Rainy Days in the Gorge

I drive across the state line and the rain isn't letting up. Visibility is decreasing and the roads have more and more standing water. I'm thinking "I'm supposed to be fording a river late this afternoon?"  Maybe the rain will make things a bit more exciting. I'm after a challenge today. 

Its my first visit the Linville Gorge and I'm not sure what to expect. The rain is easing up, but still ever present when I hit the trail. I drop down Babel Tower into the gorge. When I get my first good look at the swollen white water of the rocky river below I begin to rethink my plans. "I'll get to the crossing and decide then. I'm alone and not taking unneeded risks."  So I head down the Linville Gorge Trail following the river unsure of how the trip will end up.

Wild Bleeding Heart in the rain

"FUCK!" I go down hard on the rocks and start sliding.  I don't stop when I think I do and continue down the gorge towards the river for several more feet before I finally come to a rest. My adrenaline is going, but my elbow is hurting. I manage to get up back on the trail and see a dry cave ahead of me. I decide to stop, eat and assess the situation. A couple more steps and the ground gives way again. This time I go down on my wrist and knee before I start sliding down taking part of the muddy trail with me.  I sit down under the rock overhang and wipe the mud from myself to inspect the damage. Just a few bumps and bruises. After I eat I check the map. The rain and the slippery rocks and unstable mud that make up the trail have cut my pace to half what I expected. Add in the late start I got and I decide to be open to the possibility of just an out and back instead of the loop I planned. Feeling better after some salmon and potatoes I head back down the trail. A few steps later I go down again and keep sliding...

I believe this to be Sweetshrub (aka Bubby Bush), but it could be Anise

At one point I miss a turn and am off the trail. I know exactly where I am and consider to keep going until I meet back up with the trail, but I'm alone down here on a Wednesday. Even if someone where to pass by we would never hear each other over the roar of the river so I decide boulder hopping in the rain is a bad idea. 15 minutes later I find locate the trail and keep heading south.

A mile or so later the trail really opens up and I'm able to pick up the pace to try and make up some time. The skies begin to clear and the gorge begins to widen up a bit. Its getting lighter out so I can see better. 

To say this area is highly impacted would be a huge understatement. With the exception of a few stretches of overgrown and difficult to find trail you never go more than a couple  minutes without walking through or past a group of campsites filled with garbage, camp equipment, fishing gear, heaping fire pits, and more. Its not exactly the Wilderness Area I was hoping to find.  It would take a large effort to clean this place up and years more for the area to heal from the damage done.

I find the "unsanctioned" and unmapped trail from the LGT up to the Mountains to Sea trail. I want to thank whoever put this in for not messing around. TN/NC have been putting in too many switchbacks lately and its good that people are still building trails straight up the mountain. I haven't been on trail this steep since the Flume Slide in The Whites.

I hit the MST and really start flying now. I don't have much time before dark and would like to get across the river. The trail crosses at a really wide and slow spot and after all day of wondering I'm pleased to be able to make it across with no issue beyond the wet socks and shorts.

I grab a spot to sleep near the river and as soon as its dark I'm ready for bed. I'm lulled to sleep by the river, the whippoorwills, and the geese. 

I hit the trail at sun up and start climbing through evidence of fire. The fire cleared out and made room for the flowers who are happy to soak up all that available sunshine.

If you haven't been to Linville Gorge I feel like I should tell you at this point to do the MST section. I don't recommend the LGT unless you like walking through other peoples trash. Its true its a unique area, but there are better river walks in Western NC.

I'm able to take my time and still make good miles on the MST. The weather isn't slowing me today. Its a beautiful day and I'm taking lots of photo stops and snack breaks along the way. I eventually hit Table Rock and head down the gorge and hit Spence Ridge to the only bridge across the river. I head north on the LGT to find Babel Tower and back to my car. 

Starving, smelly, muddy and banged up all I want to do is find someone to eat lunch with, but who would want to share a table with a dirty hiker? I do the only reasonable thing and pick up some Thru-Hikers on my way through Roan Mtn and grab some grub with them at Bob's Dairyland.

Goat's Rue

Mountain Laurel letting us know summer is coming!

Fly Poison above the water

I was loving the Mountain Myrtle along the MST!

The Rhododendron were coming on along the rim 

A few years ago on my thru hike I was reading a flower book that a friend had. The next day I recognized a single Lilly of the Valley on the trail. It was raining and I didn't get a photograph thinking I'd see more later. This is the first time I've seen them since. I was pretty excited.

