Hiking in Ohio

A SEMI-BITTER RANT. Yesterday, Mike and I went to the Hocking Hills to do some hiking near Old Man's Cave. There were some beautiful spots, but there were also some "interesting" people there. Well, some were great -- we ran into one of my classmates while we were there, and that was nice. Ohio is often so much smaller than I think it is (as is our world, sometimes). But there were also other people who were a lot less pleasant. As we walked through what should have been the peaceful, quiet woods, shouts echoed all around us. These were not panicked shouts, or joyous shouts of children happily discovering nature. Nope. Not a chance. These were shouts of obnoxious people who apparently don't enjoy (or maybe are afraid of) the silence of nature. Rather than listen to the quiet splash of the slowly moving stream, or the trill of tropical-sounding birds in the trees around us, some people apparently felt compelled to fill the peaceful silence with the sound of their own voices for no reason other than to prevent the quiet from being, well, enjoyable. Eventually, we outpaced the loud shouters and left them far enough behind that their voices receded into the background. Then, we encountered other people with their own unique habits. Twice, we came across people hiking along in the lovely woods and (wait for it) SMOKING. In a forest. Where there are no trash cans. And the air is (was) fresh. Now, I don't ordinarily mind if people smoke (especially if they are considerate and try to direct their smoke away from me, as some of my friends are wont to do); however, it strikes me as exceedingly odd that someone would venture out into the wilderness with its clean air and natural beauty and then proceed to light up and continue their hike. And one of these people was a girl who I really can't believe was old enough to drive, let alone smoke a cigarette (legally, anyway). Ahh, Ohio. You dazzle me in strange and foreign ways.... There were also like half a million children (and not well-behaved ones, either) swarming all over the landscape. Children with names like Noah and Jonas, children with no regard whatsoever for the peace of other hikers, children who seemed to enjoy nature about as much as most children enjoy getting vaccinations, children who screamed and shouted and polluted the clear air with their piercing voices. But people didn't just bring their kids out in hordes; they also felt the need to bring all their little yappy dogs -- dogs who did NOT enjoy being out of their usual environs, and who voiced their displeasure through angry snarls and growls and shrill barking that rivaled the noise made by the children. Also, on a more humorous note, I must admit that a significant number of people we came across quipped about the possible impending need to be air-lifted to the nearest hospital. Apparently they found the trail a bit more challenging than they had expected, but this recurring joke was unexpected for me. Unusual sense of humor, I suppose.