Epic Wilderness Expedition

I had big grand plans for backpacking this year. We didn't go once last year (I blame the Asheville house) and I wanted to make up for lost time. This meant that when it became clear we weren't doing the Burn Race this year, I quickly dog-eared Memorial Day weekend for a two night backpacking trip. Oh yes. It was going to happen.

My greedy eyes got even hungrier when I started planning our destination. It had to be something bigger than Shinning Rock, where we went last time, or else, why bother with a two night trip. Amiright?! I thought I was right. So I do what I always do...I googled...I read...I absorbed stories...I planned. I was aiming for the adjoining wilderness to Shinning Rock when I stumbled upon a a gem called the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. The internet said (and the internet is never wrong, I checked) that this 2 mile loop (which connects to other trails) has some of the few remaining old growth trees. This little tree sanctuary was never harvested and the trees have been left to grow. I've never seen a tree like that....I wanted to see a tree like that. There was only one problem, the trail head was 6 hours away. I admit that I have an "eyes are bigger than my stomach" issue when it comes to things like that. To me, 6 hours seemed totally doable and totally warranted. When I posed the idea to Steven, he was less than enthusiastic but didn't necessarily say, "no". Or that's how I interpreted it at the time. This meant I went ahead with planning for this area. I borrowed a friends map, I planned, I dreamed.

Then came the day before we were supposed to leave. The fact of the matter was, we weren't ready to leave early enough to make a 6 hour drive before a long hike doable. Which inevitably meant that all my planning was scrubbed and we had to start from square one the night before we leave. That sucked. Lesson learned - have a back up plan. Fast forward a late night and a late morning we decide mid drive that we're going to scratch everything and just go with a hike a friend suggested - Harpers Creek in the Wilson Creek Wilderness. Step one...get a map.

We managed to find the visitor center 5 minutes before they closed, we got a map, we parked at 5pm and we headed into the woods. At first the trail and blazes were easy to follow but then we decided to turn off the common trail and follow another one that led away from the heavily traveled area. We lost the blazes immediately. It took us nearly an hour and some well meaning kids WHO SET UP CAMP ON THE FUGGIN TRAIL (you don't do that. Seriously there was a blaze on a tree in the center of their camp site....) to figure out that we had to cross a big. ass. stream. The water was flowing fast and at least 2 feet deep. Boots off, socks off, cue hilarious balancing act on pointy cobble stones. The dogs did fine but were pretty confused why we needed to cross the stream when the well meaning kids on the other bank had plenty of food to eat. We hiked on for another couple hours. Eventually we passed the last guy we saw enter the trail after us and then we saw no one.

It was getting dangerously close to dusk and we hadn't found a suitable camp site yet. There were no flat areas, no balds, no plateaus. I thought we were screwed. We were about 5 mins from setting up camp on the trail when we (thankfully) took a wrong turn and found a plateau on the top of the mountain range. Hallelujah, saints be praised. We set up camp in record time then I could finally take some pictures.

Please forgive the quality of these photos...they're from my phone. Do you have any idea how heavy a 5D is? Yeah...I wasn't going to pack that in.

We had the idea of putting a tarp down where the dogs would lay because they ended up with chiggers from the last backpacking trip. Poor pups. They were completely zonked.

Great use for the Kelty tarp. 

Steven did a great job building us a wee little fire in the wee little rock ring someone else made. BTW,  nothing it better at the top of a mountain than some Merlot out of a Nalgene.

So there we were in the middle of nowhere on the top of a mountain range eating out of our camp food bags when we start hearing ATVs. It lasted for several hours but never really gets close, until around 11pm. All of a sudden it's loud and getting louder and then we can see lights. I'm thinking nothing of it but Steven's getting nervous. Then I realize that there's no one who knows where we are (I mean they know the trail but that's it) and there's lots of screwed up people out there. We watch the lights, hatchet and knife in hand (tiny hatchet, tiny knife...) as they round the corner of the trail and then disappear down it. Luckily, us taking the wrong turn got us off the major trail and onto an offshoot that was not in their pathway. Phew.

 Next morning we get ready to set off again. Repack the bags, repack the dogs, eat out of a bag again, coffee and GO! Oh wait, picture first.

 That's a ledge behind us. Not a "you're going to fall and die" ledge but a "one hell of an epic roll down the hill" ledge.

While we were packing up we saw a couple other hikers pass us by which led us to believe they were heading in the direction that the trail continued (this was before we realized we were on an offshoot). We followed their path which led into some thick brushes and then we popped out at a "you're going to die" ledge. It was magnificent. We made the dogs lay down and stay about 30 feet from the ledge (they're not perfectly balanced with those packs on) 

and gazed over the ledge. This is what we saw...

