A few weeks ago, my husband and I went down to Kentucky’s Red River Gorge to get some miles in as we start to look toward warmer weather and upcoming hiking and backpacking trips. It was finally time to give this cool place a real chance- I’d only visited once before, and it had been such a fiasco that it took nearly seven years to go back. But the location was not really the problem that day.
On that first and last trip in April 2018, we arrived to find the access road closed to vehicles. I don’t remember the reason for that, but I do remember that we decided to just hike to our trailhead instead of changing the plan. The kids, 15 and 8 at the time, weren’t necessarily enthusiastic about the extra but went along- what else could they do?
It turned out to be over four miles back to the trailhead- nearly as long as the trail itself- and then of course we had to return to our parking at the end. In what has since “affectionately” become known as Hell Hike, we ended up trudging a little over 14 miles that day, much of it along the gravel road. I spent the last few weary miles convincing the girls not to drink out of mud puddles and that we would eventually make it out, we really would. Just one more step, and then another. And another.
We did make it, of course, and time has softened that day, but both kids were quick to opt out of this return trip. Fair enough. Carl and I went alone. The access road was open this time- we’d already decided it would be a dealbreaker otherwise- and our five mile trail turned out to actually be five miles (gasp!) which led us up and down the canyon and to a beautiful natural arch.
In spite of the geology, though, I was particularly intrigued by a plant. As we descended into the canyon, I found myself surrounded by a stand of dense, primordial shrubby trees with buds framed by long glossy leaves. It felt like I’d somehow stepped into an Edgar Rice Burroughs story- either a dinosaur was shortly going to stick its head through the thicket, or Tarzan would come swinging across overhead. Unfortunately, neither made an appearance, though I did later learn the plant to be a Rhododendron maximum, which is the largest rhododendron species in the US, and its megaflora vibes are what give that timeless impression. Common names include Rosebay Rhododendron and Great Laurel, and it likes steep slopes with moist soil in many eastern and southeastern states. Be warned though that while pretty, this plant is toxic.
While looking back at the pictures I’d taken on the disastrous 2018 trip, I was somewhat amused to find Rosebay buds in some of them too, though I never went on to look into identifying it. By the end of that day, I was over anything having to do with Red River Gorge. Although it took me too long to go back, I’m glad I finally did- I’ve come back with a better day and better photos.
And better has always been my biggest goal.
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