NATURE: The Woods Walkers

The skies were grey as the last day of winter dawned last week at Cumberland, Md., western terminus of the long abandoned Chesapeake & Ohio Canal. Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, a nature lover who fully expects nature to fight back, was well armored (in Levis, green wool shirt, high-cut boots, poplin jacket, two cameras and a musette bag), and he looked pleased. At 8:30, while fivescore curious Marylanders watched, he stepped briskly away from an old stone lockhouse and down the wilderness bordered canal bank toward Washington, 189 miles away.

Behind him straggled a collection of other hikers, both natural and synthetic, such as had seldom been seen together since the invention of the safety bicycle put an end to the Sunday trillium hunt. Editorial Writers Merlo Pusey and Robert Estabrook of the Washington Post (which advocates building a parkway along the canal) were almost lost in the throng. In the nine weeks since Justice Douglas (who wants the canal area left undefiled) challenged the Post editors to take the hike with him (TIME, Feb. I) and thus see the error of their ways, all sorts of volunteers had joined up for the expedition.

From Raisins to Baked Ham. By starting time, they numbered 37 in all—newsmen, photographers, a radio broadcaster (who made tape recordings of birdcalls and water sounds along the way) and newsreel cameramen, as well as bird watchers and nature lovers of every hue and stripe. The Justice, an oldtime Western mountain climber, set a brisk pace. Despite wet brush and the fact that the old canal path was washed out in sections, the motley group seemed to enjoy itself.

Irston Barnes, president of the Audubon Society of Washington, spied two Brewer's blackbirds, a species usually found in the West. A veteran hiker passed out information about how to survive on sumac berries and roots. Another hiker urged his fellows to try living on parched corn alone, as the Indians did while on the trail, and another passed out a homemade, trail-ration bar made of dates, raisins and coconut. At mile 16, 20 of the weary dropped out (among them Editorial Writer Pusey, who had grown a blister) and took cars to a hunting lodge named the Cardinal Club. But the Justice and 16 hardy souls made the last six miles on foot. They covered 22 long miles before they sat down before the club's roaring fireplace for a dinner of roast ham and baked beans.

Amid Bats & Frogs. Only 28 woods walkers set forth the next morning; it was snowing, and the thermometer stood in the 303. At one point, the party had to feel its way through an echoing, three-quarter-mile, bat-hung tunnel with water dripping down its collective neck. At another point, they felt their way along the face of a rock wall, stepping on a 6-in. plank held in place by ancient iron spikes. But eventually the sun came out. Robins flew up from the sycamore branches; the call of the titmouse came clearly from nearby fields. Spice bushes were in bud, and peeping frogs sang in the bog water of the old canal.