And now... a more typical walk.

After last night's adventure (and a day of playing "what ifs"), I was a bit leery of going for another walk tonight.  But if you read at least the first paragraph of last night's story, you know how useless that was.  I even had a provided-by-God excuse- a severe thunderstorm barrelling down on us.  But in true Fort Wayne fashion, it barrelled right on past with no more than one (1) rumble of thunder and moved on to inflict itself more thoroughly on Van Wert.

So it was, excuse-less and with enough chocolate mini-donuts in me to make it until a late dinner, Scrappy and I headed out.  A half-hour before, the sky seemed to be assembling for the Apocalypse;  Now it was bright and sunny, a nice breeze and a couple of puffy clouds.  And what was nicer, there were no unattended kids running about chasing unleashed dogs!  We took the sidewalk to the office, cut around to behind the complex (where, for you newbies, is the remains of the old Wabash & Erie Canal feeder, with greenway trail, woods and St. Joseph River just beyond), and headed back.  About a third of the way back is an unanchored footbridge (that floats away in flood) and accompanying path that takes you, through weeds as high as Shaq's butt, to the greenway trail.  This is a stone path that two years ago was hidden from apartment view by massive wild hollyhock bushes.  They were cut out last year, and now the trail is screened by the aforementioned weeds.

Moving south, I decided that we'd head for Scrappy's landing.  Again for the newbies, Scrappy's landing is at the end of a tiny animal trail that winds along the only high ground betwixt greenway and river bank, coming out in a small clearing at the riverbank.  I have a picture of it, it's right... uhmm... uhh... ahh.  Here.

We went there mainly because I didn't have a chance to take care of certain things before we left, and as a wise man once said, when you are a man, the great outdoors is your restroom.

Returning to the path, we caught sight of a ground hog about 100 ft up the trail.  Now usually when I say "we" in this context, it means "I saw it but Scrappy was too busy sniffing a patch of animal urine to look up".  But this time, by sheer BAL (Blind Ass Luck) Scrappy was looking up when the varmint took off.  And so, just for fun, I told Scrappy, "Get 'im" and off we went.  Mr. ground hog ran about fifty feet and dove into the weediest patch he could find with a convenient hole nearby.  Scrappy made what my nephew used to call a "gallient" effort, and I think for a change actually found the right hole, albeit too late.  (Not that the varmint was ever in any danger;  If you are doubtful, read this story of Scrappy's last meeting with a ground hog.)

We then went to check out the green hole, and see if it was green.  (Again, the green hole is one of many pits in the woods along the river, whether natural or man-made I cannot say, that fills with water;  two autumns ago it was covered in green algae and really stood out.  Hence, "green hole")  Alas, the water therein was too fresh, no green.  This is near the Plex soccer fields, and games were about everywhere.  So we headed for home, our only further interruption a pair of mini- socceristas who buzzed us with motors roaring (Chrisspeak for 2 little boys who circled us going, "VRRRRROOOOOM!!!").

And now it is 4 hours later, my fingers can't see what they're typing, and Scrappy's over in the recliner dreaming dreams of fleeing marmots.  Tomorrow there's no work for Laurie and me- only 70 orders came in today, damned slow season!- so I suspect we'll be repeating this story a time or two in the next 20 hrs or so.  Until then , good night, and may the good news be yours ( A little Les Nessman there).

Stevie's Island- the rest of the story

Before I get started, and you look at the time stamp and say WTF, I should mention that the collision of "the fabric we're waiting on won't be in till Monday" and "the company president is coming, and we don't need a lot of people following Mike Uhl around asking what to stack/move/load next" resulted in "Chris and Laurie, take the rest of the week off. See you 6 am Monday."



Now, then. Way back in June when I did my first "a typical walk" post, I mentioned "an island the google earth calls Stevie's Island for some reason". Well, a couple days ago, a man named Matt Jones from the Allen County Partnership for Water Quality contacted Scrappy by e-mail and said he could clear up the mystery. Answering for Scrappy, I said, "Thank you, and maybe you also know what our famous creek is named." Last night, I got the reply, and it is a neat story.





Dear CW,

You know about the feeder canal that runs parallel to the old trolley easement/trail. The creek that runs from Northcrest, behind the Plex and joins up with the St. Joseph is Stony Run.

As for the island, it is named after a young fellow who adopted it as a “getaway” from everyday life. He and his friends cared for and improved the island to make it conducive to bonfires, picnics, and just hanging out in general. Most all the kids from that area knew of and visited the island. It was just known as “the island” for a very long time. Steven Jones, for whom it was named, was just one of the more regular visitors there. There is a marker on the Greenway parallel to the island that explains the basic relationship.

