Sunday, June 21, 2009

Day 7

Picture me walking down a fairly busy, 4 lane boulavard on a sunday afternoon carrying a backpack with a pair of waders (picture a backpack with a pair of rubber legged boots) and holding a shovel in one hand. That is how the story ends.

In case youre wondering why I would walk 2+ miles in a creek, I will fill you in. Its graduate research. I am looking at sediment deposits in floodplains in the banks of the city streams to find clues or remnants of previous dam existance. In other words, I walk in the creeks and look at the dirt.

So, after being told not to come into work, and after bailing on the special father's day church service, I decided to seize the opportunity to finish walking a stretch of creek that actually flows through my school. I was excited to finally see what is looks like for a creek to "begin." Maybe that really does make me an earth sciences weirdo...the excitement of seeing what we in the industry call "headwaters." (In turns out the creek basically starts under some grassy field in a trailer park....very much a let down).

I parked my car at the Target and walked to the tunnel where I knew the creek came from under the large road. The other day, I had stopped walking at this tunnel, on the other side. It has to be 1/5 mile long and ultra-creepy due to the darkness. I was on the other side now though, and walking away.

I walked a little over a mile and thought I was doing well. I had seen some interesting bank exposures. Unfortunately, I also had come to some major log jams. finally, I reached one that I was not willing to try and climb through. All the debris makes for great snake and critter homes, not to mention winged stinging creature habitats. So, I pawed my way up one of the steep banks to see a well manicured, clearing in a wooded area. It was quite peculiar. There were no houses or roads nearby...just this obviously cut grassy clearing. then I saw a ladder up a tree and realized I was in an area meant for shooting deer. I quickly moved back to the creek and down into it on the other side of the log jam.

Walking in a steep banked creek (with banks 10+ ft tall) is like having blinders on. all you can see is where you came from and where you are going. Everything happening above the bank you cant see. Where you are really is all a mystery.

Eventually, i got to a point where there was lots of rust in the water. Then I came to a place where I saw the rust flowing in the water. then I walked further up the creek and found the water was clean appearing. I found places where there were lots of fish and no debris and no garbage. It made me happy. Then I came to a place that bordered a trailor park. Then I found bicycles, baby toys, random large appliances, and pieces of buildings in the creek. It saddened me. Then I found dogs on the not so tall banks anymore and they barked at me. People in trailor homes shouldnt be allowed to live near streams.

then I came to a large split, and the stream banks went from being 6 ft wide to being shoulder width. So, I got out and found a barbed wire fence to go through into the trailor park.

the sign on the fence (as I looked from the woods towards the trailers) said no trespassing. I wondered who it was meant to keep out. Maybe it was meant to keep the literate deer from leaving the nice forest and going into trailer park to cause problems.

Walking out of the trailer park, I found myself lost...a little. Then I found myself, somehow about 5 miles from my car. I walked about 2.5 miles in the stream and ended up 5 miles from my car. That, my friends, is magic.

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