Always Waterfalls

Spurred on by a photo of a frozen waterfall, my accidental hobby of the summer became chasing them.  Nothing thrilled me more than to feel the spray, put my feet in the water, and enjoy the beauty.  Water was my primary form of therapy, and pairing it with hiking was the best combination.  Any chance I had, I planned a hike with a stream.  Looking back, I have always loved waterfalls.  Our area has plenty of them. 

On one magnificent day, we visited three!  The children still talk about it and ask to go back.  It's in my plans for this year.  The first was Tank Hollow Falls, which was very easy to access from the small town of Cleveland, Virginia.  There was practically no hike to it, which makes it a great spot to take folks who are not able to walk a long way.  We followed a longer trail up the hillside and through the woods before coming back down for our lunch.  The drive through the country was pleasant, too, even with all the times I got lost and drove around in circles. 

Next up was the Upper Falls of Little Stony.  I love this spot, and it had been twelve or so years since I'd last seen it.  It's down a forest service road outside of Coeburn, Virginia, and is a fairly easy walk.  This trail has several waterfalls, but we stuck with the top one.  The trail was marked as being washed out in several places, due to all the rain.  One waterfall was plenty!

The children and I spent a long time here, enjoying the stony pool, and watching some sisters swim in the water.  We walked behind the falls, which really thrilled them.  They asked to come back the next day as we were walking back to the trailhead.  I don't know when we had been so happy, before that day.

Lastly, we viewed Garrett Creek Falls from the car, but it was on private land.  It was huge, but I didn't get a good photo.  I'll have to drive by it again with my zoom lens!  Until next week, I wish you all well! 

High on the Mountain, Wind Blowing Free

Last Thursday, Bill and I had engagement pictures taken by Alison Little.  It was spur of the moment, but I'm so glad we did it.  I had agreed to be a model for her explorations of depression and anxiety, so she offered to take some photos of the two of us.  What a treat! 

We met up on Whitetop, our state's second highest peak, and her favorite place.  The wind was blowing wildly and fitfully, but it was so much fun.  This metal map needs its own post, but suffice it to say that it has Whitetop and Elk Garden, my favorite places.  Bill made it very early on, and it is a map to my heart.  He's a machinist, and this is his masterpiece.

I am SO giggly, have been for well over a year now, and SO self-aware, but Alison did such a wonderful job capturing the two introverts that we are.  Cameras make us both want to hide, as much as we enjoy taking pictures.  These are probably the first pictures of myself that I have truly loved.

 
See?  I'm not hiding!  It makes me smile so widely to think of it all!

This picture might be one of my favorites.  I feel so safe and so loved.  It is beyond anything I could have imagined for myself.  My children are so happy and loved, too.  All the years of loneliness and longing have melted away and make sense now.  I had to walk that trail so I could get here, and I am so excited to see what is ahead.  I am old enough to know that life doesn't get any easier, but it surely is sweeter these days.

Revelations

Last June, I walked to Rowlands Creek Falls again.  I had been there with the children the year before, and it sparked so many memories and reflections in those early Autumn days.  For weeks, my dreams took me to other places and times, and then mixed them up.  The past became my future, and I wondered how that could ever be.  It filled my drifting mind and showed me small glimmers of hope.  This hike was a chance to consider all of that again.

  
I was looking for the elusive bottom of the falls, as they are 150' long.  I had various attempts at bushwhacking, all fruitless and a little precarious.  Did they stretch the hillside and make it steeper scrambling back up?  All the same, I did carefully make my way down to enjoy it all.  I had wonderful empowering revelations along the way, chances to consider the new life before me and marvel at it all.  Joy mixed with pain, as a fair part of the Summer was.  I was so anxious to see what was ahead.  Optimism and caution wrestled back and forth. 

