Off to the cabin for some time of rest and reflection. . .

I've been a little, um, silent lately.  Foggy-headed, too.  Lots on my mind over here in the Forgotten Virginia.  I'm still on my decluttering journey and these pictures are proof.  I took these in the late summer of 2006 around the Blue Ridge Parkway, my parents' cabin and at the Apple Festival in Chilhowie.  Took the film out of my dad's Elph camera Winter Solstice 2007, developed them, lost them, found them this past weekend and gave dad his camera back.



Prize-winning canned goods at the Apple Festival.



Fir Branches on what I think was the trail up to Devil's Courthouse on the Parkway.
 


Jack O Lantern Mushroom on the road to Comer's Rock.
Maybe.



Isn't it funny how sometimes pictures just work?
I don't even remember taking this one.
Must have been at the cabin, lots of tall weeds up there.



Destroying Angel Mushrooms, location unknown.



Blueberries, oh, blueberries.  It has me almost wishing for summer.



Hawthorn Berries at the Cabin.

Maybe now I'll get back in the groove.

Mid-Winter from the Tower Trail on Sand Mountain overlooking the Big Survey and the Crystal Springs watershed.



Such an expansive wilderness to the south that you forget on about Wytheville to the north.  We came up to do some mapping of the wireless facilities that sit on the summit.  Really is rather sandy up there.



We saw two wild turkeys but, as always, they were too fast for the camera.  I guess it's just another reminder that the things in life which are most treasured can never be made material.

Just what I needed.  Mike and I enjoyed homemade local bacon, fried eggs and toasted sourdough for breakfast (I just love breakfast) on Saturday before loading up to go to Anna and Mark's.  The drive was uneventful and I knitted on a hat for me while Mike took us over the mountains and through the valleys.  The Alligator Swamp over at wetkneefarm's wasn't all that bad and we managed through it all with none of us falling down!  Anna made us Lad Na, which we'd had on our trip to Foamhenge, and it was yummy!  We enjoyed peach gelatto and some of Mark's birthday cake for dessert.  Can you tell I'm waiting for lunch?

The weather was just right on Saturday for traipsing around the farm and wandering in the woods.  Anna gave me the full run-down on her baby orchard, we looked at the sleeping strawberries and I got to meet the new rooster (who might be called Cranberry-in-secret by Anna-and-Mark who-are-not-admitting-it).  On our way out, we met some mostly drunk guys smoking cigarettes with a tractor (worried?).  They asked Anna where she was growing the pot.  Sorry, not on that farm.  After leaving, we headed over to Hanging Rock so mikecnichols could take some photos.  I had forgotten the digital camera, so all these pictures are his.  And they are pretty good.

While Mike stood on rocks in the now-rushing stream (more rains!), I went on a walk over mossy paths and sorted through some more of my stress.  I'm still working it out, and I'm really glad I've got a four-day week this week and next.  I must make time to travel to the woods and find my feet again on the hillsides.  We've been going out a couple times a month, but it's really not enough for me.  I used to be in the woods three or four days a week back in the good ole days of Ranger Brandy.

On the way home, we drove the steep road up to Hidden Lake to watch the sunset.  The Lake is much like Laurel Bed Lake, high above the valley, surrounded by Rhododendrons and prone to fogs.  I had been up there before, but hadn't been able to see anything because the fog was so thick on the bog.  This time, the view was gorgeous and Mike did a great job capturing our drive across the ridge and the gloaming around the lake.

While some things may be negative or nagging right now, other things are going really well.  Mike and I have been asked to join the Mount Rogers Naturalist Rally Committee.  Here I go being the youngest again.  We came up with some good ideas for streamlining and dividing up the work at the last meeting.  I was also asked to look into leading a caving trip to Robert's Cave for the rally.  I've been into caves lots of times--wild and commercial--but I've never been a leader.  Dad says he'll help me map out the cave and we'll visit it several times before the big day.  I plan to focus on underground manners and general knowledge (what a focus!).

