In the Hammock
One of the most interesting geological features around here is the Devil’s Millhopper, a gloriously deep sinkhole that has a whole different world at the bottom. That was where I wanted to go today, but when I got there, I found out it was closed. So I went on down the road to San Felasco Hammock, the state park that you have to pay to enter. Last time I was there, entrance was $2 per vehicle. Now it is $4. I think it’s time to get a yearly pass to the state parks.
There’s a sink hole in the Hammock, too, but it’s not as deep and dramatic as the one at Devil’s Millhopper. But who wants to go in the sink when the alternative is the Moonshine Creek Trail? To be honest, they both dip into the sink, but the Creek Sink Trail goes down a little farther.
Tarzan vines! Yes, you really can swing on them, at least if they’re in your own backyard and you aren’t afraid of them breaking loose every once in a while. At the state parks, it’s not a good idea and could potentially get you in trouble.
There wasn’t really any wildlife out today. That could be because I didn’t go at the right time, or it could be that it’s January, or even just because it’s been dry lately. There weren’t even any drunks today. But there were these beautiful red berries. And gorgeous fungi.
The tree formations always fascinate me. If you look closely at all the toppled trees, they are covered with life. They form a framework for both plants and animals to thrive in.
Then there are these tree formations. What happened to get them so twisted? There is nothing there that suggests they had to form this way, but there they are. Twisted and beautiful.
January is a great time for the Hammock, not only because it’s not as hot, but also because the canopy is a little thinner. Rather than looking up and just seeing a jumble of green, in January, you see fantastic patterns, like this canopy of stars.