The Chimneys, Linville Gorge

A neat place that's relatively easy to get to in the Linville Gorge Wilderness is a pair of mountain peaks called "The Chimneys". Viewed from a distance they appear to be easy to climb, but when you get to the base of the twin peaks, you learn that it's not actually as easy as it looks.

The first time I went I wasn't able to climb all the way to the summit of the higher of the pair of peaks. But I hope to return there soon and get to the top.

Photo of the Bob about a half mile from The Chimneys in Linville Gorge.
(Photo by Andy Kunkle.)

Here I was at the base of one of the peaks. You have to climb the rock walls to get to the top. Next time, for sure.

I did manage to climb most of the way to the top, stopping about twenty vertical feet shy of the summit. There I turned and got this photo of Andy and Boone sitting at the bottom.

Falling Water

A bit back I posted about one of the coolest waterfalls I have ever seen: Virgin Falls in Tennessee. It's a waterfall that appears out of a cave, then plunges into a sinkhole and vanishes forever.

A lot of folk don't know that Florida actually has waterfalls. It's not a state known for having the vertical relief necessary to create a waterfall. But there are some there. The highest in the state can be seen at Falling Waters State Park. The waterfall there is, they say, a bit over 70 feet in height, which is impressive. I'll take their word for the height.

Zoom! Over the edge, Alice! Over the edge!

Basically, it's a lot like Virgin Falls, in that it flows into a sinkhole and vanishes into the earth. The day we were there was during a drought and the flow was not very impressive. I've heard that it's a much more exciting sight when you can view it during times of normal rainfall.

I wonder if there are any fossils down there.

Yellowstone Float Trip

One of the highlights of our Yellowstone/Grand Tetons vacation was a rafting trip down the Yellowstone River. One thing about the West--I've never seen skies as consistently clear and as deep a blue as the ones out there. The only time I saw anything approaching smoggy eastern skies was our last day in the area when we drove through Jackson Hole.

Other than that one unfortunate partial day of smog, the air was cut as clean and clear as anywhere I've ever been.

We had to descend that steep hill via stairs down to our rafts.

Mountains, village, and river.

Panorama where we stopped to eat lunch.

The picnic area where we had our takeout for lunch and bathroom break. Look at those skies!

I rode the last little bit out in the riffles of the river. They had to call me to swim back to the raft or I'd have missed out last takeout point.

THE DEVIL'S COATTAILS

The anthology THE DEVIL'S COATTAILS is now out and available for purchase.

The first anthology edited by Jason Brock and William Nolan and published by Cykatrix Press was THE BLEEDING EDGE. I thought that anthology was a gorgeous hardback, but this one is even more impressive. As a collectible book, it's as beautiful as any I've seen. The printing, binding, and type are as fine as anything being published these days.

Since I'm working on several novels just now, I haven't had time to read the entire anthology, but so far what I have read is excellent fiction. First and foremost was "The Moons" by Ramsey Campbell. At this point in the history of modern horror fiction no one needs to be told who Campbell is. His skills as a writer of short fiction have only become sharper in recent years and this story illustrates that he's creating the kind of story that is unique--his voice, his themes, his way. Over the years I've felt that nobody is as good as Campbell when it comes to this type of thing, and once more we see him writing of children, of families, and weaving a most disturbing tale.

One story that surprised me with its wit and skill was "Dying to Forget" by Sunni Brock. I'd never read anything by Ms. Brock, so if this is the kind of work she produces, I hope to read more of her fiction in the future.

Some of the other authors present in this volume are Richard Christian Matheson, the late Messieurs Norman Corwin and Dan O'Bannon; Melanie Tem, Steve Rasnic Tem, Wilum Pugmire & Maryanne Snyder, Paul Bens, Jr., Earl Hamner, Jr., Scott Zicree, Jason Brock, Bill Nolan, and others (including James Robert Smith).

