Beall Woods State Park LbNA #25276 (ARCHIVED)
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Add Location| Owner: | Adoptable |
|---|---|
| Plant date: | Aug 19, 2006 |
| Location: | |
| City: | Beall Woods State Park, Keensburg |
| County: | Wabash |
| State: | Illinois |
| Boxes: | 1 |
| Planted by: | Jenjenz  |
|---|---|
| Found by: | rn01 |
| Last found: | Nov 11, 2010 |
| Status: | FFFFaF |
| Last edited: | Aug 19, 2006 |
Placed by Bridging the Gap
Distance: 1.25 mile loop
Easy terrain with steps
**NOTE, April 2007** Beall Woods currently posts this trail as being closed temporarily due to bridge repair, but if it's still closed, you can reach our box by taking the trail backwards, please see the note at the bottom of this page regarding finding the box during flood stage.*****
Beall Woods State Park, on the bank of the Wabash River, is part of what was once the Beall Family farm, established in the mid 1800s. After the last Beall heir died, the State of Illinois acquired the forest in 1965 and a 329-acre tract of virgin timber was dedicated as the 14th Illinois Nature Preserve by the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission. Beall Woods State Park is listed in the United States Register of National Landmarks as the “Forest of the Wabash.”
The Park can be reached from Keensburg, Illinois, on Illinois State Route 1, eleven miles north of Interstate 64. Turn east into Keensburg off of Route 1, at the brown Beall Woods State Park recreational sign. Go 1.8 miles all the way through town, past Wabash Coal Mine, and turn into the park entrance on the left. Take the main park road past the lake and campground, all the way to the end, where the road ends at a parking lot in front of the Visitor’s Center (this building marks the site where the Beall family’s hog barn once stood). Here, you may go in to acquire a trail map, view a history of the park and it’s many natural wonders, and awe at the cross section of a tree found in this woods that dates back to 1812—that’s older than the State of Illinois!
This letterbox is brought to you with the help of Girl Scout Troop #469. We thought it would be fun to give you the clues to this letterbox by hiding them in the form of a folk tale, written by an 1890s missionary who is on a mission to spread the Good News to the Midwest. Some of the facts are true, but the missionary himself is fictitious. The following is an excerpt from his “fictitious journal”……..
*********************************.
October 10, 1898—My travels today brought me to the friendly village of Keensburg, Illinois, mostly farmers of corn and wheat. Most folks have been very receptive to my mission of spreading the Good News—**the Secret to Eternal Life.** The townspeople told me that a small group of Kickapoo Indians might still roam the woods along the Wabash River (Wabash is derived from the Indian word “Ouabache” which means “white”), and I am compelled to share the Good News with them. They directed me towards the Beall family farm, and wished me fare well.
I found the Beall family to be nice people who have already heard the Good News. After inviting me in for lunch, they pointed me down a path in the woods behind the hog barn, and said I could most likely find the Kickapoo Indians down this path. They warned that the river floods quite a bit into the bottomland and makes parts of the path inaccessible during a major flood season, but now it was dry. So I thanked them and began my quest. The path began in the trees at the northeast corner of the hog barn lot, beginning in an easterly direction, and they have dubbed the path the “White Oak Trail.” Upon entering the forest, I was overwhelmed by the beauty and peacefulness of this prime example of Illinois forest, still left virtually untouched by man. The many different birds singing made quite an orchestra.
About one-hundred-seventy steps into the forest on the dirt path, I came to a choice of two paths. I chose to continue following the White Oak Trail, and turned to the right. Along my way, I saw a mother deer and her fawn, several squirrels and raccoons, and birds too numerous to count. The variety of trees here is also immense—I must return sometime to document the vast variety of trees on this land, there must be over sixty different species. The path soon came upon a deep ravine on the left, and joined up with a dirt road on the right, the road seemed wide enough for a carriage. I followed the dirt road to the end, where the path picked back up to the left. A resting bench had been crafted here, possibly by a previous frontiersman. There was quite a wonderful view at the top of this hill, and I was thankful for the chance to sit down and enjoy it.
