The Eighth Waterfall

No day is truly rich and full unless you've fallen into a creek that day. In February, especially along the LaBarque, the tangle of underbrush and poison ivy is leafless (although not thorn-less), and I bushwhacked my way into territory unseen, possibly because the creekbed is always changing thanks to floods, weather, beavers, and fallen trees, and discovered on the property's southwestern edge this Waterfall #8. Shortly after taking this photo I crossed the brightly running creek by sitting on a spongy-wet fallen log and inching sideways to the creek's shallowest point, about six inches deep, where the water glittered golden and cold, and dropped myself feet first into the water, trusting my hiking boots and wool socks to keep me warm and mobile until I got back home. Which I did one way or another. Welcome to Waterfall #8. I love waterfalls.

Along the LaBarque Hills Trail

Just another waterfall photo taken on another intoxicating hike yesterday. I  haven't been able to hike all six miles of the LaBarque Hills Trail at the Young Conservation Area yet; after two and a quarter hours of walking I was about one mile short. So there's more to discover. But today it rained, and the trail isn't good if it's muddy, so I'll return there in four or five days.

Ozark Headwaters Hike

At the Young Conservation Area in Jefferson County I finally discovered the LaBarque Hills Trail. To reach that loop trail requires about 1.5 miles on the easy, flat creekside Taconic Trail, for a total hike of 6 miles. On this hike you will ford LaBarque Creek, about five times, on little stepping stones. The LaBarque Hills hike (rated moderate) is worth the effort, because in this area the LaBarque, from its Ozark foothills headwaters, flows imaginatively, wide and narrow, over rock shelves and beds of gravel; pristine and scenic all the way, and accessible only to those who'll walk there. I'd love it if you walked with me, but in case you can't, I've brought back photos.
Hiking during leafless times lets you see the normally hidden and the faraway. Also, a mild winter day is the best possible day to hike. You won't get heatstroke and there aren't any mosquitoes.

About the creek name: A "barque" is a three-masted ocean-sailing ship. This creek -- and the river it flows into, the Meramec -- probably never hosted that kind of ship. In French, the language of the 18th-century white settlers here, "la barque" means the small boat that a sailing ship carries astern or alongside for short trips. Near the juncture of the LaBarque and the Meramec, that kind of barque might have actually been used, but the creek for most of its 6.4-mile length is rocky with many small waterfalls, and not navigable. But it's just as pretty as these pictures all the way.

Who Goes There?

I took a beautiful Sunday slog down LaBarque creek when the water was low, and along the creek edges and wet sand bars I saw evidence of wildlife traffic, come to the creek for a drink. Traces of ice were in the water that had been left in shadow; I broke it up like plate glass and pushed it downstream so more creatures could come to the creek edge and drink. What we have here  is raccoon tracks stylized in wet sand and a three-toed footprint of a very large and heavy bird (each toe the length of my ring finger). Wondered what it was -- the LaBarque hosts herons and egrets,  but it looks most like the track of a turkey. If it had been a heron the footprint would have had a less splayed, more slender profile and have a lighter fourth toeprint in back. So it could be an egret, but the fact is we've got more turkeys. Actually we are fortunate to have plenty of both.

Property-Line Rapture

Today in the November sunshine, blinding because it's set at such a low angle and the trees are leafless, I set out to find the northern end of this 100-acre property, and my hike brought me here, where LaBarque Creek is still "mine" -- and in a few feet it crosses over and becomes the property of the Missouri Department of Conservation; that is, it becomes everybody's. But it's always been everybody's. The creek is low -- it's been very dry all summer and fall -- but that means more fossils for me to rifle through, and more deer and raccoon tracks at water's edge. And it is right here that I would like to be standing when I'm taken up bodily into Heaven (during the next Rapture).

This Way to the LaBarque Conservation Area

From this sign it's about a mile down Doc Sargent Road to the LaBarque Creek Conservation Area, consisting mainly of a mountain that rises from creek level at 500 feet to the peak at 800 feet. That's a 300-foot vertical climb and you will feel it. A 3-mile circuit hiking path, rated "difficult," pretty exciting, leads you to the top and back down. A while back I showed you the secret glade and water basin at the top.

Let me point out that the cardinal sitting atop the sign isn't alone; to the left, above the arrow, is his wife. And also that some fools around here use the conservation sign for target practice. Cowards, they shoot and run. Looks like some BB, some .22 and at least one .38. That's why I didn't put my Hughesnet dish on the cliff top. This sign was first put up in '09 and has already been replaced once.

I bid goodbye to a beautiful July, maybe the most beautiful ever, but lonely; thanks for visiting. I know y'all just loved that crocheted tire cover earlier this month.