If you collect fine books, then THE DEVIL'S COATTAILS is one for you. If you just like to read great fantastic fiction, you can't do better than this one.

THE DEVIL'S COATTAILS, a fine limited edition hardback. Containing (among many others) the short story "On the First Day" by James Robert Smith.

Finishing Touches

Argh. The last few months have been tough. I keep plugging away at working as a laborer full time and then also working as a writer almost every day when I finish lifting and carrying. It ain't easy. You sometimes have to make compromises on everything but that job that brings in the regular freaking pay check.



At any rate, I'm almost finished. In fact, I'll probably finish it today and do the proofreading and get it sent to the publisher. I'm going to try.

And then what? Then I'm going to start on a new writing project. And for the first time in a long time, it's not a horror novel. It's still pure pulp for now people, but for a change it's not going to be horror, or connected in any way to horror fiction.

We'll see.

377 Feet

377 feet??!! Yep. Definitely some dick bias going on there.

Wiseman's View

My last stop of the day was Wiseman's View. It's a National Forest site along the Kistler Highway. It does indeed offer pretty much the finest easily accessible views in the entire gorge. I've been to finer grandstands in the wilderness, but you have to hike to those over rough trails. This one can be had via a drive to a parking area and then a short stroll to the edge of the canyon.

The Forest Service has provided some infrastructure here. There's a vault toilet, plenty of parking, an asphalt trail leading to the overlook that's even suitable for wheelchairs, benches, two rock and concrete viewpoints, rock walls, and even some grassy meadow suitable for picnicking.

As I enjoyed the spot I had the place utterly and completely to myself. There wasn't a single other human there on that cold, windy day. Initially the views were unimpeded by clouds or precipitation, but that changed as the snowstorm that had dogged me all that afternoon came zipping down the gorge and soon it was snowing again.

Finally, after taking a number of great shots of the gorge at Wiseman's View, I headed out with the wind whipping and the snow falling. Driving down from the ridgetop and into the lowlands, I left the place with the ground turning white beneath the snow.

I never tire of seeing the view from this overlook. (Click to embiggen.)

One of the pair of carefully constructed overlooks at the edge of the precipice.

The impressive peak known as Table Rock.

Telephoto shot of the Linville River 2,000 feet below.

The snow catches up to Wiseman's View.

The snowstorm came riding down the gorge.

I stopped at one last spot to look back at the mouth of the gorge, with Shortoff Mountain's looming cliffs soaring over the river.

Top O' the Falls!

Since the part of the Parkway where I wanted to hike was closed to me, I hopped off an the village of Linville Falls and drove over to the Kistler Highway to dally at the edges of the Gorge. First I stopped at the first overlook and took the .4-mile hike down to see the top of the falls.

At this point I had gotten an upset stomach and didn't feel like hanging around too much and ended up just taking some photos and strolling back to my car as the clouds gathered again and it started snowing. Back on the Kistler Highway, I saw a few wild turkeys and decided that my next, and last stop of the day would be the always fun Wiseman's View farther down the gorge.

I'll cover that tomorrow...

There were once a lot of grand old hemlocks in the gorge. Now they're all dead, except for a very few that the National Park Service has treated against the hwa infestation. Here is one fairly large one that is recovering after being treated.

This is the first set of cascades before the big main section of Linville Falls.

And this is the river as it goes over the precipice into the plunge pool far below.

The top section of Linville Falls.

Late Winter Snow

After I left Hunt Fish Falls I hopped in my truck and headed for the Blue Ridge Parkway. To do this, I took Forest Service Road 981 which intersects with the Parkway just south of Grandfather Mountain. My original intent was to hike up Grandmother Mountain and bag that peak, but I was stunned to discover that the mountain is now home to a high income vacation home subdivision. Complete with roads to the summit. And some kind of radio/microwave tower. Well, there was another plan shot down.

