Sometimes the best plan is to have no plans.<\/p>\n
Take last weekend, for example. My friend Jessi and I had “planned”\u2014as much as we ever plan anything\u2014to head out for a hike at White Pines State Park in Oregon, IL. Neither of us had been there in a long time, the trails there are nice, the wind chill was above zero\u2026voila! Our plan was made.<\/p>\n
Except for one thing.<\/p>\n
White Pines was closed.<\/p>\n
Last weekend, it turns out, coincided with the last days of Illinois’ late winter deer season. In an effort to keep hunters and hikers from ruining each others’ fun, park officials pulled the gates closed and posted big red and white signs announcing the closure. No doubt about it, the whole darn park was off limits<\/p>\n
No big deal though. Jessi got a map out of the glove compartment and it wasn’t long before we set our sights on Castle Rock State Park. Just a short drive down IL Route 2, Castle Rock held the allure of being Totally New Territory. Though neither of us had ever been there, we’d heard the trails there were nice, and the wind chill was still above zero. Shoot, the sun was even starting to shine. Presto! We had a Plan B.<\/p>\n
Except\u2026Castle Rock was closed for hunting, too.<\/p>\n
Alrighty then. On to Plan C. According to the map, if we drove a little farther south and east from Castle Rock we’d find the Franklin Creek State Natural Area. I vaguely remembered the park, having visited it 10 years ago as part of an outdoor ed field trip. But as for how to find it\u2014that was another matter entirely.<\/p>\n
The map we were using was an Illinois state map, great for getting the big picture but scanty on details\u2014like roads. From that point on, Plan C consisted mainly of “let’s just keep driving and see what we find.”<\/p>\n
It just so happens, that was the best plan of all. As we went over the (Rock) river and through the woods, I fully expected to see grandmother’s house appear through the white and drifted snow. But instead we saw lots of other things\u2014red-tailed hawks scouting the fields for prey; a coyote pouncing, repeatedly, on some sort of small rodent; a bald eagle soaring overhead. Stalwart bur oaks stood strong against the wind, spreading their age-old branches out to greet us, and a small group of deer (on hiatus from White Pines and Castle Rock?) munched a midday meal of shrubs and tall grass.<\/p>\n
Eventually we saw something else\u2026a sign pointing the way to Franklin Creek!<\/p>\n
Save for one small posting that an archery deer season was in progress, and that hikers were urged to “use care,” nothing else stood in the way of our new plan, which was to see what this park was all about. For our efforts, we were rewarded with several hours’ worth of sheer naturalist delight: detecting the skunky, but not too overpowering, scent of Mr. or Ms. Red Fox as they marked their way along the trail; following mouse tracks, four paw prints with a tail drag in between, from tree trunks to grass clumps; discovering an active den (perhaps that of the fox?) in a crevice along a rocky hillside; crossing a stream that had no bridge; and marveling at the icicles and other formations hanging from the ancient sandstone bluffs along Franklin Creek.<\/p>\n
All too quickly, the sun began to fade, and we knew it was time to head back. Without a map, we used our own tracks and those of the animals to guide us back to the small gravel lot where we’d parked.<\/p>\n
Driving back toward Oregon and, we thought, dinner (the restaurant we’d chosen was inexplicably closed) Jessi and I chatted about the day’s events. White Pines is still on the list of places to visit, as is Castle Rock, which I’m sure we’ll get to some day. But as for Franklin Creek, we both felt we’d barely scraped the surface of what it has to offer. We’ll definitely be headed back soon. You can plan on it.<\/p>\n