to asheville, nc

Once thru Brevard, Uwharrie and I embraced the peace of Pisgah. The construction on a new Art Loeb trail footbridge across the Davidson is nearly complete; It should certainly be primed and ready for ALTAR 2007!

We enjoyed the positive vibes from an evening hike into magical Thrift Cove. The sun was emerging from a blanket of clouds. Earlier in the afternoon, a knowledgeable burrito-eater in Brevard told me that the weather should be breaking with warm and sunny days ahead. That sounded good to me.

We found a great campsite and gathered our water and wood. I enjoyed a meal of sauteed garlic and portabellos atop a bed of sun dried tomatoes, melted mozzarella and refried pintos. It's one of my best camping concoctions yet. I scooped out the delicious stew with organic corn cakes. Uwharrie was more than happy to clean the pot. What a team!

Camp was situated above a wildlife meadow where mullein grew in abundance. I harvested the soft green leaves: they're quite useful for a variety of things. After rinsing the socks out, I went to work on the feet draining a blister and liberally applying vitamin E.

With the age-old nomadic chore of foot care finished, it was time for sleep. I've been too keyed up with this change in lifestyle to get adequate rest so far. Late night shrieks from wild things above the cove were of no assistance, but did help us to forget the sounds of civilization.

The next morning, I munched a sweet potato baked in the fire; it was a tad overdone, but delicious. Also powered up on peanut butter, currents and yogurt covered raisins, I set off with Uwharrie up Black Mountain and Clawhammer.

We plodded thru laurel tunnels and across rocky overlooks to get to the flooded Pink Beds: a forest floor padded with pine needles and grasses beside acre upon acre of ponding water. This place reminded me of a distant trip to Congaree swamp. We ate lunch, soaked feet and had ourselves a superb siesta. While I gazed upward, Juana Molina's whispers seemed to conduct the clouds overhead.

They drifted gracefully into the unknown with the warm breeze, each undergoing an endless transformation. Every wispy shape was full of such beauty. As I watched, I realized I was too preoccupied on the future. I thought: peace is only attainable through harmony with nature. A large cumulus crept in, and the aerial curtain was drawn to close.

It felt good to reach the Mountains-to-Sea Trail, that major artery of hope for long-winded wandering freaks. And it felt like a good workout to get to the Pisgah Inn. Back into late winter, we gazed down over Rich Mountain to our distant start. Soon we crashed out a little ways past Mt. Pisgah and dreamt of pizza in Asheville.

I fell into a deeper love for the MST the next morning. We experienced the Shut-In Ridge in all its sunlit glory. With the early songbirds finished singing, I plugged in some Pink Floyd and we cruised to find the nearest water. It was a long dry pull for us, but we eventually made it to the refreshing Long Branch of Bent Creek. This sunny drainage was filled with the hollow sound of beating wings from a bold ruffled grouse.

Next stop was back down to blooming bloodroots and a bigger, badder French Broad River. We ventured thru a fenced pine furnace, which seemed planted and plain. We crossed the swollen torrent of I-26. With the tyvek shells of future mcmansions to our left and right, I knew we had arrived upon a polyp of the city.

We pushed on thru the Friday afternoon rush hour. A short side trek of a couple miles brought us to la casa de Asa and the promise of a hot shower, a couple pizzas and a growler of Pisgah Porter. We've come about 75 miles in the last four days; the dogs are beat up, it's time for some R&R.

to brevard, nc

"You who are on the road must have a code that you can live by..."
-CSNY

Now that I have my wits about me, I'll try to reflect on what's taken place in the last couple days. I've been in shock that this is really happening. Did I just walk out the door with my pack and dog headed to the big rock candy mountain, or where'er the wind may blow?

On the eve of the equinox, there was a gathering of Mountain Bridge staffers, it was a perfect send-off. Uwharrie and I spent our first night in the Shires Tarptent camped in a field next to the old shanty. We stayed up late savoring the camraderie of dear friends around a fire. Later, we ventured up to the overlook to gaze out upon the foothills of SC.

A late night made for a late morning. After final farewells, the dog and I took off down Coggins, down Coldspring, flowing along the water. The spring equinox was warm and sunny and full of life. Miraculously, the enormity of our undertaking did not eclipse my conscious. I was capitivated instead by all the tiny bundles of joyous spring wildflowers. Violets and baby green trilliums poked triumphantly thru the leaves. Meanwhile, Uwharrie found many engaging scents.

We crossed the landslide and turned left to climb steeply from the Middle Saluda gorge up the Cox Creek drainage. Here we were treated to a Mountain Bridge grand finale of sorts: bloodroot, violets and toadshade blooming everywhere! We admired the laser-like blast of Rainbow Falls and huffed past Camp Greenville campers to the top of the divide.

We pushed quickly thru some private property to get to DuPont State Forest in NC. It was very warm and sunny earlier in the day, but now rain-burdened clouds hovered overhead and produced a relaxing flat light and cool shade. The last few miles to Cedar Rock in DuPont were quiet and lovely tucked underneath the dramatic clouds.

We set up our stealth camp and walked across the rock balds to one of the most amazing vantage points of Looking Glass, the Balsams, Black Mountain, Clawhammer, Pisgah: the terrain ahead. In another direction, the two towers on the north ridge and south ridge (close to our old house) above the Middle Saluda River blinked at us silently. I felt like an astronaut drifting away from the gravitational pull of his planet. We retired to a fitful night of deep emotions and light drizzle.

The next morning was overcast and quiet. After breakfast, I shook out the wet tent and we took off. From Cedar Rock, Rich Mountain lay hidden under the clouds. It was the one small climb of the day followed by a long descent to Brevard in the French Broad valley.

