I can’t really pin it on one thing, but for a collection of small reasons, last month I came closer to failing to fulfill my monthly new hike than I have since this journey began sixteen months ago. Each of these reasons would have been individually insignificant (until they started to pile up), and I found myself staring down the final weekend in April and hadn’t made any plans for a new hike. To complicate matters, I’d already booked a flight to New Orleans that weekend to visit my parents and attend a concert with my dad for his birthday (We saw Van Morrison at Jazz Fest, and in case you were wondering, Van’s still got it). While New Orleans is an outstanding destination for music and culture, it’s not a great destination for hiking. I took an early flight back to Nashville on the final day of April, praying for no delays, and started looking into the few trails I hadn’t yet hiked within a dozen or so miles of the city.
I decided to visit a 5.5 mile loop trail at Beaman Park, a place I’d heard very little about. Despite the park’s relatively close proximity to Nashville (about half an hour’s drive from downtown), the area feels much more remote. Soon after leaving the city limits behind me, I noticed that the landscape changed quickly. The buildings started getting smaller as the spaces between them grew bigger. After only a few minutes, the buildings nearly faded away all together as the road twisted through rolling hills and dense woods toward Beaman Park.
When I arrived at the parking lot near the Creekside trailhead, there was only one other car in sight. Even at 3:30 PM on a muggy Tuesday, this surprised me. I frequently hike at Percy Warner and Radnor Lake, where the trails stay packed, regardless of time of day or week. I suspected that Beaman Park, as a smaller park further away from the city center, would be less crowded than the other two, but this place was eerily, and delightfully, deserted. Eager to explore this park in its most natural, undisturbed state, I made a brief stop at the information sign to plan my route before hitting the trail.
I hiked a combination of Henry Hollow Loop and Ridgetop Trail. I’m naturally inclined to hike loop trails in clockwise direction, unless there’s a compelling reason why I shouldn’t. With no one around to suggest otherwise, I followed my instincts and veered to the left as I started to make my way around Henry Hollow Loop. The initial stretch of Henry Hollow Loop runs roughly parallel to Henry Creek, a scenic, quiet creek with patches of wildflowers sprouting from its banks during my visit in late spring. After about a mile, the trail splits, with the left fork leading across a bridge over the creek and uphill toward the Nature Center. Working with a limited amount of remaining daylight, I declined this detour and followed the right fork as it twisted upward toward the intersection with Ridgetop Trail.
The trail narrows as it climbs the ridge, but the elevation gain is moderate. The dense forest completely envelops the scenery along the trail and creates a tunnel-like effect, a constant reminder that I was completely alone on this trail. A year ago, this would have made me feel apprehensive and vulnerable, but I’ve since learned to appreciate these rare moments of solitude on hiking trails, especially those so close to Nashville. I only passed one other hiker after turning onto Ridgetop Trail, an out-and-back tangent off of Henry Hollow Loop that contributes about two thirds of the total distance covered by the combined trails. Ridgetop Trail ends abruptly in the middle of the forest, in a clearing with a few primitive benches. The trees are too dense to allow any view across the surrounding area, but the clearing provides a quiet space to rest (and take a selfie, maybe) before turning around to head back to Henry Hollow Loop.
Lightly trafficked trails generally offer a better opportunity to see snakes. I’m always looking out for snakes on my hikes, but I usually don’t see any. As strange as it may sound, I think snakes are fascinating and beautiful, when viewed from a safe distance (that part is critical to an enjoyable snake sighting). I’d seen a photo of a rattlesnake on the information sign at the trailhead, and I was hoping I’d see one on my hike (again, from a safe distance, I can’t stress this enough). I regret to report that I didn’t see any rattlesnakes, but I did see a small, harmless brown snake slithering across the trail and out the way of my approaching footsteps.
The snake sighting occurred close to the end of my hike, after I’d returned to Henry Hollow Loop from Ridgetop Trail. This part of the loop covers mild terrain, but the trail remains narrow and heavily covered by a thick canopy of trees. The sounds of birds frequently interrupted the quiet. I’m not sure if this park has an abnormally high concentration of birds compared to other parks in the area, or if I was just more aware of the birds because there wasn’t really any other noise in the park. No noise from other hikers or cars, no noise from water rushing over rocks, just the birds and the occasional squirrel rustling through the leaves on the forest floor.
Throughout the 5.5-mile hike, I only saw four other people on the trail. I’m sure it’s busier on weekends, but I rarely have the opportunity to hike on weekdays due to my job. It only worked out for me to hike at Beaman Park on a Tuesday afternoon because I’d taken the day off to travel back to Nashville from New Orleans. I’m so grateful to have experienced this park for the first time on such a quiet day. I think many people would feel underwhelmed by this park, because there aren’t any scenic overlooks or so-called attractions like waterfalls or caves along the trail. However, the first word that pops into my mind when I think back to my hike here is “solitude”. It’s a rare thing to find so close to Nashville, and it stays with you after its gone. I find spiritual peace and comfort in these moments, and think of them often when the daily grind of my indoor obligations, like work and laundry, starts to wear me down.
Places like Beaman Park are a big part of why I wanted to continue this New Year’s Resolution in 2019. This one wasn’t even on my radar last year, totally obscured by more well known trails and parks. It makes me wonder what I’ll discover if (let’s be real, it’s a matter of when not if) I continue on this adventure in 2020. I’m hopeful about what else is out there and can’t imagine that I’ll run out of unknown places to explore any time soon.