Carolina in the Fall

Beautiful Road

I am going to live near Asheville someday.  That's a promise.  The leaves, the mountains, the trails, the town, the vivacity.  All of it is just splendid.  For now though, that box on my bucket list remains unchecked and I am content to settle for a micro-vacation.  I am now a big girl wearing big girl pants and holding down my very own job.  Since disposing of my college-student diapers and pulling on my newly acclaimed "full time intern" title, I have learned a few things.  One of the most eye opening was that with a lack of school breaks comes an interesting situation.  While I can no longer weigh the odds of an 8:00 a.m. Friday quiz and determine if its worth it to bail on class in favor of an impromptu trip, I also now do not need to plan my holidays around particular times of the year.  Never before has October held the same travel prospects as June.  In my new situation of life, work is year round, and the silver lining is that I get to pick and choose when to travel.

The "view" on our trip to Mount Mitchell

And so we went.  The plan was to incorporate three little hikes, one big bike ride, and several visits downtown into our long weekend.  Mount Mitchell was the first on our list.  As the tallest peak east of the Mississippi, the mountain had a sort of appeal to it from the get-go and we wanted to do it the "right" way.  By the "right way" I mean that we wanted to slog up the six mile trail-turned-stream in a light, chilly drizzle in order to be jolted out of our solitude when we reached the very much human modified summit.  Either way, I'm glad that we did.  The summit isn't much to boast about when you park a mere 2 tenths of a mile from the highest point, but having hiked our way there was rewarding.  The views were even less than less than stellar (read: giant white cloud encompassing the peak), but the trail itself was nice enough.


On day two, we proceeded to the shortest hike on our list - a little half-mile jaunt up to the top of Max Patch Mountain.  Casey's knees were hurting and so we slowly meandered up the little path. Sore knees are no fun so I certainly sympathized.  Of course, secretly I was just a teensy bit excited that for the first time in the history of ever, I had finished a hike with more oomph in me than Casey.  [note to Casey - when you read this, don't hate me!]  In all truth though, I'm so glad that by the end of day two, he was feeling much better.  We took some photos on Max Patch (a must do if beautiful views and short little hikes are your thing).

Max Patch Mountain

Timer photo of Casey and I on Max Patch

A sea of clouds at Max Patch

My little tripod

More of Casey and I at Max Patch

View from Looking Glass Rock

Day three was the day for Looking Glass Rock.  The blue skies had stuck with us from the day before and the trail was nicely marked and quite enjoyable.  Unfortunately for us, it seemed that every other human in the vicinity had also decided that a beautiful Saturday in the fall would be the perfect day to hike this peak, and so we were far from alone in our ascent.  Despite the notable lack of isolation, the hike was quite nice and I was able to oogle over a menagerie of dogs who were also on the mountain
with their human companions.

Day four brought a goodbye to the Asheville area, the Virginia Creeper Trail, and my very first sighting of a bear in the wild. After the one hour shuttle ride from Abingdon, VA to White Top, we began the 34 mile descent back to where we started.  The beginning was flawless.  Almost entirely downhill, the trail was the perfect grade to keep you moving at a brisk pace, quick enough to feel the

Pumpkins in a field off of the Creeper Trail

breeze and enjoy the ride, but not so quick that any braking was needed.  As I rolled down the hill, taking in the autumn colors around me, I heard a yell from behind.  Hitting the brakes and turning to look, there was Casey, standing beside his bike looking less than thrilled.  The bike had blown a tire and we were 6 miles from the nearest town.  Still not having fully escaped the clutches of the twenty-something invincibility mentality, we were thoroughly unprepared for the turn of events.  And so, bikes in tow, we began to trudge down the hill on foot.  All in all, I shouldn't complain because the day was as perfect as one might expect and 6 miles was far from an impossible walk, but it was certainly an unappreciated change in plans.  The mountainside suddenly felt a bit less glamorous in its autumn splendor and neither of us were enjoying the predicament.  After what couldn't have been more than a half mile, we met our trail angels of the day.  The rode up from behind us and commented about our tire.  Before I realized what was happening, they pulled to the side of the trail, taken Casey's bike, flipped it upside down, and started to assess the situation.

