Every February, I long to get away. This year, I took time off work, so I would go, no matter what. I wanted to visit somewhere warm, which didn’t happen, mainly because I couldn’t coordinate it. Last week, I impulsively chose Shawnee National Forest over Hocking Hills because of the weather forecast.

Yesterday I woke in a sweet B&B with a plan to find Old Stone Face. I was gathering my things when Shanna, my host, told me not to leave my boots outside because a snake might slither on in. She probably said, “get in,” but I heard, “slither on in.” Slither. On. In. I stopped. I caught my breath. I might have squatted down, resisting a fetal position. “Okay. Let’s talk about snakes,” said I, not hiding my terror. We don’t have poisonous snakes in Michigan or Northern Illinois. (It turns out this was a false assumption. Ignorance is blissful and dangerous. lol)

Anyway, Shanna informed me that there are copperheads and some kind of rattler (I missed what kind because it seemed irrelevant, a rattler is a rattler, and my mind was numb by then) and bobcats and coyotes, too. They had a big “well-fed” copperhead on the porch a couple of days ago. Someone caught a baby copperhead in the yard and put it in a shoebox like a pet, not knowing what it was. “I am not generally afraid of coyotes,” was my response. What had I gotten myself into?

I got in my car. Instead of going home, somehow, I managed to follow dirt roads to the trailhead. I passed Coffee Cemetery. Was that foreshadowing? I wondered. It was cold, not the sunny vacation I had planned. But snakes don’t like cold, which was a fair tradeoff.  

I was not used to thinking about snakes and changed into the tallest boots I had. This trailhead was remote. It was cold, and I was out of my element. The trails were not well marked, and the hills were steep and rocky. A person could die out here. Easily. This is always true, but the truth hit me hard that day. I sent my dad my location and a text about finding Old Stoned Face, an attempt to joke my way out of fear.

I summoned my courage and walked beyond the Old Stone Face Shawnee National Forest sign. I was hyper-vigilant. I looked ahead and behind regularly, promising myself I would turn around if not 100% sure where the trail was. At that point, it was a tiny creek due to heavy rain.

The creek/trail wandered between and around the giant moss-covered stones. It went under an arch and in front of a creepy cave with wood piled haphazardly ready to light. I scurried by, not looking into the dark recesses of the hollow. I was afraid of what I might see. The trail turned sharply, doubled back over the top of the cave, and continued up a steep hill. A split log fence encouraged hikers to stay off the ridge and assured me that I was on track. There was a clearing and then another fence, and then nothing. I stopped.

I didn’t have any idea where to go. Then my eyes focused differently, and there she was: Old Stone Face. Her image jumped out, and I laughed with surprise and relief. “Hello, Stone Face! Nice to meet you!”

I took a deep breath and looked around. I did it. I didn’t realize how much I had doubted myself until that moment. I found Old Stone Face. Her craggily old face with a warty nose seemed wise.

Here I was in the Shawnee National Forest. I was on vacation. Alone. I was hiking in a new place with new challenges. I took pictures of Old Stone Face. I couldn’t call her Stoned Face, after all. She was knowing. I wondered how long she had been looking out over the forest. How long she had been silently witnessing small personal victories.

*The original version of this post referred to Old Stone Face as male. After reading it, my friend and mentor, Angie, shared the following: “In Celtic culture, this would be called The Cailleach, The Old Woman in the Stone, the wise Hag, Grandmother Winter who turns to a maiden in the spring.” I just love this and changed pronouns to embrace the idea of Old Stone Face being female. It fits. Hello Grandmother Winter. I am honored to have been in your presence. <3