A gem of a night at the park ~ February 15, 2006

David Heiller

I had the camera with me, but it was one of those assignments that really wasn’t work.

Any excuse to take a walk at Beaver Creek Valley State Park will do, thank you, and Saturday night’s was special indeed.

Α nighttime walk at Beaver is a bit unusual, but that night it wasn’t hard to do at all. Α group of volunteers had lit hundreds of candles and placed them inside white plastic containers. The containers were spaced about 30 feet apart on two different trails.

I wanted to get a photo, but I could see it would not be easy. The candles didn’t cast much light, and I didn’t want to use a flash. So I just walked, carrying my camera and tripod, and hoped for inspiration.

But the inspiration was not in a photograph that night. It was in the walk. First carefully, over the twin planks that line one edge of the road over which East Beaver Creek faithfully flows. Then past a crackling fire, manned by volunteer Todd Krueger. Then the trail and the candles, along the familiar road that suddenly was not familiar at all.

Things change at night. You can’t see far, you don’t know what’s beyond the curtain of darkness. It’s like walking in a tunnel.

It’s not a bad feeling though, and it was perhaps enhanced by the other people present. Everyone gave a polite hello as they passed on the trail. Anne and Greg Yakle with their dog, Marley. The parents with their two kids who ran ahead so that they could jump out and scare Mom and Dad. That brought back some pleasant memories. The group of laughing high school kids, who disproved the scowling stereotype that kids don’t know how to have fun these days. I like to hike in peace and quiet, but the human contact that night seemed just right.

The hills lurked off to the side, but not in a scary way, not this night, perhaps because of the beacons in their midst, both human and candle. Perhaps because of the coating of fresh snow that can give everything a happy look.

A full (or nearly full) moon always adds
to the pleasure of an evening. (drh, 1979)

The sound of water bubbling out of Big Spring held a lot of joy too, as only a gabby brook can.

And the moon. Wow. It was one night shy of its monthly glory, and it really sang. It sliced through the clouds and sifted through the trees and flowed down the hills. Then it settled on good old Beaver Creek, and they formed a two part harmony that reached up to heaven. I haven’t seen a lovelier sight in many years than the moonlight glittering off the creek in the middle of that snowy landscape. I stopped and watched it for several minutes. I wanted to tell everyone to do the same. But you don’t do that on a hike. You discover your own inspiration, and know that others will too.

Then it was back to the plank over the creek, and there was my photo, the candle light bouncing off the water and off the faces of some very contented hikers.

Park manager Roger Heimgartner greeted me there, thanked me for coming. He sounded happy, although he pointed out a few things that would change next year. He’s always thinking, even on a night like that, which is good for the park, and good for us.

I tip my hat to Roger for putting this event together. Thanks also to the volunteers who helped with the candles and the refreshments in the lodge. I stopped in there on my way out for a cup of cocoa and some cookies. I could see a look of pleasure and pride on their faces. They put together a great event, one well worth attending next year. Anything to support the gem that we have in Beaver Creek Valley State Park.