The Creeper Trail

The rubber liner that protects the tube from the spokes had snapped, causing the tube to be punctured in several places.  With the kindness of the two men, a new tube that they were generous enough to give us, and some medical tape from my first aid kit, we jerry-rigged a liner and put the bike back together.  With the new tube and patching, the bike held its air until we were able to reach Damascus and get to a true repair sh
op.  Next time I plan to bike prepared and I hope that I can someday be a trail angel to someone else who needs a hand.

An old barn beside the Creeper Trail

Devil's Marbleyard

Sometimes I find reason to believe that God has a twisted sense of humor.  Not that I'm particularly religious, but occassionally I stumble into one of those moments that makes me cock my head and wonder how coincidental a coincidence really is.  Like those moments when I've been thinking about how I really ought to call so-and-so who I haven't talked to in three months, and the next thing I know, my phone is singing its little tune and guess whose name is on the screen?  Or that moment when I'm beginning my climb up the Devil's Marbleyard while laughing off my sister who keeps fretting about the whole pile of rocks coming tumbling down, when lo-and-behold, I hear a rumble and look up in time to see a refrigerator sized boulder tumbling down the mountain right towards me.  Maybe God was trying to tell me that I can scoff all I want, but at the end of the day it's not up to me whether the marbleyard remains nothing but stationary rock.

At the same time that I was frozen in a bit of a mental quandry about whether the sight that I was viewing was actually happening, Jenny heard the rumble and without looking up, determined that the entire marbleyard was in fact falling, concluded that we were all soon to be as flat as Stanley, and began to cry.  All this, I assume, while moving as fast as a cat from a bath, because by the time that I took my eyes off of the falling boulder, she was already at the far side of the marbleyard.

I had somewhat cajoled and prodded my sister and brother-in-law into hiking this hike with me.  At exactly one week, our vacation wasn't quite long enough to get them on board with the hour and a half drive from the vacation home to the trailhead, when this was the longest period of time in two months that they would be able to remain contently in one spot amidst their "post-military" family visiting.  Nevertheless, I pulled the sad little sister card, and the next day, she, Justin, my dad, and I were all piled into the car.  I promised them that it would be awesome.

And, as it played out, it was quite awesome to watch a 5,000 pound rock roll down a mountainside, not 100 feet away.  I only wished that we had not been at the bottom of the mountain.

Almost four years ago, I climbed the marbleyard for the very first time with some new college friends.  My mouth has a habit of moving faster than my head and even when I do manage to rein in my word vomit, my head isn't always on the socially-aware wavelength.  And so, when I commented while standing atop a big round faced rock forming the top of a little cave about the prospect of it falling that "it doesn't matter if you're on top or on bottom, you're screwed either way," I might have asked for the laughing that followed.  Now four years later, my comment seemed to have taken on the meaning with which it was uttered.

Before the boulder began to fall, I had complained about the family following me up the rock scramble like a parade of ants, and so I had separated myself a bit from the group.  Looking at the marbleyard, I was towards the left of the field about a third of the way up the first climb and my family was slightly towards the right of the field about the same distance up.  The tumbling boulder began it's motion about 100 feet up from us (almost at the first plateau) and just slightly to my left.  It didn't take long for me to decide that it might be wise for me to move, lest the boulder continue do the same in my direction.  Unfortunately, to anyone who has ever been to the boulder field, you will understand that the rocks make for a very nice largescale replica of a plinko board.  The boulder was the ball, and I was meant to place my bets on where I suspected that the ball would not land.  I decided to hedge my bets and try to get off of the field completely.

I hopped as nimbly as I've ever hopped from one rock to the next, hoping that the rocks under my feet would remain firmly rooted in place.  Luckily for me, they did, and by the time I made it safely to where the rest of the party was convened at the side of the yard and was able to look up, the boulder had stopped moving.  My dad said that it fell about 15 feet until it came to rest among the other boulders.  When I looked back in that direction, it was not apparent that anything at all had happened.  

Jenny was in tears ("I thought we all were dead... especially Annie!"), Justin was attempting to console her, my dad was speechless, and I was trying to decide if the definite lack of any emotion that I had felt during the entire incident was a good thing or a bad thing.  The unspoken understanding was that we would not be continuing our climb.  Jenny was able to compose herself and we turned to begin our walk back.

