The Swimming River

I'm always finding out new things about my locale. The other day I was itching to go on a photo safari. The weather was unusually warm, so I really thought about going to the beach for lunchtime. Traffic in NJ at lunchtime is horrendous, my 15 minute commute to the beach was coming up as 27 minutes on the gps. I quickly began searching for closer alternatives on the internet. The search brought up a wildlife preserve less than 2 miles from my co-op. I thought surely they were wrong. A wildlife preserve in Red Bank/Tinton Falls/ Shrewsbury? After further searching the internet and not finding much more information, I thought the few websites that alluded to it were wrong or outdated.

I was about to give up and go back to the falls for the umpteenth time when I came across a site that gave rough directions to a parking area at a place called Swimming River Preserve. It was discouraging to see that the cataloging of plant life they did of the area was from the 1950's.  I jumped on google maps and saw what could be a dirt parking area close to the described location. I tried verbally entering the closest cross streets into my android phone for navigation, but it did not seem to understand, “Hance Ave.”, and instead kept giving me wacky variations. I finally spouted out, “Navigate to Swimming River Preserve”, as I laughed to myself. The laughter turned to a, “REALLY?”, as the phone blurted out, “Turn left on Shrewsbury Ave.”.

The five minute drive seemed strange. I had been down Hance Ave, 100,000 times in my life and never knew of any area that would be considered anything but suburb. Turning left on Riverdale Drive allayed my fears. After about a quarter mile, the road began to narrow and I could almost hear banjos in the distance. Going over a re-purposed wood bridge(now covered with tar) and overlooking swimming river, my heart began to beat faster. This could be a major photo safari score.

The parking lot was on the north side of the road. I started down a tree arched trail that looked like it had not seen much maintenance. As the arch faded,the chaos of woods, tall grass and interesting flora appeared. My shutter release finger sprang to life. Cool plants, new woods, amber waves of grain. This amazing piece of nature was nestled between the Parkway and overcrowded New Jersey living. There were no trails, just nature as it was intended. I got to the top of a hill and surveyed all that was beneath me. The hill was steep and in my younger years I would have foolishly challenged it and lost. Now that my beard is a bit longer, I knew, eventually, I'd find the weak spot in the steep defense and be looking back up the sheer face.

I continued along the top of the hill, keeping track of where I had been and setting mental markers. The hill began to flatten out and I felt confident This would be a great hike. An interesting path emerged at the bottom of the hill. It split two sets of tall grasses. Seeing it, I knew that it was there for a reason and had to get to it. Walking a little further along the hill I spied a break in the tall grass and peaking from behind it was Swimming River. I had to make a command decision, continue along the hill until I got to the clearing, or cut left down to the path. The path was just too tempting. All paths lead to something, right? The path was raised about 8 feet from the surrounding ground and the trees arched welcomingly over it. I continued forward, hoping for better vantage over the tall grass but the

grass knew that height kept secrets and whispered them loudly in the wind.

Up ahead appeared a 12 foot break in the path where a small stream used the muscle of time to punish the higher ground. I wasn't prepared to walk through the tall grass on the left, so the soft marshy ground on my right was my only choice. I did not want to turn back. As if willed into existence, a small group of wood planks appeared a short distance in front of me, stretching across the shallow water.  Remnants of a past explorer. I was back on the trail for a stretch but it was all in vain, fallen trees and tall grass blocked not just my view, but my step. It was time to turn back, slightly disappointed.

I clumsily made it across the make shift bridge and realized it was good that I was heading back. With all of the sounds, sights and colors this new playground provided, sensory overload was imminent. Spending too long in an unfamiliar wood takes it's toll on the senses and soon I would lose the luxury of acuity.

I had a weird sense of foreboding as I heard a large tree whine in pain then crack in the distance. The grass to my left came alive with thrashes and movement. Though raised above the commotion on the trail, I was not sure what to expect. I moved close to a tree trying to spot something. Why was the grass so damn tall? In a whirl of sight and sound, two of the largest deer I have ever seen sprang from the grass. I'd like to say I got an awesome picture of them. Irony is that my camera never even left my side. I cautiously watched the deer run up the side of the hill while keeping tabs of the grass that they came from. Deer that big usually don't run for the hell of it and seeing as I couldn't outrun the deer, if something was chasing them, I'd have to be ready for it.

After a few moments, I decided it was safe to start back. I was angry with myself. Two beautiful flag tailed deer, less than fifteen feet away and I didn't get the shot. It happened so quick, my camera would not have been ready anyway. My mind started chewing on the loss and before I knew it, I was making my way up the hill. For people who don't go deep woods for photography or hiking, keeping focus and constantly alert is a lot like intense meditation. Just when you think, 'this is easy', you realize that, 'that thought itself is your brain fighting it', then, 'that thought is your brain tricking you about the first thought', etc.

Realizing the distance, time and terrains that I covered carelessly, I thought it really was time to leave. The preserve would be there for me on some other day, even if the weather was going to keep me from it for a while. As I got to the top of the hill, the opening in the grass and the water taunted me from the distance. How far was it? When would the next 60 degree day be? It was only the last day in January.

The excitement of seeing the river re-energized my concentration and I carefully headed down the other side of the hill towards the water. I knew how tough the marsh area could be and cautiously made my way to the opening. The ground pulled me in as I got closer. I only had my mini-hikers and not my boots, so I new I could go no further. Still the water was less than 20 feet away from me. The tall grass narrowed my view to a small slice but something about a source of water ignites the human soul. I took a few shots and began my way back up the hill in the direction of the car. At the top of the hill, I found some unique fungus and decided it was worth some pixels. About a hundred yards later, two families of deer crisscrossed in the distance. I fired the shutter frantically, but with the wide lens and settings for the macro shots, the best I did was some tough to make out blurs.

I found a trail, running parallel, a hundred yards from my entrance trail. I took it and found that it ended up on the narrow road. I walked to the Escape and after getting in saw two more hikers starting off on the trail.

I wondered how much of the river I could've gotten to if I had gone through the tall grass, I never liked tall grass though, there are wolves and snakes in the area and blindly hiking alone is never wise. As I got to the old bridge, I noticed a car parked on the side of the road next to, what looked like, a hill that lead to an overlook of the river. That would be another day.