September Interlude: Berries, Belaying and Bongs

September 19, 2025

September Interlude: Berries, Belaying and Bongs

"You know my brothers and I was raised in Cincinnati, you know

Cincinnati, Ohio

And I remember when we were kids, you know, we used to walk

To the woods, you know, and go blackberry picking

Swinging our baskets on our arms

Skipping on down the road, you know

And Kelly used to have an expression he used to say back then

And we made a song our of that expression

I remember the words of it

It used to go a little like this

The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice..."

(Isley, Isley & Isley)

We hadn't traveled far down the old road from the Barrett-Stoddard parking area when the first wafts of pungency came up from the creek down below, someone getting high by means other than climbing, if you know what i mean. We didn't see anyone around, though the scent, and the many cars in the parking area, were evidence enough they were there. We paused briefly to look down at the falls before continuing on, clouds falling down over the peaks all around. The woods were dark and deep. We passed the spot where the spring gurgles and runs out of the mountainside, past the oaks stretching out high overhead. Further down, there was a different pungent scent and i could only guess it was the California Bay Laurel that was growing all around. Eventually we reached the old campsite, the pond across the way, placid and green, a few purple flowers at its lower end. Poison Oak was evident in its showiest red, and clusters of blackberries hung around in various shades of readiness. I tried a few different hues - tart first, bitter second, and then perfectly sweet. I'm not sure why the vast majority were all dried up, especially where that great bramble borders a long length of trail. Apparently Fungi's friends had recently been to the old gauging station, i just wish they could leave their memorials somewhere else.

Somewhere along the way Finn picked up something in his paw that was giving him a lot a pain. Neither of us could find anything and he refused to walk, poor guy, so there was only one thing to do - pick his thirty-two pounds up and carry him back up the hill. We stopped every so often to run our fingers over his pads, between his toes trying to dislodge whatever the problem was. Eventually we must have got the sliver, or needle or thorn out and he was able to walk again. Good thing too, because i was sweating like a horse by then.

Back up above the falls with much laughter down below, we watched a few people either climbing or belaying the rock face opposite; it is always amazing to watch them inching along not just vertical, but overhanging cliffs. A mixed bag of an interlude this month, but worth every minute of it. Enjoy your weekend you've earned it.