On the Gunpowder Trail

I recall a story about the old prospector and the mule carrying gunpowder up the trail in search of new diggings in the hills.  Later, there was a terrible explosion and when folks in the valley went up to see what happened, all they found was a pair of false teeth and the rear end of a mule.  As folks headed home, the sheriff gathered up the teeth and the mule parts and took them down to a local hospital.  Some years later, the sheriff happened to be riding through and folks asked him whatever became of the false teeth and the mule's rear end.  The sheriff replied that, amazingly, there was a full recovery and the fellow is now serving his first term in Congress.

We saw no mules or prospectors yesterday as we enjoyed a crispy cool, blue spring day hiking along Gunpowder River in northern Maryland.  The Gunpowder is part of a 100-mile trail system within Gunpowder Falls State Park, an 18,000-acre preserve near the border with Pennsylvania.  Just before the trailhead, we drove around the stately, stone-walled Masemore Mill, built in 1797.  For $200 per night, the park will rent you the mill pond cottage, with room for half a dozen weary travelers to sleep their cares away.

A sign at the trailhead warned fishermen about rock snot, a mushy invasive algae that fishermen wearing felt-soled boots can easily and unwittingly transport.  The algae, also called didymo, is very damaging to aquatic ecosystems  The problem is so bad that some states have outlawed felt soles.  Maryland imposed its own ban less than a week ago.

The hike led us over an old steel bridge to the opposite bank of the river where we immediately encountered a little fairyland of "cypress knees."  The odd, woody protrusions, a few inches to a foot or more in height, point upward out of the ground around a bald cypress tree.  We are at the northernmost extension of the species' range; the trees are much more common in the southeastern states.

The narrow dirt path ambles along the humble and meandering river, the smooth current inviting a canoe paddle, better saved for a warmer day.  A lone fly fisherman stood femur-deep in the middle of the clear stream, casting for trout, catch and release sytyle.  Jaggy outcrops of schist from the Wissahickon Formation, a mere 500 million years old, rose sporadically from the forested hillsides.

Those among us who knew something of Maryland's natural history pointed out the evergreen mountain laurels, native hemlocks and pines, and showed Kris and I the difference between an oak tree and a tulip tree, both of which still looked as leafless and dormant as they did in January.  Busy beavers had left their marks on numerous trees, large and small, along several sections of the river.  The remains of an uncertain, fox-sized animal was laid out in the grass just off the path.  A pair of Canadian geese nuzzled the muddy bank below us, while black vultures soared circles over our heads.

After an hour, the trail led below noisy Interstate 83, which towered above us on skinny concrete poles.  We passed a rural road whose bridge had washed away in a hurricane years ago and was never replaced.  With a few effortless miles under out belts, we reached our lunchtime destination: Raven Rock Falls, where a small tributary tumbles over ledges and into the river.

After a long break in the warming sunlight, we began the return, crossing the river at another road and rising high above the other bank, which offered a variety of new scenery and a chance to burn off a few of the extra calories consumed at breakfast.  The final descent toward the trailhead was met with the chatter of a pair of kingfishers dodging about from one river bend to the next.

We affirmed we'd do this hike again when things have greened up and the wildflowers are abloom, then maybe again in the fall.  We were warned, however, to beware of ticks once the weather warms--and not just at Gunpowder, of course.  Copperheads and rattlers are a nearly innocuous threat--on the trail at least--while poison ivy seems to be the more consistent hazard.  Stay on the trail, they say, and you'll do fine.  Coming from a place where the forest is so benign, I can see I'll need to learn some new habits out here.