A Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident 

When we moved to our part of the forest in 2012, we discovered that down the road was an entrance to one of the most beautiful hiking trails in the state. We often walked there, though I seldom ventured the whole distance, much of which is more like climbing than hiking. 

During the big storm of 2018, when many trees were felled, the trail was closed. One could see from the road the crosshatching of fallen trees amongst the bent and standing. It was dangerous and sad. 

This trail has been one of the last to be cleared, even partially. Violet the Corgi and I ventured in, after seeing the forest service working hard for several days.  We could enter as appreciative guests once again. A major factor in our enjoying life in the forest had been restored. 

The path was the same. In some areas it had been restored by cutting through massive, fallen trees. Just off the trail the result of the storm remained. A great many trees had fallen on a great many still standing, forming countless abstract configurations and designs. This photo shows a fallen tree that managed to weave itself back and forth with seemingly impossible precision. The vast entirety of the forest remained as the storm had left it. The path cleared by and for the humans was a tiny thread.  

The forest will bear the results of this storm forever. As the fallen timbers decay onto one another, knowledgeable hikers will comment, “All these fallen trees are from that big storm of 2018.” Or, there will be stronger storms that fall bigger trees, rendering what we now think of as “the big storm of 2018” not so big. 

While everything changes, many things cannot be undone. The trails can be reopened, but the trees fallen will never again stand. I can now imagine a storm so strong that our parks would never reopen. We cannot replace nature, we can only preserve. There are wounds too deep for humans to heal.