Standing in Rowlands Creek, my beloved sandals gave out.  It wasn't too bad--they were still able to make the walk in one piece.  But, retirement was swift.  As good as I am at getting rid of things, I put these in my archives, a memorial to many adventures.  It was almost a moment of jubilation, and I laughed at myself.  So much laughter in the months to follow.  After fifteen years, a new chapter was beginning.

Come Away to the Water

Come away little lass, come away to the water. . .

~Glen Hansard

The rain is so, so rainy.  I don't think there are other words.  I met a thru-hiker yesterday who told me that even his food was wet.  He asked me about the weather.  I said, "Well, it's supposed to be good on Sunday."  "It's only Wednesday," he said.  Poor guy.  I know he got a ride to a shuttle, and from there?   I wonder if the rain hasn't driven a number of AT hikers off with its unrelenting presence.

Us, without tents and sleeping bags, we have kept on keeping on.  None of us seem to really care that it rains.  The children were thrilled to sit by the foggy valley and eat their sandwiches.  We were at Grayson Highlands State Park, after all, and there was the promise of ponies and waterfalls.  Seems the ponies must have escaped, or someone left the gate open. . .

We had our sights set on Cabin Creek Falls, and this was the perfect day for it.  Every day has a little bit of perfect in it, if you look for it.  Sometimes, you have to look backwards to see it.  Anyway, this trail had "several stream crossings" which turned out to be most of the trail.  We dodged the terrible rain that has flooded Western NC, but we've still been plenty wet.

And here are the falls.  With my zoom lens, I can't do a whole lot, but you can see other photos here on my instagram.  They are about 25' high, and there are cascades that go on for some time, which is really breath-taking in person.  It was gorgeous.  As always, there was a wet rock to sit on and take in the view.  I always take great care, too, to stress to the children how very dangerous waterfalls are.  Nature school, you know, awe with an ounce of caution.

This was the trail leading from the falls along the Cabin Creek loop.  It was either sheer rock face or a set of tree root stairs.  The trail became even more rocky and boulder-ly for a bit longer.  I told Roan I expected goblins or trolls to come out of the rocks at any time, just like in The Hobbit.  Soon enough, we began a gentle climb back to the meadow and the ponies at Massey Gap.

Here's a little sticker I got in the mail.  I'm doing a 52 Hike Challenge for 2018, invited by Stacey.  I'm up to nine, starting at the end of April as it was convenient.  I seem to average 2-3 hikes a week right now, so I'm not too worried about meeting my goal by the end of the year.  Hiking and walking feed my soul right now, and I work in some every single day, rain or shine.  I told Willow that hiking would be a great treasure for her some day, and I hope that prediction comes true.  The land has so much to teach us.

High on a Mountain

Clouds so swift,
The rain's pouring in . . .

~"You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" :: Bob Dylan

Despite a dismal forecast, I hauled us up to Whitetop for our own little holiday.  It was raining, and had been raining, but the air cleared as we sat in the car having some cake.  Traipsing through wet grass and huge puddles (moats?), we watched a gentle breeze send the fog away.

See?  It was so lovely!  There was no chill in the air at all, though I don't guess I could have felt it through the sweater and raincoat.  We met up with some guys who were old high school buddies, reuniting on Whitetop after forty years.  They loved Roan's stories of knives, cap guns, vintage toys, and obscure mining history.

It was such a good day to be up there. Everyone we met was in high spirits, perhaps because the weather had turned so swiftly. That is the way of it in the High Country. It's hard to make firm guesses about conditions, but I think that is part of the fun, if you are ready for it. 

 

Nature School :: His Place

This little smiley fellow rode up those old, steep, ever-shrinking roads to see his mountain yesterday.  Six years have passed since this first photo, but he still just as quick to give a grin.

We had in mind to experience something beyond the rhododendron gardens, which was a good thing.  They were closed!  We walked up the Appalachian Trail into the spruce-fir forest over some very interesting trail construction.  It's obvious erosion and foot traffic are big issues in the sensitive habitat.

We ate lunch with baby trees, of course, on a mostly wet rock.  The bigger trees are alive, but their growth is at the top.  It is a comfort to see the future at their feet.

