First Magnitude Beauty

I've had to endure quite a long camping hiatus for a number of reasons. One problem that I ran into was that a slight leak developed in one of the fresh water pipes on my travel trailer. I could use it, but only if I didn't utilise the electric pump. And because of my hectic work schedule, I couldn't get the trailer into a service department. I found the problem, but repair work was beyond my own abilities because of the fact that I would have had to have removed the fuse box, and I don't know enough about wiring to do that.

Finally, I managed to secure a spot at the place where I have my trailer serviced. Next Friday I'll have the work done, which will get my trailer up to speed. And that will put me back on track to getting out to various National Forest and State Park campgrounds where I can do my hiking and canoeing.

Our initial big trip of the year will be a return to visit some first magnitude springs in Florida. We're going to hit some that we've never seen. Mainly along the Suwanee River drainage. These are, we've heard, top-notch springs with lots of recreation opportunities and plenty of wildlife. We're hoping to see more manatees, as we did last year at Blue Spring.

The past few months have been a huge bust for me as far as hiking and peak bagging. If I can, I'm going to hit some mountains in the coming weeks. We'll see.

One of the springs at Juniper Springs Recreation Area in the Ocala National Forest.

The amazing Silver River, produced whole cloth from the depths of the stupendous Silver Springs near Ocala, Florida. I'd like nothing better than to see the park that owns the springs get gobbled up by the Florida State Park system and made into public property.

Taking a dip in the appropriately named Salt Spring. This still has to be my all-time favorite first magnitude Florida spring. The water filters through a mineral deposit and emerges relatively salty, making a home for salt-water creatures that one would never expect to see in an otherwise fresh water spring dozens of miles from the ocean.

LITTLE PISGAH MOUNTAIN SCUMBAGS

For many reasons, there is relatively little public land in the eastern USA. This is an unfortunate thing, and becoming problematic as time passes. For many reasons, including habitat loss and the general irritations of urban sprawl, the lack of park and wilderness lands in the eastern USA is fast becoming a major issue for clean and healthy environment.

One reason it's a serious problem is for reasons of simple recreation. Public lands are just that: public. You can go into them to drive, walk, hike, backpack, camp, hunt, fish, swim, climb, boat, canoe, kayak, rappel, etc. and etc. and etc. Because so much the eastern USA was claimed by land barons and raped long ago, there's not that much public property here. Most of our land is loused up in the form of residential, industrial, and retail uses. There's just not a big bank of public parkland here on our side of the continent.

Here's a case in point as to what can, and likely will, happen when unusual natural features are left in the hands of private owners:

In 2008 I posted about a hike I made to bag a summit called Little Pisgah Mountain not far from Lake Lure. It's an unusually pretty mountain with some really wonderful views from the peak, despite the fact that there are the seemingly requisite radio and microwave towers fucking up the top of it. In addition, one had to road-hike through many parcels of private property to get there, but public access had been grudgingly allowed by land owners. Now, however, for whatever reasons, those same god damned land owners have now restricted access to Little Pisgah Mountain.

Screw you, landowners! I already climbed your fucking mountain! HAW!!!

Of course this is their right. But it shouldn't be so. Maybe some of them tired of seeing hikers trudging to the tops of their mountain. Maybe some of them got sick of having the road blocked by such people leaving their cars beside the road while they made the trek to the views. This may all be true.

However, since this mountain is such a nice place, and is covered more in forest land than not, it would be best if the Federal and/or state government declared eminent domain and just took the land from these greedy, self-centered motherfuckers. I don't really care if they were paid a fair-market price, or if the government just took it from them and kicked their sorry asses off and turned it into a state or federal park.

Oops! This view now only for the privileged!

This is the kind of thing that sickens me and it's past time that land like this was removed from private hands and put permanently into public ownership. Eminent domain: Let's have it!

Here are posts that I did for Little Pisgah Mountain back when public access was allowed, and when I was able to hike to the summit. Alas, those days are no more.

PTL CLUB Rots Again!

The last couple of places I visited at the old PTL/Heritage USA site were the convention center and the "Upper Room". The last time I'd seen the convention center, the roof had partially collapsed and the interior of the building was full of water. Since then, someone with lots of money has come through and renovated the place. And they've seemingly done a pretty good job of it.

The facade looks okay, and there's new glass in all of the doors and windows. Maybe they're actually going to use the place again. One has to wonder what it was like in the great days of Jim and Tammy with all of the comings and goings and millions of people flocking through. Oy.

