Kevin Andrew Lipscomb - PhotographyIndian River Park
Indian River Park is sliced into three sections by two cuts along its width. The first cut is S. Military Highway (U.S. Highway 13). North of this cut, there's a baseball field and an undeveloped lot. There's nothing interesting about that section, for my purposes. The second cut began as a railroad, but later became a Virginia Electric Power Company (VEPCO) right-of-way. The railroad is long gone, but the bed remains. You can still find railroad spikes along the bed if you are persistent. VEPCO installed two sets of power lines through this cut, one of which is a set of high-tension lines on power towers. The modern name for VEPCO is Dominion Virginia Power. The middle and south section of the park are densely wooded. The woods are the most interesting. No police officers patrol this part of the park. The Norfolk police don't patrol it, because it is not within the Norfolk city limits. The Chesapeake police don't patrol it, because it isn't considered to be part of Chesapeake. The only folks who really have custody over the wooded sections are hard-core dirt and mountain bikers. They've blaized dozens of trails through the park, and built several (dangerous) ramps. Undoubtedly, many people (mostly kids) have been hurt back there. Each time I visit I find that someone has hung the latest example of a broken or bent bicycle frame on a conspicuous tree branch.
I almost got hurt while riding my Cannondale mountain bike in there when I was 34. I was gaining speed on a straight, level trail when I noticed a ramp too late to avoid it. I can't jump a bike ramp worth a damn. Worse, to make these ramps, people dig a hole in the trail and use the spoils to form the ramp immediately prior to the hole. You're supposed to ride up the ramp and fly over the hole. If you jump short, you land in the hole. And if your front tire lands in the hole first, like mine did, you fly over your handlebars and break your fall with your head. I spent several seconds with a mouth full of dirt, wondering if I should even try to move, and if not, how long it would be before anyone might find me. After determining that I could still move my fingers and toes, I decided to get up and leave. I was fortunate to get away with a broken helmet, a strained neck, a perfectly-intact bike, and a new-found appreciation for (a) the fragility of middle age, (b) the stupidity of middle age, and (c) the quality of a Cannondale. I should ask a geologist about the park's formation. A tidal stream known as the Indian River (connected to the Elizabeth River) meanders through the park's length. Some of the stream's embankments are much higher than you'd expect, given the character of the land surrounding the park. If you were a frog climbing out of the stream and up the embankment at various places, you'd find that many of the embankments crest and then fall back to the level of the surrounding land. It's not like the grand canyon, where climbing an embankment gets you to a plateau. Maybe I'm seeing ancient ditch spoils, but some of these potential "spoil mounds" are host to the roots of some very large, very old trees -- as if the stream and embankments came first, the trees second, and the people last. Whatever their origin, the high embankments are great news for the bikers, who have blaized them into "technical" trails.
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