I have a few photos from Point Park to wrap up on. I shot one last look from the overlook with my DSLR vs a panoramic on the iPhone (which I have rapidly become addicted to). With my 24-70mm lens on the camera, this was as wide as I could go. If I would have stepped back a few feet, I might have been able to get all of the Tennessee River into the frame as it winds its way around Moccasin Bend. But then I would have had more crap in the foreground. Perhaps I will through my 17-35mm lens on the next time we go up to Point Park.
After enjoying the view from Ochs Museum overlook, we headed back up the slightly more rugged trail than the asphalt trail that circles the main portion of the park. Tisen didn’t seem to want to leave the cool shade next to Ochs museum as we made our way back. It wasn’t that hot out, but perhaps it feels warmer to someone wearing fur?
The trail heads uphill on the way back. When you walk down it, you don’t realize you’re going downhill. Yet, when you walk back up it, you definitely do notice the uphill. Fortunately, the entire path is well-shaded so even our hot dog didn’t overcook.
As we got closer to the asphalt paved and landscaped part of the park, I noticed a crooked tree highlighted in a beam of bright sunlight. It was perched on the sharp edge of a fallen rock and growing with a 90 degree bend in the middle of its trunk. I had a sudden vision of the rock having once been part of the mountain and this tree deciding it would conquer this rock some day as it spread its roots into every crack and crevice. I imagined this bent and tiny tree feeling victorious for having brought down the rock after so many years of patient growing. I wonder if a tree or water dripping is faster when it comes to carving off chunks of stone cliffs?
We made it safely back to the asphalt path that circles the landscaped part of the park. We walked slowly around the park, allowing Tisen to sniff and explore as far as his leash would reach. He paused to heed the call of nature more times than seemed physically possible, but you know how male dogs are about marking new territory.
As we waited, a female dog came over with her humans to say hello. After a little doggy socialization, we headed back toward the park entrance. Along the way, I spotted Sunset Rock off in the distance through the trees, looking much further away than I remembered. I smiled sheepishly since I had wanted to walk all the way to Sunset Rock, believing it to be less than a mile from Point Park. Pat gave me a side-ways glance that said, “Less than a mile, huh?”