Worshipping along the river

We went to church Saturday. That’s what I have come to call forest bathing (shinrin-yoku as the Japanese call it.)

Initially, Beth and I planned to visit the flats area by the Whirlpool with Gord. She always walks with her trusty Nikon. The photos of me and poops are taken by the lovely photographess.

Last year about this time, I found oyster mushrooms there not far from the sassafras trees. Not Saturday. Still we headed down the stairs and paused to admire the ancient white cedars. We might not know of them without Bruce Kershner. May he rest in peace.

The autumn leaves are at peak. I particularly like the scarlet red of the white oaks and the deep red of alternating dogwood. 

At the flats we saw what looked like a sandpiper but I didn’t have binoculars. Beth thought it might be a plover.

Every walk in the gorge is a little different. Sometimes it's the lighting, sometimes the clouds or noticing an ironwood, a sycamore or river birch. The weather Saturday was spectacular -- a bit chilly with a varied sky, stratocumulus crowds breaking with patches of blue, growing gloomy as the day progressed and giving way to gentle damp sprinkles, "an Irish rain" as we've come to call it. A bit annoying but nothing worth staying home over.

I wanted to let Gord off leash but the lack of significant rain coupled with an impending Bills game brought way too many people to share our sacred place.

As we headed back for the Whirlpool stairs we decided to keep going, walking past the monolith on the bed of the former Great Gorge Railway.

Much of the development along the gorge is a monument to stupidity. Imagine some engineer in about 1870 proposing the construction of a railroad in the base of the gorge between the Falls and Lewiston.

The lasting remnants are bits of concrete and cherry trees. Cherry trees, you ask? They weren’t naturally occurring but sprouted from pits spit by rail passengers.

The heavily wooded trail toward Devil’s Hole is lined with colorful leaves. Along the shore, we saw at least 20 fishermen along the lower Whirlpool Rapids. It gave me pause to consider.

They stand on rocks along water flowing at 35 mph and yet we never hear of anyone falling in.

We made our way back up. I counted 429 stairs including the last flight by the maple up top that is now stripped of leaves. The walk took longer than it should because we kept stopping to give prayers of thanks and take photos. It will never look the same again so celebrate today and give thanks we have the privilege of worshipping again tomorrow. Shinrin Yoku in its finest essence.