History and Mystery Combined

Egypt has the pyramids, Guatemala has its ancient Mayan ruins, and England has Stonehenge. Ohio has its own unique prehistorical culture - the earthworks of the "Moundbuilders."

Thousands of years ago, the Adena, Hopewell and Fort Ancient Indian tribes of Ohio built a number of different types of earthworks - conical mounds, platform mounds, and ridges or other shapes - that were used for burial or ceremonial reasons. A few of their sacred places remain in Ohio to this day.

Most mounds are named, often for the original family who owned the land the mound occupies. This one, along the Ohio River between Chilo and Neville in Clermont County, has two names.


I have always referred to this neglected mound as the Edgington Mound, because of this sign visible from Rt 52, which names it for the previous landowners.


However, when I stopped by to take some closer photos, I found this hidden plaque, naming the mound for Ruth Adomeit, a benefactress.


If Ruth's "generous donation" is being used to "make preservation possible," I think she needs to check the books. There is also a conflict on the age of this mound. the first sign indicates it is from the Adena culture (the earliest of the three periods) and this plaque says it represents the Fort Ancient period, the most recent.

Mounds are usually kept neat and are often marked with a simple sign courtesy of the Ohio Historical Society, as at Shrum Mound, in Columbus.

Everyone is always tempted to climb the earthworks.

Shrum Mound has a well-worn path.

Mounds can have whole parks and memorials built around them.


Seip Mound, on Rt 50 in Ross County, has interpretive signs that explain the function of the mound and markers delineating the remains of the surrounding houses.


A trail leading to the mound tempts hill-walkers, but the signs request you stay off the earthworks.


Frequently, a modern day cemetery has been built around an ancient mound, connecting the ages. This unnamed mound is in a cemetery in Newton, between Cincinnati and Batavia.


In other places, mounds are in public areas. In Marietta, the Quadranaou, a large, rectangular, plateau-like mound is part of a community park.


No one complains if you walk on the Quadranaou Mound, but climbing Conus Mound (not pictured), also in Marietta and the centerpiece of the Mound Cemetery, will get you a $500 fine.


The earthen ridges that made up the walled path leading from Quadranaou to the Muskingum River were removed, but the boulevard that took its place is still referred to as Sacra Via, the Sacred Way.


Believe it or not, this rough hillock in the Prairie Oaks Metropark in western Franklin County is a long-lost Indian mound, unnamed, unloved, and uncared-for.

The grandmother of all Ohio mounds is this one, Serpent Mound, off the Brush Creek in Adams County.


Serpent Mound is "the largest and finest serpent effigy in the United States." Nearly one quarter of a mile long, it represents an uncoiling snake. It was originally excavated in the late nineteenth century.


A very old image of Serpent Mound shows the coiled tail at one end. The oval shape at the other has been assumed to mean many things - the serpent swallowing an egg, the earth or the sun, among other interpretations.



The head of the Serpent is aligned with the summer solstice sunset, and other parts point to the winter solstice and equinox sunrises. A powerful place of mystery and worship, climbing on the earthworks at Serpent Mound is most strictly forbidden.

The Serpent Mound is best appreciated from above. Being severely acrophobic, I was only able to make it to the first level of the observation tower.


But, the view was worth the terror, to see the Serpent undulating before me

and in back of me.

Following the paved walking path, you can see the coils of the Serpent as it writhes its way across the land.

The Serpent's Head,

body,

and tail.

There are many more earthworks in central and southern Ohio, some well-known, and some hidden. I try to visit them as I travel about the state, and wonder at what lies beneath them and what prompted their makers to create these enduring mysteries.

The Bridge of Clermont County

April's recent comment reminded me that I haven't done a post about my home county recently. Here's a quickie on the last covered bridge in Clermont County. It is in Stonelick Township, in the northern part of the county.


I like covered bridges that are still functional. There are some old bridges in Ohio that are deemed unsafe for travel and many new ones that are purely decorative, but to see an old covered bridge that is still being used for its original purpose connects me to the past, and I just have to drive it.


The Stonelick bridge was built in 1878. It is 140 feet long, and uses 12 Howe trusses, crossed wooden members with vertical iron rods (a method which Howe patented in 1840) for support. It was placed on the National Register of Historical Places in 1974.

