And Then There's the Bad.

I love to write about the great places where Carole and I go to camp and kayak and hike. It's fun to recall them and I think it's a nice thing to do to tell other interested parties about our favorite spots.

But sometimes we visit places that are less than pleasant. Most of the time I don't want to think about those locations, and then there's that old saying about not saying anything if you can't say something nice. So I generally stay mum when it comes to lousy times at crappy places.

One spot that I kept meaning to talk about and haven't for some time is Cascade Lake Recreation Area. I had decided to mention it again--and how lousy a place it is to stay--and was looking up some links when I discovered that it's closed with no plans for reopening. So here goes what was wrong with it:

The campground was the closest National Forest-related campground that we could find to DuPont State Forest. Du Pont does not currently have its own campground and I'm not sure if there are any plans for it to ever have one. I've heard rumors, but nothing definite. We don't generally like private campgrounds because--frankly--there are a lot of negative aspects to private campgrounds and we almost always have a negative experience at private campgrounds.

My understanding was the Cascade Lake Campground is technically owned by the National Forest Service* but is rented out to a concessionaire. I don't know why so many state and Federal parks do this, but for some reason they argue that it's cheaper to let someone else hire out the premises for a chunk of any profits that are generated. One most often runs into this kind of operation with the hotels in such National Parks as Yellowstone and Glacier and Yomsemite, etc. The land and structures belong to us...the citizens...but the profits go to a private concern. Personally, I think this is a dumb way to run things, but there you are.

Cascade Lake Recreation Area was run like this. It was a concession owned by a non-governmental operation. The second we arrived we encountered what we almost always do with this kind of operation: rude, inept assholes acting like prickly little Nazis. We had to wait at the entrance for about 45 minutes before we could get in because the people admitting campers were idiots who didn't know what they were doing. In addition, they were very rude to my wife. Yes, I'm sure they were snippy because they were stressed, but that's the kind of thing we generally encounter from these concessionaires who win their contracts by being either the lowest bidder, or the only bidder.

From there it just got worse. The campground is on a nice, man-made lake, but it was extremely crowded. Also, a lot of the chores were farmed out to volunteers who weren't paid, but were given free campsites for doing odd jobs such as customer relations and cleaning up the garbage (of which there was much). The place was packed, messy, poorly maintained, and noisy. When we did encounter anyone who worked there it was a negative experience (imagine the Soup Nazi from the Seinfeld TV series).

So, briefly, I would never again stay at the Cascade Lake Recreation Area unless it was turned back over to the National Forest Service completely. As it is, I'm sure its closure is only temporary so that the slimy concessionaires can argue for better terms before "giving in" and taking on the job for a much better piece of the action. (Action which they will not ever get from our business.)

This was our campsite. It looks okay and was across the road from the lake. But it was in direct sunlight and was on an artificially created area produced by gouging out the side of a hill and dumping the fill into a wetland.

My nephew Mark and I in 2008. The reason we camped at Cascade Lake was for easy access to Du Pont State Forest which is totally insane with amazing waterfalls.

This one is called Merry Falls and was at the head of Cascade Lake near the dam.

Merry Falls.

*I just learned that it was never a National Forest property, but always privately owned. But it was run by the CFAIA which I had always associated with the National Forest Service. (My mistake.)

Forgotten Falls

I've been on so many hikes that I forget about  some of them. Today I was sorting through photos from 2008 when I happened upon some photos of a hike past a waterfall that I'd forgotten I'd seen. I can't even recall the name of the waterfall, but it's a fairly well known one here in North Carolina. It's located in that spot that is lousy with waterfalls, the DuPont State Forest.

This waterfall is a popular destination because it's one of those that you can walk behind. This is often held up as a unique feature, but I've found that you can do with this literally thousands of waterfalls. There is often an overhanging shelf of solid rock that provides a roof and a route that allows you to stand or walk behind the falling sheets of water.

I do now recall that this particular waterfall was a tad off into what amounts as "back country" for DuPont State Forest. Keep in mind that DuPont Forest is one of the most accessible hiking/biking/horseback parks I've ever seen. The terrain, for all that it's in the mountains, is relatively mild. Many people have seen it and don't know that they've seen it--it was used extensively by Michael Mann in his popular film LAST OF THE MOHICANS. I suspect that this waterfall is in the film, although I'm not sure.

Approaching the waterfall along the semi-marked trail that follows the exposed rock along the river.

The river was not terribly high that day. We may have actually been going through one of those horrible droughts of the early 2000s. Still, you don't want to try to push across the river because you can fall and start sliding which can send you over the event horizon where you will surely be injured or killed.

You have to kind of duck-walk behind the falls to get safely across the river.

Quick shot of the power of the water. Even though the flow was not excessive that day, you feel the energy of the place as the water plunges down.

Looking back the way I'd come.

Safely across.

Did this one make the cut into LAST OF THE MOHICANS?

