The Beaver Meadow

 Sometimes the person you sleep beside every night will show you an unfamiliar side of herself (or himself)--a whole hidden dimension--that you never knew was there.  One of life's great joys is discovering new possibilities in the same old places where you thought you knew it all.  It's true in relationships, and it's especially true in the forest.  Today's was a trek much like the others.  With an early autumn chill in the air, I struck off to Raccoon Creek with a map, a stick, and a bottle of water.  

 Maybe it was the way the sun was angled.  Maybe it was the way I had to watch for muddy spots caused by horse hooves along the Palomino Trail--in the remote western half of the park.  Whatever the reason, as I walked along, I glanced into the side brush in a relatively familiar spot and noticed an unmarked, barely perceptible spur trail leading down into a hollow.  I decided to scrap my hiking plans and follow the unknown way.  It was as if a once-invisible gate had suddenly revealed itself, opening up a whole new segment of woodlands to discover.  Perhaps, like Brigadoon, the portal into this sylvan zone only appears when all the cosmic factors are in alignment?  

The unmarked path led into a vast quadrant of the forest that I'd never before explored.  At first, it seemed as if the narrow track would peter out in the weeds, but it kept going lower and lower, following the bed of a dry run down the side of the hill.  Soon, instead of fading out, the nameless trail became broader and led me to a dark, spacious part of the forest--in an area that the maps show to be trackless.  It led through scenic woods, tall trees, lots of maples, all the way down to an old beaver meadow along a body of water that I took to be Little Service Run.  

When you first spy the meadow through the trees--middle photo--you slow your pace, assuming that you've stumbled out of the park and into private pastureland.  I began to sneak toward the clearing because I didn't want some farmer's dog to attack me.  But no, this is still public land: a grassy glade in a creek valley with an old, disused beaver lodge.  Yet another unmapped trail breaks off from this one, just as it opens onto the meadow.  This second mystery trail seems to follow Little Service Run toward its confluence with Traverse Creek.  Alas, I had to save it for a future trek.  I suspect that a single person on a horse is responsible for the existence of these trails; they're clearly equestrian paths, narrow and peppered with little landmines for hikers.  Note to future self: the barely noticeable trail that seems to follow the creek begins just to the right of the spot where a thorny branch blocks the road.