Palisades- the Green Oasis

Palisades- The Green Oasis

An oasis lies in the eastern part of Iowa, an oasis in a desert of cornfields. A vast swath of land covered in trees and vegetation with rolling hills that steepen and give way to a river that runs through it. The Cedar River’s east bank gently slopes down to the water where Palisades-Kepler Park is dotted with signs that read “danger, strong currents” alongside picnic benches and grills. The opposite shore is a cut bank of steep limestone cliffs that has been formed as the water slowly churns against the river bend. But, it’s the abundance of trees that catches the eyes of visitors during summer- a massive green fog of foliage.

The Cedar River's eastern shore within the Palisades Park.

What prevented the cornfields from invading this slice of paradise? The Palisades-Kepler Park originally started out as an Inn and rest stop during the 1890’s. James Sherman Minott built the Inn and later sold lots for summer cottage homes. During its earliest years, the population of Palisades was around 200 who also enjoyed a local grocery store and boat launch.

During the late 1920’s, the State Board of Conservation set out on a mission to preserve the area. By the 1940's, the Board would add over 700 acres to the park. In 1934, the parks recreational facilities were constructed from a Civilian Construction Corps. With nothing but a barracks to start with, the corps would eventually add the roads, trails and lodges that still exist today. Though the construction was effectively terminated, the land remains a park for all to enjoy.

My first visit to Palisades began with the study of rocks up close and out in the field, rather than dusty rocks stored on shelves on Cornell’s campus. Something took hold of me that day. It was the first day I fell in love with those clumped aggregates of minerals. How could things so seemingly mundane in life possible interest me? But I learned to love the limestone that covers much of the park and the petrified wood lost in the banks of the Cedar River. My curiosity about formation and prehistoric times was piqued. I would remember this place and come back to it.

Four-hundred and twenty-five million years ago there was no corn in Iowa. There were neither forests nor prairies; there wasn’t even land! At this time, eastern Iowa and much of the Midwest was actually underneath a shallow tropic sea. Picture the Bahamas, that was Iowa 425 million years ago. But instead of scuba divers and tourists, these waters were filled with small planktonic creatures with skeletons made up of calcium. When these creatures died, their shells and skeletons sank to the bottom of the ocean floor where they were compacted and cemented over many millions of years, forming sedimentary rock layers such as limestone and dolomite. When we walk along the bank of the Cedar River and look at the cliffs on the opposite side, we are looking into the past. Within those cliffs are fossils of ancient gastropods, corals and trilobites.

The limestone and dolomite "Palisades" on the opposite shore.

Many millions of years later during the Quaternary period, after the seas of the Midwest vanished and there was land to walk on; glaciers covered the area. Palisades rests in a hilly area of Iowa which did not undergo hundreds and thousands of years of glacial grinding and flattening. Instead, as wind blew over the miles high surface top of the glaciers, it carried with it sediment that the glacier ground up. Miles away in eastern Iowa, the winds blew low into an area without glaciers and deposited the dust and sand as rolling hills.

If wood decomposes anaerobically- without oxygen- there is a chance that it will petrify.
This most often happens when a tree or branch is buried under sediment.
As mineral rich water flows through the piece of wood, it may leave behind little deposits
of minerals inside where wood cells used to be.
photo is from nps.gov

A visit to the Palisades during the winter yields a much different experience than during the fall or spring. The trails are covered in snow and ice, and only the bravest dare to venture out. During my sophomore year at Cornell, I visited the park with some friends. The park was all ours; the only other people there were staying in a cabin. There was a faint wind blowing through the air, but it still chilled our ears to bright red crisps. Crunching snow gave way to slippery ice, and we tumbled down the hills. Moving from tree to tree, grasping branches, we eventually reached the river. It was absurdly cold that year; an ice sheet had formed over much of the water, and we could walk almost halfway out. It was only a little after six in the afternoon, but it was dark. We navigated our way through the snowy landscape using the moon, illuminating the snow as a massive white glow. We trekked along the riverside for an hour until we decided to go home; a friend was getting frost bite.

A wide section of the Cedar River.

My friends and I are not the only ones to enjoy the Park’s natural treasure. During my most recent visit, when the sun-starved maples of an autumn Palisades slowly withered, I watched children run up and down the riverbank playing some blend of hide and seek-tag game. As most hid themselves behind auburn bushes, one sneaky and devilish boy -the ‘it’- crept, invisible, fox like into their midst. Until all at once he threw up his arms and shouted; scattering the rest of the screaming children as if the boogieman himself suddenly phased into being. The children ran away blissfully frantic. Farther up the river were an old man and his dog. He would cast a stick far down the beach and his golden retriever would pursue. During one toss, the stick landed by a flock of geese, and the golden retriever decided the birds were more fun to chase than his stick! At first the older man shouted after his dog, but then stopped and laughed as his dog was chased instead. A flock of angry mother geese is a force to be reckoned with.

People come to the Palisades because they need to get away from their world, be it behind a desk in office or school, wading through the vast cornfield expanse that makes up much of this state, or their small town life. People need some sense of the natural world, and as we drive through Iowa we sometimes forget that it used to be prairies and forests that made up the state’s landscape.