This is South Harper Falls from across the canyon. Over the ledge I'm standing on is a couple hundred foot vertical wall. Needless to say I didn't get much closer. 

After we had our fill looking at the falls we set out to find the trail that brings you to them. This is where the blazes got crazy. For most of the trail the day before we were following white and yellow blazed and then all of a sudden a blue blaze showed up and then an orange one. To find the correct path to the falls as well as the rest of the trail it ended up being a whole bunch of guessing. The guys that has passed us earlier were going in the same direction and had been on the trail previously but were still no help. Eventually we found the right path and it led us to the split in the falls (look for the rear axle of an old wagon/truck/thing). It was pretty fantastic. 

So this is the split as seen in the previous picture. This time I'm looking out at the vertical wall I was standing on. 

From this point on the blazes were hit or miss. For another couple miles they were pretty solid but they were orange now (no idea where the  yellow blaze trail went) but then after the 2nd or 3rd river crossing you would lose the blazes entirely. The only time you would see them is at the river crossings in the form of a blaze or a orange/pink flag tied to a tree. We crossed the river a lot. Sometimes it you could walk on the rocks in the creek...

One time there was a man made rock bridge..

Yeah my pack is massive. And I'm wee. Moving on...

But a lot of times we ended up having to take our boots and socks off  because the water was too deep. Future note...water shoes. 

There's one thing for sure, the crossings were always glorious. 

 And the dogs absolutely loved them all. 

Steven was way better at taking photos as we went along.

This was one of the neatest camping spots we came to. The tent area was up the bank some but where it met the river there was a sandy/rocky beach. So cool. 

We ended up hiking out on the second day because my pack was killing me after the first night (I didn't have it fit right and didn't fix it until the next morning) so I gave up on the idea of a two night backpacking trip. It ended up being for the better actually. About 5 mins after we got back to the trail head, while I was waiting for Steven to bring the car around from the auxiliary parking area, it started to monsoon. No time to clean the dogs off or change out of our nasty smelly clothes, we had to throw everything, wet packs and dogs included into the mini and haul ass out of there. Ew. 

We stopped at a rest stop on 40 to towel off the dogs and brush out their fur. It's a good thing we did because we found no less than a dozen ticks between the three of them. Lovely. 

Let me tell you, a beer never tastes as good as it does when you're physically exhausted. Memorial Day weekend well spent. 

Next backpacking trip - November!

Liz 

Bittersweet visit

I grew up in the smallest of towns in Upstate NY. About 45 mins north of Syracuse and about 15 min off Lake Ontario. My world was occupied mostly by my church and my family until at about 12 my father moved myself and my younger-older brother to NC. As much as it hurt at the time it was the single greatest thing for my development as an adult. And even though I've lived in my new home of NC for 16 years now there's a piece of my heart that remains in NY. 

When I was about 5 my parents bought land from my grandparents and built my family a home in the country. We were not even a quarter mile from my grandparents and we spent many hours at their house, on their farm and in their woods. My grandma always had a garden and for many years they would plant a couple acres of corn. It was never a huge production so they never had any of those fancy machines that tend the corn for you. Nope, they had grandchildren. We would all spend hours in the summer picking corn, shucking and then helping grandma can it. We would also help with the chickens, the cow and with grandma's vegetable garden. In the winter we'd help them collect sap from the massive maple trees on their property. 

It wasn't all work. They had the best hill for sledding and NY is never deprived of snow in the winter. We would sled for hours, build forts in the snow and have snowball fights. As a child, throughout any season I spent almost all of my time outdoors. I believe that is why I still prefer it. 

Needless to say, I have a lot of memories from my grandparents farm. Somewhere, hidden in that ancient house, the massive maples trees or the "deep woods" by the creek a piece of my heart remains. 

Recently my grandparents made the decision to leave their home of many years, sell the farm that has been in our family for generations and move to Idaho to be with their youngest son and their remaining young grandchildren. So last weekend my sister and I drove to NY for a quick weekend visit to say goodbye and take home our inheritance in furniture. 

That Friday night we walked through the house and talked about what we'd be taking home with us. They gave me a matching love seat and rocker that was my great grandmas on my grandmas side. It needs to be refinished and reupholstered but that will be a whole other blog post. My sister chose to take home a dresser, radio stand and several old books. My grandma also gave us a piece of the christmas cactus that her father grew from a snippet of his father's cactus. I also dug up a piece of the peonies my grandma grew from a plant her mom had. 

The first morning I got up early so I could see the morning sun over the hill and have some time alone with my thoughts and the farm like I always used to. I also managed to bring along my camera. 

I wanted to capture the pieces of the farm we all loved. The morning sun coming over hill would always greet us on mornings before Sunday School. 

 The dew is extra heavy here and would soak your pants as if you'd been swimming. 