At any rate, the weather was getting weirder and weirder. Clouds would roll in and snow would come driving down. Then the cloud cover would vanish and it would stop snowing for a couple of minutes, and then the clouds and snow would return. And the wind just kept getting more and more fierce.

Finally, I decided to drive to the short Beacon Heights Trail and hike there. It's only about a half-mile round trip and leads out to some very nice exposed rock with really excellent views, especially of Tanawha (Grandfather Mountain). By the time I parked there the snow was really slamming the ridge but I bundled up in my gloves, my Postal jacket, a knit cap, and a scarf. Soon the ground was turning white, and the sky kept doing its chameleon thing with clouds and clear blue then clouds again.

After taking a bunch of photos I went back to my truck and remembered that I hadn't eaten yet, so I had a sandwich and cookies and then figured that I'd drive south to hit some other trails that I have been curious about. But soon after I passed the turnoff for Linville Gorge I found that the Parkway had been blocked off by the Park Service due to the inclement weather. I just couldn't win.

I turned around and headed back toward Linville where I knew I could drive down the Kistler Highway and walk to the top of the falls. I'll pick it up there tomorrow...

There aren't many original buildings remaining from the days when Mortimer was a thriving town. But this one still stands. I'm not sure what it was, but my suspicion is that it may have been the train station. (Or it could just be someone's vacation home.)

And this little building sits out on the same lot as the "train station".

I take photos at Beacon Heights during a break in the clouds.

Whoops! Here comes another snow squall over the 6,000-foot summit of Tanawha!

Damn! The storm is gone again!

This storm really caught me by surprise!

Looking off toward the east.

Then the snow starts getting serious again and soon the ground is beginning to turn white. Checking weather reports the following morning, I discovered that the area got around five inches of snowfall.

Lost Cove Cliffs as seen from the Blue Ridge Parkway. I've hiked there a couple of times. It's a very beautiful area.

Salamander Eggs

While I was hanging out at Hunt Fish Falls I noticed some weird-looking stuff floating in a pothole out on the bare granite expanses below the main falls. These are places where small stones and grains of sand have worn out circular depressions and holes in the granite face. This particular pothole was about two feet across and about the same depth. It was full of water and floating in that water were a couple of clusters of what were obviously eggs of some type.

I figured that they were amphibian eggs, but I don't know much about such things and wasn't sure. And they could have been any type of amphibian for all I knew. So I took some video and photographs and when I got back I showed them to some of my online pals who are far more knowledgeable abut these things.

The consensus is that they're obviously salamander eggs. But as to the exact species--that's up in the air. It would be nice if they're Hellbenders, which are our largest species of salamander here in the NC mountains. I've never actually seen a Hellbender, and it would be nice to think that I got to see literally hundreds of Hellbender embryos floating in that little pool of water.

Here I am on the exposed rock below the falls. This rock is riddled with many potholes. It was in one such pothole that I saw the clusters of eggs.

Here is a macro shot I took of a single egg. The eggs looked to be absolutely perfect little spheres, and in the center of each sphere was a forming embryo soon to become a baby salamander.

The eggs.


A better view of both masses. Each cluster was about the size of a soccer ball.

Hunt Fish Falls Revisit

I was able to get away on Sunday for a hike in the mountains. Since I was going solo again I didn't want to go bushwhacking. I promised Carole that I won't go off in the trackless wastes any more without hiking companions. So I decided to go back to the Wilson Creek area to find the South Harper Creek Falls which I have never seen. After that I'd have time for some other trails that I wanted to hit.

But trouble found me almost as soon as I got to the Wilson Creek Recreation Area. In the form of the weather. When I arrived, the weather was fine. A mild day with clear skies. However, the previous evening had been very windy and as I got a good ways up Forest Service Road 464 and was about six or seven miles from the trailhead I wanted to use, I discovered that the road was blocked by a large tree (see yesterday's post for a photo). I had to turn around. There was no way to go around the tree.