Steve was a “high-steel” ironworker. He was also an advocate for the rivers. His family and friends spent a lot of time on the island and the rivers. One day, at a site in Lima, OH, he slipped and fell to his death. He was also my brother.

Family and friends got together and decided to have the island dedicated in his honor. Appealing for registry with the USGS, the request was granted. Our mother appealed to the city for a marker space which was also granted. Google Earth picked up on the marker because of its official USGS designation.


There are all sorts of rumors flying around (in less than 30 years following) about how he drowned or was killed by Indians(???) and other things. There is even tell of his ghost appearing at sunset on the island. Where there is a certain “cool” factor about the various rumors and the truth is just sort of “there,” I enjoy hearing the different explanations of how people explain the circumstance.

My older brother and I share a lot of things in common though he and I never got to spend a lot of time together. He was 9 years older than me and died when he was 25. I guess I have continued where he left off-at least, that’s what his friends have related.

I hope this clarifies a lot of this.

If you are interested in any more river information, be it history, geography, “health” of it or whatever, let me know.

Thanks for your interest!

Soncerely,

Matt JonesACPWQ





Isn't that cool? And on top of that, I have a new information source as we explore the area- which is what the second part of this post is about.

(But before I get started, I need to add that I was laboring under a misperception- Either Google Earth had it marked wrong or I was a total idiot, because I looked on google earth this morning and Stevie's island is much farther south. Not even in my actual neighbor hood. Until proven otherwise , I'm blaming it on Google Earth :).)



The other day when we walked, we traced Stony Run back to Clinton St. Along the way we found a neat little grass spot where we spent some time. It is what I call a "faerie spot"- a magical little hidden place great for reflection or just feeling the world turn. We went out this morning with three intentions: To get a good picture from the far side of the spot, find an easier way than the one we took to get there the first time, and see if we could find "the marker on the greenway parallel to the island".





First thing took us to the south side of the bridge and into the woods, an area we've only started exploring. We knew we'd have to find a way around a fence that we discovered when we found where the creek turns north at wood's edge. What we found was a trail that put us in the back yard of the retirement apartments on California. We had to go around a tongue of woods that jutted onto the property; just on the other side of that is the turn. up about 20 yds is another strip where another little ditch enters the creek, and the Spot (which I guess is what we'll call it) is just across it.

As you can see, it was a bright and frosty morning when we got there- 28.6 F when we started.

Then we had to backtrack whence we came to the north side of the bridge. There is a somewhat steep trail down to the lower floor of the woods, which we usually use to get to the north bank. Today we turned north up to the top of the ridge which marks the upper woods floor.


























(Aw, ain't he cute?)




At the very edge where the ridge meets the creek valley is a place where you can cross the old fence (which is now on the east bank of the creek) and get down to the Spot.




















Now we were ready for part 2 of our journey. Back out to the main trail, along the ravine, into the Plex, across the old wooden bridge, and along the path between the creek and IPFW's soccer field. Here we crossed a mud flat into a wooded patch that we'd never been in before. All we knew was A)this would no doubt be unreachable when the river was up, and B) it was a challenge to get through. But we came out at a familiar spot on the river bank. Now when the river's up, this ends in a small overlook. But now...










...it's a beach.



So of course, we clambered down and followed it, eventually coming to a tiny rivulet entering the river from the woods.








After crossing this, we found the way becoming rapidly more mucky, so we clambered back up the bank into we weren't sure what. What we did know was it was fairly impenetrable and eventually we came out into what turned out to be the tongue of woods between the north end of IPFW's field and the south end of the Plex's pitches. We also found that this rivulet led to yet another of the mysterious, water-filled holes we're getting so good at discovering.






After this, we found ourselves down another unfamiliar trail until we got into a large patch that even Scrappy was having trouble navigating. (and as Scrappy is the designated trail sniffer-outer, this was not good.) We quickly learned that the entire edge of this patch (which we were trying to get out of) had been lined from the outside with cut down trunks and brush approximately 4 feet high. Even Scrappy was acting like, "How the hell do we get out of this?" But I knew we just had to make our way once again to the river to get out, and soon we were in familiar, if unwanted, territory- the overgrown, brushy path at the north end of the Plex's south end, where the high tension towers cross the river. From here you can see the Island, but the closest to a marker we came was a blue trash can on the island itself. We may not have hit all 3 objectives, but we sure got a better understanding of how the great explorers would return home 10 years later, with amazing stories of mysterious new lands, and no real idea where they'd been.