The convention center as it looks today. Not too bad for the neglect it suffered for so long. The parking lot is about the only decrepit part of it--cracked and weedy and looking forlorn.

The waiting area for the tram that will never arrive. This, too, looked to have been renovated a bit in recent years. Or maybe it's just been relatively dry and free of well-deserved rot.

No comment.

The guard rails along this road that runs around the convention center are almost completely rotted away. Whole sections were missing. I should have gotten out of my truck and taken a photo of the road itself--pocked and strewn with the accumulation of years of compacted leaf litter.

And then it was off to "the Upper Room"! Now, this was the weirdest place of them all! Outwardly, it looks to be in fairly good repair. But that's misleading, once you get up close and take a good look. Then you notice how it's going south.

The walkway had these paving stones adjacent to it. Each of them had some Biblical quote etched into it. This one, in retrospect, was pretty much waaaaaaaay the fuck off the mark.

Off center of the Upper Room a little was this sculpture of Pontius Pilate and entourage condemning Jesus Christ to death. I don't know who did this thing, but he sucks. The figures are crude and stiff. Someone must have done it for free. Looks like a high school nudnick did it.

Pontius Pilate with cabbage leaves or something on his noggin.

Jesus also complete with cabbage leaves on his head and additional crown of--ten penny nails??! With clueless centurion in attendance.

Someone stole the centurion's javelin!

What? Don't look at me! (Said the evil priest with cabbage leaves stuck to his face.)

Part of a covered walkway leading to a door in the Upper Room. Looks like either the wind or someone swept it out recently.

This was in a little alcove. Not sure what that is in the pot--socks? Underwear? Rag? Hanky? (Ick.)

Stair leading away from the alcove. You can see the plaster flaking away as weather works at the structure. If they don't tear it down, Mother Nature is going to do it for them.

Another alcove at the bottom of the Upper Room. It was packed with leaves--at least one season's worth.

The absolute weirdest thing about the Upper Room. It looks as if there's actually some dude buried there!!! Some guy named Aubrey Sara. When he got planted there, they probably figured this was going to be some kind of shrine forever and ever and ever. How wrong they were. Looks like someone comes here occasionally to sweep off the concrete bricks over the grave site and pull up the weeds. Needs another weeding, I'd say.

Closeup of the plaque above the grave, complete with "No Trespassing" sign. The word "love" or a variation of it appears four times in the first four lines of the plaque. Guess the dude was jam-packed with love.

If you're headed to see the vestiges of Jim & Tammy's collapsed scam kingdom, you'd best hurry. Most of it's been cannibalized by land developers and new religious shysters. The best of the decay was circa 2003 or so. Now it's springing up with new, secular life and the old religious buildings are mainly either gone or will soon be taken over by newer churches and such. So hurry along if you want to see what hasn't been gobbled up or hasn't yet, quite fallen into total decrepitude. It's worth the trip as a curiosity, especially if you, like me, recall the days when millions of morons flocked to be fleeced here.

PTL Ephemera

More PTL CLUB/Heritage USA sights of total bizarro!

This is one of the windows in the castle section--the only remains of the old water park. It's my favorite PTL Club ruin.

HAHA! The towers are now the permanent abode of a flock of carrion-eating buzzards! Not what the thieves who built the place had in mind, I'd wager! HAW! This guy seems to have taken up residence in the very top floor. Expensive tastes!

Closeup shot of the buzzard. Take a look at that beak!! YOW!

This tower is really coming apart. All over it, the brick facade has been peeling off. Also, wires and conduit dangle throughout the parts of the interior that are visible from the grounds. The new owners claim to be able to renovate it. I wouldn't want to walk around in there. Likely, it should be torn down. Two decades of exposure to the elements can't have done that place anything but severe harm.

Some of these things are gone, but there are still a few left: They were "tram" stops. Where you could wait for the arrival of trams and buses to take your stupid ass around the so-called "Heritage USA". I'd laugh if the idea of people actually enjoying that place wasn't so pathetic.

Hm. Seems that the tram's not coming. Oh, well.

This was the entrance and box office of the old amphitheater where the "Passion Play" was held. It was actually, at one point, a pretty complicated structure. Set up to look like some kind of acid-addled impression of ancient architecture, it was packed with modern lighting and sound facilities. I guess they didn't need this place after Crazy Mel made his movie.

Part of the surviving wall of the amphitheater. The conduit containing the wiring for the lighting and sound systems has come loose. Vandals have covered sections of the walls and doors with grafitti.