"Maybe we can do a different hike," I heard myself say.
"I just want to go pick peaches," said Jenny.  And so we did.  And with those peaches, I made a delicious peach and blueberry pie.  Even if I did forget to bake the crust.

The conclusion:

When life gives you falling rocks, move as fast as you can back to the safety of your kitchen and make pie.

----------------------------

In all seriousness, though, this situation could have been extremely dangerous.  Has anyone else experienced a rock fall at the marbleyard?  I am hesitant to return.  I knew that it could happen of course, but after 6 or 7 visits, I had never so much as seen a small rock tumble.  Had anyone been in the path of that rock, they would have been undoubtedly dead.  Fortunately, family was the only group on the marbleyard that I could tell at that point.

The Cascades

I'm extremely late in posting this one.  As such, its intent is more to jog my memory than to be a detailed depiction of this hike with my family.  Several weeks ago, my family came to Blacksburg to visit and attend a concert in Galax, VA at the Blue Ridge Music Center.  Before making our jaunt down the Blue Ridge Parkway, I dragged my mom and dad around town.  One of our expeditions was a trip to the Cascades.  What can I say?  It's a "must do" and isn't too hard.  They just had to come.  It turns out that our trip coincided nicely with "National Get Outdoors Day" (who even knew there was such a thing?) and in an effort to assist in the effort, some kind soul had decided to make entrance to the park free for a day.  I certainly wasn't complaining.

It was a nice day, albeit the most crowded that I've ever seen the hike.  We saw three different garter snakes, bought lemonade from a local lemonade stand, watched a Labrador Retriever frolic merrily through the water, and spent awhile enjoying the buzz of the crowd at the falls.  Even more?  I got to share a part of Southwest Virginia that I know and love with some of my very favorite people.  A good day overall.

Mount LeConte, Clingman's Dome, and Cades Cove

I am so thrilled to say that I was finally able to visit Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  I recently came across a list of "20 Best Hikes in the National Parks." (see the list here).  Naturally, I had to take a look.  The photographs were awe-inspiring and made me feel like a complete noob - having hiked only 1.5 of the listed trails.  I say 1.5 because way back when, I went on a family vacation to Zion National Park and my family attempted to wrangle us three children up to the top of Angel's Landing.  My mother and I made it to the point at which we were meant to cling to cables as we ascended the rocky precipice.  We chose to sit on the little plateau and watch the chipmunks instead.  I now wonder what my current reaction to this hike would be and would love to try it again should I ever have the time and funds to fly myself back to Utah.

But it would seem that I've already gone on quite the tangent.  As it was, I read the list and decided that I needed to begin to make amends to the fact that I had only fully completed one of the listed hikes.  Mount LeConte was on the list and so I decided that a trip to Great Smoky Mountains National Park was in order.  Casey and I meant to go several weekends ago; however, when I awoke a few mornings before the trip with a bad cold, we decided that we may as well postpone.  It ended up working in our favor because we rescheduled for the end of the year.  We embarked shortly after each of us had finished our very last finals of our undergraduate career as a sort of salutation to the end of old times and the start of new beginnings.  It was made especially special when I received a job offer just before we left.  What a way to put worries behind.

Our site

Thyme-Leaved Bluets (my favorite flower)

The drive wasn't too awful and the weather, which was slated to be quite sketchy was actually quite kind to us after it first initiated us into the park.  We arrived just in time for the downpour.  As the rain fell in sheets, we attempted to hang the saving grace of our trip - a giant tarp.  I had bought the thing on a whim at Walmart, thinking that it might be useful to have a place to sit outside out of the rain.  While this was absolutely true, it also so happened that we managed to forget to bring the smaller tarp for underneath the tent, and so it worked that we were able to cover the entire tent area with the large tarp so that no rain drained near the base of the tent.  I quite appreciated not waking up in a puddle.

I have no doubt that exactly this would have happened had we not brought the big blue tarp, as it stormed through the night.  Casey and I talked until we fell asleep of the likelihood that a bolt of lightning would strike a nearby tree which would then fall and crush us in our sleep.  Fortunately, no such thing happened and we awoke in the morning to much better weather.

