“I knew Starved Rock would be chaotic. I went anyway. A forecasted high of 68 on March 5th is very unusual. That’s my sister’s birthday and I remember many snowy celebrations. The warmest temps would be late in the afternoon and I, like everyone else, wanted to experience a bit of Spring magic. It would be worth the chaos.

The left-turn lane into the park was backed up, a sure sign to head beyond the main entrance. I would explore the less popular areas. I parked in a semi-full lot and hiked away from the lodge. The foot trail crosses 71 just before Kaskaskia Canyon. The road was busy, like mid-summer. The music from motorcycles was loud; sports cars revved their engines and convertibles whizzed by in a celebration of something like Spring.

I was surprised when it started to sprinkle as I approached one of my favorite places to wonder at the 8,000-year history of the area. I hurried in and was sitting on the soft sandy earth when a family with many young children entered the enormous cave. One little girl, dressed in a skirt and leggings, asked if my pants might get dirty from sitting on the ground. I smiled and told her I would wash them as soon as I got home. A couple headed to the cave wall and started carving their names in the fragile sandstone. I asked them to stop in my kindest mommy voice. I pointed out that they were eroding the sandstone. They looked at me like pair of headstrong toddlers and continued. I told them they were vandalizing the cave, which is against the law. When they persisted, I mentioned that I could take a picture of them and share it with park authorities. They stopped. So did the rain, so I got up, brushed myself off and headed deeper into the canyon.

I was uncomfortable correcting the would-be vandals. It isn’t my style. I thought if they knew the damage they were doing, maybe they would stop. Surely, they love this place, too. As I made my way across streams of water, hopping from stone to stone and balancing on fallen logs, I wondered if Council Overhang was a sandstone wall thousands of years ago. At some point, maybe people started carving their marks in a flat surface. Maybe all that carving over time hollowed out the wall and it became a cave. I laughed at this idea. It does erode naturally, but, bit by bit, people foolishly carve it away.

I wonder if some gray-haired lady sweetly threatened cave painting artists.

The trail conditions covered three seasons. Some were covered with leaves. Whoosh whoosh whoosh. Walking through the leaves sounded like Fall instead of Spring. A few stretches deep in the canyon were still frozen. Most were muddy. MUDDY. My boots stuck and made a sucking noise as I walked, lifting them straight up. The muddy trails got muddier and deeper as the day progressed. The footprints, all sizes of human and canine, were evidence of the traffic. I clomped happily through the mud. I have good boots and consider it resistance training. It’s also important to stay on the trails. People walk along the edge, trying to stay out of the mud, and soon the trail gets wider and wider. This erodes fragile plants and soil. Walking through the deepest mud is my duty. Ha. Each step echoed deep into the earth, wake up wake up wake up. I imagine Nature bleary-eyed and yawning, “What’s going on? Not yet. Go away. It’s not time.” But it is time. It’s always time.

It was an odd day; moms yelled and held tight to their kid’s hands. People ask directions, unfamiliar with the trails. A man with a baby strapped to his chest and another kid at his side asked if I had seen a woman with five little girls. Indeed, I had. I had seen them, including the one worried about my dirty jeans, a long time ago when I crossed the creeks. “Don’t worry,” I spoke to the panic in his eyes. “This is the only way out.”

My day was amazing. I peeled off layer after layer as the day warmed up. I enjoyed the sun on my face. I enjoyed my meditation at Council Overhang and the random musings as I wandered around the beautiful park. I realized that one could step into chaos without adding to it. Maybe one can even bring a bit of peace to the confusion.

I left with a wish. I hope that the little girl in the leggings, her sisters and her mom all had a great time crossing the creeks on such a beautiful day. It was warm and safe. I hope they made fun memories while getting filthy dirty, laughing when it happened because dirt is easy to wash away.