Elk and Mountain Panoramas

It had been over ten years since I had hiked to Charlie's Bunion in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Having hiked all around that Park, the Bunion remains one of my favorite places there, and still at the top of what I consider the finest views there.

Andy wanted to go to the Smokies to try to see some elk. Our original intention was to stay at a hotel in Maggie Valley which would give us easy access to Cataloochee which provides the surest opportunity to spot lots of elk. However, after I'd made the hotel reservations I discovered that Cataloochee is still closed off due to various factors which include road construction just outside the Park. There's another route in to Cataloochee, but for their own reasons the Park Service has also blocked off that route. I can't imagine why, unless they just enjoy not having pesky tourists around.

So, we altered our plans. Instead of a hike to see old growth trees in Cataloochee, we opted for the hike to the Bunion, and a stop at Oconaluftee to try to spot some elk since it's supposed to also be a reliable place to see them.

As things turned out, we had great weather for the hike, and we managed to spot elk at Oconaluftee. We had a final tally of five elk, but the opportunity for good photos were not as good as I'd hoped. Still, since I grew up in a South where there were no elk remaining at all, seeing even one is a treat.

Mount Kephart, which must be climbed to reach Charlie's Bunion from Newfound Gap.

The trail that goes around the Bunion is not for those who are afraid of heights.

The aptly named Sawteeth. If the Bunion is too crowded (as it was this day) you can head over to the Sawteeth which are just as spectacular, and usually without any people.

I took this from the top of the main summit of Charlie's Bunion. You can see people down below on the sub-peak.

They're not kidding.

The first elk we saw on Monday.

The last elk (a doe) that we saw as we were heading out of the Park.

Yum! Grass!

This doe was pretty big. In the early days of the reintroduction they all had radio collars. Now I see more elk with no collars. I've been told the herd is now in excess of 200 animals.

Mo' Better Plans.

Now that retirement has fully kicked in I have begun to get my ducks in a row as far as planning trips is concerned. So far, we're staying relatively close to home, but are forming up our plots for trips farther afield. There's Colorado coming up when Carole takes her own retirement. But that's almost two years away. The trip to Italy will precede that (I hope). Until then we're looking at jaunts to Pennsylvania to visit both historic and wilderness sites; and to the Adirondacks in New York so that I can do some trekking in the High Peaks region while I'm still able to do that kind of thing. Also, Carole has mentioned that she wants to see Maine again, so we'll likely fly up for that and rent a car out of Boston. We'll see.

We just got back from Myrtle Beach, a trip I took reluctantly. I have to say that I cannot stand what they call "the Grand Strand". While it may be a strand, it is in no way grand. It is an overbuilt monstrosity of beachfront towers and vile amusement parks and residential areas packed cheek by jowl in front of eroding beaches where all of it is at the mercy of Atlantic storms and unceasing winds and tides. The place has become so urbanized over the years that it suffers full-on traffic jams every morning and afternoon just as things are in places like Charlotte and Atlanta. Screw that. I've never understood the appeal of that horrible blot on the map. While down there for four days I had about as miserable a time as I had feared, and I can here and now promise that my shadow will never again darken the pathetic dirt of the Myrtle Beach area. Sometimes you really can say "never".

As soon as we got back home yesterday I reserved our campsite for a week in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park for the last week of October and the first couple of days of November. The Fall colors will be at about their peak, I would think. But so was demand for camping space inside the Park. So by yesterday afternoon when we unloaded from the beach trip there were only about six spots remaining in the campground we wanted to use (Elkmont). Fortunately, I was able to grab one of them before it was gone.

I'm looking forward to this trip, since we haven't been to the Smoky Mountains in quite a while. I want to hike some familiar trails (I'll probably climb Mount LeConte for the tenth or eleventh time), and explore some trails where I've never hiked. We do have a hay-ride to take in Cades Cove, a place that I tend to avoid because of the crowds. But this will be a different kind of experience with no driving to do in bumper-to-bumper traffic. We'll be on the back of a wagon as it's pulled leisurely along by, I assume, a tractor of some sort. Sometimes I dream that all automobile access to Cades Cove will be banned. A dream, yes, but it would be so nice to see it happen.