Alum Cave Trail to Mt. LeConte

The drive to the trailhead for the Alum Cave trail accessing Mt. LeConte wasn't bad from our camp at Elkmont and we began hiking at 10:50 AM with the goal of getting back to the car before the afternoon storms that were in the forecast.  Let me just say that the trail was perfect.  The greenery was astounding and much of the trail had turned into a sort of rocky stream from all of the rain (which was significantly better than the mud and muck that could have otherwise overwhelmed the trail).  My very favorite flowers were blooming all around the trail and we passed friendly fellow hikers on our way up.  

We made it to the lodge at the top in 2.5 hours at which point the thunder was beginning to roll in the distance.  From beyond the lodge, a wall of clouds appeared to be moving in.  We didn't stay long, nor did we hike to the "official" top (another .5 miles down the trail), but we did wander around the camp area for a few minutes.

clouds rolling in on Mt. LeConte

The Lodge and elevation

The thunder was a false alarm, it turned out, and we made it back down the trail in another 2 hours.  Because the weather was still holding out and our legs hadn't given out on us yet, we decided to make the drive over to Clingman's Dome.  I had been wanting to see it, but because it would have been an hour's drive from Elkmont for a 1 mile round-trip walk, we weren't sure that it would fit into the plans.  As it turned out, it worked perfectly.  The internet wasn't lying when it claimed that the paved path to Clingman's Dome was steep, despite it's short .5 mile distance.  I'd like to think that it was just because I had just hiked 10 miles, but I had to stop to catch my breath a few times.  The top was pretty interesting though.  We were presented with 360 degree views, including some of the mountain that we had just hiked.

The afternoon back at the campsite brought another rain shower, an attempt to cook pasta underneath the giant tarp to stay dry, a near miss when the propane leaked a bit and the flame shot a good foot and a half into the air, and a dinner of cold soup instead when we decided to trash the idea of warm pasta in favor of a less flammable alternative.  I am still unsure if my lack of prowess with my cook stove is my own fault (I do tend to be more than slightly air-headed at times) or if it is the fault of my 20 year old stove.  This is not the first time I have nearly blown myself up with that contraption.

The second night's worry was that a bear would find me and break into our tent while we were sleeping.  I had knowingly broken the cardinal rule of camping and snuck a "food product" into my tent with me.  After the hiking, my cough (which still hadn't fully dispersed from the week of the previous trip's cancellation) was back in full force.  For both of our benefits, I brought two cough drops into the tent - one for now and one for later.  This time, I fell asleep to thoughts of waking up beside a black bear scavenging for my lone cough drop.  No such thing happened, but I think I will forgo the cough drop in the future for a more peacefully minded sleep.

Biking to an old homestead on an offshoot from Cades Cove Loop

Again, the weather made a turn for the better in the morning.  By the time we awoke at 5:30 AM, the skies were clear, albeit still dark.  We packed up and drove to Cades Cove in time to take a leisurely bike ride around the loop before cars were allowed on the loop road.  We saw several turkeys and many more breathtaking beautiful mountain views.

Overall, this trip was not a disappointment.  The park was beautiful, the weather was as good as I could have hoped considering the forecast, and the hike and bike ride were both extremely rewarding.  We were even able to make a trip into the tourist trap that is Gatlinburg, TN.  I must say, for as touristy as it was, I had quite a ball window shopping and sitting in a nice air conditioned restaurant for a bit.  I will most certainly be back.

Views from Cades Cove

More Cades Cove views

Enjoying having the road to ourselves for a bit at least

Tinker Cliffs

Ice melts.  This is a key fact of life that should not be forgotten when hiking in the winter. Casey, Anthony, and I embarked on our trip to Tinker Cliffs as a part of our new attempt to hike every Friday.  The weather was slated to be a beautiful -  sunny and 50 degrees - that day, and we were ready to start our Spring Semester resolution.  With it being the very last semester of college (where has the time gone!?) and with me having finished up the first of my degrees and my minor last semester, I concluded that it was time to take it easy.  Casey had the same idea and so we ended up with Fridays off.  And thus it started - our resolution to hike.