The trails in DuPont State Forest are pretty easy to follow. Watch for bike riders, because mountain biking is really, really popular here.

One of the open rock faces. These spots are very fragile--rare plants, lichens, mosses grow there and you should stay off of them despite the temptation to wander out for the views. If you kill those plants it takes decades for them to regenerate. Enjoy them from a distance.

Waterfalls, While I'm Writing

The writing is going well. Every day the scenes come to me and the keyboard is friendly and not my adversary. I'm having quite a good time with the new novel, but it leaves me no time for other writing.

In the meantime, here are some of the waterfalls I visited between 2004 and 2005. Where I can remember, I'll post the locations.

Stone Mountain Falls in Stone Mountain State Park, North Carolina.

Waterfall in Hanging Rock State Park, North Carolina. I took a shower here to clean off the grime of hiking in the park all afternoon in hot, muggy weather.

Same waterfall.

DuPont State Forest, North Carolina.

Triple Falls, DuPont State Forest, North Carolina.

Granny Burrell Falls, Panthertown Valley, North Carolina.

Unnamed waterfall in Holly River State Park, West Virginia.

Shupe's Chute, Holly River State Park, West Virginia.

Upper Waterfalls, Holly River State Park, West Virginia.

This is one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen. The setting is amazingly beautiful and very peaceful. The pool below the falls pretty much BEGS for the viewer to swim in it. Mill Creek Falls, in Kumbrabow State Park, West Virginia.

A Curious Creature

Tiny Albert Lake

I didn't meet a lot of wildlife in DuPont State Forest. Most of what I did see were insects. A few birds, and most of those were turkey buzzards.

But as Jack and I hiked along, exploring a dead-end trail, we followed it to a small pond known as Lake Albert (a pond, I tell ya). The lake has a covered dock and a pathway in a crescent that doesn't quite navigate the place. On the little covered dock was a small land turtle commonly referred to in this neck of the woods as a "box turtle" or "box tortoise". They are indeed actually  turtles, but don't spend any time at all in water. Completely land-based creatures, the box turtle. Quite colorful, too. Most of the ones that I've encountered are dominantly orange. This one was mainly yellow in color.

The most amazing thing about him, though, was that he seemed pretty much unafraid of us. In every occasion before, each turtle I've come across has closed up his little box shell, sealing the soft parts under that bony carapace. This one...this one somehow seemed as curious of us as we were of him. All the time we were giving him the once-over, he was gazing up at us in just as much wonder and just as much curiosity.

Here's to the brave and curious little box turtle of Albert Lake.

"Like, how's it goin' dude?"

What Are They Doing Now?

To continue the same theme as the last couple of posts, I'll talk about DuPont State Forest some more.

Here's the thing: it's listed as a state "forest" and not a park. What is the difference between a state park and a state forest? I'm not quite sure. I do know that most state parks have more of a wilderness aspect about them. That is, there are rules and regulations that restrict access and limit development of the forests, mountains, streams, rivers, swamps...basically whatever it is about the park that made it worth protecting as a park in the first place.

The nomenclature of state "forest", however, may leave the question of development in a state of constant debate. You can cut a forest down. You can't generally cut down a park. Defeats the purpose.

The old Agfa Plant site, as seen from near the summit of Joanna Mountain

When they made this land into an official state forest it still had an active industrial site within its borders. This was the Agfa Plant. I'm not even sure what the Agfa Plant made, but it was a fairly large series of structures and supporting sites and employed quite a number of people. The land contained as the Agfa Plant was pretty much squat-dab in the center of the forest, and is often referred to as "the doughnut hole". That's what it looks like on a map of the park.

Now, though, the plant is closed down. Not only is it no longer a working plant, all of the buildings and tanks and other structures connected to it have been taken apart and hauled out of the forest. So there it sits, where you can see it from a distance, just a big blank area in the bottom of the valley with some empty foundations and parking lots and a paved road leading up to it.

In addition to the old Agfa Plant site, there are quite a number of existing roads that criss-cross the DuPont State Forest. I can understand the desire to keep these roads in good condition. For one thing, it can be argued that they're needed to maintain motor vehicle access to the cabins that are now serving as homes for park rangers. And for access to the empty lodge building which may or may not continue to be operated as a lodge at some future time. The whole future of the forest is pretty much a mystery to me. The horseback riders and mountain bikers also seem to enjoy these roads. (Also, apparently these roads are sometimes unlocked to allow access to the waterfalls for folk who are physically disabled. I once saw a family of lardasses given access to one of these roads so that they could haul their fat butts to a waterfall lookout.)

What the HELL??!!