I like traveling across covered bridges, but I must say that the Stonelick Bridge is the most unfriendly covered bridge I have ever visited. These bridges are inherently tricky to drive, since they are usually one-lane wide and seem to always have limited line of sight. This bridge's neighbors must be tired of tourists gumming up the works, since the road on either side of the bridge is marked with barricades and signs saying "No Parking," "No Trespassing" and "Bridge Under Video Surveillance."


Call the Department of Homeland Security. KatDoc parked illegally to take these bridge photos.

A Girl's Grave

It is a quiet niche along a hectic highway. Hundreds, probably thousands, of people drive past every day without noticing it. Truckers and travelers, carpoolers and commuters, maybe even you, zip by on this busy road at 55 or 60mph, never realizing that it exists, never dreaming of the tale that I am about to tell you.

It is the grave of Diana Whitney, a member of a wagon train headed west, who died of cholera July 23, 1823 and who was buried here along the trail. She is the only person known to have been buried in Ohio who was a member of a wagon train. There is a very old stone tablet marking her grave, and more recently, the historical society added a monument telling her story.

The stone marker is simple: “In memory of Diana, Daughter of Lemuel & Sarah Whitney, who died July 23, 1823, aged 16 years.”

I stop by to visit now and then, when I remember, when I can find the time, when I’m not in too much of a hurry to get where I’m going. I stop to commune with Diana, and to wonder about her. She and her party traveled these same paths as the truckers and travelers, the carpoolers and commuters, but at such a different pace. With the wagons laden with equipment essential for a new life and precious few personal possessions, Diana and her companions probably spent a good part of the trip walking to save the beasts. I imagine she thought about their destination while she walked, making plans for her future in this strange new world. What were her dreams, her aspirations? Did she have a sweetheart? How did she feel about this journey that took her from her home to a lonely grave so far away?

Others must think about her, too. People bring her flowers and talismans; hearts, angels, smooth pebbles, stuffed animals and toys. People remember her, nearly two centuries after her death. Her grave site is neat and well cared for. Litter is not allowed to accumulate around her. Flowers are replaced as they fade, gifts are left, and the little spot is never defaced.

I find it fascinating that these personal tributes keep appearing . Why do we care so much about someone so long gone? What draws us to Diana and her tale?

Perhaps the answer is on the historical marker, which reads in part:

“Diana Whitney, sleeping where the morning sun paints with strange scarlets and magic golds the surface of the river was 16 years old on that summer’s day long ago. In a later summer, this tablet was placed … to remind those who pause to read of a humble sacrifice woven into our country’s greatness.”

Sleep well, Diana.

Roads Go Ever Ever On

It's just a country road, one of hundreds, thousands really, throughout the state. It winds through southwestern Ohio almost unnoticed, past farms and houses, and fields of hay, corn, soybeans, cattle, sheep, and horses. It meanders through tiny towns, some of which exist only as names on a sign or in some distant memory. It slices through Clermont County, from Rural in the south to Edenton in the north. It's just a country road that I travel daily as I commute to work or play or shopping. It's just another country road.

Or is it? In truth, State Route 133 in Ohio is the modern day incarnation of what was once a major thoroughfare for travel, commerce, war, and escape from tyranny. Really? Yes, really.


Centuries ago, the Bullskin Trace was a major migration route for Shawnee Indians, which they used to travel from the Ohio River to what is now Detroit. It went through their primary settlement Old Chillicothe, now Oldtown, in Xenia, Ohio. It was renamed the Xenia State Road when it became the first road recognized by the new State of Ohio in 1807. It was used by the army of General "Mad Anthony" Wayne in 1793 and to supply Admiral Perry's fleet on Lake Erie during the War of 1812. It was one of the routes followed by escaped slaves seeking freedom along the Underground Railroad.

And, on this date, June 17, 1778, Daniel Boone ran through Clermont County, from north to south in one day along the Bullskin trail, fleeing the Shawnee. This house was standing by the road that day, as it is today, 229 years later.

This stone monument stands at the end of the Bullskin Trace in Clermont County, as it leaves SR 133 and heads towards modern day SR 68 and so goes north through Yellow Springs and Xenia, and on to Toledo and finally Detroit, changing its name and number, but retaining its rich history.

As I drive this road, I like to think about those ancient travelers who followed the same path I do now, and wonder what their ghosts think of the changes their ancestors have made. What can they tell me? What might your road tell you, if only you could listen?