Black Creek Park

It didn't turn out at all like I had thought. First off, Kiel didn't want to go. With all his soccer training, the thought of walking any more just wasn't an option. And because Kiel didn't want to go, neither did Drew. But I convinced him that since he had been to Black Creek Park and I hadn't, and since I really shouldn't go alone, he should be the man of the house and go with me.

Under protest, he agreed. Kiel had already made plans, so he dropped us off and agreed to return to pick us up. The day was pleasant enough - not too hot, a bit of breeze. Even though we had looked at the online map ahead of time, there were no signs marking the trails. Just gravel paths leading off in different directions from the playground.

We selected the gravel path to the right, walked a short distance, and found that the way quickly divided into three or four paths. We selected the one over the log bridge. In fact, the bridge was a bit scary and tipsy, spanning a marshy area with cattails and swampy water. On the far side, there was a wide strip of mown grass which led to more paths. Unsure about being able to find our way back, we decided to turn around and try another path. We went back toward the bridge to see where the other paths led, selected another one and set off. I expected to see some wildlife, a quiet babbling creek, pretty flowers, maybe a few butterflies. Soon we were walking under a thick leafy bower on a soft dirt path crowded by bushes and vines.

The only wildlife we were encountering were insects - mostly black flies, bees, and dragonflies. We kept walking, swatting them away when they got too close or started divebombing. Surely this would give way to some enchanted meadow or gurgling brook. After ten minutes, the path divided again, this time in four directions. I tried to relate where we were to the maps we had seen, but nothing seemed to make sense. The map had not indicated all these little offshoots.

At least there was a marker that had the number 18 on it directly in front of us. I figured if we went down another path, we could at least get back to the marker. We went to the right and soon we were indeed on a cliff high above a little creek. Must be Black Creek I reasoned. But when the cliff got shorter and we got closer to the water, I suspected they had misnamed the creek. It wasn't black, but it was muddy and dirty and smelled like a sewer. Yuck.

About that juncture, a family with three young children and one in a stroller stopped and asked us where the path led and did we know the way out. Since they were headed the same direction as we were, I had to admit that I had no idea where we were heading. They too had looked at the maps and couldn't figure out the lay of thee land.

The forest path suddenly emptied out into a meadow filled with picnic tables and we could hear talking and laughing up ahead. We must have somehow doubled back to where we started. I was relieved since I had forgotten my axle grease and I was definitely seizing up. But alas! It turned out to be a new picnic area and not the one by the playground. At least there were restrooms, and I was able to perform a temporary fix. There was no help for it - after 40 minutes of walking, we were going to have to go back the way we came and hope we could find the 18 marker which would lead us to the rickety bridge.

Drew, unhappy at best to be there in the first place, decided it was a good time to sing Proud Mary as loudly as he could since no one else was around. In between repeating the two lines he remembered, he chattered nonstop, punctuated by asking me if he had any ticks on him and leaping to one side or the other to avoid daddy long legs and snake holes.

Fortunately, we easily found the 18 marker and after some concentrated walking with me constantly shushing Drew, we clambered across the decrepit bridge and climbed the incline to the playground. There was Kiel waiting for us. I was disappointed that I hadn't seen a single bunny, deer, fox or even squirrel. The few times I heard a bird singing, it got scared away by Drew. As for the water, well, that was nothing to write home about. 1500+ acres of just greenery and scary winding paths.

I turned to Drew and started to say that next week when we returned we would have to investigate the path in the other direction when Drew looked at me as if I had lost my mind, and said, "Mom, are you crazy? The only time I want to come back here is in the winter when the have sledding down that big hill."

"But Drew, I thought you liked camping?" I said.

"Camping, yeah. But this is just walking around trying to figure out where the car is! No thanks."

I guess that means that next week we will be exploring one of Rochester's *other* parks.