Thread: Some random scribblings

When you have a grand-kid, one of the things you do is make other people look at pictures of the kid, it's what you do. Here's the boy at 6 months, before he became an outdoorsman. "Do I have to look?", you ask. Yes, you do.




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Coming into the Winds from Elkhart Park, after maybe 2 and half days hiking, you'll reach Island Lake. Once you sweep a counter-clockwise arc around the lake, you've reached the big granite. Indian Basin and Titcomb Basin await.




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I love your skill.

All of your pictures make me so happy and excited about exploring that my heart actually races.

Your grandson was adorable. Too bad he's older now.
Heheh, jk.

Thank ya's.

Everybody is from somewhere, but sometimes it takes a long time to discover that somewhere. It took me 31 years to discover that the Great Smoky Mountains is that somewhere for me.

Starting at the the Cosby Campground, the Snake Den Ridge Trail doesn't mess around headed for the crest of the Smokies. It climbs 3,400 feet in just over 5 miles. When you get near the top, you'll pass some jet wreckage scattered about the woods, the Smokies eats aircraft (More on that Later). Finally you approach the crest and the Appalachian Trail at Inadu Knob, the last few yards look like this:




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Summer in the Smokies can be a hot, sticky, nasty, hell of sweat and insects. Every now and them the weather stays nice for a week, and if you happen to have a week of vacation when it's nice, you're guaranteed a great trip. Here are me, Jim, and Jon at campsite 84 at the confluence of Sugar Fork and Hazel Creek, deep on the North Carolina side of the park. This was day three of a five day trip. The image quality isn't that great since it's a scan from a photo, but interestingly enough, the guy who took the photo, we'd met the night before camping by himself. His name was Eric, and he happened to be Jeb Bush's staff photographer (this was back when Jeb was Gov. of Florida). Turns out that Jim was the only Republican in the crowd.





This is also the only known photograph with me sporting a goatee.

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When I was seven, my parents took us all to the Smokies. It was odd as an adult to come across places that were "new", and to suddenly recover the memory that I'd been there before... mostly touristy spots near the roadside.. but that's how it goes when the parents take you along. Even back then, I recall seeing a backpacker, and thinking to myself, "That's what I want to be doing." It would take another twenty-four years to realize that notion. This shot is near and dear to me. I discovered it in a pile of slides my Dad gave me after my Mom died in 1992. The photo is a slide scan, so again, the quality isn't the greatest, but that hardly matters. In the shot is my mother and myself at age 7... about the same age as my young hiking partner is now (he'll be 7 in a couple weeks). Do I know where this shot was taken? Of course I do, precisely.




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Foot logs beat the hell out of stomping through an icy creek in the winter. Often as not, you're gonna have to get wet, so these things are nice when you can find them. Here's one of the longer foot logs in the Smokies, maybe the longest, crossing Cataloochee Creek at the Caldwell Fork Trail terminus.




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One more for the night. Kain at 14 months. Does anybody notice a pattern in the places I've taken the little guy?




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Is #83 in NC? If so, I've been there. If not, then I'm confused as usual.

Damn, ignore this post.. doubled up.

Phil, 83 is just up Hazel Creek from 84, at the confluence of Bone Valley Creek and Hazel Creek, both in North Carolina.

84 does not allow horses, so it is quite attractive. 83 allows horses, so while in a pleasant setting, it has all the niceties of a horse camp.. flies, horseshit, garbage, fire-rings piled 3 feet high with a mixture of ash and discarded tin cans, more flies, more horseshit, and more garbage.

I hate fuckin' horse-packing in the park, fuckin' hate it.
(and before some horse-packer has a go at me on this, YES, the bad ones DO ruin it for the rest of you).

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I've never seen a foot log before.
IT'S AWESOME.

I would much rather splash around in the creek, but that's just what moose do. Don't mind me.

Tara.. I ran across a mother and baby moose my first day on that trip out west. I'd gone down maybe 3/4 mile from camp to check out a small glacial lake, and they were off in the woods nearby. The kid wasn't too interested in me, but the mother watched me intently. I was about 20 yards from them. No camera with me, damn. When a large maternal animal keeps her eye on you for more than a few seconds, it's time to move along, which I did.

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A;lkjaf omg. That's amazing. A little scary, but amazing.