I had passed the trail to Hunt Fish Falls a mile or so before the blockage and I turned around and went back to that. I'd been there before, but it's a very picturesque waterfall if not a very tall one. And the hiking would be easy, and I could head down the trail to another waterfall that I'd heard about but had never seen.

In quick order I was on the trail and plunging down into the gorge. As I hiked I noticed that it was getting colder. At first I thought that it was just my imagination at work, but by the time I got down to Hunt Fish Falls and walked out on the big granite clearings below the falls I realized that it really was getting colder. There was a powerful front moving through and it was bringing cold air with it. Out on the rock I actually had to put my gloves on to keep my fingers from going numb. Fortunately, I'd brought a jacket, a ski cap, gloves, and a scarf. I don't know why I had grabbed those items at the last minute, because all weather reports I'd read had called for temperatures in the low 50s. But that wasn't the case at all.

After I'd spent some time at Hunt Fish Falls I packed my camera stuff away and shouldered my pack and headed downstream, seeing more of the trail that I'd never hiked. After a mile or so I came to a spacious camping area beside the creek and I pushed on. I met some people fishing in the creek and I waved and said hello and continued down the trail. And then I saw that the trail ended and to continue the hike I'd have to cross the creek. To do that I'd have to take off my boots and socks and unzip my convertible pants. But by then the temperature was definitely in the low 40s, maybe even down into the 30s--it was much too cold to go wading in a fast-moving creek pumped up with recent rainfall.

So I turned around and headed back to my truck. I figured I could take another Forest Service Road up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and do some hiking from there. In quick order I passed Hunt Fish Falls again and made the climb back to my truck. Once more I was really surprised at how cold it was getting. Oh, well. I had the right clothing on hand in case it got even colder.

Taking another Forest Service Road I began to climb up toward the Parkway. And just as I was getting close to the Parkway I saw something. My first thought was that I was seeing some early blossoms being blown off some tree, because the wind was whipping up. And then I realized that it was snowing. The higher I drove the more intense the snowfall became. A huge front of clouds was coming in from the west and bringing, apparently, heavy snow. I kept driving and hit the Parkway where I turned north, meaning to find some trailheads near Grandfather Mountain.

And it was at that point that the storm really hit. Soon the snow was pouring down and the wind was whipping fiercely. Grandfather Mountain disappeared behind dark clouds and blinding snow squalls, the reappeared as breaks in the cloud cover passed over, then vanished again. This was repeated again and again, but soon the cloud cover seemed to be winning out and the ground quickly began to turn white. I parked at the Beacon Heights trail and strolled to the big exposed rocks at the end of that stroll where I took some photos. Then I figured I'd take advantage of the snow and hit a trail off the Parkway that I'd wanted to hike for some time, but after I'd driven a few miles I found the Park authorities had blocked the route south.

By then, it was getting far too late to think about much in the way of a serious hike. Resigning myself to the fact that the weather had gotten the best of my plans, I backtracked and turned toward the Linville Gorge Wilderness. At least I could stop and walk to the top of Linville Falls, then drive down to Wiseman's View and wrap up my day of outdoor adventures.

And that's what I did. More photos (and video) tomorrow.

This is as the start of the trail to Hunt Fish Falls. It's classic southern Appalachian hiking. If you want to see mountain laurel, azalea, and rhododendron in bloom, this is one great place to go in Spring and Summer.

This is the view from the top of the modest (but very pretty) Hunt Fish Falls.

This is one gorgeous campsite right at the top of the falls. I'd love to hike down here and camp.

A panorama of Hunt Fish Falls and the wonderful swimming hole below it. I can imagine spending an entire day and evening here just lazing around the site and swimming and taking it easy.

Hunt Fish Falls.

The sky was almost clear and spectacularly blue. Little did I know that things were about to change drastically.

This is a panorama of a vast campsite that I hear is mainly used by fishermen. It's huge and is about a mile or a bit more than that from Hunt Fish Falls. Just beyond here is where I had to turn around because it had gotten way too cold for me to ford the creek.

