Little Grand Canyon
Jackson County, IL
Photos taken on March 1, 2004.
It was such a pretty day (it approached 70!) that I tagged along with Jim. I needed a little coaxing,
but I'd made the hike yearly ten or 15 years ago, and I blithely supposed I was up to it now.
I didn't take any pictures on the steep hike down to the gorge that gives the park its name, because I was
slowing Jim down anyway. And that was on the downhill path!
I'm afraid of heights, and Jim had to start coaxing me a lot sooner once we got to the gorge. I'd never been there when there was so much water, and I was
reluctant to scoot down on my fanny over the wet stone or even worse, in the flowing stream, and I'm not as flexible as I was
all those years ago, making the negotiation of rough surfaces more of a challenge. But I did OK until
we got to the drop-off I had to be coaxed over in the past. I didn't think I could do it, and for once Jim agreed.
He suggested I go back and take the other end of the loop. That way I'd get my healthful exercise, he'd get to
check out his hot tip on a petroglyph site at the base of the bluff, and we'd meet up eventually. I agreed, and took a few pictures along
the way with my little "e-mail" camera.
This is what we call a foot trail in Southern Illinois.
My knees hurt by the time I got back to the car. So did my thighs, my calves, my sciatic nerve, my lower back,
the top of my left foot (where my boots lace), and the side of my little toe. Undaunted (it really was a beautiful day!),
I caught my breath, crossed the parking lot, and started down the other end of the path. It was so steep my
feet slid forward in my boots, and by the time I got to the scenic overlook the tips of all my toes hurt.
I grabbed a handy tree-trunk and turned the corner, leaving the paved trail for a dirt trail. After a few steps, I paused to take a picture.
The photo doesn't do it justice, so you have to use your imagination here. The slope below the red line I've
drawn was about as steep as the slope to the right of the trail.
Did I mentinon that I'm afraid of heights? The trail was too narrow not to look down, but I kept my head up and inclined to
the right and kept going. I was rewarded with some arrows nailed to the trees as I approached another
gorge with a cold, happy little stream running through it. I'm not sure if the next two pictures were taken
on the way down, the way up, or one of each. I get dizzy just looking at them.
This is something else we call a foot trail in this neck of the woods. And yes, that's not mud, that's rock you're
looking at. Wet, cold, hard, rock.
I could make it down the rougher sections on foot. I scooted over the more gradual ones on my fanny,
and I took most these sections of the trail on my hands and knees, comming back up.
Once again, not a great photo, so I drew in the line marking the edge of this drop-off. Jim made it up
this, so it isn't as bad as it looks. He said he built a dam and deflected the stream from the steps
cut into the bedrock.
I couldn't get close enough to the edge to think of forging ahead down the waterfall. I turned around and
went back.
The way down to the bench was still too steep for me to try, especially as my knees were trembling by now.
I sat down on the trail above the bench at the scenic view, and ate my peanut butter sandwich. A majestic
vulture sailed past me several times (or several vultures soared past me once each), close enough I could
just make out his eyes. I'd never been that close to a vulture on the wing before.
Even considering the exhausting trek back up the bluff to the parking lot, it was all worth it.
Photos by Ruby Jung. All rights reserved.