Lovely wildflowers and a total screw-up April 13, 2014Posted by Jenny in bushwhacking, hiking, Smoky Mountains.
Tags: Bunion Crag, Lester Prong, Porters Creek manway, Porters Flats, Tourist Bunion, wildflowers
Mark Shipley came up with the idea. He wanted to go through the Porters Flats area when the wildflowers there neared their peak. We succeeded in that part.
We didn’t succeed in the other part of our quest, and it was my fault. He wanted to continue up the Porters Creek manway, turn up Lester Prong, and climb the Tourist Bunion from the bottom. On the map below, I have put a giant “X” through the words Charlies Bunion because that is not the place everyone thinks of as Charlies Bunion. Long story.
I’ve climbed the Tourist Bunion from the bottom two times. The first time was somewhere around 30 years ago, with my former husband, Chris Hebb.
The second time was much more recently, on a climb I did with Chris Sass where we went down Middle Crag and up the Bunion Crag (Tourist Bunion). I took this picture of Chris going up the ridge.
Mark invited the “usual suspects” of hard-core bushwhacking to do this hike with him. Everyone had conflicts except me. I thought it would make it more fun to have someone else along, and I invited several other people. Everyone said they couldn’t do it, except for Clayton Carver.
Clayton is a young guy who’s just getting really interested in off-trail exploring. He’s done some challenging stuff on his own like Big Duck Hawk Ridge, Trout Branch Scar, and Anakeesta Ridge. On an impulse I invited him to join us, and I think he was a bit startled, but he agreed to come.
I appreciate this even more now that I know he was apprehensive about climbing the Bunion. I totally understand that—I think anyone sane would be apprehensive about it, and I am apprehensive about it myself—it’s just that I’ve got this little trick of “mind over matter” figured out. There’s lots of handholds and footholds—it just happens there’s a lot of air around it, too. So it becomes an exercise in positive thinking. In other words, focus on what’s there instead of what’s not there.
So we met at the Porters Creek trailhead at 8:00. Soon we were surrounded in flowers—practically smothered in them.
So we arrived at Campsite 31, which makes a great place to stop for a break and have some food and water. We continued on to the Porters Creek manway. Right at the start there is a new, large hemlock blowdown that makes it difficult to follow, and these days it’s not all that easy to follow anyway. Back in the 80s it was just about like following a regular trail. Not that way anymore! But we sorted things out, found the manway where it continued beyond the blowdown, and made the stream crossings until we reached Lester Prong. We turned up Lester and headed for Tributary #2, which would take us to the Tourist Bunion.
Mark kept saying, “This is a beautiful stream!” It is, and I think Clayton felt the same way. Mark has done a ton of bushwhacking but hadn’t been up Lester before. Clayton is just getting started with the famous streams of the Smokies.
Since I was sorta the old-timer on this route, I stopped the group at various points, explaining their importance. I made them stop at the first tributary on Lester and told them about how that leads up to “Rocky Crag” or the “Real Bunion” or the “USGS Bunion” or however you want to call it. I pointed out the little stream on the right that comes down from the summit of Horseshoe Mountain.
So we continued on, and we passed a small gully on the left. It carried no water at all. It seemed to be too low in elevation for the second tributary. Mark pointed it out, but I carelessly dismissed it. We kept going. Turns out that’s where we should have gone.
We reached another tributary, which had a good supply of water flowing down it, and I announced that was our route. We clambered up some cascades, and before long I thought I recognized the route Chris Sass and I had used a year and a half ago. He and I hadn’t approached from the bottom of the tributary, we’d come down from the adjacent ridge (to the east)—that’s my only excuse for not correctly perceiving the side stream. I said we should now climb up to the ridgecrest. I thought it looked familiar, but in reality I’d never been there, and it turned out to be much brushier than I remembered, of course. To put it bluntly, between the blowdowns, the loose rock on the side of the ridge, and the rhodo, it was totally crappy.
Somehow I ended up going one way, while Mark and Clayton went another. Finally we reconnected. I was on the ridgecrest, thinking, “Geez, this has got to open up into that nice rock I remembered pretty soon.” They were a little bit down on the left (east) side of the ridge.
Mark said to me something like, “Hey, look at all those little people climbing around up on that next ridge. Sure looks like the Tourist Bunion.”
