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“I saw something weird when I was climbing down,” Bones said as they drove to their next stop.
“Was it your reflection?”
“Screw you, Maddock,” Bones said as the girls laughed.
“It was a reasonable question.” Maddock forced his grin into an expression of interest. “Okay, what was it?”
“There was something carved deep in the stone.” Bones used his hands to show as he explained. “In a recess, angled away from the trail below.”
Connie’s and Nelli’s eyes widened, but Maddock, sitting behind Nelli in the driver seat, merely nodded.
“A petroglyph of an archer,” Bones added.
“Petroglyph?” Nelli asked.
“A prehistoric stone carving,” Connie answered. She quickly added, “There’s a visiting professor at my college. I attended two of his lectures. Most recently he’s done some archeological studies around the Serpent Mounds. He’s Native American,” she said, but then frowned. “I don’t remember what tribe—or group, if that matters. Sorry.”
Bones shrugged.
Maddock asked, “You said it was weird, Bones. How so?”
“It looks old, Maddock. But not old enough for Native Americans to have carved it.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “None of the local tribes that I’m aware of are known for their petroglyphs.”
Maddock shrugged. “Graffiti isn’t exactly a new phenomenon. People travelling west have added their own carvings to historical sites.”
Bones shook his head and muttered, “White people.” He paused. “But then again, you can’t exactly stumble upon that particular spot. You’d have to climb down there on purpose, and believe me, it wasn’t an easy climb.”
Maddock nodded. “Strange.”
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To accommodate large numbers of visitors, the main parking area near the Old Man’s Cave trail was divided into three levels dug into a hillside. Narrow areas of green space containing scattered pine trees framed steps going down from level to level, until they reached a road running between the lots and the Visitor Center.
The Center was a brown, single-story building housing restroom facilities, a small nature exhibit, and a little snack shop that offered ice cream and the equivalent of fair food—hot dogs, nacho chips, soft drinks, bottled water and candy.
Nelli pulled her Jeep Wrangler into a spot nearest the Visitor Center. Back at Conkle’s Hollow they’d decided to all ride together in her Jeep. Maddock counted only six vehicles, including theirs. She clicked off the windshield wipers. “The rain appears to have driven just about everyone away.”
Nelli snapped closed her rain jacket and flipped its hood up to protect her head. “No sense waiting for what may never stop. Let’s do this.”
“This way,” Connie said, pointing to a set of steps leading down to a small bridge spanning a stream that dropped into a waterfall. The steps carved into the rocks, supplemented by concrete reinforcement, made the trek down easy.
They came to a pair of signs. One pointed left. On it was written: Upper Falls. The other pointed right. On it was written: Old Man’s Cave.
Bones strode forward and examined the sign pointing right. He announced, “I think I’ll steal this sign.”
“What for?” Maddock asked.
“To put on the front door of your condo.”
That drew laughs from both Nelli and Connie.
“If I remember,” Nelli said, “Upper Falls will take us past the Devil’s Bathtub.”
“Sounds like a great place to skinny dip,” Bones said.
Connie rolled her eyes. “Not unless you want to drown.”
“Upper Falls first, it is,” Maddock said. “The rangers will get a kick out of rescuing a buck naked Cherokee.”
It wasn’t far down the Upper Falls Trail before the four came to a stone bridge reaching across Salt Creek, whose current had been boosted by the morning’s rain.
Connie pointed down to a swift fall off in the creek where the water swirled into a roughly twelve-foot diameter drop before draining out and continuing northeast. It looked like a wide stone funnel draining foamy brown water. “That,” she announced, “is the Devil’s Bathtub.”
“Looks more like a giant flushing toilet,” Bones observed.
“After a dry summer,” Connie said, “water sometimes just trickles in, more like a pool.”
“I take it back,” Bones said. “Nobody wants to skinny dip in a toilet, flushing or not. That would be like getting a giant swirlie.”
They hiked their way along, Connie leading through the rain as they straddled puddles and climbed heavily worn steps carved into the stone decades ago. Maddock observed that the park’s main attractions were too well travelled to have much chance of harboring anything secret or hidden. Still, something was biting at his senses, like he was missing something.
They reached the Upper Falls. A stone bridge spanned above the falls as the water cascaded down, forming a wide pool which drained off along the right, enabling Salt Creek to flow toward the Devil’s Bathtub. To the right and left of the falls were deep crevices and alcoves that could only be reached by wading or swimming across the pool, or climbing down from above. Maddock suspected thousands had done both over the years.
Along the shore to the right a young couple stood, both soaked to the bone but enjoying each other’s company too much to care.
“Now here’s a place to take a dip,” Bones said.
“Maybe if it weren’t cool and raining,” Nelli replied. “Except for you and Maddock, it would’ve been a dreary day. Connie and I would’ve given up and found something else to do.”
Connie led the group up another set of stone stairs, and around to the bridge overlooking the falls. As she and her sister observed the water racing over the rocks toward the falls, Bones scanned back across the gorge.
Maddock noticed the look on his friend’s face.
“Someone’s following us,” Bones said quietly.
Maddock realized that’s what he was sensing but couldn’t place a finger on. They hadn’t seen anyone on the trail. The steady rain was keeping visitors away. “Could be those punks from Conkle’s Hollow.”
“Whoever it is, they’re keeping their distance.”
They both watched and listened as the ladies took photos of the rushing water with their cell phones.
“We’ll keep our eyes and ears open,” Bones said.
Maddock nodded once in agreement. Why did trouble always seem to find them?