This weekend I also continued my decluttering efforts, focusing on the back porch and bathroom.  I washed nearly every inch of the bathroom, washed the shower curtains, scrunched myself beside the toilet to clean behind it, washed out the cabinets and eliminated excess hygiene products.  I also nearly made myself pass out vacuuming the vent.  Very clean, indeed!  The back porch wasn't so much of an overhaul.  I sorted out items for Goodwill and trash and gave things a good vacuuming and dusting (our back porch is enclosed).  The rest of the house is also in pretty good order, too.  It made me feel really good to get those things done.  Up this week on the Declutter Train--the Apiary craft room and Mike's office.

I've got some knitting going on and a hat swap to ship off tomorrow, so I'll try to post pictures.  Just haven't felt like saying much lately.  Well, I'm off to lunch at The Grayson, where the desserts are alway homemade.  Yum!

Venturing out today, the ponds were thinly covered with ice and the ground was still frozen in places where the sun had not touched.  All this chilly weather makes me want to cozy up to a wood stove and enjoy knitting by lamplight.  What better place than at the cabin?  My dad has provided the second installment in the cabin series. . .

The location of the little log cabin is unique even for this unpopulated area.  Long time residents of this area are surprised at its remoteness.  Many visitors are spooked by the distance from civilization.  But this isolation is one of the great attractions of the cabin.  The more often you stay, the more comfortable you feel.

Back in the 1970’s access to the area was by a network of dirt roads that were sometimes impassable even by motorcycles.  Later, the Virginia Game Commission put in a hunter access road with a gravel surface.  The road also allows some logging in the area.  The condition of the road varies as the seasons change.  It is what I would call a fifteen mile an hour road.  You can travel more quickly but I have already lost wheel covers and broken one exhaust system.  Thoughtful persons usually find your car parts and hang them by the roadside for you to reinstall.  You leave the paved road at about twenty-six hundred feet elevation and climb to exactly four thousand feet where the cabin is located.

The mountain has typical woods for this part of Appalachia.  Over the years the area has been completely logged with none of the old growth surviving.  Old growth forest for this area would have been dominated by huge hemlocks.   The mountain has reforested nicely with just a few newer clear cuts along the road.  There are also three power line cuts crossing in the area within two miles of the village.  The forest recovers well and produces the mixed hardwood forest you might expect. At the higher elevations of the mountain the forest floor is covered with ferns during the growing season.  The acorn crop was tremendous this year, a real feast for the wildlife.  The trees on the cabin property are a bit stunted by the elevation and wind.  Many of the trees surrounding the cabin show evidence of lightning strikes.

The weather is more dramatic than in the surrounding valleys.  Summer time thunderstorms can actually pass by below you.  Temperatures tend to be five to fifteen degrees cooler than below.  Sometimes it can be warmer than the valley due to inversion layers.  Fog is common and can be heavy enough to strand you for a time.  When we were installing new flooring we had removed both doors.  Fog was literally drifting through the cabin that day.  In the winter super cooled fog can form a coating of beautiful rime ice on windward side of upright surfaces.  There is normally greater precipitation along the ridges but this year has been very dry due to the exceptional drought conditions. It snowed Thanksgiving Day and we put up a few Christmas decorations.  My favorite times inside the cabin seem to be in the winter with the cold wind howling and the wood stove burning.

Thanks, Dad!!  :-D

Next time--"How we Spend our Time"
Part one found here.

Saturday, Mark and Anna and Mike and I headed to the Other Virginia to seek The Foam.  It was really quite profound.  When we got there, we parked and walked up a dusty trail to the top of the hill where the mystical styrofoam artform sat.

Some of you asked awhile back about the cabin and I've put off writing about it.  Well, I got around to asking my dad some of its history and he graciously provided me with a multi-chapter history!  Wow!  So sit in the rocker on the porch and enjoy. . .