I saw a young black bear once, across the street on some train tracks. It stared at me, so I threw my arms in the air and went GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE!
It ran off as fast as it good, ears back and bum tucked in.

lulz! Black bears, I've run across no less than a hundred, hit one with my car, and so far haven't had any of them give me much lip. The funny thing is, out of a hundred plus black bears, how many photos do you think I've managed? Exactly one mother and cub. When you're working your way closer to a female black bear, slowly... and suddenly you hear your buddy (well behind you) say, "Awwww!! Isn't that cute!", you freeze and back the hell away. She's not alone, junior is with her. I respect black bears, I don't take shit from them, but I respect them.. but mamas with cubs, watch your ass.

I've only seen 3 wild bears in my entire life, all black. Part of me wants to see many many more, and part of me wants to stay in tact.
I would love to go to Yellowstone one day to photograph the wildlife there.

Running into a buck of any kind during breeding season would be bad too. I do not want to be impaled by a huge rack. Well, not that kind of rack anyways.
Some racks are okay.

This aircraft wreck has been sitting on a mountainside in the Smokies since shortly before I was born. Such locations are closely guarded secrets to those who have the connections to learn of their exact whereabouts along with the navigational skills to find them. Six people (all aboard) died in this mishap, and the idea of directing gawkers to such a location is repugnant. "Smile for the camera next to the death-scene!", no way I'm gonna be a part of that. I visit these sights, I respect these sites, I document these sites. The Smokies with its thousand square miles of high peaks and ridges trap more than its share of aircraft. Oddly, since documentation of these unfortunate statistics began, the decade of the 2000's has, thus far, been the only decade without such a tragedy. This one is a scan from a photo in my collection.





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And speaking of black bears. Near the end of the steep hike down from the crash site, I ran across a black bear, only this time I actually had my camera hanging around my neck. As I talked about in a recent post, I worked my way closer and closer.. until my hiking partner let out with, "Awww.. Isn't that cute!", then I backed the hell away. I was still able to capture this shot, my only adult black bear shot in this scan from a photo.




A bit later, from a much safer distance, I got a picture of what I had not noticed when I started toward the bear for a shot. Say hi to junior (peeking out from high on the slender tree to the right of frame).




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Yes Bears!!

Two more, then I'm done for the night.

Some of you might be aware that I am rather ichthyophobic, I really don't know why, but I am. The phobia doesn't extend to being in the vicinity of fish, but is limited to touching or handling them. Can't do it, won't do it.

So you might be surprised to find me on Hazel Creek at the Proctor Campsite near the creeks embayment to Fontana Lake, one fine summer evening, doing this:





Explanation: Someone had to be there to take the picture. Jim volunteered to unhook and eat anything I caught.

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I love the light fog in the distance, but who's that dumbass blocking the view?

Haha, jk.

While swimming in a lake one year, I caught a small fish with my bare hands.

19 December 1999. Almost ten years ago. A steep 3 mile climb from the road to Thomas Divide via Kanati Fork, and that was it. I'd hiked every mile of every trail in the national park. I was like the 70th person with documented proof of doing them all.. today, there are more like 300 people who've done it. The challenge has become very popular over the past decade. There are around 800 miles of maintained trails in the Smokies, and I had to hike and re-hike many of them to hike them all, I was up to around 1,500 trail miles by this time, far short of the 4,000 have today, and if I hadn't been relatively inactive since '04, I'd be closer to 8,000 miles.. which is why I have to get off my ass and do the tough miles... but hiking with a little kid is so much more fun, although less physically demanding!

This spot also happens to be very close to the spot where, on the first day of Summer 2002, I briefly forgot how to walk and carry a pack. My right shoulder will never be the same, ever. But more on that later.





No Tara, I didn't smile. See my previous explanation.

Phil, same jacket, I've had that thing forever, and since nobody has claimed the kudos, it's a Marmot Driclime Windshirt. I recommend this jacket to ANYONE thinking of spending time outdoors in the wild. But get the ORIGINAL, It took Marmot a few years and some fooling around with the design to realize it didn't need any improvement. $50 if you're willing to look for it hard enough online, about $100 at the outdoor shops, worth every penny and then some. The inner DriClime layer is very soft, very warm, and highly hydrophobic.. which means it's happy to move moisture away from your skin, and toward the nylon shell where it evaporates. Get it soaked, no problem, the damned thing can be shaken dry. Highly technical, indeed!

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In that picture, I'd have to say the lack of a smile works.
You actually look quite dashing.