Confluence

Yesterday I decided to get away from my desk for a little while and go somewhere new. I wanted to go to the banks of the Mississippi River and see if I could find any of the bald eagles that are supposed to be nesting there now. The day was bleak: overcast and cold.
My first stop, the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge, was nearly deserted. The bridge used to be part of Historic Route 66, but now it's converted to a one-mile pedestrian and bike trail across the river. The parking lot was empty save for a pickup truck; the two men I saw loitering near the entrance to the bridge made me skittish, so I decided to move on and save the bridge for another day. I went 3 miles north, following signs to the Columbia Bottom Conservation Area. Once inside, I followed signs to "Confluence" without knowing what it was.

A bike trail wound through the flat land, but no one was on it. I saw a few vehicles on the road--mostly pickups--but few people outside. There were periodic places to park, so I got out and took pictures of a frozen pond. The land was amazingly still; the only sound was the wind's sighing.

Back in the warm car, I continued towards Confluence. When I reached the parking lot, there was another solitary pickup, but no one in sight. I got out of the car and followed a short trail to the river.
There was a paved viewing area, and a sign that informed me that the Confluence is where the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers meet. The wind blew, and underneath that sound I heard the soft gurgling of water. I watched the massive rivers--tons and tons of cold brown water--slide together and flow southward. Bare trees swayed. Across the river in Illinois, the lights of refineries glowed dimly through haze. No eagles.

I didn't see anyone else. My imagination started to run--what if someone came across me here, attacked me, and pushed my body into the river? No one would hear my cries for help. I walked quickly back to the car. The pickup had left, and a man was parking his blue van. I strode towards my car and nodded a hello, and then got in with some relief. I'd love to come back on a warm, sunny day, with more people around.
Name: Tess
Home: St. Louis
5 Comments:
Beautiful pictures. Sorry the ways of the world scared you off from a lovely field trip. I did that once, psyching myself out about my location. I was driving from Columbus to Cincinnati, and Keven didn't expect me to arrive home until late in the afternoon, after he got off work. I decided to stop off at the outlet mall between the two cities. I wandered for a bit, doing not much, when a song by Radiohead of all people played on the PA: "I'm not here. This is not happening." ARGH! I was so freaked. What if something happened to me? No one would know where I was, why I had stopped off the highway, etc. I practically ran back to the truck and drove home :)
I think intuition can be one of our saving graces. You were probably wise to run back to your car.
The pictures are beautiful, but my oddly morbid mind could picture a body floating like on one of those creepy HBO autopsy specials.
Chalk up another victory for fear and those in our society that fan fear for their own selfish gains... Violent attacks get played up so much in the media that we think they're common events. Truth is, they're not.
BTW, nice photos.
I can know intellectually that violent events aren't common.... And I did wonder--do I really believe the only reason people don't rape/murder is because other people are around? Not really. I knew my imagination was running away with me... but at the same time, I didn't really want to stick around.
I have hiked in around woods near Kansas City for 20 years. Very few times do I see anyone. When I stared I thought I would run across a dead body or something. I have not seen any type of crime. That is not to say one should not be cautious.
There are many places you could go that don't have parking lots where people might gather.
Sorry this neat time was ruined but I hope you will continue to look for places and times to enjoy God's creation.
www.verde33.blogspot.com
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