The cabin is located on land that was subdivided from an old mountain farm.  It is surrounded on three sides by The Clinch Mountain Wildlife Management Area controlled by the Virginia State Game Commission.  To the south the land is privately held.  The ridge is known as Flat Top Mountain and is accessed by a right of way forty feet wide and five and one half miles long.  The road is maintained by the Game Commission.

The elevation of the cabin is 4,000 feet.  It sits on two thirds of an acre which was divided from a two acre parcel.  The construction began in the Spring of 2,000.  David Hayden built the cabin of locally obtained yellow poplar logs.  It has typical cabin dimensions of twenty-four by twenty-four feet.  With two levels of living space it is just under twelve hundred square feet.  If a structure is over twelve hundred square feet it is usually not considered a cabin.  It also has a full basement which is not common for area cabins.

The building was under construction for about three years.  Logs were hauled from two different saw mills at the base of the mountain.  Nearly all of the materials were brought to the site with a pick up truck.  The longer logs were hauled on a trailer behind the pick up.  The builder had a travel trailer on site during construction.  Most cabins are based on what two people and a pick up truck can accomplish. Construction continued year round with the site being accessed by ATV during snowy weather.  The logs are splined together.  The cross section of the logs look like a loaf of bread lying on it's side.  Large grooves were cut in the tops and bottoms of the logs by using a circular saw with multiple blades.  A long strip of wood is placed in the grooves to join the logs.  Large spikes were driven through the logs to complete the connection.  The cabin has a gambrel roof to give it a full second story.  The cabin features eight recycled windows, two recycled doors & two porches.

More to follow. . .

When I was a newlywed in the mountains, Mike and I loaded up in the car with Grandad and headed to Laurel Bed Lake.  Somewhere over near "Big Tumblin', " we had never been there before.  We went to Saltiville and traveled deep into the mountains, past wild places we had never been before.

It was high summer and the blackberries were getting ripe.  We stopped along Big Tumbling Creek to pick some berries and stretch our legs.  As Mike used his long arms to reach the bitter berries (in my opinion) a blue butterfly came to land on Grandad's shoulder.  We stood in the berry patch for what must have been half an hour and the butterfly stayed on Grandad.  It was one of those moments which just seemed divine.

Quickly the little car began to climb a steep, narrow road with lots of switchbacks.  On the downhill side we could see that the creek was beginning to do lots of that tumbling for which it had been named.  There were waterfalls and cascades in abundance.  Getting to the top, the appearance of the lake was amazing--as if you could never imagine such a thing sits so high in the mountains.  We had many golden moments with Grandad that year.

When I was a new homeowner in the mountains our simple living group returned to the high-elevation retreat for a time of meditation and reflection.  As we sat on the shore, Fall colors blazed all around us and we sat huddled under blankets for warmth.  By this time in my life, the "cares of this life" were resting soundly on my shoulders and the isolation of the lake gave me some of the only peace I had known after months of repairs and renovations.

This past weekend in the mountains, Mike and I went once more to Laurel Bed Lake to seek out the blueberry prospect.  We also planned to take in the whole vastness of the lake by walking around it.  After scooting up the mountain and stopping to admire the waterfalls, we were ready to hit the shore and find the elusive identity the lake seemed to possess.  Well, it was so much the identity that was elusive as it was a trail around the lake.  We quickly discovered there wasn't one.  After scrambling along the shoreline, we found an old road and headed back.  Upon finding a game warden, we learned there was no trail or road that went all around the lake.  Upon checking the map a little closer, we learned we could have been caught out in the dark if we tried.

The only way we'll safely see the whole lake is by boat.  After all, that's why it's there.  Built in 1967 on top of a wetland as a fisheries project, the lake is home to lots of trout and bass and other fishes.  A quick tour of the shore tells you the soil is high acid (evergreens, you know) and there's also the acid rain which comes from the coal-fire power plants.  Sure enough, there has been a forty-year struggle to keep the waters livable for fish.  So, the lake is regularly limed to make the water less acid.

