Archive for Trails and Footpaths

#91 Scenic River Trip

June 12, 2008

 
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This show originally aired on June 12, 2008 on “The Rivanna Rambler,” a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net

It could be any spring day on the river. True, the weather is especially cooperative: May morning temperature just rising from the low 60’s as we approached the water. Cumulus and blue above, the green fully leafed out over the river. You might say that it was as scenic as a perfect Virginia morn, as you put your boat in the water amongst cattails and the fresh mist from the sheets of water tumbling over the dam at the South Fork Rivanna River Reservoir.

Or, you might, as we were, be launching your kayaks and canoes for a trip with the specific task

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#86 Legacy Sediment

May 1, 2008

This show originally aired on March 7, 2007 and then again on May 1, 2008 on “The Rivanna Rambler,” a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net.

 
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It’s the time of the year when rivers run high and brown here in Albemarle County. Some well-placed rain events, brought water levels to seasonal highs. Sediment from surrounding floodplains and other sources colored the water various shades of brown, from slick and bubbling chocolate during the first flush, to a steely brown that mirrored the gray March skies. I find myself wondering, again, where does all that dirt come from?

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#72 From My House to Yours as the Crow Flies

Walking the back trails between the two houses of friends who live in Charlottesville is a fine way to really see the stories in the land as well as clues to the changes to come.

 
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This show originally aired on January 10, 2008 on “The Rivanna Rambler,” a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net.

One of my New Years resolutions is to daily substitute a trip I would have made by car, with one by foot, bicycle, bus, or carpool. Or even – radical thought! – not make the trip at all! I started on New Years Day with a trip by foot to visit some friends who’ve recently moved to Jamestown Road next to Greenbrier Park.

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#71 Learning Trees at the Ivy Creek Natural Area

Learning the names of trees and plants at the Ivy Creek Natural Area provides the beginning of a lifetime of naming the things we see and may eventually hold dear.

This show originally aired on January 3, 2008 on “The Rivanna Rambler,” a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net.

 
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The School Trail at Ivy Creek Natural Area got its name because it’s just right for taking a group of kids on a 45-minute guided walk in the woods, something the Ivy Creek Foundation guides have been doing free of charge since 1980. It’s three-tenths of a mile long, traverses both field and forest, and ends up at the Barn for a closer look at natural history artifacts and exhibits. On a sunny fall morning, I’m with a some kindergarteners from Free Union Country Day School, so young, and so very small compared to their teacher, myself, and Tom Walsh, our guide for the day.

Though Tom claims he’s not very experienced, I know he’s been around the trail with kids before when he stops at the row of trees in the middle of the parking area and asks, “Now, who is the leader here?” in a firm but kindly way letting them know the rules of the trail. Follow the leader, don’t take anything from the Natural Area, and stop and listen when he has something to show.

And from this moment on, it is all show and tell, starting with an inspection of the dogwood’s red berries. “And what happens to the berries after the birds eat them?” They all look at him, silent, until he says, “Well, the seed inside the berry gets pooped out, and this is where a new tree grows.” The word “poop” gets their attention, and suddenly they are all making noises and thinking this adult is OK after all. We start down the mowed trail through the native grasses stopping at clump of thistle, thigh high with seeds scattered from their brown heads. Tom bends one down so the kids can inspect it, telling them that just a month ago, goldfinches had built their late summer nests here and raised and fed their young. Empty of both nest and food, we use our imaginations.

We enter the woods where the School Trail veers off to the right and begin to learn about some of the 20 most common trees in Virginia. You can get your own guide from the Ivy Creek website and with the signs marking the trees, this could be a self-guided tour. But today, we have Tom introducing the holly tree with its pointy green leaves. Musclewood, its sinewy trunk easy to identify. High as the sky, we look up to see seed pods on tulip poplars. Stopping in front of another tree, its smooth gray bark scarred by initials cut by a knife, Tom tells the kids that it’s just like cutting the skin of the tree, and asks “You wouldn’t like someone to do that to you, would you?”

We traverse the hillside, making plenty of healthy noise pushing through the dry leaves, our learning stops getting shorter as attention spans wane. By now, each child has picked up a small branch to use as walking stick, or to rake leaves or tap the trees. “Will we see any animals?” Tom shakes his head slowly, not wanting to diminish their joy of being outside in the woods which is, along with the learning, the point of our being here today.

