Hiking Entry # 27: A Sticks Hike in Waterfall Glen
Who says you can’t have a good hike in the freezing cold sticks?
SATURDAY, JANUARY 20TH. I have an overarching goal for my time in Illinois: I want to hike all 45 state parks. Maybe every big and little park nearby too, if I stay long enough. But this isn’t just to have a cool map on the wall…
(though you have to admit, this is pretty fun)
…but to challenge myself in new environments and increase my confidence outdoors, especially in my own balance and two feet! Many of these places include cliffs, which challenge my fear of heights, or unsteady stairs, which are equally worrisome with my lack of steady balance.
What a relief to find that Waterfall Glen in Derrien didn’t present either of these usual challenges.
Instead, the challenge was ice: trusting it to not break under my boots.
After an off-roading expedition led by a trio of deer and a detour onto a frozen lake, my friend and I found the little man-made waterfall, the main attraction: Rocky Glen Waterfall.
Why had we hiked two hours in winter to see a frozen waterfall? My neophyte winter hiker self hadn’t put two and two together that it would be ice. Of course it’d be frozen!
I wouldn’t have known how dynamic a frozen landscape could be had I not decided to walk on the ice atop the waterfall.
My previous struggles with anxiety would have had me thinking in circles about falling in, getting hypothermia, and ruining the hike for my friends who came along. Had they walked on ice, I’d have followed, but I’d have been petrified to watch the water race under my feet and hear the bubbling of warm water breaking through.
Thankfully, this “sticks” hike at Waterfall Glen — and a few years of tackling my anxious thoughts — had me sliding off the little brick wall and onto the ice with no hesitation.
Did you know that waterfalls “breathe”? Because I didn’t until I knelt next to this little waterfall and watched puffs of brown foam shoot into the air and settle down as frozen little clouds on the ice’s surface.
Underneath the ice, the waterfall continued to race. The water darkened the ice whenever they crossed paths and cut intricate, fascinating gulleys through the stream below. The undercurrents made their own little fairy-tale landscapes with icy roofs:
Oh, and I did break the surface. But I didn’t fall in, which was a victory in and of itself.
I tested my trust in ice again by walking back a new route, scooting a little faster when I heard it crack, but the real test was yet to come. It had taken us so long to get to the waterfall, and it was past time to leave: how could we cut a two-hour hike in half when we were cold and tired?
“Excuse me,” said my friend, tapping a lady in a green coat on the shoulder, “is there any chance you could give us a ride to our car? We’re just a few minutes down the road.”
Hitchhiking has never been on my list of things to do. I’m a true crime listener, which means I’ve heard plenty of stories about hitchhiking going terribly wrong. But for some reason, this couple who happened to cross us on the trail seemed helpful.
Thankfully, our chance was well-taken; they were a very sweet couple with Polish accents and a warm, tidy Tesla.
Kyrsten, the woman in green, mentioned they lived in Chicago, over an hour away, and had for nearly 14 years. This was their favorite park. Her husband Ivan, after teaching us how to open Tesla doors, had off-handedly said something about hijacking cars in a former life. We couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, and had we had one more minute, we might have figured out this little mystery.
It ended with the best line from Kyrsten: “You two are so fun. I’m so glad you weren’t terrorists!”
Turns out it was a trust exercise for all of us!
Does that mean I’ll plan to hitchhike again? Absolutely not. I still know way too many bad tales that start with hitchhiking. But I’ll continue to push the limits of my trust, both in my own feet and in others around me, so that by the time I finish the Illinois state parks I’ll be confident, well-equipped, and have so many more fun stories to share about offroading and meeting new hikers.
Which only leaves me with one question left: which park will we brave next?