It was funny to learn more about a place that, at face value, seemed so vast and spiritual.  My image of the lake is changed now, no less impressed, but a little wiser to its hidden challenges.  When I want to feel hemmed in and isolated, I'll go there.  I envision it being a haven for reflection upon life's challenges later on.  Sitting on the shoreline on that Fall day, it sure was a haven for me.  Our neighbor, who lost his nephew in the war, has spent an awful lot of time up there with his boat lately.

Saturday was my first marathon hiking day.  With the prospect of more blueberries in mind, I headed to the Lewis Fork Wilderness Area with my pack full and my legs ready.  This was the first time in a long time that I had been so far out by myself--usually Mike comes with me.  However, he was enjoying quality wife-not-at-home time recording songs and eating lunch with a friend.

I chose to do a loop, hiking up on the Cliffside Trail (1.5 miles) and down on the Lewis Fork Trail (4.5 miles) with the intersection being one mile from the car.  I'd heard about the Cliffside Trail before; apparently there is a Forest Service volunteer who just loves it.  He made a photo booklet about it and gave it to the folks at Grindstone Campground.  They recommended it all the time to folks.

Clearly none of them had hiked it.  Ever.

Looking at it on the map, I could tell the trail would do some climbing.  The Lewis Fork Trail was an old logging road, so it has several gentle switchbacks.  The Cliffside Trail just follows the stream for awhile and then goes straight up the mountain.  A real test of endurance, it likely would have been easier had it not been so warm.  But, I made it up to the blueberry spot, very gratefully, and prepared my lunch. 

As I waited for the water to boil, I scoped out the bushes.  There were blueberries everywhere, but most of them were past their prime picking point.  I visualized coming up there next year and picking lots of berries, seeing as how the only access is foot or horse.  There definitely wouldn't be the crowds like up at the Scales.  When my lunch (Ramen--true trail food) was ready I sat on a rock and ate it while swatting flies.

A few people rode by on horses, but they didn't stop to pick berries.  Whew!  Just as I was finishing lunch, I saw a couple of young people walk by and then more and then they looked rather familiar.  Sure enough, there was krusig and the E&H Outdoor Club.  They had been behind me on my climb up the Cliffside Trail.  Far behind.  Thank goodness.  The Outdoor Club is known for its break-neck hiking pace which had me avoiding hikes with the from the beginning, when I got altitude sickness at Grayson Highlands.  Nonetheless, there was Rebecca and it was a nice surprise to see her.

I'm very possessive about blueberries and a few college students had just started picking at the bush I had claimed.  I was reasonably pleasant, but I've been known to have Clara Syndrome, so I tried my best.  It was strange to be around college students again, all concerned with tests and dorms and things of yesteryear.  After picking three cups, enough for a blueberry buckle, I headed back down the mountain on the Lewis Fork Trail.

Those 4.5 miles were reasonably pleasant, though I imagine the hiking is better in Fall, everything is.  I was reminded, that while the High Country is beautiful, it is indeed quite popular and the trails are very well-used.  While I only saw two equestrians on the way down, the trail was quite worn and muddy in places.  That's a horse trail for you.  I'm pleased that there are people who love riding horses so much, but I know the Forest Service struggles to keep the trails from washing out.  Back in the valley, I met up with the Outdoor Club and Rebecca again, zipping their way down the mountain.

So, I was expecting a day of solitude.  And I got it and eight miles of hiking and unexpected visits with friends, but I've certainly checked the Cliffside Trail off my list and will avoid it in the future.  Sure, it's a short straight shot to the top, but I'm not so much about destinations anymore.

I'm somewhat known to make jokes about the disparities between Northern Virginia and Southwest Virginia.  Up there, life is busy.  Down here, life is slower and more quiet.  Towns up there are exploding with growth.  Young people are high-tailing out of the foothills in these parts.  In the Other Virginia, cost of living is enormous.  Household incomes are way out of reach from here.  The county with the number one household income in the US is in Northern VA--Loudon County.  $98,000 per household, per year.  It would take Mike and me more than two years to earn that much!