Continuing on the path, I came across a set of steps going down the hill. This path must be traveled quite a bit, for someone to have handcrafted such a thing—41 steps to be exact. After a narrow path there was another 21 steps, and I found myself at the bottom of the hill, and facing a creek. This area looked as though it floods a bit during flood season—ah, this must be Coffee Creek, as the townspeople told me. The path followed the creek to the right for quite a long, long way.
Finally I could see where the creek emptied into a large body of rushing water—ahh! This must be the great Wabash River! I knew I must be nearing the Indian territory, and quickened my steps. I then found myself at the base of a steep hill where someone had fashioned a set of stairs up the hill that went to the right. There was also a small bridge to the left, in the direction of the river. Wanting a closer look at the water, I went over the bridge to the left. The path came to a rock road again large enough for a carriage. I crossed straight over this road, where the path continued on the other side. A sign was posted, “Restricted to Hunters,” but I wasn’t hunting with a gun, I was spreading the Good News. Continuing on, the Wabash River came into view—what a sight! There were huge sycamore trees along the bank that must be over a hundred years old! I came along what must be the biggest sycamore tree in Southern Illinois, it measured 35 hands around! The path circled around and back to the rock road again. Though I didn’t gain any ground, I was glad I took that little detour, the giant sycamore trees were worth it.
Crossing back over the same rock road again, I returned to the wooden stairs that go up the hill and follow the White Oak Trail. There were 75 steps, quite well crafted for frontiersmen…..or Indians. I was glad to find a resting bench at the top of the steps—well placed for these weary bones. As I rested, I was again able to drink in the beautiful scenery, chirping birds, and a glimpse of wildlife.
The mesmerizing stillness and beauty of the forest was suddenly broken by the sound of chanting drifting down from the north. The Indians! Remembering my quest to spread the Good News to them, I jumped up and started to the north. Not wanting to lose my way, I began counting how many steps I took from the bench. Sixty….sixty-five….. the path twisted and turned around the hill, and the chanting got louder, I quickened my steps. One-hundred-seventy……..finally at one-hundred ninety-five steps, a large tree that had fallen over the path and had been sawed out of the way, it sort of made a gateway……as I entered the “gate”, I stopped short when I found myself in the middle of the Indian camp! The Indians all stopped singing and stared at me…..I froze for several seconds, my heart pounded, my mouth went dry, and my knees knocked. Were they friend or foe? Gaining courage, I took thirty-two more steps past the sawed tree--“gate” toward them, I finally found my tongue, and introduced myself as a friend who carries the Good News, the Secret to Eternal Life. I was quite relieved when the Indians smiled and welcomed me in broken English. They wanted to hear this Good News, and after offering me a bite to eat, we sat in the camp for hours, talking about the Secret to Eternal Life.
We decided to mark this meeting place by writing down the Secret to Eternal Life, and leaving it in a box for future travelers to find. Where we stood thirty-two steps from the gate, There was a small tree with a hollow in the base just five steps to the right, that looked like a good place to put a box. It is there that we hid the Secret to Eternal Life.
It was nearing dusk, so I knew I must return to the farmstead. I said goodbye to my new friends and continued down the path. After several twists and turns, I came along another dirt road big enough for a carriage, but I crossed over it and continued on the White Oak Trail, which crossed the road and then turned left, back to the Beall family farmstead. I could smell the hogs as I came upon a grass clearing in the trees, and to the left was the hog barn. Another ninety-five steps brought me to a wooden fence behind the barn that was worth a stop to see the pretty frog pond and bird viewing area. Weary but overjoyed, I looked forward to sharing my story with the Beall family, who invited me in again for supper and a warm place to sleep. What a nice family. Tomorrow I will set out again for another journey along the quest to spread the Good News………
****************************************.
*** Please send us an email if you have visited or plan to visit. We'd love to hear where you're from!
(NOTE: During flood season, if the bottomland of the White Oak Trail is flooded out, the Good News can still be reached by following the trail backwards to the resting bench at the top of the 75 steps, then turn around and follow the story.)
