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