Trail 262 (Lost Cove) is just a lovely path.

And one more view of Hunt Fish as I passed it again on my way back up to the top of the canyon.

I've been to Hunt Fish Falls three times. And every time I've been this little waterfall has been running, sending water in to join the creek below Hunt Fish.

You're not to keep any of the fish you catch on this creek. It's all catch and release.

The great campsite right beside Hunt Fish Falls.

You can always find little treasures like this along the trails. This was just a tiny little cascade. But there in the shade beneath the rhododendron, it was quite pretty.

Good ol' Hunt Fish Falls.

Yesterday's Hike

I managed to go hiking yesterday. My trip was scrambled by a number of factors, all dealing with the (changing) weather. I'll post details later, but my first problem was the blockage of the road I was going to use to get to my preferred trail head. The wind of the previous evening had planted a large tree across the road, blocking access.

The road was blocked. Thanks Mr. Wind!

So I had to completely change my plans and play it by ear. After a hike to see a waterfall I'd visited a couple of years ago I headed into higher country to access some different trails, and ran into fierce winter weather complete with snow.

Oh, well.

My final stop of the day: Wiseman's View in the Linville Gorge. The snow was starting to come down in serious fashion as I left the Gorge.

The big snowstorm was gliding across Grandfather Mountain, getting ready to hammer me.

And this is the weather that soon caught up to me.

Virgin Falls

This waterfall is neat as hell. Because it emerges from a cave opening, rolls over a cliff face, and then vanishes immediately into the ground without producing a stream either from points above the falls, nor points below it. Where it finally emerges is anyone's guess. It is the centerpiece of the Virgin Falls Pocket Wilderness.

The hiking trails around this place are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen anywhere. And I even count Yellowstone and Grand Tetons in that. Why I have only been one time is a mystery. I really need to go back there. Another nice thing about the place is that the Hemlock wooly adelgid has only just arrived in the forests there and so the hemlocks are still alive. I'm not sure how much longer they will be living, so that's another reason for me to return.

Emerging from the cave.

Plummeting into the sinkhole to vanish into the earth.

The day I hiked in was during a horrid drought. One of the worst the South has seen in 100 years. The temperatures were in the mid-90s. But in that sinkhole it was as cool as a crisp Fall evening.

Living with Vermin

Between the ages of 15 and 18 I lived in the north Georgia mountains in a place called Gilmer County. The nearest town to where we lived was a village named Ellijay. The foremost fact about this place that I often relate is that it was the inspiration for James Dickey's novel and film DELIVERANCE. For good reason, too.

However, we didn't actually live in Ellijay. My dad had purchased a tract of land of 120 acres and subsequently picked out a home site and had a road bulldozed down to it where he had a house constructed. When I tell people about the place they generally don't believe me. But here are the facts:

Our driveway was almost exactly one mile long. From our house the driveway led to a dirt county road known as Log Round Road. (I'd always thought the name was Log Ground Road, but when I finally saw the name in print, it was Log Round.) To get to the nearest paved road you had to hang a left on Log Round Road and drive roughly three more miles to get to a road that was actually topped with asphalt. Our nearest neighbor was two and a half miles distant. The nearest phone was about five miles from our house. (Recall that this was in the days before such things as cell phones.)

As far as the human inhabitants of the county, see DELIVERANCE. Both the novel and the film.

But this brief entry isn't about the folk who inhabited the land, but the bugs. And, in particular, a species of arachnid with which we were soon to become quite well acquainted: the scorpion.

Almost on my first visit to Gilmer County I found a scorpion. While dislodging rocks beside a road cut searching for fossils, I moved some slate to find not fossils, but living scorpions. I was only a kid at the time, no older than nine or ten, and had never seen a real scorpion, but I knew what they were. And I fled in horror.

