exploring my world, one park at a time
A tiny loop trail, it’s a 0.2 mile haven of mid-winter green.
The sun is brilliant through the scattered clouds today.
A cushion of pines needle absorbs the damp of the recently melted snow.
The extended off-shoot trails,
and the ice crusted little pond, remember that it’s still winter.
While families wander out, to absorb the tease of spring.
A slushy muddy mess on a midwinter bonus day.
The air is soft and early spring warm.
Birds call and deer pose helpfully along my path.
A mountain biker, with mud thickened tires, was cheerfully surrendering his quest as I squelched across the trailhead.
I had the path to myself for the rest of the afternoon. Past the outer edges though, there was still just enough crusty ice to create a walkable surface.
A Red Headed Woodpecker, chortling his irritation with me, soared from tree to tree, landing always on the side of a trunk opposite of the direction my camera.
A quiet bench overlooks the cold and sluggish river hopefully resting deeper in the eroded bank than it appears from above.
The skies are still clear, the breezes still warm, teasing the end of a winter that plans to come crashing back in two days.
The overlook trail at Klondike Park is a quick steep climb from the visitor’s center. I wasn’t too sure about getting up it today, but the snow is slushy and soft and not nearly as icy as it looks.
Black vultures swirl over the cliffs and the sun sparkled river. Sometimes in pairs, then suddenly by the dozens, they swoop and circle over my head, daring me to capture more than a blur of their motion.
Along the ridge, Hogsback trail is still thick with snow.
A few travelers at least, have stomped out a hint of a path.
I follow their steps, hoping they actually know what they’re doing. The alternative, of course, being that I’ll join them at the bottom of a ravine somewhere out here.
It seems that they did.
I stop for awhile; to play with lenses, switch out my batteries, and try to capture the expanse of the world around me.
Even the vulture put is a helpful appearance, teasing me to try again to catch him in flight.
The switchback trail down the hill is a little less defined.
Most people probably went back the way they came, but it had a peaceful beauty of it’s own, winding down into the valley.
Boschert Greenway runs along busy city streets and over the highway, before skirting Blanchette and Fox Hill parks.
A tiny angler proudly and gingerly poses by the pond with a fish as long as her arm.
The trail circles behind a shiny new neighborhood, quiet and tree-lined and lightly populated, in the sunny Sunday afternoon.
Beautiful sunshine morning. The park is packed with people, but the seven mile trail around the lake and the offshoot trail to Dardenne Greenway, leave plenty of space for everyone.
The swampy back trail chitters like bullfrog nursery, although I never see a single one. Ducks and geese take confident possession of the lake and overflow ponds.
The pavilions are humming with lively gatherings, excited dogs and children tug and play along the paths, a few brave groups even try out the paddle boats.
A springtime release, before the first of the seasons thunderstorms tumbles through in late afternoon.
I probably have ten or more pictures of this spot. Spring, and Summer, and Fall, riding out the five or so miles from St Charles to rest on the bench, eat a quick snack, soak in the peaceful flow of the river.
There’s not a lot of traffic this way.
Even on the first gorgeous days of spring, most riders are heading west and while walkers and joggers tend to stay closer to town.
Most
Often, the trail is closed for the next mile or two
Spring floods of thick Missouri River mud
Bury the path in nearly impassable goo
It’s clear today, though. The river flows gently well below the mud-washed elevation sign and coaxes me on through alternating stretches of woods and sun baked fields, bursting with endless wildflowers.
A sudden washout just before Machens, and a trio of downed limbs I’d hauled my bike over near Black Walnut, encouraged me to experiment with riding back partially along the road.
Black Walnut road parallels the trail with multiple easy access points. It was a smooth easy ride with little traffic aside from a couple other bike riders, until I slid back onto the trail and into St Charles.
Sunshine burst between threatening rains
Afternoon escape to bird song, flowers, and the splash of the river
Spring break and the world is on lock down. It’s pouring rain as I pull into the empty parking lot. A semi-water proof winter coat is plenty warm enough. I tug up the hood, tuck my camera inside the front flap, and splash down the hill to the path.
Unless your local officials or personal health professionals say otherwise – Please Follow Their Recommendations – parks are a wonderful place to ride out the social distancing.
There’s fresh air, wide spaces, beautiful soothing scenery and sounds, and any random groups of people are easily skirted.
I only see a couple of other walkers today. The rain is slowing and I push off my hood. The day brightens, although not into anything that could referred to as sunshine.
It sounds like an aviary when the trail winds down the hill and into the woods.
An endless variety of birds call from the treetops and brush while the rain swollen stream rushes and roars along its banks.
Spring slips in, heedless of our confusion and upended lives. A breath of normalcy, in a world that may not feel normal again for months.
Spring; in tiny delicate hints whispering behind piles of leaves and twigs
Abandoned bunkers and rusted street lights line an old gravel road off of Lake 33. The whole area is dotted with little lakes and ponds and trails. The skies are warm and turquoise blue. It feels like early summer, but still looks at first glance like deep in the fall.
Knee high, half -hidden spring is slipping through the brush, ready to burst into bloom.
The park grounds look amazing, even in depths of winter. This whole area was flooded last spring and had to be reseeded. The grass is thick and green and almost completely filled in again.
The river seems high and dark and swift under clouded skies, but it stays within its banks. Occasional splotches of thick mud on the pebbled trail seem far more than snow melt, and suggest some recent flooding.
The trail is level and gently curved. It’s lined every few yards with benches that focus on the river and various historical markers and the old train depot.
It’s mostly foot traffic. I don’t know that bicycles are actually forbidden, but with the Katy Trail only yards away across the grounds, it would be rather pointless.
And that, is a whole other story of its own. Our amazing Katy Trail, 237.7 miles of continuous biking and hiking from one end of the state to the other.
The park is peaceful and beautiful all on its own, but then leads right across the street to the old St Charles historic district.
History lives; in costumed characters for seasonal events, local shops, and old brick streets to wander after a stroll by the river.
Whether the presence of Grandma’s Cookies is a benefit or a stumbling block, I’ll leave to personal opinion.
Rambling ... 