MIDDLEBROOK, MO. • Scaling Johnson's Shut-Ins is a lot like hitching up a pair of too-tight pantyhose — you just can't do it gracefully. That was one revelation I had as I hoisted myself, walrus style, atop a lump of prehistoric rhyolite. The other thought I had: I could die here.

This was my first time at Johnson's Shut-Ins since the breach of the Taum Sauk reservoir in 2005. Some 1.3 billion — that's billion with a "b" — gallons of water gushed down Proffit Mountain, destroying the popular state park. Sometime during the five years it took to restore the landscape and build new facilities, I had turned into a wimp. As a teenager, I admired the park's secluded beauty and natural thrill rides. The shut-ins are still one of Missouri's greatest natural gems, but as a mom, I could only see a maze of death. Throughout the day, I reflexively thrust out my arms to catch my children, the children of strangers and, in one embarrassing instance, a grown man who had forgotten to wear water shoes. My water shoes are, without question, the most hideous item in my closet, but I'd rather share a sleeping bag with a Missouri rattler than go barefoot in the shut-ins. If you forget to pack them, water shoes are available for purchase on site.

I winced as I overheard remarks like "I hope that doesn't scar," "Beware of the hidden rock" and "Sorry I just slid into your butt." And I held my breath as I watched fools climb past the "No Cliff Diving" signs to, you guessed it, cliff dive. One of those fools was my husband; another was my son.

"You weren't supposed to see that," my husband said sheepishly.

"I wish I hadn't," I answered.

So why is it that I can't wait to get back to Johnson's Shut-Ins State Park? Because the shut-ins are a lot more than the slippery rocks and dangerous drop-offs. The new amenities and great hiking make the park a terrific getaway for backwoods adventurers as well as folks like me who like their nature comfortable, convenient and E. coli-free.

A NEW PARK

Other than the actual shut-ins, barely altered by the breach, nothing about Johnson's Shut-Ins appears the same. Dozens of car-size boulders, each one individually scrubbed of the muck turned up by the breach, are scattered across the park's entrance. A beautiful stone visitors center offers exhibits exploring shut-ins history, the local habitat (who knew feral pigs were destroying the glades?) and the breach's lasting impact on the landscape.

Most significantly, the campgrounds have moved about a mile away from the shut-ins' entrance to Goggins Mountain. The Department of Natural Resources wanted to give the park's glades and trees time to heal from the breach. Campers also told officials they were wary of pitching tents in the path of another breach. The omnipresent "Evacuation Route" signs prove that another breach, however unlikely, is never far from the minds of park visitors and employees.

"We are the only state park where the campground is away from the day-use sight," said Superintendent Jeff Ayers. "There are challenges that come with that, but surveys showed that this is what people wanted."

The new facilities range from primitive walk-in campsites at $13 per night to roomy camper cabins with electricity, heating and air conditioning for $75 per night with a two-night minimum stay. Worth the extra $62? Absolutely. Each of the six two-room cabins has a queen bed in one room and a dining set and fold-out futon in the other. No water is available, but each cabin comes with a compact fridge, a microwave, a coffee maker and a guest book where visitors wax poetic about the air conditioning's efficiency. We brought our own pillows, sheets, towels and plenty of paper plates. Outside was a picnic table, a campfire grill and pedestal grill, where my husband made burgers while the kids and I played cards on the covered porch. Soon, the porch became my vacation headquarters, a place to enjoy a beer with my husband and read a book in peace. Was it better than the three double-marshmallow s'mores I ate? Well, let's not get ridiculous.

The cabins are staggered about 30 yards apart, offering a fair amount of privacy, and we only encountered other visitors on the trail to the showerhouse, some 90 yards away. I hear the word 'showerhouse" and think mildew, but the cabins here are served by three large, private bathrooms with flush toilets and three individual showers. The facilities were clean, though the soap dispensers were empty during our two-day stay and the toilet paper ran out one morning. Who did they take us for? Campers?

The expansive campgrounds also feature a well-stocked camp store where you can pick up Manwich ($3.49) or a gemstone bracelet ($15), wash your clothes and check your e-mail. Kids can play on the playground or learn how to build their own volcano or identify animal tracks at naturalist-led programs at the amphitheater. Held daily during the summer, programs are tentatively scheduled this fall for 7 p.m. Saturday evenings.

Staying at the campgrounds also comes with another invaluable benefit — the right to jump to the front of the line when entering the shut-ins. The park draws 6,000 visitors during busy weekends and not all of them can park in the nearby 100-space lot. Daytrippers either have to wait for a spot or park a mile or so away from the river. Campers, however, are guaranteed a nearby spot, which could come in handy in case, you know, you're limping back to your car.

HIKING HEAVEN

No one — definitely not the Ameren execs who had to pay $180 million to the state or former superintendent Jerry Toops who miraculously survived the Dec. 14, 2005, disaster — would call the breach a blessing. But it did unearth a fascinating geologic find. The force of the water stripped away years of trees and soil, offering a rare, up-close look at a billion years of natural history.

"We are getting calls from geologists all over who want to see this," Ayers said. "It is a completely unique opportunity."

During our walk, we saw fossils, pitted rocks once filled with sandstone, creeks and the enormous rebuilt reservoir. Other park trails include the 10-mile Goggins Mountain Equestrian Trail and the short Horseshoe Glade Trail. Hikers may borrow for free from the visitors center for the length of their stay naturalist backpacks loaded with field guides, magnifying glasses, butterfly nets, tree samples, a glass-catching jar and a stethoscope.

"It sounds weird, but this is for listening to the trees to hear if there are any bugs inside," said naturalist Lauren Oppermann of the stethoscope. "People ask us if they could buy the backpacks, but there is so much stuff in there it would probably be too expensive."

Don't skip Elephant Rocks State Park, just 13 miles away in Ironton. We stopped at the park for a picnic lunch and two-hour hike up, down and around the big pink boulders. We took the paved Braille Trail, perfect for folks with disabilities or strollers, to the Maze Trail where even I played on the rocks. Eventually we found our way to the top where the chain of enormous rocks, i.e. the elephants, march across the outcropping. The view of the St. Francois mountains is among my favorite in the state. The kids started whining, begging to get to the "water slides" at Johnson's Shut-Ins. "OK," I said. "But one day you're going to appreciate Missouri's natural beauty ... and solid ground."