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SHANE'S HIKING JOURNAL - JANUARY 31 - FEBRUARY 2, 2003

Black Creek Trail, DeSoto National Forest, Mississippi

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Friday started off well enough.  I woke up and saw my wife and daughter off to work and school.  After that, I took my time loading the truck and driving on out to Black Creek.  I listened to the first three songs on David Crosby's Thousand Roads album, hitting rewind at the end of the third song since the rest of the album pretty much sucks.  It was a good ride.

I parked at Janice Landing, despite being conflicted as to whether or not I should try the Farley Bridge Landing instead, and walked into the wilderness area.

This is one of the pictures that won the February 2003 "This is why..." Photography Contest by Antigravity Gear.  The submitted text is below the image.

I am Shane Steinkamp. This is a photograph of me at the confluence of Beaver Dam Creek and Black Creek in the Black Creek Wilderness. The spot is exactly the kind of place I am looking for when I am backpacking: remote, tranquil, stunning, peaceful, and reflective of my inner mood. The second I stepped out onto the overlook (the vantage point of the photograph) I said aloud, "HOME!". I walked down, dropped my pack, stripped everything off without even thinking, and walked away from my gear to greet the rivers without any interposing masks. There was then a third confluence: The confluence of the two rivers, and my soul. Not to mention my flesh, which I flung willfully into the chilly water joyfully and had a nice dip. My feelings in that place were almost non-existent. I was wholly a natural animal in his natural environment. In a very real way, I was home. This place did not belong to me, I belonged to it. After drying myself in the sun, I had the curious feeling that someone was watching me. When I turned around, there was nobody there but the trees of the forest. This gave me the thought, however, "What would someone see, should they crest that overlook?" So I set my camera on a tripod and set the automatic timer. Although the hat sitting on the hiking pole conceals my backside from the camera, the river and I withhold no secrets.

I was going to submit this one, but I didn't think it would fly.

 

Is is any wonder why they call it Black Creek?

 

Log bridge across Beaver Dam Creek.  (Note: Somebody, probably the Forest Service for safety reasons, cut it down in 2004.)

 

The confluence of Black and Beaver Dam creeks from the opposite bank.

 

Fungi.

 

Sandy point along Black.  The river is very high on this trip and I don't swim across.

 

Rest break.

 

The log bridge from the other side.

 

Sometimes I think I carry too much stuff...

 

At least it packs down.

 

One of the little creeks along Black.  This was right behind my campsite.

 

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