The scorpion species that thrives in the mountains of north Georgia is not terribly dangerous. It can give you a nasty sting that I would equate with that of a big wasp or hornet. But it won't kill you. Over my time living in Gilmer County, I became familiar with the little bastards and discovered exactly what it felt like to get stung by them.

The first time one nabbed me I was sitting beside a stack of lumber my dad had put on the summit of the highest point of land on the property. Originally, he had toyed with the idea of building there, but later changed his mind when he considered the depth of the well he might have to have drilled. The views there were good, but on the mountaintop there was no ready access to water. But we were there one day and I settled down beside the lumber and leaned back, putting my hand on a piece of wood--probably a 1X6. As soon as my hand settled down I felt a sting and reacted. Pulling my hand away I saw that I'd put it down directly on one of the little brown scorpions and he had nabbed me in the web of flesh between my third and fourth fingers. It hurt! I reacted quickly and without really thinking I balled up my right (unstung) fist and used it to crush the little bastard.

I had already heard that they were not deadly so I wasn't too alarmed. Just pissed off.

Later, after our house went up at its location at the far end of that driveway down in the deepest valley on our property, we began to notice them around the house. Sometimes they'd be dead and just drying up in light fixtures. Or sometimes we'd catch one crawling across a window ledge. Then, as the months went on and they became more and more comfortable with our home, we'd find them in truly troubling spots. Sometimes when making the bed I'd peel back the covers and find one hiding in the sheets or under a pillow. Yes, that was sobering.

One morning I woke up and put on my shoes. As my right foot lodged solidly in my boot I felt a burning sensation. Yep. I immediately knew I'd been stung by a scorpion who'd thought it was a good place to hide. I quickly threw off the shoe and was able to find and kill this latest little bastard.

Over the years we lived there I was stung probably six times. When you're a teenager spending tons of time hiking and backpacking, forever under the big blue sky, you get used to being stung by everything that flies and creeps through the forest. You lose track of those little painful events.

But one time was special. It was my senior year in high school. One evening I'd gone to sleep and was snoozing along, resting comfortably. But then, suddenly, I was wide awake. I knew immediately why I was awake, of course. I was in pain. Specifically, my left upper arm was burning like fire. In the night I had rolled over on a scorpion and with the full weight of my body it had slammed its stinger home in the unprotected flesh of my arm.

I leaped up and swept back the cover, searching for the fucker. At first I couldn't find him, but knocking my pillow aside I saw that he'd retreated there. My arm still burning as if it had been seared by a hot iron, I took my rage out on the hard-shelled shithead. I crushed the damned thing until it was in many pieces.

Unlike the other times I'd been stung, this time was different. Because I'd actually rolled over on the arachnid, and my full weight had been pressing down on it, the thing had emptied the entire contents of its venomous glands into my muscles. Over the course of the next two weeks the point where I'd been stung swelled slightly, then crusted over like a bright orange scab. I kept it washed and swabbed with alcohol, waiting for it to heal. Then about fourteen days after the event, the crust crumbled away like white chaff, leaving a pale pink dot about the size of a quarter that slowly faded to match the rest of my arm as I went about my life.

My old pal, Vaejovis carolinianus

After that, I never got stung again. But it wasn't because they didn't try. I was just lucky after that. Toward the end, right before we moved away from the place, I pulled a shirt out of the clothes hamper and put it on without buttoning it all the way. Going to the kitchen counter to see about making a sandwich, I caught a movement in the periphery of my vision. I looked down at my chest to see the pincers of a scorpion sticking out of my shirt. This meant that the little shitwad's stinger was pointed directly at my stomach. Cold hilarity ensued as I first froze, then carefully used a butcher knife to flick the damned thing into the sink where I killed it with scalding water, boiling it like a lobster in a pot.

Sometimes I still miss that place.

THE FLOCK book trailer

I cobbled together a book trailer for my novel THE FLOCK. I'm fairly happy with it, but I wish I had better tools for creating these trailers.