Pickle Creek
Some places wear their age lightly. Pickle Creek is not one of those places. Tucked into Hawn State Park, down in southeastern Missouri, this isn’t just another pretty stream. It’s old, weathered, and quietly extraordinary.
The trail here is about as rugged as they come. This isn’t your wide, well-manicured woodland stroll. It's narrow, rocky, rooted, and unapologetically uneven. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t just suggest you slow down; it demands it. Preferably before you roll an ankle. You don’t wander here, you navigate, constantly deciding whether your next step is going to be heroic or humiliating.
What really sets this place apart, though, is the geology. The rocks underfoot are Precambrian granite and rhyolite, formed from volcanic eruptions well over a billion years ago. To put that in perspective, that’s about three times older than the dinosaurs. These ancient rocks cooled underground and eventually cracked apart thanks to a combination of thermal contraction and tectonic stress. What you're seeing today are the fractured remains of those slow, powerful forces—sharply defined, puzzle-like breaks slicing through the bedrock along the creek.
The stream itself works these fractures like a sculptor, smoothing some edges, deepening the lines. Freeze-thaw cycles crack the rocks a little more every winter. Roots wedge themselves into tiny crevices and grow until the stone splits apart like a busted sidewalk. Eventually, whole slabs fall away, reshaping the landscape inch by inch, year by year.
Photographing here is an effort. You will work for every view. Gear gets jostled. Your pack somehow gains weight as you travel further upstream. Feet find awkward footing, and knees get tested. At some point you may even start having a long conversation with yourself about life choices. But if you’re persistent, if you push past the inconveniences, you’re rewarded.
There are spots where you’ll find water flowing in tight ribbons over blocky granite shelves, making a beautiful blur if you’re patient with your shutter. You can find compositions where the ancient stone stands still and stoic while the stream continues its run. It’s a strange, beautiful paradox: images that are both rock-solid and full of movement at the same time.
Pickle Creek is a reminder that Missouri isn’t all rolling hills and gentle meadows. Sometimes it’s cracked stone, rugged, root-riddled, and stubbornly beautiful.