For November into January I'll likely be doing a lot of hiking and will squeeze some solo backpacking trips in as we figure out just exactly when we want to see places in Pennsylvania that are on our bag-list. These trips, too, will likely be in the NC/TN/VA mountains, but I have had a bit of an urge to retrace some of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia, which I have not backpacked in decades. So maybe I'll go backpacking down in Georgia when the weather cools off.

I have begun wondering, and have even read, that we are among the last generation of US working class citizens who can honestly look forward to retirement and spending leisure time traveling and enjoying our twilight years. It does seem so, and it's sad to contemplate, but we're going to enjoy what we have while we have it.

A brief moment of beauty near the horrid "Grand Strand". Specifically in Calabash (just across the SC border in NC). We ate supper at this location in a restaurant on the waterfront. While the food was decent, I am pretty damned sure it is the last time I will ever see that place. No more Myrtle Beach environs for this southerner. The rest of you are welcome to it.

A Tough Hike to See the Caudill Cabin at Doughton Park.

I made the hike up to see the Caudill Cabin. I left my house very early so that I could get to the trailhead around 7:30, 8 at the latest. However, my directions from NC 21 were not accurate, so I had to get on the Blue Ridge Parkway and go down NC 18 toward North Wilkesboro. This, coupled with a stop along the Parkway to take photos at the developed section of Doughton Park slowed me considerably.

Finally, I made my way down to Longbottom Road and began to trek toward the trailhead. But I managed to pass it by about three miles and had to turn around. By the time I got to the parking area it was almost 10:30.

According to the map and directions I had the hike looked to be about 4.5 miles each way with about 1600 feet of elevation gain. One descriptor I read said that there were seven creek crossings. I ended up discovering, though, that all mileages were off by at least a mile each way; and there were, in fact seventeen creek crossings! Seventeen! Add to this the fact that the humidity levels were off the scale and I ended up being put through the wringer on this hike. It was horrible!

The first 1.7 miles or so is on the Grassy Gap Fire Road which apparently is a jeep road that has been used for fire suppression and to get equipment farther into the forest for trail maintenance. It's a slow, steady, easy climb along Basin Creek. This is all National Park property. It forms a big pie shaped wedge of land from the Blue Ridge Parkway down to the parking area on Longbottom Road. There are over thirty miles of trails on over 7,000 acres of land. Most people see only the part of the Park directly adjacent to the Parkway. But most of it is very different from these open meadows and it is, in fact, very heavily forested by recovering stands of hardwoods and white pines. This is what you hike through as you leave Longbottom Road and head up toward Caudill Cabin.

I was extremely impressed with the forests here. They are not composed of vast, ancient trees, but they are still imposing. Some of the stands of white pines are rather grand, but it is the groves of various hardwood species that are the most stirring.

All of the two trails that I used to access the Caudill Cabin site are adjacent to rushing streams. But it is when you reach Basin Creek that you find yourself in classic, southern Appalachian landscape. Trees tower over you, rhododendron blossoms are all around, rocks abound, and the sound of water crashing against polished stone is everywhere. This is indicative of the great blue wall of the mountains that rise up from the Piedmont so abruptly here in my native South.

The climb to the cabin was pleasant in many ways, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't difficult for me. The route is steep, and the seventeen creek crossing took a toll on me whenever I'd encounter one that was too deep to rock-hop and had to take the time to remove my boots and socks and then put them back on once I'd reached the opposite shore. In high heat and humidity, minor things like that take a toll. By the time I got to my destination I was as drenched as if I'd been doused by gallons of water, but it was all sweat that had soaked through my clothes. Yeah, it was pretty miserable in that respect.