But on my latest hike into the park, I saw something rather puzzling, even for a park with a misspent budget. On the Joanna Road, near the top of Joanna Mountain, in a big clearing about 200 feet shy of the summit, my friend Jack and I came across new road construction. This is puzzling for a number of reasons. First of all, the road cuts across the top of pretty much level exposed rock as it is. Why would you need to "improve" such a surface? Second of all, this is now supposed to be a park. At least I thought it was. Why would one haul up heavy equipment to carve out a new road base where one doesn't seem to be needed? Just a way to spend some extra money? The actions of some bureaucratic asswipe? I have no answer.

But I can say that it was exceedingly ugly to look upon. And weird to see this heavy equipment just sitting there in the midst of ripping out chunks of the ridgeline to make a level road surface. Just god damned weird. And what was ironic about it is that this spot is also the finest view I've seen of the old Agfa Plant site. It seemed somehow appropriate in a truly twisted way to stand on new construction in the forest to look down on a site that is supposed to be slowly recovering from the violent hand of Man.

As Jack and I hopped down from our rocky perch to continue on our journey to bag Joanna Mountain, the very loud buzz of what appeared to be a very big rattlesnake assailed our ears as we passed a rubble heap baking in the afternoon sun.

Watching the Clock Go in Reverse from the Shores of Prick Nation

We headed up to a place called Cascade Lake Recreation Area for our first mountain vacation of the year. We'd heard some good things about this campground, and because it had full hookups we decided to try it. We'd never stayed at a place that had full hookups (water, electric, sewer) for our little travel trailer.

Right away, we noticed problems with this place. The folk on the other end of the line weren't all that helpful when we called to make reservations. We ended up in a campsite across the road from the lake (that was actually good) but completely absent of trees (boo!). The campsites where we were situated had been created by carving away a hill to make a level area suitable for seven campsites (sans trees). Yes, we had full hookups, but I missed the trees.

Full hookups. Oh, joy! (Where are my trees?!)

Bridal Veil Falls.

And as soon as we got to Cascade Lake we began to get a taste of the the camp Nazis. The staff seemed comprised of retirees who were both rude and officious. The rules we encountered were many and unbendable. After only a few hours we actually dreaded the sight of the camp Nazis riding around in their freaking golf carts looking for various violators. Yes, I understand that this park is popular with the locals, and that it could get crowded, but the rules were just too much. Despite the overall attractiveness of the campground as a whole. I quickly named it: Prick Nation, and I won't return to it.

My nephew, Mark Cooper, and myself at High Falls.

The main focus of the trip was to get a good visit of DuPont State Forest. At one time, the almost 11,000 acre tract that makes up this quasi-park was in the hands of the DuPont Corporation. They used part of it as an industrial site (for their Agfa Plant), and the rest as a kind of retreat for company big-shots and as rewards for loyal employees and such. The park is criss-crossed with amazing gravel roads and trails, has at least four lakes, a lodge, several cabins, and a paved airstrip complete with hangar.

Under the Falls.

At one point, the land was poised to go into the greedy hands of scum-sucking land developers. However, for some reason some sanity prevailed and the acreage ended up in the hands of the masses. The park is extremely popular since it is home to some of the most accessible and spectacular waterfalls in the state. The almost 100-trail system in the forest is pretty much multi-use, which means you are about as likely to encounter mountain bikers and horseback riders as you are fellow hikers. All in all, it's a very, very nice place and I stay completely amazed that the various waterfalls are not in private hands and poisoned with the second homes of multi-jillionaires.

A moonlight canoe ride. Don't tell the camp Nazis!

However...the next time I go, I will stay at the Davidson River Campground, which is a National Forest facility and not quite so encumbered with so many rules and not run by such a lot of ancient prison camp guards.

Merry Falls.

The 120-foot Shower

Well, we returned from our first extended (mountain) vacation of the year. I spent several days tramping around the high country, most of it in DuPont State Forest near Brevard, NC. I had a great time, save for denting the door of my travel trailer on the way home. I fear I'm going to have to get the entire door replaced. I shouldn't be too depressed over it (I am), for it could have been far worse.

While in DuPont, I took a shower at the base of the highest waterfall in the park, the aptly named High Falls. If the footing at the top of the falls is anything like that at the base, I can well understand why so many people have fallen to their deaths in such places.

I'll write more about my hikes when I've recovered from the drive home.

High Country, Here We Come

Carole and I will be heading up to the North Carolina high country in a couple of days. We leave behind a sweltering lowland suffering in near-100 degree heat. Forecasts in and around the area where we'll have our travel trailer are calling for temperatures in the 70s to low 80s. Paradise compared to the hellish weather we've been suffering through--and it isn't even officially summer, yet!

I have some writing news to announce--once again, just as soon as my agent gives the all-clear. A few more weeks, apparently.

For now, my main concern is to buy some new fishing gear, make sure the canoe and all the doo-dads that go with it are in order, and to get out my stack of trail maps and try to decide which mountain peaks I need to bag.

Shorts and short sleeves on December 31, 2004, DuPont State Forest. (Don't even try to tell me oil and coal have no effect on our atmosphere.)