Fallen Timbers

At long last, Spring has sprung, not only on the calendar, but in our western Illinois weather as well. What better way to celebrate the vernal equinox than get outside on a bright sunny day with temps in the mid-50s?

Since Saturday afternoon was free and the rest of the family was out of town for the weekend, I headed to White Pines Forest State Park, about thirty minutes from home. At 385 acres, it’s not a huge park, but White Pines does have some nice hiking trails and interesting features.

Our favorite hike begins at the west end of the park. Reaching the parking area requires driving through a sizable stream that meanders through that section, which is great fun for kids. Last weekend, however, the stream was flowing too fast and high, so the gates were closed, prohibiting vehicle traffic. Fortunately, a couple of foot bridges span the stream, too. So, I parked, donned my hiking boots and headed for the trailhead.

We’ve been to White Pines often, but on this occasion, I saw more people fishing than in previous visits. I learned the trout were abundant and fairly easy to catch.

The trailhead begins just across a stone bridge, once again crossing the same stream. Since it’s a loop trail, once you cross the bridge, you could go either direction. A sign, however, points to the right for the recommended route. I decided not to buck the system, turned right, and immediately headed up a short, steep climb to a ridge that continues for about ¼ mile.

So Many Trees Down!

Perhaps it was because the trees were still bare and vegetation has yet to spring from the cold earth, but it seemed that quite a few trees had fallen since the last time we took this hike. Then I remembered the derecho that came through our area last August.

Quite a devastating storm, I recalled. Caused widespread damage in Iowa and Illinois. Even driving to the park that afternoon, I saw evidence of the storm’s power—half of a metal barn roof had been ripped from its mooring, the panels bent skyward leaving the barn’s interior exposed to the elements. All around the barn, nearly every tree had been snapped near the base of its trunk.

Surely, some of the blowdown I was observing in the White Pines woods was due to the derecho.

As one would expect, many of the fallen timbers crashed harmlessly to the forest floor, at worst, taking out some limbs of a nearby tree. Of course, a few smaller trees in the path of their crashing neighbor became victims of the greater weight and brute force.

After walking along the ridge awhile, the trail descends sharply back down into the ravine, which was likely carved by an ancient glacier. The helpful parks department built a long stairway from the ridgetop to the ravine below. Given the grade, most helpful for the average day-hiker!

But it was at the bottom of this stairway where a fallen timber had inflicted the greatest damage. The tree had been rooted into a steep hillside running parallel to the stairs. Perhaps a combination of heavy rains and derecho-force winds careening through the ravine tore the tree from its roots. The bottom section of the stairway lay in its path and took the full force of the law of gravity. There seems to be a bit of irony in this, doesn’t there? A massive timber falls and crushes the timber that had been shaped and fashioned by human ingenuity to overcome nature’s challenge.

Anyway, removing the tree and repairing the stairs will be quite an undertaking. By the way, I didn’t consider climbing over it to be particularly dangerous, but I’ve seen park personnel close a trail for lesser matters. Glad they didn’t here—added to the adventure.

A bit further along the trail, a cluster of three or four trees had fallen from another steep hillside. It appeared to have been a domino effect, with a large tree near the top falling into another downhill, then another, and another. A good portion of the cluster landed in the stream, blocking its flow and forcing the stream to back up into a pool that wasn’t there before.

All along the trail, I took note of fallen timbers, pondering how long they have been lying on the forest floor. Some evidently quite a while—moss-covered and gray from death suggested a few years had passed since they fell. Others must have been recent. Landing across the path, park employees with chainsaws cut through the fallen timbers and removed a section just large enough to reopen the path. The wood’s color was still light tan, and in a place or two, a pile of sawdust indicated recent activity.

Back Again

Upon reaching the end of the loop, I had hiked only about 1¼ miles, so I just turned around to retrace my steps and take in the view from the opposite direction. Walking along the stream, crossing it a couple times, up and down one ridge, back to the crushed stairway, climbing over the tree and up the stairs to the original ridgetop again.

Atop that ridge stands a small shelter overlooking the stream below where anglers plied their fly-fishing skills. Lacking the green leaves of summer renders the scene a bit dull, but it’s a lovely vantage point, nevertheless.

On the original route, I came upon the tree when rounding a bend. There it lay, its evergreen top blocking the path, forcing hikers to scramble around the full branches.

Initially, I saw it. Then I caught its scent. I’m not sure the variety, but the tree lying before me was unquestionably a cedar. At my first pass, I paused long enough to catch the scent, snap a photo, and move along. Upon my return visit, I stayed a bit longer. Got right up to the base where the tree snapped and lingered, taking in the aroma. I pulled and tugged on a few strands of the red wood, but the tree wouldn’t yield a sample. That something brought the tree down is unfortunate, but the few moments taking in the fragrance it yielded was delightful.

I can’t say why all those trees fell. Most likely, strong winds took them down. But why some and not all? I’m guessing other factors came into play. Disease, insect infestation, erosion at the roots, or other attacks undermine the tree’s stability, rendering it vulnerable to those strong winds.

Falling Timbers

Given my vocation, I suppose, I tend to look at things with a particular slant. This day’s outing with the many noteworthy fallen timbers got me thinking about fallen people.

To be sure, that’s all of us. THE “fall” in the Garden of Eden ensured that.

I’m thinking more of some public figures who have fallen from a place of relative prominence. My interest is not in naming individuals—the reader can probably come up with his or her own list—but just making a few observations.

Some of those fell quite some time ago. True, their names still pop up from time to time, but whatever damage done has been largely covered over by time. Scars and evidence of the hurt persists, though, doesn’t it?

Some fall and seem to affect only those in their circle. Bad enough, to be sure, but at least it doesn’t mess up the everyday walk of the average person.

Some drag others down with them and choke up the free flow of life. For example, consider how many children are hampered from enjoying a decent chance of educational and vocational success because of the foolish, wretched choices of selfish parents.

And then there are those who spend a lifetime building something that could be quite helpful to others. Then comes “the fall” and years of building are left in shambles.

Why do some fall while others remain standing strong and resolute?

• Diseases of the heart—dominant thoughts, controlling desires, weak will—undermine stability.
• Infestation of harmful ideas, such as “I’m invincible!”, weaken the system.
• Root erosion—lack of healthy relationships, a solid church home, broken marriage or family—leave one vulnerable to the strong winds of temptation or the storms of life.

Paul, after recounting some “fallen timbers” from the past, remarked,

“Now all these things happened to them as examples, and they were written for our admonition….”

Then he exhorts,

“Therefore, let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.”

– 1 Corinthians 10:11-12

Take heed, indeed.