I learned that Uwharrie is sometimes afraid of cows, but not horses. Pinhead! The beautiful and curious mares came to the edge of their high clouded meadow to greet us. I stroked the soft hair on their faces. The walk along such a sleepy gravel road can be very nice. But soon came the busy pavement...

I got to thinking of the concept of a collective conscious after reading an unfriendly bumper sticker and the tag of an exotic roadside plant purchased from Home Depot. We soaked our road-weary feet in the French Broad at Hap Simpson Park.

Upon seeing me, some of the passing motorists wore frightened faces; I don't know whether I should find that humorous or sad. One last road rage observation: a guardrail is no guardian for a pedestrian! Into town we arrived; and straight to Pescado's we went for a veggie burrito. After picking up a few groceries, we followed the greenway out and away from the draining drone of the four-lane highway into Pisgah Forest and northwards...

log-a-rhythm twenty-four

This is the last log to burn: for six months, I've somehow or other been able to jot down my random thoughts weekly onto this blog. Looking back, I had no idea it'd end up the way it has... Tonight's the last night here in the Mountain Bridge Wilderness!!! All my junk, grub and water weighs in at 28 lbs. Uhwarrie's a little apprehensive, but I'm psyched! Vacilador, vacilador!

Our best to you all! Happy trails, we'll check in soon!

log-a-rhythm twenty-three

Simplify, simplify! Continually over the course of the last few weeks, I’ve been ridding myself of materials. In a week’s time, all my “golden fetters” should neatly fit inside a light backpack. Soon, I hope, we’ll shun this hectic business of time travel altogether. But not quite yet: saddle up for a road trip to wonderful West Virginia!

The landscapes flash by my back seat in the Beduhn-a-saurus Suburu. Happy to put the jittery caffeinated experience of the interstate behind us, we enter Pocahontas County. Ecstasy by Rusted Root is playing as we roll thru the town of Hillsboro, WV. This is largely unspoiled country; it speaks to me.

We venture up to the bog of Cranberry Glades in a thick forest blanketed in snow. Here, picturesque pitcher plants poke thru the frost in a boreal field outlined by spruce. The Monongahela has much to offer, but we hurry to our home for the evening: a cabin near Marlinton where my folks join Adam, Brian and me.

Adam and Brian are gunning to run the entire 77 miles of the Greenbrier River Trail on Saturday. We get going by 7:30 the next morning from the northern trailhead. An amazing amount of snow still covers the old railroad bed although it's another warm and sunny day.

The scenery is unbelievable. Cattails and dried Joe Pye line the meadow margins. The trail cuts deeply into precipitous cliffs where giant icicles and boulders decay into the emerald green current of the Greenbrier. White-tail deer run rampant. The scurrying of fox squirrels and a medley of song birds supplement the peaceful river's rush.

Each runner is lost into his own rhythmic world. The morning sun slips through the barren tree fingers high on the sharp ridges above us: a promise for a full day of adventure and awe. I lose Adam shortly after we pass thru a cavernous tunnel. Uwharrie and I cross the marathon mark into downtown Marlinton and share a Dairy Queen blizzard.

From here on till dark, I join mum to crew the runners. Adam has pulled significantly ahead of Brian, but both are moving steadily southwards. My dad runs with Adam for 30 miles while mom and I rush across the rural landscape bridging the gap between runners as best we can. This crewing business can be quite stressful, but we make the most of it.

A drizzly darkness descends into the Greenbrier valley while we anxiously await the arrival of Adam and dad at milepost 66. The miles have taken their toll and Adam is nicely toasted from over a hundred kilometers of forward progress. A hasty debate and carbo-cramming session ensues. Brian’s been MIA for six hours; Adam’s walking and talking the part of a senile old man. How’d I get mixed up in this loony’s sport?!?

I decide to pace Adam to the finish while the folks go back in search of Brian. We walk/run by flashlight thru a riparian forest. In the night’s periphery, spring peepers and wood frogs serenade us and plead that we all live urgently in the moment. It’s a wondrous night in wonderful West Virginia as we wind through the darkness toward the illuminated skyline above Lewisburg. I tell Adam that I’m thankful we’re crazy.

Adam finishes his 14.5-hour odyssey at 10 PM. We nod off at the southern trailhead awaiting our ride. Mom and dad arrive, but they haven’t found Brian. We decide to return to the cabin hoping that he’s hitched/hiked home... But he hasn’t, and it’s after midnight and we’re all wasted. Before this sojourn can turn sour, Brian gets a lift from a local to the cabin after 40+ miles. Who had the bigger adventure, Adam or Brian? I can’t tell, but I’m glad to have played a part.

log-a-rhythm twenty-two

Now that the resignation letter has been submitted, it's official: on March 20th, I'm going to leave from the house on Caesars Head in the Mountain Bridge and walk with Uwharrie north to join the Appalachian Trail atop the Roan Highlands. The initial 150 miles of the trek will take us through Dupont and Pisgah; we'll pass through Brevard and Asheville. We'll climb over the Craggies and Mount Mitchell. Passing thru Burnsville, we'll walk country roads to Carvers Gap and finally merge with that familiar white-blazed trail. From there, we'll keep hiking north to points unknown...

It's been quite exciting prepping for this journey. I look forward to living out of a rucksack! I intend to send out updates to the blog every few days or so from the towns we cross thru. Photos will likely be uploaded at a much slower rate, but I hope to be able to add some images as well. Speaking of which, here come some shots of the old neighborhood...