Walking Home Ground by Robert Root

Author:Robert Root [Root, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wisconsin Historical Society Press

The view of Cactus Bluff and Ferry Bluff across the river stayed with me in the following weeks, and so I find myself again on Cactus Bluff, gazing east and remembering the place I stood the month before looking at these bluffs from the Mazomanie Bottoms. From this height, the twists and bends of the river are more pronounced and the sand bars more distinct. I hear distant geese, something rustling below me in the woods, but mostly the wind, sometimes rather brusque but mostly mild. I’m pleased not to have layered on as much as I first intended. Glancing up at the empty sky, I try to imagine what it would feel like to be here on a cloudless night, taking in the universe, as Derleth so often did. I stand quietly alone for many minutes, my gaze sweeping slowly along the river in either direction, aware of how much there is to take in, afraid that too little of it will register.

Though I’m alone here, I judge from the wear of the ground this must be a popular locale, easy to reach despite a persistent, relentless ascent; it’s broad and open and relatively flat. The edge is unprotected but not unnerving. I remember seeing a footpath near the boardwalk that winds more steeply uphill. My last time here, when grasses were thick and the direction of the path uncertain, I didn’t follow it very far. This time I’m sure it must lead to Ferry Bluff, the higher bluff, and I force myself away from the view to follow it. The grasses now are low and the path clear, snaking upward toward a wooded prominence. The sand changes from tan above the ledge to gray, all ground from the rocks prominent ahead of me. The path grows steep and, as I rest on a small level spot, I notice two deer a long way below me on the slope, beyond a stand of leafless bushes, stepping slowly and making the rustling sound I heard earlier. I climb the path up a narrow ridge and emerge onto the summit of the bluff, a rounded, wooded, grassy open space. In the distance I see blue sky through the trees—the summit is not very wide.

The footpath winds inland, away from the river, and then arcs along the heights over to and out onto Ferry Bluff. The farther I go, the thicker the woods become, with more underbrush and more frequent deadfall across the path. I swing west, then north, then back east, rising gently all the while, until I see the point at which the trees stop and the sky opens up beyond them. At the limit of the trees the path narrows further, becomes more of a dirt path winding out into the open on a sharp grade down toward the edge of the bluff. Some undergrowth hasn’t yet filled in this season, but the bluff is more exposed and open, far narrower and more abrupt than Cactus Bluff. It gives

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