A Trip into Indiana's Prehistory

Turkey Run State Park. Yep, that’s what it’s called. There aren’t really any turkeys here: they were hunted to near-extinction in this area, and now you’d have to be pretty lucky to find one. But local history tells of a time when wild turkeys would flock in the deep canyons. Hunters would then chase the birds through the steep-sided “runs” and directly onto their dinner tables.

Just like in Montgomery County’s other strangely-named parks, there’s plenty of history here. Before becoming state parks, these canyons and gorges offered good shelter for settlers and Native Americans. And before that, who knows what creatures prowled these canyon floors?

We do know that the environmental conditions in the gorges have hardly changed in thousands of years. While the rest of Indiana marched onward into agriculture and industry, these spots stayed exactly the same—and those of us lucky to step foot in Turkey Run’s canyons are rewarded with a trip back in time.

To reach Rocky Hollow, you’ve got to cross Sugar Creek on a long suspension bridge. It was probably nearing 90° when we arrived… but as soon as we stepped down into the hollow, the temperature dropped.

A sign at the start of Trail 3 informed us that we were entering Rocky Hollow Nature Preserve, where the environmental clock stopped 12,000 years ago.

The steep canyon walls are sandstone, carved during the Pliestocene Epoch by water from receding glaciers. Now the glaciers are long gone, and only a small creek trickles along the canyon bottom.

The bryophytes that once covered the canyon floor and walls have been rubbed away by human feet—but the damp, cool air makes it possible for just about any surface to be covered with green moss. Unless, of course, it’s covered with water.

The “trail” is really just the creekbed. It soon rises from the flat, sandy bottom and becomes a slippery, thin passage through the wet rocks.

Where the trail gets particularly difficult, park workers long ago carved steps and walkways into the sandstone. They get plenty of use: there were lots of people on the trail with us.

This guy was complaining about the trail until he got to the Punchbowl. Then he whipped out his camera and started trying to get his wife to pose like a calendar girl.

Meanwhile, some kids came along the upper trail and climbed into the smooth hollows of this mini-waterfall.

From the Punchbowl, the trail rises again, up into the trees. The temperature rose with it, and we all started sweating again. I was hoping we’d drop back down into the canyon again soon…

…and drop, we did. Trail 3 heads straight down the side of the canyon, and the only way to continue is by climbing down a long, slightly slippery ladder.

Well, almost the only way. We had Crow dog with us. Canines are not known for their ladder-climbing abilities, and Crow is just big enough that carrying him down a steep ladder could lead directly to death. So Quiet Earp and Crow made their way down along the slippery rock wall, while Justin and I watched nervously.

It was treacherous and slick, and Earp made it just fine—but as Crow tried to negotiate the final ledge, he lost his footing and started to slide. It was a good ten feet down to the creekbed, but at the last second he jumped…. and splashed down face-first in the water.

It wasn’t the most graceful leap, but Crow seemed just fine, even a little proud of his bravery. Or maybe that was us feeling proud. Either way, this seemed like a good time to find out just how awesome Crow was.

The next part has no corresponding photo, but you can take my word for it: Crow the wonder dog can actually climb ladders. Dave climbed up a few rungs and then called Crow—and dang if that dog didn’t start climbing, wet and clinging to the rungs with all four paws, looking totally silly but definitely climbing like a pro.

At this point, we all felt we’d conquered Turkey Run. Proud and happy, we headed back into the Indiana sunshine, and the next morning Earp and I took off for Chicago.

Indiana might appear to be one big expanse of farmland, but just like anyplace else it’s got plenty of hidden treasures. Thanks to Lacy and Justin, we found a truly amazing spot that we’d otherwise have driven right past. It made me realize that, no matter where you go, you won’t know a place until you know the locals.

Lacy and Justin grew up in this area. Justin’s grandfather owns property abutting the parks, and Lacy volunteers at the Turkey Run nature center. They’ve got extensive knowledge of the history and environment of this area—the kind of knowledge that no amount of Internet research can match.

If I hadn’t been so keen on visiting them, I’d have never seen such an amazing spot. And in the future, I’ll remember: guidebooks are useful, but nothing beats exploring a place with the locals who love it.