ringing rocks

Three weeks ago I was running errands and stopped at an Indian restaurant for takeout. While the food was being prepared (samosas, dal makhani, and naan) I walked across to a shop selling crystals and curios to chat up the owner. I'd only been out of work a week and when she asked if I had plans for the time off I mentioned wanting to hike and explore more. She referred me to Ringing Rocks, which I finally visited today.

The park's attraction is a boulder field onto which we (I went with a friend) climbed out to strike the rocks, each of which rings (or doesn't) at a different tone. I forgot to pack a hammer, but we used the crowbar from my friend's trunk (he drove) with moderate success. The weather is nice, and the collective hammering of all the families out to enjoy it produced enough of a symphony to amplify our tapping and reveal the spirit of the place. Many of the rocks are visibily pockmarked and pale in spots, a hint of where to strike for the best sounds, and some kind of metaphor for the weathering effects of society on the forest.

Nearby the boulders would be a waterfall had there been any rain this year. Most of the creek bed was dry except for a puddle that, with the help of a little forced perspective, looked like a plunge pool fed by a trickle. Hardly a fall, but maybe the absence of erosion from falling water is itself a sign of societal weather effects. Or maybe I've spent too much time ruminating around Rocksylvania this weekend.

We parked at a lot closer to the river and hiked our way up to the boulders. Also absent in the draught are fungal friends, few of whom we encountered on our climb from the car. Elsewhere we spotted countless toads and spiders, a monarch on a joe pye weed, the only two species I could identify, and skeletal remains picked clean and scattered.

We ate on the D&L trail below the Nockamixon Cliffs. A life lived on instagram programmed my eye for square pictures, but the scale and shear of the cliffs demanded a 4x3.

We walked along the canal looking for a path down to the river and a clearer shot of what we thought was a mill that turned out to be a gas fueled power generating station. It's beyond me to reason why gas and not hydroelectric when the plant is on the bank of a river, maybe that's just how they do things in New Jersey.

We left around 10 and made it home around 3, earlier than expected. So after eating and napping, the dogs and I joined a dog walk scheduled for the early evening. A powered paraglider flew by on our way out of the park.

Home again and for good for the day, I passed a stag beetle in the backyard, which I had to look up to identify.