Frolicking on an icy creek

So it was that yesterday we decided to hike Tinker Cliffs.  Casey and Anthony had each done this hike twice and I had done it once, but was excited to do it again.  We arrived at eleven and began hiking.  The layer of snow along the path suggested that we were the first travelers of the trail that day.  Before too long, we came upon the creek that runs across the trail.  The wooden bridge that used to be in place to facilitate stream crossing had been washed out and the "detour" trail was to take us upstream a ways to another bridge.  We wandered along the side of the semi-frozen creek and happened upon a location that appeared to be frozen solid before we reached the bridge.  Boys will be boys, I suppose, because Casey and Anthony couldn't resist pushing their limits and frolicking out onto the ice, despite the fact that the stream was very much unfrozen not too far downstream.  

Casey attempts to run on ice

"Whatever," I thought.  And then I realized.  My camera bag, was slung over Casey's shoulder and Casey was presently spinning in circles and sliding like a madman around on the ice.  I pictured the ice cracking, Casey slipping, my camera falling into the water, and life as I know it ceasing to exist.  I may have panicked slightly.  I realize now that I may have overreacted just slightly.

Once the camera was safely ashore on the opposite side of the stream, and the ice had been thoroughly tested, I wandered across and successfully made it to the other side.

vulture flying

The remainder of the hike was pleasant.  We saw a downy woodpecker, a couple of adorable vultures, and managed to stay on our feet.  The views, by the way, were incredible as always.  The way back was a struggle, not because of snow and ice, but because of the thick mud that made the trail slick and caked to our boots.  By the time we made it back to the stream, the ice cover on the stream, like on the trail, was significantly reduced.  I was not about to cross the stream again.  Although it would've made a good story to say that something interesting happened here, I am sad to say that I have no such interesting story.  Plus, I'm a bit tired of writing.  Casey and Anthony managed to successfully cross back over the ice, despite it starting to form crack lines.  I found the alternate bridge and life was good for me and my camera.

snowy Tinker Cliffs

us at the top

The Cascades

Semi-frozen Cascades

    The waterfall wasn't entirely frozen, but it was still a pretty incredible sight.  The Cascades is a fantastic w
aterfall and a 'must-do' for any Virginia Tech student.  As such, it was no surprise that even on this blistery day, it was quite crowded.  Fortunately, where there could have been ice, there was snow instead.  This meant that no wipeouts ensued while traversing the trail.  I've done this hike once before in the winter when the path was covered in a thick sheet of ice.  On that occasion, the views were comparable to those that we saw today, but the going was much slower.  Last time, I experienced a multi-person pileup, when my friend lost his footing while climbing up a set of ice-coated rock stairs and took the rest of us out on his way down.  This time we had no such excitement.  Regardless, it was a picture perfect day.
   My apologies for the photo quality yet again.  I brought my small camera again this time, only to find that I had left my memory card in my laptop.  I took these on Casey's cell phone, and although they turned out surprisingly 'okay,' they're still a far step down from the quality from a real camera.

Casey and I at the semi-frozen falls

An icy creek

Casey and Matt at the falls

Crabtree Falls

Supposedly, these falls are the tallest falls east of the Mississippi.  I didn't do the research, so I'll have to take those claims at their word.  What I do know is that they are pretty beautiful, even in the dead of winter.  Not that my photos ever do justice to the true natural beauty of any area, but these is particular don't depict reality.

The day started at 5:55 AM when my alarm clock woke me up in my pony themed bedroom of Northern Virginia.  The plan was set.  Casey was going to meet me at my home at 6:30 and we were going to caravan down to Virginia Tech, stopping for a hefty midday break to do an 8 mile hike from Spy Rock to Crabtree Falls.  The day got off to a slightly late, albeit not unexpected start.  Following this, the drive from 66 to 81 was uneventful.  Upon nearing Montebello, VA, we began our winding drive up the mountain.  We had not accounted for snow in the area.  The roads were not horrible, but having come from an area that calls snow-days for "cold" (and by this I mean positive 15 degrees F) and panics at the thought of an inch of snow, I gripped the steering wheel like a little old lady.  My tiny car dutifully rolled along and I had my first experience of what the anti-lock braking system feels like when activated.  Needless to say, we arrived at lot #1 alive.  Because this hike was an 8 mile, one-way hike, we decided to park one car at the Crabtree Falls lot and one at the Spy Rock lot.  Casey left his car in the Crabtree Falls lot and jumped into my car to hitch a ride to the other lot.