Distance: 1.25 mile loop
Easy terrain with steps
**NOTE, April 2007** Beall Woods currently posts this trail as being closed temporarily due to bridge repair, but if it's still closed, you can reach our box by taking the trail backwards, please see the note at the bottom of this page regarding finding the box during flood stage.*****
Beall Woods State Park, on the bank of the Wabash River, is part of what was once the Beall Family farm, established in the mid 1800s. After the last Beall heir died, the State of Illinois acquired the forest in 1965 and a 329-acre tract of virgin timber was dedicated as the 14th Illinois Nature Preserve by the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission. Beall Woods State Park is listed in the United States Register of National Landmarks as the “Forest of the Wabash.”
The Park can be reached from Keensburg, Illinois, on Illinois State Route 1, eleven miles north of Interstate 64. Turn east into Keensburg off of Route 1, at the brown Beall Woods State Park recreational sign. Go 1.8 miles all the way through town, past Wabash Coal Mine, and turn into the park entrance on the left. Take the main park road past the lake and campground, all the way to the end, where the road ends at a parking lot in front of the Visitor’s Center (this building marks the site where the Beall family’s hog barn once stood). Here, you may go in to acquire a trail map, view a history of the park and it’s many natural wonders, and awe at the cross section of a tree found in this woods that dates back to 1812—that’s older than the State of Illinois!
This letterbox is brought to you with the help of Girl Scout Troop #469. We thought it would be fun to give you the clues to this letterbox by hiding them in the form of a folk tale, written by an 1890s missionary who is on a mission to spread the Good News to the Midwest. Some of the facts are true, but the missionary himself is fictitious. The following is an excerpt from his “fictitious journal”……..
*********************************.
October 10, 1898—My travels today brought me to the friendly village of Keensburg, Illinois, mostly farmers of corn and wheat. Most folks have been very receptive to my mission of spreading the Good News—**the Secret to Eternal Life.** The townspeople told me that a small group of Kickapoo Indians might still roam the woods along the Wabash River (Wabash is derived from the Indian word “Ouabache” which means “white”), and I am compelled to share the Good News with them. They directed me towards the Beall family farm, and wished me fare well.
I found the Beall family to be nice people who have already heard the Good News. After inviting me in for lunch, they pointed me down a path in the woods behind the hog barn, and said I could most likely find the Kickapoo Indians down this path. They warned that the river floods quite a bit into the bottomland and makes parts of the path inaccessible during a major flood season, but now it was dry. So I thanked them and began my quest. The path began in the trees at the northeast corner of the hog barn lot, beginning in an easterly direction, and they have dubbed the path the “White Oak Trail.” Upon entering the forest, I was overwhelmed by the beauty and peacefulness of this prime example of Illinois forest, still left virtually untouched by man. The many different birds singing made quite an orchestra.
About one-hundred-seventy steps into the forest on the dirt path, I came to a choice of two paths. I chose to continue following the White Oak Trail, and turned to the right. Along my way, I saw a mother deer and her fawn, several squirrels and raccoons, and birds too numerous to count. The variety of trees here is also immense—I must return sometime to document the vast variety of trees on this land, there must be over sixty different species. The path soon came upon a deep ravine on the left, and joined up with a dirt road on the right, the road seemed wide enough for a carriage. I followed the dirt road to the end, where the path picked back up to the left. A resting bench had been crafted here, possibly by a previous frontiersman. There was quite a wonderful view at the top of this hill, and I was thankful for the chance to sit down and enjoy it.
