Beatty Creek overgrown, but some access.
I’ve never been a big fan of hiking in spite of the many miles I’ve traveled afoot. I truly am more interested in the journey than the speed, and have no problem with short distances covered in hours instead of minutes. I’m more of the meandering type, and I’ve noticed that is also the approach I’m using when I go out on my own with the wheelchair. With that in mind, I went on my first solo “meander” down to Beatty Creek yesterday.
Neighbors are intent on protecting the resident population of pond turtles and their young.
I was reminded on the way what a great neighbor hood this is, and how fortunate we are to be living here. Especially from the environmental aspect. There is always a few volunteers taking care of the common areas, and the vegetation is a great blend of wild and domestic plants.
Our house is just a half mile from the creek, door-to-door, but it took me better than an hour because I poked. The light was only fair – an overcast sky and pretty thick clouds, no “key” and very low contrast – so I took only a few photos. But it was a very gratifying outing nonetheless. I had a definite goal in mind, and achieved it. I wanted to examine from wheelchair the layout of the place in preparation for the Chum Run on Beatty Creek in November.
The only place on the creek where I can hope to gain any access is the bridge that crosses it a short distance above its confluence with Mclane Creek. There’s a good sized culvert there, and a couple good spots for redds in the area. In the past I’ve managed to get some decent shots of the spawning that happens here, and I hope to do so again. I looked around for some sort of additional access and found little of any real promise; but if the spring vegetation dies off this fall, I should be able to creep up closer to the edge of the bridge.
What will be fundamentally different this time, however, is the degree of intimacy I’ll be able to enjoy with the wonderful creatures. No longer will I be able to sit quietly on the bank, only a few feet away, and watch them rest in the shadows for awhile, before fighting for a good position near a gravid female, or continuing upstream to a final resting place.
Many times I’ve been close enough to touch one; but I’ve always resisted the temptation. The critters need every last ounce of their energy, and the last thing they need is to waste it on avoiding me. Besides, it would seem almost profane. If you move slowly and don’t crowd them, they will soon enough get used to your presence and let you settle in real close,
Being able to observe a run up close is a wonderful thing, and becomes a sacred event if you’ve learned even a little about their ways. It is especially so if you can sit alone on the bank with them and breath first hand the perfume of their being. I’ll miss some of that from the wheelchair, but at least I’ll be a distant witness.
I’ve been able to experience the beauty and majesty of this event most years since we moved here in 2014. I missed the run in 2021 because November’s rains came way too late (December in fact) and missed the runs of 2022 and 2023 due to health issues. I’m determined to make this one, and just hope the weather and my old carcass cooperate.