I must say - karma is real and it's not friendly.  I had read that the Spy Rock lot was in the back of a little fish hatchery.

"Good," I thought.  "It must be decently maintained then."  And so, when I saw the Falls lot which was covered in a nice layer of packed snow and ice, I became a bit selfish and let Casey put his car there.  Long story short, I was wrong.  After arriving at the fish hatchery (which was at least decently maintained) and then seeing a tiny sign in the back pointing up a one way, steep road covered in (not terribly packed) snow with a ditch on one side, I regretted my decision.

As much as I try to push it, my little car is not a mountain car.  It is more of a "long drives near the beach" kind of car.  We got partway up the road when my car stopped going forward.  The wheels spun, the engine revved, but alas, even while making the noise to rival NASCAR, my car wasn't moving.  I started to back down the hill, praying that no one would come up at the same time.  A few skids and swerves later, I panicked and made Casey take the wheel.  He backed us down the road much more smoothly.  At this point, I was anxiety ridden and adamantly refused to park alongside the road.  Whether or not this would have been entirely legal, I am not sure, but either way, I wasn't having it.

Being a good boyfriend, Casey drove us back to the first lot without so much as a complaint.  And so, as it was, Crabtree Falls became our single destination.  It was an 'out-and-back' this way, with 1.7 miles in each direction.  Despite the interesting morning, the hike was pleasant, despite being quite busy by this time.  I wasn't a huge fan of how "built up" the hike was.  There were guard rails and stairs and a rock wall at the top to prevent natural selection from occurring, but the waterfall was definitely a plus.  Overall, not a bad hike and I came out in better spirits than when I had started.

This was originally going to be our 10th out of 10 hikes on a "Ten Best Day Hikes in Virginia" list created by Mike Vaughn (list here).  Now I suppose we have 9.5 out of 10 done.  Ah well, you win some, you lose some.  We'll be back, I can promise you that.

Part of the falls (they're way too long to get them all in one shot)

Me in front of the falls

Casey and I at the top of the falls

Old Rag Mountain

Old Rag Mountain.  It's probably one of the most famous hikes in Virginia.  It's the Virginia hike that has made many a novice hiker feel like a "real mountaineer" (whether or not this is actually the case!), draws crowds in the summer months, never goes empty even in the winter months, and has splendid views.  Or so I have been told.  Before this week, I had hiked Old Rag twice.  Each previous occasion was memorable for the rock scrambling and the company, but I had not yet had the pleasure of hiking it on a sunny day.  Don't get me wrong; there's no shortage of sunlight on this splendid mountain.  But, for whatever reason, I seemed to have caught this hike on the days when the sun didn't want to show its head from behind a wall of clouds.  This time it was a different story.

My friends were visiting Washington DC from Roanoke, VA and Michigan respectively.  We were in the middle of a "life sharing" of sorts.  Casey and I had spent the previous several days in Michigan, gaining a glimpse into Kevin's life before college.  Now it was our turn.  Being a stones throw from the city, Washington DC was obviously on the list of "must dos," but along with playing "tourist" in our nation's busy capital, we decided that it might be nice to take them to see some of the natural wonders of the area. Granted, at a 1.5 hour drive from my home, Old Rag Mountain isn't exactly close to us, but we jointly decided that the hike would be worth the drive.  As it turned out that I had forgotten, there is also a fairly hefty parking fee to do this hike ($5 per person during the winter months, albeit with a $15 cap).  Nevertheless, if you have not yet had a chance to hike this hike, it's a must do for anyone living in the DC metropolitan area.

Kevin and Courtney nearing the summit on their first trip to Old Rag

The hike was pleasant and I think that Kevin and Courtney were surprised at the immensity of the rock scrambling.  There's a brief section that I still haven't managed to do without assistance.  Although this peeves the over-achiever side of me, the four of us did eventually make it to the summit and were graced with some astounding views.  I can now honestly say that the claims of fantastic summit views were not overstated.  A good day was had by all.

Casey and I on the trail

Old Rag Mountain views during the climb

The group at the summit