Continuing on the path, I came across a set of steps going down the hill. This path must be traveled quite a bit, for someone to have handcrafted such a thing—41 steps to be exact. After a narrow path there was another 21 steps, and I found myself at the bottom of the hill, and facing a creek. This area looked as though it floods a bit during flood season—ah, this must be Coffee Creek, as the townspeople told me. The path followed the creek to the right for quite a long, long way.
Finally I could see where the creek emptied into a large body of rushing water—ahh! This must be the great Wabash River! I knew I must be nearing the Indian territory, and quickened my steps. I then found myself at the base of a steep hill where someone had fashioned a set of stairs up the hill that went to the right. There was also a small bridge to the left, in the direction of the river. Wanting a closer look at the water, I went over the bridge to the left. The path came to a rock road again large enough for a carriage. I crossed straight over this road, where the path continued on the other side. A sign was posted, “Restricted to Hunters,” but I wasn’t hunting with a gun, I was spreading the Good News. Continuing on, the Wabash River came into view—what a sight! There were huge sycamore trees along the bank that must be over a hundred years old! I came along what must be the biggest sycamore tree in Southern Illinois, it measured 35 hands around! The path circled around and back to the rock road again. Though I didn’t gain any ground, I was glad I took that little detour, the giant sycamore trees were worth it.
Crossing back over the same rock road again, I returned to the wooden stairs that go up the hill and follow the White Oak Trail. There were 75 steps, quite well crafted for frontiersmen…..or Indians. I was glad to find a resting bench at the top of the steps—well placed for these weary bones. As I rested, I was again able to drink in the beautiful scenery, chirping birds, and a glimpse of wildlife.
The mesmerizing stillness and beauty of the forest was suddenly broken by the sound of chanting drifting down from the north. The Indians! Remembering my quest to spread the Good News to them, I jumped up and started to the north. Not wanting to lose my way, I began counting how many steps I took from the bench. Sixty….sixty-five….. the path twisted and turned around the hill, and the chanting got louder, I quickened my steps. One-hundred-seventy……..finally at one-hundred ninety-five steps, a large tree that had fallen over the path and had been sawed out of the way, it sort of made a gateway……as I entered the “gate”, I stopped short when I found myself in the middle of the Indian camp! The Indians all stopped singing and stared at me…..I froze for several seconds, my heart pounded, my mouth went dry, and my knees knocked. Were they friend or foe? Gaining courage, I took thirty-two more steps past the sawed tree--“gate” toward them, I finally found my tongue, and introduced myself as a friend who carries the Good News, the Secret to Eternal Life. I was quite relieved when the Indians smiled and welcomed me in broken English. They wanted to hear this Good News, and after offering me a bite to eat, we sat in the camp for hours, talking about the Secret to Eternal Life.
We decided to mark this meeting place by writing down the Secret to Eternal Life, and leaving it in a box for future travelers to find. Where we stood thirty-two steps from the gate, There was a small tree with a hollow in the base just five steps to the right, that looked like a good place to put a box. It is there that we hid the Secret to Eternal Life.
It was nearing dusk, so I knew I must return to the farmstead. I said goodbye to my new friends and continued down the path. After several twists and turns, I came along another dirt road big enough for a carriage, but I crossed over it and continued on the White Oak Trail, which crossed the road and then turned left, back to the Beall family farmstead. I could smell the hogs as I came upon a grass clearing in the trees, and to the left was the hog barn. Another ninety-five steps brought me to a wooden fence behind the barn that was worth a stop to see the pretty frog pond and bird viewing area. Weary but overjoyed, I looked forward to sharing my story with the Beall family, who invited me in again for supper and a warm place to sleep. What a nice family. Tomorrow I will set out again for another journey along the quest to spread the Good News………
****************************************.
*** Please send us an email if you have visited or plan to visit. We'd love to hear where you're from!
(NOTE: During flood season, if the bottomland of the White Oak Trail is flooded out, the Good News can still be reached by following the trail backwards to the resting bench at the top of the 75 steps, then turn around and follow the story.)