Most of us who love the outdoors spend a good deal of armchair time longing for places we have never been: the wilds of Alaska, Glacier National Park, a visit to Phantom Ranch on the floor of the Grand Canyon, a deep dive with huge manta rays and sharks in the southern Caribbean, a long, carefree backpacking trip on the Appalachian Trail. I have friends who would give almost anything to see the New England in the fall or fish for silver salmon in Prince William Sound in Alaska.

As it turns out, I have been fortunate enough to have done all these things, but I understand the longing. In fact, I still have such longings of my own. I now know, however, that there are destinations closer to home that offer their own rewards to those who love nature and covet its healing, redemptive powers. The Chattahoochee River Valley is a cornucopia of nature’s bounty for those who know where to look. While it is true that nowhere in the Valley will you find the spectacular scenes offered by Alaska or the Grand Canyon, for those who are willing to scale down their expectations from the spectacular to the sublime, the back roads and back waters of the Valley and adjacent region offer more than ample rewards. Small really is beautiful. In time, if we are careful and worthy, nature’s imprints will coalesce into a pattern of surprising beauty, and the healing power of nature will emerge.

But you have to get out of the armchair, turn off the TV, put down the book and go.

You also have to leave behind that other you, the adult you, and let the boy or girl reemerge from wherever you keep them when you are dealing with the affairs of the world. Indeed, shedding the facade we have all created to get us through our daily lives in one of the rewards of the wilderness experience. Who knows, somewhere on the trail of nature’s bounty in the Valley you may rediscover your real, healthier and happier self. I have had it happen to me and seen it happen to others. A deep enough experience of nature is literally life-changing and the height of the mountains or the size of the lakes have little to do with it. The change takes place within us, not “out there.” There are cathedrals in the woods around us, but we first have to be open to their presence within us or we will never see them.

In early 2001, Mike Haskey and I did a series in the Ledger-Enquirer on the special places in the Chattahoochee River Valley. Our purpose was not to produce a travelogue but simply to record what in the natural world has survived the 14,000 years the Valley has been occupied by human beings. We wanted to give the reader a better idea of where we all live. For more than a month we rambled at will from the backwaters above Columbus to Lake Seminole, traveling dirt roads and ravine creeks and the old Chattahoochee itself. Everywhere we turned we found a small, quiet beauty and the peace that only comes from immersion in wildness. Mike produced a collection of color photographs that constitutes a visual map of the natural wonders of the Valley. I thought then and I think now that his work deserved a place to be permanently displayed so that people of the Valley could experience the full scope of the natural wonders around us.

Journeys worth taking are always in some ways journeys into self, and I suppose that in trying to learn more about the Valley, Mike and I were also trying to learn more about ourselves. Why are we here? And where exactly is here? Mike is from upper Michigan, but since 1987, when he made Columbus his adopted home, he has steadily applied himself to learning everything he can about Columbus and its environs. The effort shows in his photographs, which constitute a true tapestry of the wonders of nature around us.

It has always seemed to me that history and place are inextricably joined. We cannot really know who we are until we know the history of the place that has produced us; and we cannot really know that place until it has, in some manner, become a part of us. Farmers and hunters and fishermen born on the land that nurtures them have a head start in this quest. The rest of us have to make an effort to learn. How can we live an intelligent life, much less a truly moral one, if we don’t know our history or even where we are? How can we be responsible stewards of the land we live on if we know nothing of place?

To rediscover the natural world of the Valley is to rediscover something of the collective experience of who we are and where we have been. Alas, there are no maps for this journey. Take any road that leads away from your door and stick to it until the countryside around you changes from gray to green. Although you may be miles from your house, the greener your surroundings, the closer you are to home.

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