Hocking Hills Winter Hike - A Nature Photo Essay
A mid-January snowstorm during the night caused me to pack up quickly the next morning and head to one of my favorite haunts, Hocking Hills State Park in southeast Ohio.
When I got there I was a bit disappointed that the Hills had only been on the southern fringes of the storm and thus had not received much accumulation. But I've learned to let nature show me what She wants me to see at any particular time.
I drove straight to the Old Man's Cave area of the park, the most popular unit. Although it was midweek and January as well, the chances of people being in the spots I wanted to photograph was highest there, so I wanted to get it out of the way as early as possible.
I walked past the closed visitor's center, along the rim, then down the trail into the Old Man's Cave. As always, the monstrous overhang of Black Hand sandstone made for an other-worldly perspective. For the umpteenth time I wondered what it would have been like for the hermit Richard Rowe (the "old man") to live here back in the 1800's. Why not in a snug cabin somewhere? 'why not?' might be a better answer.
Near the foot of the cave was the beautiful waterfall scene that I so enjoy photographing from any angle I can. At that time, the park trail system had been upgraded to repair damage from a major spring flood. Burly stone bridges had been built across the creek in various places. They looked good. They fit in, they blended in as much as a manmade structure could.
The light dusting of snow that managed to make it through the the tall, dense canopy of hemlock trees overhead served an unexpected purpose. I had wanted lots of snow, the more the better. But this skif of snow touched only certain surfaces. It caused them to stand out in a way they otherwise would not have. The maze of hemlock tree roots seemingly pouring down the side of a boulder was a case in point. Every nuance stood out in a way that would not have been as obvious had the snow been either absent or thickly smothering it.
Walking up the trail past Middle Falls, I approached Devil's Bath Tub, one of the most intriguing spots. An older stone bridge is there, and I enjoyed the scene of a light snow dusting on the hemlock saplings, the tops of the stone walls, and the creek bank.
On the bridge over the head of Devil's Bath Tub, I angled my camera down at the spot where the creek begins its sudden plunge. 
The Black Hand sandstone is said to be harder on both sides here, which is why the stream has been forced to cut its way downward instead of sideways. Regardless, it's wonderful to try to simultaneously wonder about the geological causes of what's in front of your eyes, or to just forget it and wonder for wonder's sake.
Walking up to a location just above the whitewater and bridge, I could appreciate the stone wall and bridge from a different angle. The white-frosted wall top looked like a snake. Interesting how much green (moss, algae) is present here on a mid winter day.
I completed the gorge trail hike and returned to my vehicle. On to Cedar Falls, which may just be my favorite spot in the park. Cedar Falls itself is gorgeous, unique, incredible. I seek out those times when other people are least likely to be there.
I love walking down the short trail to the falls. The winding pathway through the massive slump block boulders that fell from the cliff so long ago. Touching the cold rock faces for support as I step up, over, and down. Pausing to feel the cold rock.
Finally, there she is: Cedar Falls. Tumbling down that cleft in the cliff face. Running heavy now, a day after a long soaking rain. The little watershed above the falls is emptying fast; there's a bit of sediment apparent in the water. To the casual eye the water is clear. I have seen this waterfall rip-roaring with brown storm water, or barely trickling over the edge of the cliff. And everything in between.
Pulling myself away to continue this day's journey, I start ascending the trail back to the parking lot. On the way up, I pause for a possible shot of a scene that I'd had my eye on during the walk down. 
The unnamed side creek that enters just below Cedar Falls had long been a wonderful mystery to me. From a certain angle, you can look right up the stream bed with its boulders lining the banks, and the dense hemlock forests that shroud the area. At that moment, the sunlight poured through as well, illuminating the background in places. How nice. How very special. Those fleeting moments, those are often the gems.
Last (but certainly not least) on the list was Ash Cave. Some descriptions list this unit as the highlight of the park. After all, it's the biggest cave in terms of height and width. It is easy to walk to. The quiet there brings a kind of hushed reverence. One tries to imagine the Native American religious ceremonies that were held here, as evidenced by the extensive fireplace ash piles that give the spot its name.
The creek that has formed this mesmerizing alcove is tiny. If it were flowing through the woods or over a field you wouldn't think much of it. But here...wow. It's mind bending to consider what it has done over the recent eons. Cutting down through the sandstone, falling over the cliff edge, swirling, slowly wearing the stone away.
As I approach the waterfall, I try to study its structure. There seem to be three main parts of the waterall. The center portion flows almost all the time, unless summer drought causes the creek to temporarily shut down totally. But when the flow is sufficient, as it is here, we see a secondary flow to the left, and an even more ephemeral flow to the right.
I walk behind the waterfall. There aren't many falls that afford you this luxury, and this is an opportunity well taken. The freefalling streams of water pick up the soft gray glow from the overcast skies, making them look like vertical beams of light.
The water is hitting hard on the sand and stone at the base of its plunge pool. The sounds echo off the rock walls, mixing and swirling. I try to appreciate the moment, to consider how long this event has been going on. I'm thankful for the foresight of the state government to protect this sacred place. May it always be so.
> More Hocking Hills images are on the Ohio Photos Gallery