The beautiful Flame Azalea

Any Way the Wind Blows

I took a very itinerant approach to the weekend. No particular place to go, see or witness. I just had a pack, a map, and a capricious mindset. Every junction lay before me different opportunity. Sometimes I'd pick a direction in a careless way and sometimes I'd pick the trail that would lead to more options miles away, but I'd always pick impulsively. My wayward and aimless mode of walking took me to wide open vistas shared with feral ponies on the verge of bursting forth the next generation. It took me down steep and intimate rocky trails among the shade of mixed hardwoods. It took me to paths along creeks, over streams and beside cascades. I found myself sometimes surrounded by friendly faces stopping to share lunch with a group, help a frantic hiker lost in the clouds, or just chat about memories of trails elsewhere. I'd take the next turn and it would seem I had the entire Jefferson National Forest to myself for hours. Sharing it only with wildflowers and the ubiquitous little gray birds. 

I entered this tripping proclaiming that this area was too small to fill up a weekend. "I'm making too good of time." "These miles are too fast" I'd proclaim to the rocks, birds and occasional sweaty Scout leader. I found a truly aspiring and varying network of hiking trails and horse trails that I occasionally linked together by following game paths or the hoof worn paths of the feral ponies and sometimes open terrain. I couldn't begin to tell you how many miles I did over the past couple days. Its not about the numbers, but I can't begin to put to words what it really is about.

Beautiful clear morning after a rainy night.

This tiny guy was tough to get a good picture of. I think its some kind of violet. They were sporadic across the fields in the high elevations.

Get down face first in the dew and rain soaked grass and really take in and experience all the life that thrives and coexists in a space as small as your footprint. Really be aware of what you're walking through. Mountain vistas aren't the only grand views to be found on the mountain tops.

Unknown. Growing in the grass. It sure was a stinker to get a good photo of this.

I have no idea what this is. They were 1-3 inches tall and growing around rocks in the high elevation balds. These were grouping around a rock in the middle of the trail.

I believe this is Chokeberry, but it could possibly be Blackberry?

Field of Bluets!

A few miles of fields Fringed Phacelia on either side of the trail. With some groups of May Apples and white Trillium mixed in occasionally to break it up.

This one was growing right smack in the middle of a horse trail near the Phacelia. Its tough to identify from this picture, but the leaves were different from the Phacelia.

Mountainside made of Ragweed and Dandelion.

A side not on my photos: I don't edit these in anyway. I used to practically live in Photoshop when I was studying in college, but don't really like to spend too much time on the computer. I don't find any fault with those who do. Its a great tool, but one I do fine without.  Also you can always click on any of my photos to get the full high resolution versions, which is a must to get an idea of any of the panoramas I post.

Welcome Back Old Friends

That smell of fresh spring rain. The smell of flowers budding and blossoming. The smell of Spring. The smell of the new outpouring of life. The brief commotion of spring. Everything is fighting to find its perfect place. Bursting forth of its colors and odors to attract its pollinator. Everything in perfect timing. Flowering maybe only a day, maybe only a few hours to find its partner. Ecosystems existing only for a brief few days of the life cycle of the flower and insect before it sits and waits for the next few days the following year. Such a perfect balance and dance of life. 

Lousewort. One of my all time favorites. I probably have a dozen or more photos of Lousewort on my blog, but I will continue to post them.

Vasey's Trillium

Lily

I believe this is Smooth Rock Cress, but could be totally wrong on that.

Its always colder in the mountains

Find a spot to park among the scattered ice and snow. It is nice and sunny down in town, but the hollers cut out by the river still have spots of snow hidden in all the shade.  I hit the trail running. Running to find the rhythm of the rocks, running to find the freedom of the trail, and mainly running to find the warmth as my blood starts pumping. The river to my left and the wet cold air burns my throat. The crunch and squish of the mix of frozen and wet thawed out leaves under my feet. The brown and orange leaf often giving way and betraying the hidden rocks and roots hiding underneath. Keep the steps light and fast to avoid the slip of a foot or the twist of an ankle.

I try to quiet my thoughts seeping through in the back of my mind. "Will the water be too high with the melting snow? Am I willing to put up with how cold this river is going to be?"  I get to the first crossing and brace myself. As my feet sink in and in an instant the bitter chill flashes up my body. I keep going. The water is higher than usual. I've had to turn back before, but it was higher and faster then. Over my mid-thigh this time and I let out the involuntary "Wooooo!  FuuUuuUUuuuck thats cold!" that your body screams when you have water crossings in December.

When I get to the other side I keep moving. Moving from the rush and moving to get the warm blood back to the stinging and numb toes.  By the time I warm up it'll be time to cross the river again. The comfort and odd warmth of wet feet welcomes you back to the chilling water. And so it goes. But I do so knowing that all this will be for me today. Not a person to be seen out this way this time of year.