As you climb you pass through what had once been the old Basin Creek community. Not quite a town, it still held a population of farmers who lived along the banks of the creek, farming the land and earning livings enough to support large families. That all came to an abrupt end one day in 1916 when a flood came roaring down the tributary washing away most of the houses and killing most of the people who had lived there. The community never recovered and in the 1930s the National Park Service purchased this large plot of land that is now Doughton Park.

The principle reason I went to hike there was to see the historic Caudill Cabin, the last remaining structure from the days just before the flood. But I also went to enjoy some solitude while I hiked, which has been missing from most of the outdoor trips I have taken recently. And it paid off. I did encounter one group of ladies who were coming down the mountain just as I was passing a large waterfall, and they asked me to take a group photo of them with their phone cameras (which I was happy to do).

Even though the hike did me in, I had a great time, suffered some hamstring cramps when I got home, but physically did okay compared to what I suffered through from some other more recent trips tromping up and down the steep slopes of the southern Appalachians.

 

The trail map for Doughton Park. As I have said, most people only see the strand of land adjacent to the Parkway road. But journey into the trail system and into the forests and you will find a completely new world.

This is the only part of the buildings at Doughton Park that is still being used as a visitors center. It was closed when I got there.

The large building adjacent to the visitors center is the old coffee shop that once served meals as an old-fashioned grill. Like most of the rest of the structures at Doughton Park it is now in sad shape and unused. This nation has plenty of money to piss trillions into war machines, but can't take care of its National Parks. The old coffee shop has recently undergone some basic repairs, and there are rumors that it will once again find use, but who knows?

Typical groomed lawn along the Parkway.

Basin Creek as I hiked along.

Rhododendron in full bloom.

The following few photos are the ruins of farms that once lined the creek. Many were killed in the 1916 flood.

The waterfall where I met the nice ladies hiking down the mountain. 

My initial view of the Caudill Cabin as I emerged from the deep forest.

This one-room cabin once served as home for an entire family.

I travel to the cabin.

Elk Knob State Park.

North Carolina's newest state park is Elk Knob State Park. It was formed mainly due to the efforts of local residents and land conservation groups. The slopes and summit of this 5,520-foot summit were going to be developed as residential subdivisions, but instead have become the latest addition to the state's park system.

The park consists of 3,680 acres of forests. It has been minimally developed with a road leading to a visitor's center, a trailhead parking lot, and a picnic area. There are some back country campsites but no traditional tent and trailer camping sites.

Since the park is less than eight miles from the center of the college town of Boone, it can get pretty crowded up there on a weekend. So don't go expecting to find much in the way of solitude unless you can go on a weekday. One cool thing about the park is that it's one of the few reliable areas in this part of North Carolina where you can go snowshoeing and cross country skiing when the occasional snowstorm hits the high country. And at over 5500 feet above sea level, this park does get its fair share of heavy snow.

Boulders Access

Some years ago quite a bit of acreage was added to Crowders Mountain State Park. This is generally the place I go when I can't find the time to head to the real mountains in the western side of the state. Instead I'll take a 30-minute drive south and hit the monadnocks we call Crowders Mountain and Kings Pinnalce.

However, the fact that the park is so close to a large urban area means that it has a tendency to be crowded, even on weekdays. For me, the park is a hit or miss opportunity. I rarely see much in the way of wildlife there (outside of turkey vultures), so I don't visit it for wildlife photography. What I do head there for is to see some unbroken forest patches and to have some vertical relief to hike. One of the peaks (Kings Pinnacle) can give give you almost one thousand feet of climb from base to summit. Alas, I tend to have to share the peak with scores of other people--sometimes hundreds--so I rarely get the chance to find any solitude there.

