I often avoid extensive research before first-time visits to parks and nature preserves, for the same reason that I don’t read reviews prior to going to the movies: I like to be surprised 

As in life, there are good surprises and bad ones, so when our small group encountered a broken sign marking a nondescript trailhead that departed from a muddy parking lot, I was prepared for a less-than-inspiring outing.

This foreboding was reinforced as the five of us trudged up a steep slope on a narrow path obstructed by fallen trees, when the sound of traffic on nearby Route 207 continued to mingle with occasional bird calls.

But after the terrain leveled off in a quarter mile or so, the babble of rushing water drowned out the rumble of cars and trucks.

The trail then dipped into a deep gorge, through which flowed a tumbling torrent. Over the years, this stream had carved into solid rock a 25-foot-wide semicircular pool, which was framed by a canopy of towering hemlocks. A few yards away, sparkling droplets of crystal clear water cascaded down a sheer, moss-covered wall.

We stopped to catch our breath — not winded by the climb, but enthralled by the stunning beauty that suddenly surrounded us.

“Looks like a setting from ‘Lord of the Rings,’” I said.

Bailey’s Ravine at Ayers Gap in Franklin had certainly lived up to its reputation as a five-star hike. The 80-acre preserve, owned by The Nature Conservancy, perfectly fulfills the requirements we coronavirus hikers have abided by during the pandemic: Tramping only on public but sparsely used trails leading to sylvan sanctuaries, all within a half-hour or so drive from New London.

Our mission has been to avoid crowds that in recent weeks have forced some parks to close.

No such concerns arose during our visit to the Ayers Gap Preserve — we encountered only about a half-dozen other hikers and had no problem maintaining social distancing.

The gap is named for John Ayer, a trapper who reportedly was the first non-Native American to settle in Franklin in 1663. Ayer’s descendants still own farmland contiguous to the preserve, which The Nature Conservancy purchased from Felice Marnicki in 1988.

According to local historian Marjorie Robbins, Ayer, of Haverhill, Mass., purchased some 300 acres from the Mohegan tribe — “as much, according to legend, as he could walk around in a day,” she wrote on the town of Franklin website.

“His was the first permanent settlement in the area and this land has never been out of the Ayer name, having been passed in direct male descent from father to son for ten generations. Two more generations are in waiting,” Robbins added. She reported that Ayer’s cabin stood near a rock with a plaque that today bears his name.

The gap is bisected by Bailey Brook. If you dropped a twig into Bailey’s swift current, it could eventually be carried to Beaver Brook, then the Shetucket River, then the Thames River, and finally Long Island Sound. So much of eastern Connecticut is connected by water.

This abundant resource has helped promote the growth of a wide variety of native plants, including mountain spleenwort, a small fern that is found in only five other locations in Connecticut.

Soon into our hike, we came upon one of springtime’s most distinctive wildflowers, the lady slipper. 

“Look!” exclaimed Maggie Jones, director emeritus of the Denison Pequotsepos Nature Center in Mystic, as she crouched to examine the bulbous pink blossom. The lady slipper, a wild orchid, has a unique trait that facilitates reproduction, she explained.

Attracted by the flower’s color and fragrance, a bumblebee lands on a lady slipper’s pouch-like blossom.

Then, “The doors close behind him … and the only way out is through this little hole,” Maggie said, using a stick to point to the opening. When the bee squeezes through, its hairs become smeared with pollinium, a sticky mass of pollen grains. Then when the bee flies off and repeats this process with another lady slipper, the pollinium is spread and eventually creates a seed pod in late summer, she noted.

Back at the natural pool, water striders, sometimes called Jesus bugs because of their ability to walk on water, created tiny ripples.

The insects use these ripples to communicate with other water striders, particularly during breeding season, Maggie said.

I guess if you’re a long-legged bug with hydrofuge hairpiles and retractable preapical claws, you’ve got to do something to attract a mate.

After watching the water striders skitter around for a while, we continued hiking through the half-mile-long ravine, formed by a metamorphic rock called Scotland schist.

The ravine contains two waterfalls, both accessible via a well-marked trail.

The trailhead is located on Route 207, about a mile and a half east of the Route 32 intersection. The parking lot is on the north side of the road.

It takes a couple hours to hike through the entire preserve at a moderate pace, but I’d encourage visitors to linger at the mesmerizing waterfalls and pools.

If you have a favorite hike in the region, please leave an online comment on this column or send an email to s.fagin@theday.com. Many thanks to Becky Noreen for suggesting Ayers Gap; and apologies for initially doubting her recommendation.

In the meantime, stay safe everybody, stay active, and please hike responsibly.