Chinquapin Trail

Excepting the random cry from resident avian species, quiet reigns under clear blue 18 ºC November skies, at Big Sugar Creek State Park and the Elk River Hills Wild Area, in southwest Missouri.

One can be alone with their thoughts in this space, allowing them to drift, gently tethered, similar to the wild oats along the banks of now dry creeks, swaying back and forth on the whims of the breeze. Not another sound intrudes on the scene, excepting the steady crunch of leaves underfoot, and their occasional rustling from above.

Small bits of water remaining are crystal clear, reflecting the mostly naked upper story of this hardwood forest. Ferns cling to life along the creek banks too, keeping warm under a sun normally much too scorching. A few young oaks blaze red, and an occasional maple shines yellow; all else is deeply bronzed or brown. An offhand breeze rises, falling off as quickly, causing leaves to occasionally shower lightly down.

Packed earth, littered with small gravel is interrupted by layered rock beds spanning the multiple creek crossings. Outcrops of rock across the hollow suggest an ancient cover collapse incident throughout the area. Water has been at work here for a very long time, shaping and reshaping the landscape. While mostly dry on this date, it is evident that the rainy season hosts an entirely different landscape.

Rising to the highest point along the trail, the stench of nearby pig farm drifts into range. The pungent odor is as quickly lifted away by a soft breeze reaching the crest of this Ozark ridge at the same moment.

Descent in the second half is only somewhat different, hosting much larger obstacles along the path, which hide under a thick blanket of leaves. It is wiser to pause to take in a view of the deepening hollow below, than take the chance of stumbling on one of the numerous complications underfoot.

This stream bed displays evidence of water flowing and pushing through the landscape with increased determination in this section. Indeed, the tour could be quite treacherous in the Spring, potentially unpassable. Snarls of trees remain piled up in places from the last deluge, and further along, gouged banks snake through, revealing a soil profile unsuitable for much of anything.

While water is in more abundance, it still only stands in pools or trickles along, though sounding much more dramatic than on the other side of the ridge, in the persistent silence. A small rock rolling down the hillside, at first, sounds a boulder crashing through the landscape.

Soaking in the last mile at a slower pace, one creek crashes into another, mingling and running in different directions. Surrounding rock bluffs and the beds are more sculpted, and small hollows offer up winter homes to various critters of the region.

Rising up along a small bluff, then descending again, leads to yet another seasonal stream merging with another. The glade from which this journey began is not far beyond that. Voices drift lightly down from above. It is the first sign of humanity in nearly two hours, at once dreadful and enabling an odd sense of reassurance at the same time.

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further reading

Big Sugar Creek State Park
Missouri State Parks

Elk River Breaks Woodland
Missouri Department of Conservation