Today, though, I decided to finally visit what is called the 'Boulders Access' area of the park. I'm not sure how long that section has been opened, but for me it was a new experience. I got out my map of the park and found out how to get there from I-85 and drove over. I figured, from my experiences with the main part of the park, that I'd be hiking with a couple of dozen other people moving up and down the trails. To my surprise, the entire parking lot was empty when I arrived. In addition, during the 2.5 hours that I spent hiking the Ridgeline Trail and scrambling around on the boulders for which the area is named, I didn't see anyone else. I didn't hear anyone else. At one point I heard a couple of dogs barking from 300 feet below on the Piedmont farmland, but not a sign of another person.

One more thing that I liked about this part of Crowders is that it's far enough away from I-85 that I couldn't hear the drone and roar of that superhighway. There were times when all I could hear was the wind in the trees and songbirds singing away. That was also very cool.

While I had no plans to do any rock scrambling, a couple of the giant boulders had routes that were easy enough that I could resist the temptation to climb them. I was very, very careful, though. I'll be 62 years old in four days, so I know my years of tossing my body to risk should be far behind me. Especially considering how isolated I was with no other hikers on the trail. But I did it and had a good time. Too much caution makes a man into a coward, I reckon.

The big-ass boulder right across from one of the big-ass boulders I climbed.

The office and rest room. The offices were closed, but the rest rooms were open. The big parking lot was utterly empty except for my truck.

After some rock scrambling I took a break for lunch and to re-hydrate.

The view from atop one of the really big boulders. If you embiggen this photo you will see a low blue line on the horizon--some of the real mountains far to the west of us.

I climbed up there, and then I had to climb down.

Relocating An Old Hiking Destination.

I relocated an old hiking destination. See video posts for details.

Hiking up to find the old, lost location.

Hanging out on the isolated cliff, then hiking back down.

Brief Review of Standing Indian Campground.

Standing Indian is among our favorite National Forest campgrounds. It's a Nantahala National Forest facility located near Franklin, North Carolina. It's located near the NC/GA/SC border. Within a short drive is the Highlands area (packed with more waterfalls than you can imagine), the Blue Wall plunging down into the South Carolina Piedmont, and the spine of high mountains leading up from Georgia toward the Great Smoky Mountains.

For natural beauty the area is very hard to match. The mountain slopes are clothed in dense hardwood forests. There are many summits that crack the 5,000-foot mark. Streams and waterfalls can be found very close to the campground, and the Appalachian Trail winds its way over Standing Indian Mountain which looms over the vicinity and lends its name to the campground.

Oh. And there are normally lots and lots of bears here. The bear population in this area is about as dense as it gets.

The campground itself is very large and consists of four loops. Our favorite loop (#1) hugs the main creek and offers a number of creekside campsites. Our favorite site (#13) was unavailable so we stayed at site #16. This proved to be a bit of a mistake when a front moved through (the remnants of a Gulf hurricane) and dumped extremely heavy rain on us ceaselessly for more than 48 hours. The creek swelled beyond its banks and part of our campsite was inundated with water.

This was after the rains let up a bit and the lake that formed beside our campsite (flooding the picnic table) subsided .

Much as with our last camping trip, this one had us sidelined due to the inclement weather. My favorite pastime when I go camping is to hike to mountain summits and to hidden waterfalls. This was denied me on this trip because of the storm. Well, the next time we go we know to avoid campsite #16 if heavy rain is in the forecast.

Each loop at Standing Indian provides a bathhouse with flush toilets, sinks, and separate hot showers. The bath facilities are quite nice and there seem to be enough of them to avoid having to stand in line to use the showers. Of course we weren't there in high season, so this might not be the case when every site is occupied by a family.

The creek just across from our campsite. Its rushing waters would have lulled us to sleep if the pounding rain on the roof of our trailer hadn't done the same. The day after I took this photo the creek (Kimsey Creek?) was a good four feet deeper than in this photo and the banks were underwater.

There are no water or electric hookups at the campsites, but this isn't a problem due to the campground bath facilities. And if you have a travel trailer (as we do), then you generally don't actually need water and electric at the site. We carried our generator along and ran that when we needed, and our onboard water tank was full.