Coming out of the woods, we set our sights on Round Bald, which is across the road from the saddle called Carver's Gap where everyone parks.  I couldn't pass up this photo of Roan.  We gave a couple dollars to keep his (and your) mountain beautiful before we climbed the hill.

Sitting on a big rock, which must be The Place, we took in all the views.  Roan High Knob sits to the right there, not quite in the photo.  The road curving upward leads to the Rhododendron Gardens and the former site of the Cloudland Hotel.  Many things hinge on Memorial Day around these parts, so we were just a little too early.

My dad says that flying over our area in a plane helps you to see how sparsely populated it really is.  Views like this do that, too, I think.  I need all the big views I can get these days. 

Between Showers

May!  The rainy month!  But, oh, how lush and green everything is growing.  It is hard to believe it was all bare three weeks ago.  Yesterday, we went up to Elk Garden to see the sights.  In spite of the humidity and passing clouds, it was fog-free!

Okay, there was a little fog on Mount Rogers, but that's to be expected.  I don't think I've mentioned that this is our state's highest peak at 5729'.  It's around 7-9 miles round trip from any approach and the summit is entirely covered in a sort of relic boreal forest.  Just my kind of place!  It's on my list to return later this year.

Yesterday, however, we followed the Appalachian Trail just into the woods, after a little bouldering for the children.  I met a lovely couple who had me take their picture, and we exchanged our stories of this wonderful place where we live.  Even though 30 or more years separated us, we agreed the mountains never leave you. 

Into the forest, to the place the children have named "Brambly Hedge."  What a lovely carpet of Spring flowers, so pleasant to walk through.  Not a stinging nettle in sight!

And then, back towards the trailhead and home.  These weathered wooden posts and wind-beaten hawthorn trees will never leave me, either.

If this is any indication of all the rain we've gotten, here's the delightful little waterfall that the AT was yesterday.  Those are the stairs leading into the woods toward Whitetop. 

Every stream was rushing and roaring, water was flowing across the roads.  I just wanted to lay down in a creek and let it flow across me.

Topophilia

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness . . .
 
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

~Maya Angelou :: "A Brave and Startling Truth"

A love of place seems to surround all I do lately.  I share places with people, like they are favorite songs or prized possessions.  I talk about places, I visit them, I avoid them, I cling to them, I daydream about them.  I lay myself bare to places.  I redefine them.  I walk into them with my fears cast aside, and then return when I am broken, seeking healing.

Even though I love the land, it is the people who have shared that land with me that give another level of meaning to my places.  My life has had some very deeply intense moments in it lately, ones that have taken every bit of bravery that I could muster.  This whole year has been so unexpected to me.  It seems everything I have know has been turned on its ear.

I have reached great heights, tall peaks with grand views, only to find myself in the valley all over again.  My heart feels as though it might burst.  I have to remember, even with all my topophilia, to keep going back to my places.

Come wind, come rain, we're off again
Our muddy boots plod down the lane
The snow has snowed, now the grass has growed
And it's time that we were on the road

~ Vashti Bunyan

We took a little excursion with Katherine yesterday, up to Hidden Valley Lake.  The road to our beloved Laurel Bed Lake washed out in the Winter rains, so this was our consolation.  The area has more open views, but we stuck to the lake this time around.  I do hope to go back and take in the sights, and maybe that will happen this Summer.  All the same, our children enjoyed the very wet conditions and the plethora of tea berries growing by the woods.  They had games of hide and seek that ended with Laurel meeting up with the mire, but we cobbled together new clothes for her.  The battery on my car died, miles from anywhere, but I was able to flag down help on the lake road and we were soon on our way.  It was a beautiful day to break down and we were a merry bunch, in spite of it all.

Tulip Time :: April Clicks!

