I arrived at Thieves' Landing, on the west bank of Black Creek, shortly before dawn (6:30 a.m.). Mist lay heavy on the Pascagoula River Basin; the temperature hung just below 60 degrees Fahrenheit, warming to about 70 later in the day. Rain the night before left the forest dripping and muddy, though water levels remain low -- a good thing for swamp hiking. I was surprised to see the landing area empty of other vehicles; easing the kayak to the creek, I heard gunshots some miles distant, but they were the only ones I would hear all day.
I had no clear plan save to cross Black Creek into Big Swamp, and see where the trail took me, moving slowly and listening for kent-calls and double-knocks, and eyeing the thinning forest canopy for interesting cavities and signs of woodpecker scaling.
After stowing the kayak in a sandy thicket, I bore east along the trail for about a hundred yards before turning southeastward, as the path shadowed Black Creek. I'd been on this section of trail a couple of years earlier, but then had followed it only a couple of miles before it seemed to vanish in trackless bottomland and swamp forest. Evidently I had wandered off the trail proper back then, because now the trail bore me faithfully all the way to Big Swamp Road, which is the main trail running from Sandy Wash Bend in the north, south to the confluence of Black Creek with Cypress Creek, the overflow channel of the Pascagoula River.
As I hiked, the beauty and solitude soon put me in a Tolkien frame of mind.
I had no clear plan save to cross Black Creek into Big Swamp, and see where the trail took me, moving slowly and listening for kent-calls and double-knocks, and eyeing the thinning forest canopy for interesting cavities and signs of woodpecker scaling.
After stowing the kayak in a sandy thicket, I bore east along the trail for about a hundred yards before turning southeastward, as the path shadowed Black Creek. I'd been on this section of trail a couple of years earlier, but then had followed it only a couple of miles before it seemed to vanish in trackless bottomland and swamp forest. Evidently I had wandered off the trail proper back then, because now the trail bore me faithfully all the way to Big Swamp Road, which is the main trail running from Sandy Wash Bend in the north, south to the confluence of Black Creek with Cypress Creek, the overflow channel of the Pascagoula River.
As I hiked, the beauty and solitude soon put me in a Tolkien frame of mind.
I found this downed spruce pine the last time I passed that way, some two years ago. The WMA people have graciously worked with chainsaws to clear it from the path. The bark on it is still tight in places.
As I continued down the path, the forest began looking new to me. I realized that I'd wandered off the path the last time, but now it seemed sure and true, so I continued on.
I found a second downed spruce pine a couple of hundred yards down the trail from the first. The bark missing along the bole was likely scraped off as it crashed past other trees on its way down.
Woodpeckers have been busy along the limbs. The work may have been done before the tree fell. The bark is still fairly tight on much of the tree.
Beautiful and impressive swamp chestnut oaks are common in this part of Big Swamp.
My camera is simple and not equipped for the poor lighting conditions of the day. Here I attempted to photograph what was probably a dead sweet gum that I believe was struck by lightning.
Very quickly the trail bent round to a small, muddy, lonely pond, guarded by this fellow.
I waded out into the water as far as I could to get a better photo.
He suffered my approach, but was not terribly friendly.
I could not get a decent picture of him. Inspired both by his enormous base -- twisted and deformed perhaps by some ancient, long struggle -- and by his demeanor, I named him Melkor, after the renegade Vala responsible for much of the ills of J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle-earth.
I continued east from Melkor's Pond, along the trail I now call Melkor's Road.
The strange shape of some of the oaks along Melkor's Road lent their surrounding glades an unearthly air.
The WMA people are improving trails in Big Swamp to provide better access to ATV's. Several hunters passed me along the trail on their ATV's during my hike.
My last view of Black Creek from Melkor's Road.
Great egrets.
Mast from swamp chestnut oaks was plentiful on the forest floor.
Woodpecker scaling on a dead tree I could not identify. The bark was neither tight nor loose.
I passed several hog wallows during my hike.
Woodpecker work on a maple snag.
This lovely swamp slowly made itself visible as the trail bore me eastward.
I believe it is fed in part by German Slough, a troublesome watercourse to the north.
The dry autumn is evident in the low water level here.
I saw a number of dead pines like these. Probably loblolly, very uncommon in Big Swamp. I rested here a few minutes, listening to what I first thought might be kents, but which I eventually realized was a squirrel barking, though it sounded very strange. The acoustics of the swamp can be tricky.
Varda, at left, sits upon a small promontory not far from the trail.
Varda's husband Manwe, the mighty cypress at the right.
A very large woodpecker flew from near the crown of the cypress in the center of this photo as I emerged onto the bank of this slough to get a better look, at around 9:30 a.m. Flying with steady wingbeats, after the manner of a crow, it circled around to the woods behind me; I had difficulty making out the underparts of its wings. It perched in another tall tree, and when I moved to get a better look, it flew off again, and did not return.
Swamp selfie.
Tulkas the Champion here grows in a quiet slough not far off Melkor's Road, less than a mile from Manwe and Varda.
A crown of faded gold for the old king.
More improvements.
Some late autumn color.
Evidently I was on Albritton Road. I like "Melkor's Road" better.
Heading north on Big Swamp Road, I decided to make for Hog Pond, which my brother Brian and I had hoped to reach on our last trip to the WMA. Hog Pond was still some miles distant, but I was in good spirits, energized by the country I'd seen.
At length a path led eastward off the main trail. I decided to follow it, thinking it would bear me either to Hog Pond, or to another remote oxbow, Harrison Lake, which I had not visited before.
An old ATV crossing. The thick metal pipe has almost rusted through in spots.
The trail quickly faded and became difficult to follow, but I was encouraged by the sight of this stately, powerful cypress, surrounded by his many knees.
I named him Orome, after the Huntsman of the Valar; and my wisp of a trail became Orome's Road.
A young shagbark hickory.
The trail began arcing slowly south-eastward, until I came out upon a bluff high above the Pascagoula, the Singing River. It continued south along the bluff; I knew then that I would not make it to Hog Pond, but was led on by the promise of Harrison Lake.
I was rewarded in a few minutes by a heavily wooded slough, an overflow from Harrison Lake.
This is the second Harrison Lake I have encountered in my life. The other is in a valley in the southwest of Glacier National Park, Montana. I am not sure which of the two is more beautiful.
A mysterious grove of live oaks just beyond the shore opposite. I found a similar grove along the shore of Lingum Lake not far to the south, in 2016.
Orome's Road bore me slowly westward, back to Big Swamp Road. I passed this sign along the way, reminding me of my long hike to Lingum Lake last June. Like the identical sign farther south, this one seemed to signify nothing in particular.
Back on Big Swamp Road, I headed south, then cut west along a familiar track that would lead me almost directly westward to my kayak and Thieves' Landing. Beyond German Slough (whose waters, fast and deep, I had to cross on all fours over a slippery log), the trail was now greatly faded, and I had to rely largely on Google Earth and my compass to bring me back to my kayak.
I crossed a number of downed trees on my return hike to Thieves' Landing, including this large oak, which may have been a swamp chestnut oak. The trees may have been downed by a tornado.
Swamp miles. Not bad for an old man.
Just beyond the WMA land, I passed private property along the access road that had been clearcut since my last visit. This wasteland will take many decades to recover.
Woodpecker activity was high for much of the day. The mystery bird, along with the abundance of woodpecker cavities and scaling (though none I would consider diagnostic for IBWO), satisfies me that the areas along both Melkor's Road and Harrison Lake hold promise.