Since I couldn't hike as I wished, we ended up taking some long drives to see nearby sites that didn't require clear skies. One day we drove the Wayah Road which is lined with waterfalls and cascades. We skipped the drive to the shoulder of Standing Indian Mountain where we could have had a short hike to the summit. There is also a road to the top of Wayah Bald (another nearby mile-high peak), but we passed that one up because of the pea soup we knew would greet us at the end of the road and the top of the mountain.

An impressive cascade along Wayah Road.

Another day we took the hour-long drive over to Cataloochee Valley in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. While there we saw the restored elk herds and took advantage of that to take over one hundred photos of the enormous deer, returned to the South after about two hundred years absence.

Our trip was dampened a bit by the terrible weather, but as I like to say, even in crappy weather the forest beats the city any time. We relaxed a lot, sat and observed the trees, did some reading, and generally took it easy. Which is what a vacation is for.

Yay! The elk have returned to the Smokies!

Sweet Story

I have said it before, but to me it always bears repeating--many animals feel compassion. In fact, I am convinced that lots of animals have the same depth and range of emotions that humans feel.

This past week Carole and I camped at Standing Indian Campground. We both really enjoy that place and were keen on returning since the last time we tried it was closed and gated due to a government shutdown. So we reserved site #16 and commenced to setting up camp.

One thing that we had purchased for our camping trips is a picnic shelter called Clam Quick-Set Shelter. We'd heard lots of good things about these contraptions and all of the positive commentary are true, as far as we're concerned.

Our Quick-Set Clam Shelter 

So, we set it up and within about half an hour we noticed that a small bird (a junco?) had come in through the door and was trapped inside. We tried to get it to fly out by having Carole hold the net door open and with me trying to coax the tiny bird out that way. But she was having none of that and insisted on trying to fly through the netting at the back of the shelter.

The little trapped bird.

When I realized that the little bird wasn't going to go out the way it came in I decided to try to catch it in my hands and carry it out. This was surprisingly easy to do since she (he?) was exhausted. I carefully cupped the little critter in my paws and carried her out.

Now, here's the cool part. As I opened my hands to free the bird I noticed that a small flock was waiting on the other side of the shelter, lingering there in the hope that their panicked companion/family member would somehow escape. As she took wing, so did the assembled flock; and they all flew off together.

Fragile cargo.

Pearson's Falls

I have done so much hiking and exploring around Saluda, North Carolina over the years that I've lost count of the number of times I've been in or close to the town. However, for one reason or another I have managed to never see Pearson's Falls located on the edges of the city limits.

Maybe it's because of the $5.00 admission charge and the fact that the property is in private hands and no part of our public lands. I can't recall why I have passed it by to visit other places in the area, but I have.

Today Carole and I visited the Pearsons Botanical Preserve and paid the $5.00 admission fee and it was certainly money well spent. Pearsons Glen is the location of the waterfall and the Garden Club that owns and administers to acreage has done a more than admirable job of providing access and infrastructure for visitors to see the land and the waterfall that is its centerpiece.

The trail that leads to the falls is excellent work worthy of the best of the CCC trails that are in our National Parks and National Forests. It follows the stream which cascades down the rocks and boulders and offers an unending music to those who visit.

And what a great waterfall! Pearson's Falls is said to be 90-feet high and it does seem to be that tall. It is an especially striking a photogenic waterfall. Carole and I hope to go back in the spring with the various wildflowers will be showing their color. I highly recommend a visit!

Hiking the short trail to Pearsons Falls.

A picnic pavilion near the parking areas.

Standing near the base of the falls. No trespassing beyond the chains! (Seriously. Don't. The owners will prosecute.)

Decaying log at the bottom of the falls, alive with moss and new growth.

Carole along the way.

A bridge across the creek.

One of the picnic spots on the way to the falls.

A new blossom on March 17.

Carole and I get a kick out of Saluda. It's a nice and popular village.