Do-It-Yourself Thieves Soap from Mountain Rose Herbs.
Covered button tutorial from Kate Davies Designs.
Living Under the Sky :: On time outside with children in Waldorf settings, practical considerations, and ideas for games and movement circles.
The History of Appalachian English :: Ancient phrases and their modern versions.  I especially enjoy the variation of "greaze."
A Changing Childhood or Changing Children? :: This has been on my mind a lot.
The Word-Hoard: Robert MacFarlane on Rewilding Our Language of Our Landscape :: I really enjoyed his book Landmarks and all the glossaries contained in its pages.  It's the best kind of geography.  I'm reading The Old Ways now.
The Camino Voyage :: Information about Glen Hansard's trip by traditional boat from Ireland to Spain.  I'm impressed!
Tiny Desk Concert: The Swell Season :: This is an older recording from NPR, but I really love most anything Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova do.
Nettle Cake :: This cake looks like it is covered in moss.  What could be better?
Waldorf and Minimalist :: Interesting thoughts here.  I certainly have a lot to think about for the future.

And with that, more April showers are in the air, clearing out a little later.  Rain and mist and fog are the way of it lately.  I've got lots of things to do today, as old things wrap up and new ones begin.  The joy in my heart is so profound.

Cloudland

Fog greeted us on Whitetop, just as I was looking for expansive views.  It's a silly thing, perhaps, to leave the relative warmth of the valley and lose twenty degrees climbing the mountains.  We had a lovely, chilly time, all the same.

Symbols of Eternity

The hills are our symbols of eternity.  There they stand, the evidence of things seen, as nearly everlasting and unchangeable as anything man may know.  One who has dwelled within them senses that they are beyond the horizon, even when he is in the level lands.  For this reassurance, all hill people will be duly thankful. . . 

In some manner, a mountain country places its mark on those who dwell within its shadows.  Scots carry with them a Highland pride of birth and place, even though they may wander thousands of miles from heather-covered moors. . . And thus it is with those nurtured in Appalachia--they leave, but they look back, remembering pleasant things.  The land has claimed them, and its ties will not be severed.

Maurice Brooks :: The Appalachians

We traveled over to Rich Valley yesterday, a winding and welcome journey after a long Winter.  We visited the Swing Place, of course, and collected daffodils for our pleasure at home.  I never tire of these views, never.  I would gladly live in that little house with the karst limestone so very near.  When I do leave these mountains and find flat, straight roads, I feel oddly without my navigational bearings.  I hardly know what to do when I am not hemmed in and I always feel glad to come home.

As my life changes and I find new footing, I feel glad for these mountains.  Of course, I have to redefine my mental picture of many of my favorite places.  Fifteen years prior, that seemed almost too painful for me to do, but now I see them with new, hopeful eyes.  These places have been here years beyond counting.  They know what to do.

Sugar Snow

Sure enough, we kept close to home this weekend.  No travels over the river and through the woods to the Maple Festival.  I guess I could have felt sad about it, but we were pretty happy here in our own little snow globe. 

I started buckwheat pancakes in the morning and the batter was ready for lunch, for our own maple festival.  We had the sausage (not burned, like they always do, bless their hearts) and apple sauce (blackberry and very local!).  I told the children that if they wasted syrup, always the precious commodity, I would charge them $8.  They wasted syrup.  I cleared no profit. ;-)

The children went sledding while I set the house to rights.  There are times things feel like such a mess, and there are times it all feels so tidy.  While they were out, our dear neighbors served them hot chocolate, just like the Bobbsey Twins.  Those books always seem to include hot chocolate. 

This was around mid-day, these photos.  We probably cleared six to eight inches of snow that packed down as it fell.  It snowed all day and into the night, a heavy and wet kind of snow.  A couple inches piled on while we had supper with my parents, and they saw stranded cars on their way home.  We were so glad to be in our cozy little house. 

The plows passed in the night, the only kind of snow we've had all year that really required plowing.  Today I'll urge the children to go out and enjoy the snow while it lasts.  I can already hear dripping.