This crappy little bench was just sitting at the edge of a deteriorating parking lot. One sees this kind of thing around the area. Just something that's corroding and wearing away and is now just a forgotten piece of shit.

More details tomorrow! The "Upper Room" and other weirdnesses!!!

It CAN Happen Here (HERITAGE USA)

Some years ago, in this part of the Carolinas, there was a religious scam going down. Its popular name was "the PTL CLUB". Begun and operated by a couple of scumbags, it grew and thrived until it had become a 2400-acre theme park that rivaled the Disney operations in total attendance. The place was enormous and the growth potential was limitless, for there seemed to be an endless supply of clueless rubes whom the operators found only too easy to frisk of their hard-earned pesos.

Alas!Finally, the poorly constructed house of lies came to pieces. Like Bernie Madoff's theivery, the instigators were caught in the act and everything came crashing down. The outfit proved to be a tremendous Humpty-Dumpty, and even Jerry Falwell (whose jaws no doubt slavered at the thought of that wealth) couldn't put it back together. Neither could Morris Cerullo. The entire operation and all of that vast acreage fell into receivership. Some Asian gentlemen bought it all up for a song, and there it lay fallow for years, most of the place just wasting away into ruins.

The last time I'd been there, was in the company of authors Rick Hautala and James Morrow. That had certainly been an interesting trip, as at the time the PTL facilities had pretty much reached their apex of deterioration. Everywhere we looked the parking lots were jutting with weeds. Buildings were coming apart. Roofs were collapsed from lack of repair and water filled the buildings on which we spied through dark and smeared and shattered windows.

Today, I went back for another look. Much of the damage has been repaired, although many of the landmark buildings are still wasting away to the elements. But huge swaths of the 2400 acres are now filled with subdivisions. Those Asian gentlemen who had bought the land at such a reduced price seem to have done quite well for their small investment. I'd heard that they were Christians, but there's a certain kind of justice to think that some of those profits might end up in Buddhist temples. Who knows?At any rate, here are some interesting photos that I took on my brief journey through the old grounds of Heritage USA, aka The PTL Club. HAHA!

These are the towers that really got Jim Bakker in trouble. Apparently he'd oversold the condo units here. Like some kind of real-life Max Bialystok and Leo Bloom he'd sold several hundred per cent of the joint! HAW! HAW! HAW!

This place was really, really weird. It was an amphitheater where the rubes would go to watch the "Passion Play". When I saw it last, the part that's all red clay and brush was a twisted representation of what the builders saw as Jesus-era Jerusalem. It wasn't accurate, of course, but it fit the bill for the average idiot who attended these "plays". For some reason, the city part of the structure has already been demolished, so all that remains is the boarded up box office and the stadium-style seating. Adjacent to the ruins is a ramshackle time-share campground.

This was something called "The Upper Room". Sorry, I'm not a devout Fundie, so I don't know the origin of that term. It means nothing to me. This place was probably the strangest of all the places where I stopped for photos. I'll post details on just why when I get around to the small stuff tomorrow.

One place that I didn't see was "Kevin's House". I just didn't have time to look for it. Kevin's House was a big, rambling structure that had been built, ostensibly, for a hideously deformed young person whose name was Kevin and whom the founders of PTL had milked for all he was worth. People would get one look at the pitiful tyke and empty their savings account into the PTL Club coffers. I'm not sure what the theives had planned for that house once its initial use was done, but I'm sure it was for nefarious purposes.

I also didn't go to see the area once called "Main Street USA", because it's in use again by a religious organization, and I just didn't want to encounter any of those folk. But not too long ago that place, too, was in ruins, and I'm sure it would have made for some interesting photographs. Now, though, I wasn't keen on taking a look at it.

This spot was really creepy. It reminded me of that abandoned amusement park that used to be in Salt Lake City (the Saltair). That Utah spot had been used as a location shot and it featured prominently in the classic Herk Harvey indie film CARNIVAL OF SOULS. This building reminds me of the one from that 1962 film, and it is all that remains of the old Heritage USA water park. All of the pools and water slides and such have been bulldozed and demolished. Other than this decrepit "castle", all that's left of the old water park is a huge empty lot full of weeds and red clay. HAHA!


Tomorrow, I'll post shots and comments on some of the really creepy stuff that I noticed upon closer inspection of the area. (Shudders!)


Here's a link to a very cool short horror film directed by Mark Steensland, based on a short story by Keelan Patrick Burke, and screenplay by my old pal Rick Hautala. So go take a look for a quick chill!

PS: This is, apparently, my 500th blog post.

