. I would not try to convince you that I felt as if I had entered into a time warp and beheld this Land of the Three Forks (West, Elm and East of the Trinity River) in its original state, but experiencing such moments, even with the distant hum of cars and commerce, creates a certain pleasurable buzz that, sadly, most city folk do not know how to experience any more… Experiencing the pleasure of walking that is...You know it’s real. That’s why you come on these walks in the first place. It’s the elements of nature touching your skin, wafting into your nose, coloring your eyes and whispering into your ears. Add to that some friends, or some new acquaintances, and you have set up the circumstances for some good conversation, the icing on the cake of the whole experience. What do you like to talk about? Well, whatever’s on your mind... Talk about the weather. Talk about politics and religion. Talk about yourself or even, gulp, something that is weighing heavy on your mind - you’d be surprised to discover how willing to listen so many people are. Talk for five minutes, ten minutes or even an hour. There are no rules. And when you or the other person’s mind drifts towards different subjects, your bodies can drift right along to another part of the trail with another person. Wonder and wander where and when and with whom you will – it’s really that simple. Again though, most Dallasites don’t understand this simple and essential practice of walking and they suffer all the more for it. Walking releases physical and emotional toxins, nourishes the soul and can find ya’ new friends in the darndest places. Who in the world doesn’t want that? But, if you choose to spend your Saturday mornings in bed or on the couch, you won’t be able to see White Rock Creek right before it confluences with the Most Holy Trinity (La Santisma Trinidad en espanol…it’s original name) on Mapsco 57-N… Again, this area ain’t no Wonder of the World, but I think it’s pretty cool to stand on its bank, untainted by development or impoundments, and wonder if what is now under White Rock Lake used to look like what is here right where my feet are planted. I wonder if it used to look like that all the way up to its source in Frisco (Mapsco 456 R) where it is now a mere rainwater ditch. And I wonder if the bears, wolves, panthers and even jaguars that used to roam Texas roamed right here... These are important matters to discuss folks…at least to me. There’s a lot more of Dallas’ past that I intend to find out…and I’d like others to come with. These walks can create new channels of thought, new ideas and worlds to explore. They help us forget about the passing of time and hearken our minds back to a child-like state where the world is a far more interesting place. I am serious too. Children don’t have the inhibitions that adults have because they have yet to experience a life wherein they are told to submit, conform and just be and do like everyone else. This makes us adults less spontaneous and less joyous in our spontaneity. We get bogged down in timetables and routines and think about them way too much. What energy then do we have left to use to think about creeks and swinging off a tree rope along the bank into a natural pool of water? I think most adults in Dallas would love to do such a thing, yet most adults would never think to do such a thing. Why should they? They’re too busy bein’ busy during the week and too busy bein’ tired on the weekend. They’re stuck in a monotonous rut that is literally driving many of them insane. The stress of the life we live in the modern American city is unbridled and dangerous. We’ve got to do something to stop it… And I start my stoppin’ by walking… We looked at White Rock Creek for about five minutes. Someone broached the idea of canoeing this creek and I told them that you can, but you’ve got to contend with your fair share of logjams, as has always been the case on White Rock’s madre, the Trinity. I myself would welcome the opportunity to portage around such obstacles, sinking my limbs and hands into dark, pungent mud in the process, but I have difficulty finding others so willing. Heck, I’d love to canoe and portage and camp for hundreds of miles southward on the Trinity all the way to the Gulf of Mexico where it empties. But, again, I have difficulty finding others so willing...all in good time I suppose… We shortly thereafter turned around and headed back towards the levee. I was actually wantin’ to walk a little more, maybe northward along White Rock Creek’s western bank on the spongy bottomland, but I think everyone had only mentally prepared themselves for a two-hour walk and we were right at that mark. As I emerged from this sylvan retreat within the jungle of civilization, a strange feeling of bewilderment came over me, as if I had been a little further away than where I was. But, alas, that ol’ hum of the highway brought me abruptly back to my senses, and it was time to say goodbye to everyone… Though different people feel differently about the same things, I hope I saw enough sameness to make these words interesting to ya’ll. And I hope they compel you to take more walks and do other things with us together. You should be excited about how fun this is all going to be… Until the next hike, Charlie P.S. IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE PHOTOS FROM THIS HIKE, PLEASE FOLLOW THIS LINK TO SEE MY BUCKEYE TRAIL PHOTO GALLERY Last update : 11-02-2008 16:52
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