100 Things every Western New Yorker should do at least once - Eternal Flame at Chestnut Ridge

Natural beauty: At top, David Galaniec of North Buffalo and Desiree Wagner of Cheektowaga relax after navigating the path to the Eternal Flame and waterfall on Shale Creek. Above, hikers meander up the trail, which includes cliffs, ravines, stairs and some treacherous stretches. Photos by Sharon Cantillon/Buffalo News

By Mary Kunz Goldman | News Staff Reporter | @MaryKunzGoldman

It is Buffalo’s night light. It’s our candle in the wind. Night and day, at Chestnut Ridge Park, the Eternal Flame flickers. ¶ Fed by natural gas, the flame burns deep in the woods, at the bottom of a ravine, in a crevice of a waterfall in Shale Creek called the Eternal Flame Falls. Reaching it involves an eventful hike, which is why I had never seen it. Getting my feet wet, stumbling over slippery rocks – oh no, thank you. I don’t even own hiking boots. ¶ But where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Eventually I could not resist finding out what the fuss was about. ¶ With which, two of us drove to Orchard Park and, following the Internet’s advice, found our way to Seufert Road and parked on the shoulder. There is a parking lot not far away, connected to what we later heard was a shorter trail to the flame. That meant we took the long route. Well, why not? The November day was unseasonably warm. The sky was bright blue.

The woods were lovely, dark and deep, and we had promises to keep. The trail has virtually no signs. You kind of feel your way along. We proceeded purposefully, leaves crunching underfoot. The outside world quickly vanished. Sky-high, perfectly straight trees blotted out the sun.

It cast a shadow on the adventure that people have died here. You have to stick to the trail, particularly at the top of the ravine, Otherwise, cliffs creep up without warning, and you could tumble over. Guided by crushed leaves and worn steps, we made our way carefully along. Shale Creek lay far below us. Treetops sparkled overhead.
“There’s a little challenge, but it’s an easy challenge,” was how one hiker we met, Kohava Howard, put it. Howard, who lives in Williamsville, had brought along a friend from Israel and a big, well-coiffed poodle named Oreo. Good dog! If Oreo, with her curls, could carry this off, so could I.

Reaching the creek, I found that the heart of the challenge, but also the beauty of it, lay in calling into play skills I had not used since I was little. Trying not to fall off a log. Navigating wet stepping stones. Keeping my footing on a muddy, slick bank of shale. Making Tolkien-like choices: What rock could you trust? Which side of the stream was the better bet? What was the best way to approach that slick bank of shale?
Next time I’ll do better. I won’t carry a purse. I will carry a big stick, as did two other visitors, Desiree Wagner and David Gdaniec. Wagner said the stick helped her survive a particularly treacherous stretch.
“I would have been lost without this bad boy,” she laughed.

The nice thing is that once you’ve reached the creek, it’s pretty certain you won’t get hurt. So really, it’s just a game, the object of which is not to fall on your rear. Succeeding makes you feel like Magellan. Look, you want to proclaim. I conquered that slippery slope. I crossed that log.
I made it to the flame!
We were there before I knew it. Less than an hour after we set out, there it was – a trickling, tumbling column of waterfalls. And behind one of the waterfalls, that fire burned.

The Internet had said to bring a barbecue lighter just in case the flame had gone out. Obediently, I had stashed one in my purse. But this flame was just fine. It was three or four tiny flames, actually, dancing behind the babbling water.
What a curious sight! Oreo, the poodle, had reached the flame too. She and I stood together and marveled.
As did about a dozen other visitors, a diverse and appreciative group of humans and dogs. There was something sweet about the scene, about all of us here in the middle of a forest, basking in the sight of this little flame.
email: mkunz@buffnews.com