He was absolutely right. We were on the wrong ridge.
We’d expended a huge amount of energy going through the brush on the incorrect ridge. We talked about our options. Mark would have been willing to go back down to the draw, climb up to the Tourist spine, and do the intended hike. I unfortunately knew I didn’t have enough energy to do that. Well, what about just continuing up this ridge? As far as we could tell, there was no reason to believe things would get better. It was brutal. I’d looked down this ridge before, the one immediately west of the Tourist Bunion, and I remembered no open rock. It was solid brush, and ridiculously steep at the top to boot.
So we dropped back down to the draw (quite a job even to do that), and headed back down to Lester. The Tourist Bunion would have to wait for another day.
Mark and Clayton were great sports about my screw-up. We followed Lester back to the Porters Creek manway.
Once we got back to the maintained trail, we saw lots of beautiful flowers. And lots of people, too.
It was a lovely wildflower walk.
The weatherbeaten eagle April 11, 2014Posted by Jenny in Life experience, nature.
Tags: bald eagles, Tuckasegee River
From my house overlooking the Tuckasegee River, I occasionally see a bald eagle gliding over the water, upstream or downstream. I think of it as being the same eagle from one time to the next, though it would be hard to say for sure. When I see it, I always feel that I’ve received a gift.
This morning the eagle flew up the river, circled around, and settled on a half-dead tree on the riverbank. I grabbed my binoculars and got a good look. It was an old eagle! A weatherbeaten eagle! Its feathers looked… scuffed up! This eagle had fought a few battles in its life.
I have no photo of it to share. That would require a much better lens than I have.
It sat in the tree for a long time. Perhaps it was tired. Perhaps it was reflecting on the deeper meaning of life. Somehow, along the way, in my mind, it became my eagle.
I know… kind of silly. What makes us want to possess something in nature? Of course wild things can’t ever be truly possessed. Nevertheless: my eagle. I connected with it. I related to it. I wanted to pat it on the head, say comforting words.
Later in the day I walked down to the river.
An experience hard to describe. A strange blend of feelings, leaning dangerously close to the pathetic, but with something restorative and affirming as well.
I will look for the eagle’s return.
Big poplar on Kalanu Prong April 2, 2014Posted by Jenny in bushwhacking, hiking, nature, Smoky Mountains.
Tags: Big Poplar, False Gap Prong, Kalanu Prong, Plemmons Cemetery
On a beautiful warm spring day, I decided to do a hike in the low elevations, where I could see wildflowers. For years I’ve been hearing about the giant poplar along Kalanu Prong, but I’d never been there. I knew there was an unmaintained path that started along False Gap Prong and led up to the tree. So off I went.
Right at the start I saw yellow trillium that hadn’t opened up yet, but the leaves were so pretty I took a picture anyway.
I passed through the Plemmons cemetery, noticing that the appropriate flags had been placed on graves of a Confederate Civil War veteran and U.S. Army veterans. Many of the gravestones are very roughly hewn and hard to read, if they have inscriptions at all. By chance on my way back I met a friendly individual named Butch Strickland, and we chatted about points of interest in the Porters-Middle Prong-Ramsey Prong area. I learned from him that if you bring some flour in a zip-loc bag, you can gently rub it on the gravestones and see the inscriptions more easily. The flour disappears with the next rain.
Along this stretch of the path, flowers grew here and there. Higher up, it would become solid flowers.
I’d noticed a reading of “high fire danger” on a sign as I entered the Park. You wouldn’t guess that from looking at the streams, which are running high from snowmelt. But in the lower elevations, it is indeed dry, and I know from experience that unseasonably warm weather can lead to fires especially when the trees haven’t leafed out to cool the ground. It got up above 80 degrees today.
Fortunately, I did not have to cross False Gap Prong on this hike.
Past where the path leaves False Gap Prong to turn up Kalanu Prong, the woods were carpeted with flowers. It was a magical place.
After climbing up and over a side-ridge with an increasing number of blowdowns, I reached the big poplar. As any photographer knows, it is impossible to take a picture of a big tree. You just can’t get the whole thing into the lens at once.
It is very difficult to give a sense of scale. Here you see it over toward the left, growing amongst “normal” trees.
I sat and soaked in the wonder of the forest for a while, then slowly made my way back to the outside world.