It is difficult for me recall exactly what I knew, or was taught, when I was the age of these kids. Blessed with an abundance of outdoor time, did I know the names of the trees and plants I encountered? Though naming something is not the same as truly knowing it – this requires understanding habits and ecology — without names, we cannot learn or converse about what we see, nor be specific about that which we hope to protect.

“Now, what’s this one called?” Tom asks in front of a tree we’ve seen before. “Hollywood!” shouts one of the kids, which seems as good a mnemonic as any for a tree that is ever green. I hope that the trees these young children have learned to name may become the basis of knowledge based in memories of this walk in the woods at Ivy Creek Natural Area.

2008 Copyright Leslie B. Middleton 

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#69 Wind and Trees

This show originally aired on December 20, 2007 on “The Rivanna Rambler,” a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net.

Walking the Jefferson-Saunders Parkway below Monticello on a very windy day provides an opportunity to think about the effect of wind on inland landscapes using the Beaufort Scale as reference.

We are approaching the shortest day of the year. Looking for a local hike, we head out towards Monticello to the Saunders Trail, the 2 mile trail that winds up the side of Carter’s Mountain to the entrance of Monticello. It is a blustery day worthy of being called winter – and the parking lot on Route 53 is barely full. We don fleece jackets and gloves and head out for our first time on the trail, already well-known to locals, birders, and visitors. That we are in for a treat is immediately apparent as we start up the comfortably wide trail.

With a grade no greater than 5% so that it suits walkers, wheelchairs, and bikes, this is a budding naturalist’s dream – almost every shrub and tree is labeled with common and scientific name, and if it weren’t so cold, we might linger even longer over the varieties.As we ascend, the wind becomes the dominant – but invisible - character in the forest, chilling the air that falls into shadow behind Carter’s Mountain. We’d seen and felt it as we left our house in Charlottesville, whipping the tulip trees high above, reminding us of days on the water. But here, the gusts over the top of the mountain crescendo into a roar, sending twigs and small branches down onto the rock dust path. As we approach the boardwalk that carries us into the woods and above the steep grades of the forest floor, the sound of the wind easily masks any noise from cars on Route 53 below. It is thrilling, cold, and somewhat scary.

On the water, a common way for designating wind speed is the Beaufort Scale, named for Admiral Beaufort of the Royal Navy, whose method that linked wind speed with the number of sails a ship could carry, was formalized in 1830. As sailing vessels became more sophisticated, the system evolved to use the wind effects of the on the surface of the water to estimate speed in levels called Force 1, 2, and so on up to Force 12 – a hurricane. Later still, descriptions were added to describe the effects of wind as seen on land: for example, Force 6 is a strong breeze, equivalent to 27 mph and causing large waves with foam crests and some spray to build on the sea. The equivalent on land puts large branches in motion, causes wires overhead to whistle, and makes using an umbrella difficult.

But wind speed is hard to estimate without a lot of experience and instrumentation to corroborate. The noise and the motion of the tree canopy above provide clues, though the wind is broken by the mountain into turbulent downdrafts. I guess that it is gusting to at least 40 mph – Force 8 on the Beaufort Scale – gale force winds that, on land, the Beaufort scale says will beak twigs from trees and cause cars to veer on the road.The boardwalk carries us above the folds of the mountain gathering the waters that will descend eventually into Moores Creek on the other side of I-64. Up the hillside, I hear the crack of wood that continues for several seconds as a limb collides with a tree in the slow, inevitable explosion of descent. Closer to me, a tree that fell many months or years ago is splayed out upon the leaf littered slope, decomposing into segments like the joints of the fingers.

Wind is a primary erosive force on beaches and rock faces, joining with water to transform solids into sediments. On the fetch of open water, wind continually creates the rise and fall of waves in motion towards the shore. Later I learn from the National Weather Surface Charlottesville winds were measured at 29 mph with gusts to 47 mph. But regardless of the number, I left with the descriptive scale for inland wind that moves over the tree tops and through the canopy in turbulent eddies: rustling leaves, breaking twigs and branches, and in the strongest of winds, uprooting trees, hastening the recycling of nutrients from branch to soil in a sea of trees.

2007 Copyright by Leslie B. Middleton

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