Hocking Hills, OH, where we've been staying for the past few days, is essentially a collection of parks. Not the type of parks which contain a small patch of grass , some ageing swings and climbing frame seemingly constructed entirely from rust, but state parks: the tamed and gift-shopped cousins of our own national parks. The whole county consists of acres of rolling hills covered with dense forest and dotted with sandstone gorges and escarpments. We're staying right in the middle of it all too, in a little log cabin. It's impossibly scenic and incredibly quiet at night. (That is, until the fridge gets going. They say that an erupting volcano is one of the loudest noises on earth, but an old, ailing fridge at 2 o'clock in the morning sure could give it a run for its money. Every time it comes on it's like small nuclear bomb just went off...) Despite the stillness and the scenery, I'm glad I didn't bring any Stephen King as holiday reading. I don't think I would have slept a wink; the whole 'cabin in the woods' thing is just too similar for comfort...
We spent today (Wednesday) visiting various sandstone caves and gorges with appealingly quaint names like Crinkly Cave and Old Man's Bottom... (I have a feeling I may have slightly misremembered those names...) Some of these, the ones with parking and amenities close at hand, were crowded with hordes of local Ohioan tourists, sweating buckets and shouting at their kids, some seemingly without paying the least bit of attention to their surroundings. But as we ventured further afield, their ranks began to thin and we had whole gorges almost to ourself. You could almost imagine that you were back in the 1700s, a lonely pioneer in an alien landscape unsullied by fast-food joints or supermarkets. The only sound was of the breeze playing listlessly through the canopy, punctuated occasionally by the call of a distant bird. The gorge took on the air of a great organic edifice: a natural cathedral with solid sandstone walls, altars of jutting rock and arboreal pillars and buttresses thrusting towards the sky. It was cloaked in that beautiful stillness experienced only in woods and, regardless of one's own personal beliefs, in old churches and cathedrals: a true sense of tranquility and wonder. But then suddenly the image was shattered as little 'Brandon' or 'Casey' raced by, complaining loudly, with equally noisy parents in pursuit.
Nevertheless, if you ever find yourself in Ohio for any reason (it's not a situation people usually find themselves in, but stranger things have happened) then don't hesitate to visit Hocking Hills. But I would probably steer clear of the Blair Witch Project, Friday the 13th, or anything involving creepy forests whilst you're there, especially if you have an overactive imagination and a tendency to instantly assume that every single noise you hear at night is made by a mad axe murderer going about his business downstairs... Otherwise, you might end up rather short of sleep...
No comments:
Post a Comment