To Celo Knob and Back to Mitchell

Since the last time I'd hiked the Crest Trail had proven to be so hard on me, I'd decided that in my quest to bag the other 6,000-foot peaks on the ridge, I would camp overnight in Deep Gap and break the hike with an overnight stay. This would, I assumed, make it easier on me.

I was wrong.

There had been a lot of rain off and on during the night, and I awoke to an overcast sky, the clouds hanging right on the ridges. I knew that I'd have poor views, but I'd get to experience the trail and I'd end up noticing things I'd probably miss if the skies had been clear.

After waking, I fixed some breakfast and left my camp intact and headed toward Winter Star and the peaks beyond it.

The hike up Winter Star was foggy, the clouds coming in low and dropping almost constant rain as I walked the ridges.

At Winter Star I paused to take a picture at the summit looking south toward Gibbs and Celo Knob. Compare this foggy photo with this one.

As I hike along, the clouds kept closing in on me.

Right after I took this photo, the skies opened up in a tremendous downpour. And, yes, this is the trail. One has to climb it rather than walk it. And during the downpour it more resembled a waterfall than a trail.

Even relatively early in the hike, I was beginning to feel fatigue. The trail is just hideously rugged. Each time you hit one of the peaks, you then have to drop precipitously into a gap and regain the next ridge line. Here, the trail had corkscrewed down Winter Star and then climbed back toward Gibbs Mountain.

The trail is not continuously maintained and often vanishes beneath a sea of undergrowth. You just have to kind of figure out where the trail is and push ahead. This could lead to some unfortunate mistakes, if one is not deliberate.

This is why you have to be careful. I was moving along the trail and it led right up to the edge of this enormous cliff. This drop off was barely visible through the brush and thick clouds. It would have been very easy to step off the edge by not paying attention. This whole section of the trail skirted a series of such cliff faces.

I climbed this nameless peak on the way to Gibbs. I took a GPS reading from that rocky pinnacle and found that I was almost 6,100 feet above sea level.

Even in the clouds, the South's finest sub-alpine scenery is stunning.

I bagged Gibbs on my way to Celo Knob. One more Sixer out of the way. By this time I was soaked to the skin and exhausted. And even in the rain I was drinking a lot of water, wondering if, once again, I'd not brought enough with me.

Through the clouds, through the mist, through the rain I pushed on toward the last 6,000-foot peak along the highest ridge in the eastern USA.

And then, there it was, high above me through the clouds: Celo Knob. I hiked on up the well-traveled manway to the summit and was finally able to knock it off my list of accomplishments.

I quickly found the benchmark at the summit: 6,327 feet above sea level. The 11th highest peak in the USA east of the Mississippi.

Then I had to turn back and hike to my tent, break camp and head back to Mount Mitchell. This would be a hike of around ten miles, after I'd already hiked four to get to the summit of Celo. Since I'd split the hike up into a tw0-day trip, I had figured I was giving myself plenty of time to bag these peaks in a more leisurely fashion and save myself from some of the suffering I'd gone through on the Crest Trail the year before.

Hell, no. I was wrong again.

I'd come prepared, I'd figured, with plenty of water. There are springs to either side of Deep Gap where I'd even replinished my water. My mistake was in not realizing how tired I was by the time I'd made it back to Deep Gap from Celo Knob. Even with extra water I ran out before I'd made it to Big Sam. Big mistake. Once more, as I climbed up out of those huge gaps between the peaks, I found my legs
cramping as, again, the potassium had leached out of my system and my legs started seizing up with tremendous pain that locked me in place. First one leg and then the other.

And, just as I had the year before, I had to just bear the pain and wait for it to subside so that I could start walking again. The peaks became long, painful duels between myself and gravity. I was parched and hot and lugging my backpack up these big mountains with no water to quench my thirst and to stop my muscles from cramping up. It took me a very long time to make it back to the Mount Mitchell parking lot, and when I did, I was pretty much completely drained.

This was the view I had after I'd packed up my campsite and was heading back toward Mitchell. That's Potato Hill and Cattail Peak. I was already in a lot of pain, but it was worth it to see something like that ahead of me. I knew the hike back was going to be hard on me, but it's sights like this one that reward me for all of the effort and physical hardship.

This was the last photo I took that day. Heading up this ridge the leg cramps hit with full force and I was suffering far too much to fish out my camera for any more pictures. After that, it was a long, miserable march to my truck, and the drive back home. Within a few months, though, I was once again hiking the Black Mountain Crest Trail. And, yes, I'll go back again. It remains one of my favorite destinations.