4. Marion Sansom Park, Fort Worth, TX

 

October 1, 2023

I was desperate to escape Fort Worth that Sunday. I was tired and burning out from the hustle and bustle of life and school. I had very little time to rest. So, I set my sights to Marion Sansom Park in west Fort Worth. The park itself is quite large, 260 acres, and one could easily get lost. In fact, towards the end of my hike, I emerged from the forested area about half a mile from where I first began and had to wander back to my vehicle. The park itself doesn't feel like a park, more a forested land from which hiking trails have been created by foot traffic. Most of the grass was yellow and brittle, dead from the incorrigible Texas heat. The skies were grey with short reprieves of blue. The only semblance of green grass lie around a lakefront, almost marsh-like. The hiking paths themselves differed. Some were tree covered, small branches and fallen leaves covering the dirt pathway, with roots of trees and medium-sized rocks splotching the ground. The other pathways were rocky--the chalky white limestone covered the ground, uneven and rocky; it was easy to slide over. Here no trees shaded the ground and me from the oppressive heat and sun, and only a few cacti lined the limestone path. The park itself is steep. After parking, I entered the park and descended down rocky ledges and steep paths hundreds of feet to the bottom where the lake sat. Hiking back up took much exertion trudging up the 45-50 degree incline. 

The terrain and the environment felt like home. I have often disappeared to this park for silence and solitude and for a taste of home. I live in a protected wildlife area in New Jersey and am accustomed to hiking through a densely covered forest with trees and roots covering the ground, with large rocks the size of cars lying on the forest floor, and maneuvering through brush and trees to explore the wilderness. This park is the closest I've found to home in Fort Worth. Because it reminds me so much of home, being there brings me a sense of peace and calmness. The world melts away, and I get to hear the familiar sounds of birds chirping in the trees, the crunching of twigs and leaves beneath my feet, ducking below low hung branches, slipping on the slick dirt or rocks, and climbing through terrain to reach breath-taking views. I needed it. My body and mind yearned for the peace. I hiked through the territory with headphones on and my worship music blaring and all was calm and all was right in the world for those moments. 

People were few and far between--it felt like an escape. I didn't have to hear another person talking, or a car driving by. The only alluring noise was the sound of rushing water that I had to go seek out. I have been to this park before, but every time I discover something new. The sound of rushing water compelled me to climb down a steep, rocky cliff until I was met with a large lake with several waterfalls off in the corner. I stood there for minutes just staring. There is no more relaxing sound to me than the sound of rushing water. The sound of the rushing water and moment of rest slowed my heart rate and mind.

The hike was not an easy one, and I frequently wandered in whatever path my heart desired getting lost amongst the trees and winding uneven paths. As I emerged from the tree covered paths, after walking uphill for twenty minutes, I ascended the final push up the rocky white limestone, about thirty feet, to the beginnings of the park and was brought back to the reality of Fort Worth, Texas and the rest of the world. Though my time was short in the woods, I hadn't known a peace and calmness like that in weeks and part of me did not wish to leave. Just for a moment, a taste of home, an escape from the world, and a reminder of the value of solitude in nature.