You can actually see it shimmer on the grass in the morning. I looked for a spider web to really grasp the intensity of this dew but I didn't come across one. 

Never mind the logging trail (my grandparents sold some of the mature trees to a logger). The trees flanking the farmhouse are 5-6' in diameter Maples. They gave us some of the sweetest maple syrup I've ever had. I loved those winters. 

These are the trees on the right of the previous picture. 

This is in the shade of one of those trees. 

My grandma's brother (who died young) planted these pine trees at the top of the hill and they prosper to this day. They stand out like sentinels on the top of the hill. In winter when all the other trees have lost their leaves their deep green foliage stands out the most. 

It broke my heart to see the scars of the loggers.

At some point my grandfather decided to plant a Christmas tree farm. For most of my childhood, the trees were pretty small and they even sold a few from time to time. We would always get our Christmas tree there and we enjoyed picking the largest one that would make my father curse the most. I would even cut down a tiny one to bring to school for Christmas. In the cooler climates you can grow a type of tree called a Blue Spruce. The needles, as you can see in the pictures, have a blue tinge to them. They are so beautiful. 

Since we left, the Christmas trees have grown up! You  wouldn't be able to distinguish this from a pine tree forest today. 

The barn. The building that held the greatest toys a little girl was never supposed to play with. I remember spending many days painting this barn red with all my siblings and my cousins; getting paint everywhere. I used to love helping my grandma collect eggs from the chickens that were housed in the addition on the back. I have very vivid memories of walking into the barn at night after my father, grandfather and uncle had come back from hunting and seeing a deer hanging from a rafter, draining. Instead of being squeamish I was just thrilled we were going to have some venison! 

See! Great toys!

These tires used to be taller than me. I remember one spring I followed my grandpa in the garden picking up worms for fishing as he cut the soil for that years crop. Talk about massive earthworms.

The attic of the barn was always off limits for me as a child but I ventured up last weekend. There I found old treasures. A bike that I haven't a clue who rode, and hiding back there on the right...the old ice sled we used to ride!

And then I turned around...and saw my old buddy, the toboggan. Yeah sure, we had the plastic sleds that we would ride individually. But when you really wanted to go fast, my siblings and I or my cousins and I would all climb on the toboggan. You never wanted to be in front because you were literally the plow. I was pretty small still which inevitably meant my siblings would put me there. I did my best to tuck as far under that scoop as possible. There was also the obligatory "surfing" down the snow at times that usually ended in disaster. 

Side note: This is why when I first came to the south and heard people referring to hats as toboggans I was so confused. I was very perplexed why they wore a sled on their head. 

My great grandmothers Peonies that I am now trying to grow at home. I'm really testing my green thumb this year.

The clothes line (or what's left of it) that I would help my grandma hang clothes on daily (for the longest time I don't think they even used their clothes dryer).

The house...ever changing but always the same. I have never used that front door by the way. Ever. 

These stairs are the most notable feature of the house. They're just simple stairs but so many of my fondest memories have involved them. First of all, the curve in them is just beautiful. You don't see that in houses anymore. So many games of hide and seek were won under them (definitely the most terrifying hiding place). Most importantly was the challenge of sneaking down them on Christmas morning. I had the great fortune of spending most of my Christmases with my grandparents, cousins and youngest uncle in this house. We would all arrive on Christmas eve and have a big dinner. Then all the kids would try to go to sleep so the adults could wrap gifts. The game was whoever (kid) could wake up and sneak down the earliest won! What did we win? NOTHING except bragging rights for a year. But to be able to sneak down without anyone else knowing you had to do so quietly. That is no easy task on these stairs. They are by far the most creaky stairs ever built...I think they were designed that way. All of us kids would start practicing around Thanksgiving to make sure we could master the stairs by the time Christmas rolled around. I remember one year I won by waking up at 1am! Ha! My dad hated me that year.

My grandparents had a lot of older furniture and I found out on this trip that most of it was actually heirlooms from their parents. The two pieces I have now are almost 100 years old and this gem is probably not far behind them. This was always my favorite chair in the house. I loved the lion faces and the claw feet.

This year my grandparents have been married for 60 years. I can't even fathom how much of an accomplishment that is. Even beyond that they are some of the greatest, most genuine people I have ever known. 

It's so sad to see them leave the house and the farm. They've lived there for so long and we all grew up there. I will forever be grateful that I made the effort to go back one last time and took the time to say goodbye and I'm so glad I took bits of it with me. I know I'll see my grandparents again but I'll never walk that hill again. And maybe it's silly of me but dammit, I'm going to miss every. single. tree. 

I don't envy my grandparents and the next step in their life. Moving everything they've accumulated for so many years across the country. But I know they're going to be so happy in Idaho with a new batch of grandkids to cherish. 

Liz