Rock Run  at Sandy Springs

Terra Incognita -- a land unrevealed

John Locke was on business near the Ohio River area just west of Portsmouth, gathering information for an endeavor that would have dramatic impact on Terra incognita for the next sixty years. He was measuring various layers of sandstone in what is known as the Buena Vista member of Ohio’s Mississippian bedrocks. His purpose was to archive the state’s geologic resources for the purpose of quarrying sandstone to build the rapidly growing cities and towns of the East. John Locke was particularly interested in the height and thickness of a strata of an even-textured blue-gray sandstone called City Ledge that had begun to be mined in the area as early as 1814. The sandstone bed was usually under 16 inches in height, and lay between thin beds of shale. It was easily split and wedged off in large regular blocks, and then loaded on Ohio River barges and shipped downstream to Cincinnati, the city referred to in City Ledge. City Ledge was considered by many to be the best quality sandstone in the entire Eastern United States. 

Rock Run is a short-lived tributary located east of the Ohio River town known as Sandy Springs. The stream drains south out of steeply dissected hill-country and flows independently into the Ohio River. Like most of the hills in western Scioto and eastern Adams Counties, the steep slopes of Rock Run had an exposed layer of City Ledge half way up its flanks. And, just like elsewhere, stonecutters drove their horse and oxen up the creek-bed of Rock Run, and then cut roads up the nearly vertical slopes to get to the stone. They cut the City Ledge into the hill as far as they could before the overburden of the higher bedrocks impeded further progress, then dragged the quarried stone down the dirt roadway, over the streambed, and eventually to barges waiting on the Ohio River. The forests, of course, were timbered.

 By 1907 the stone business along the lower Scioto came to an end, replaced by the cement and brick industries, the latter needing steady supplies of clay. By 1920 the shale beds which formed the base of Rock Run, as well as a considerable fraction of the valley’s exposed bedrock, became a potentially lucrative source of clay, and the rights to the shale were sold to a private company. This time, the mining never happened. The trees, however, were cut several times again over the 20th century, most recently in the late 1990’s; passing ownership several times. In 2001 a massive ice storm pummeled Scioto and Adams County, encasing the trees in impossibly heavy burden of ice. Across the county nearly all the trees snapped from the weight, creating an impenetrable jungle of broken twigs, branches, and toppled trees.

 Perhaps the reader presumes this, like a classic Greek tragedy, is the end of the story of Terra incognita, but it is not. Rock Run continued to hold its secrets, waiting for someone to behold its special beauty. And beautiful it is. Mining, timbering, and ice damage withstanding, Rock Run remains a mysteriously wild valley, its essence defying past efforts of human dominion. From the vantage of the shale bottomed creek, with the tops of the ridges rising 300 feet in elevation, the steep-walled valley feels isolated and otherworldly. The lower elevations are filled with trees of the North Country — hemlocks and black birch, mixed with two southern trees so typical of the Ohio River — the native sweetgum and the exotic Princess Tree, Paulownia tomentosa. The sharply ascending slopes, thick with beech, are classically Appalachian in character with graceful understories of serviceberry and sourwood. The stream bottom is a chaotic tumble of huge sandstone rocks, many retaining the ripple pattern of the ancient sandbars that deposited them millions of years ago. Between the sandstone slabs are occasional deep pockets of crystal clear water, dancing with schools of flashing fish, just like John Locke observed over 160 years ago. The entire upper watershed of Rock Run lies within the protected wilderness of Shawnee State Forest, insuring that the clean water pouring down the rock-lined streambed will remain crystal clear far into the future. On the peaty steep slopes, amidst the tangle of fallen branches, are frequent colonies of wild ginger, crested iris, and partridge berry; and occasionally, a patch of the fairy-like flowers of spotted mandarin — a state-threatened member of the lily family.

Whatever dramatic damage was once inflicted on this fragile valley by the quarries, time has softened and the resourceful forces of nature have mitigated. Today the excavated sandstone ledges create hanging terraces, holding so much water they qualify as wetlands. Rock Run claims the presence of the rare four-toed salamander and the state-threatened mud salamander, as well as eleven other amphibians and reptiles. Below the City Ledge an unquarried bed of sandstone provides eight foot high cliffs that rim the valley, their pockmarked under-surfaces providing a wealth of habitat for insects and salamanders. The previous owner of the property claims that somewhere up on the higher rocks are ancient Native American petroglyphs. Although such claims are usually and eventually proven false, he just might be right. The nearby village of Sandy Springs is known throughout the world as a premiere archaeological site, especially for PaleoIndian artifacts — sheltering some of the oldest human tools to be found in the continent. Sandy Springs is also known as a state botanical and zoological hotspot. Along the sandbars on the Ohio River — formed at the mouth of Rock Run and other streams — can be found prickly pear cactus, spadefoot toads, and a rare lichen that has evolved the capacity to survive underwater during floods. Nearby limestone cliffs have recorded such rarities as green salamanders, cave salamanders, and even the elusive and highly threatened timber rattlesnake.

 A land revealed. Terra incognita waited a long time for someone to see it for what it truly is. In 2003 a person entered Rock Run who could truly see it — not through the eyes of utility, nor through the eyes of profit — but with eyes exquisitely trained to discern detail, diversity, and beauty. Six hours later, Nature Conservancy botanist Rick Gardner walked back out of Rock Run with a heart commitment to save it. It didn’t seem like an impossibility — the land was listed for sale at the very reasonable price of $750 dollars/acre for 184 acres. Personally, he thought it a bargain. He pursued saving Rock Run for an entire year, but without success. Although the Conservancy was interested in adding the property to the adjacent Shawnee State Forest, neither his employer nor the Ohio Division of Forestry had the property listed in a funded management plan. In the summer of 2004, with the property obligingly remaining on the market and with the Conservancy’s blessings, Rick invited the Highlands Nature Sanctuary to walk Rock Run, which just so happened to lie exactly on the southern tip of the newly conceived Arc of Appalachia.

 We walked into the wild valley with Rick right after an immense rain, one of dozens that would drench the Ohio valley with record rainfalls that summer. That day the water in Rock Run ran white around the rocks, still crystal clear, splashing around our feet. After six hours of climbing the steep valley slopes, wading the edge of wetlands, and circumventing shale slides, we were exhausted, but still we were reluctant to leave terra incognita.

 Two months later the land was put into contract. In October of 2004 it was purchased by The Highlands Nature Sanctuary with the help of a short-term note, the remaining half of its balance due on February 15, 2005. The story of Rock Run’s preservation is a classic story of the unique challenges facing preservation work in the East — with the property’s long history of resource extraction. After two hundred years of disturbance, Rock Run can finally rest.

 Each property added to the Sanctuary lifts us into higher levels of enthusiasm for Eastern America’s unsung treasures. Rock Run’s beauty and ambience defy all adjectives. Rick, who now works as a botanist for the Division of Natural Areas, is one of the most expert botanists in the state of Ohio. Once, after watching him doggedly and determinedly working to save the property despite repeated obstacles and setbacks, we asked him, “Rick, what exactly is it about Rock Run that you like so much?” We expected to hear this highly respected professional reel off the Latin names of its rare sedges, or cite statistics from the Ohio Heritage database. There was a slight pause, and he said in a quick breath, “Because it’s so pretty.” We love teasing Rick about his frank evaluation, but if you asked us the question, “So why did you save Rock Run,” and the truth were known, we would answer exactly the same.