So, when my bosses wanted me to go to the Other Virginia (Richmond--5 1/2 hours away), I was a little bit nervous.  I've been to Washington, DC and Atlanta, so Richmond was less busy than that.  But it was still traffic and wrecks and waiting and greyness.  I envisioned Richmond as a Southern city, with lots of shops and old homes.  Well, I'm sure it was out there somewhere.  But not in the downtown.  Lots of governmental buildings and greyness.  There was no shopping and barely any eating.  We high-tailed it outta there the first chance we got.

Charlottesville (3 1/2 hours away), on the other hand, was very quaint, compact and shop-laden.  We went there in the evening in the IMMENSE HEAT for supper and a little browsing.  We ate at a tavern, because they're more civilized and have great food (usually) and then stopped at a gelatto shop.  If only we hadn't been there in the evening.  So nice!

We drove for awhile after supper and stayed at The Inn at Afton.  Let this serve as your warning--don't stay there.  The view is fabulous.  The hotel is built on a hillside so high it's cooler up there.  The inn must have been quite a thrill in its heyday, but that day is over.  We were all so tired, we just needed a place to sleep.  And sleep we did.  It was quiet (only a few other guests) and the sunrise was just gorgeous.  Too bad we were twenty years late.

Friday found us heading home, with a diversion to Luray Caverns to travel back to my childhood.  Still beautiful.  It reminded me how lucky I was to get to spend a semester studying local caves with Dr. Davis.  I wanted to put on my old Super Hunky sweatshirt and crawl and climb and get covered in mud.  Such wonderful creations--caves.

We found a wonderful local pottery on the way back and I got to get a beautiful pitcher to hold my egg nog and lemonade.  It's funny, you know, when you visit people and their possessions seem to be dateable from the time when they started housekeeping.  Someday, that will be Mike and me.  I tell myself that the few items I buy now will be used in our home for thirty years or more.  That's one of the big reasons I choose local and handmade.  I can look at the person who made what I'm buying and tell them their work will be used in our home for many years.

The Other Virginia, the part we saw, was not so scary.  The history lives there in plantations and old downtowns instead of chestnut barns and ramshackle houses.  It's rather pretty there, excepting the chicken CAFO's.  But give me the Forgotten Virginia any day.  May I be one of the few who chose to stay.

It takes a village to raise a child and another one to read a book with Mike.  While I listened to the first three Harry Potter books on tape, I've read the others vicariously through Mike.  It takes him months to finish a book, but everyone around him receives excerpts, quotes, and summaries.  He spent most of the weekend, when not fraternizing with his fraternity brothers, reading the final installment.  He may finish some time in the next couple weeks.  He's laid back--that's one of the reasons I married him.

We stayed at a rather interesting "campground" in Hiawassee, GA.  Called a resort, the place was not tent-friendly.  We were put in the overflow field, next to the bandstand, a swamp and lots of streetlights.  So woodsy.  Let me tell you.  Everyone was zipping around on golf carts and watching satellite TV.  There was putt-putt, peddle boats, a pool, kayaking, and a bandstand (next to our site!).  Our site came with cable.  Yes, let me just build a TV out of some sticks, and we'll be ready to go!

Pardon my sarcasm, but it was like some bizarre electricity-saturated parallel world.  The Floo Network must have led us astray from our usual National Forest woodland hideaways.  Fear not, we've scoped out a Federal campground for Young Harris College's homecoming next year.

A nearby town, Murphy, NC, featured a little shopping area with the most interesting sign, shown above.

Saturday, Mike and I took the long way over past Dungannon to the Falls of Little Stony.  Instead of oppressing ourselves with the interstate and the long stretch of US Highway 19, we took the scenic route over US Highway 16.  We curved over the mountain and down the other side to Rich Valley.  The valley is huge and deep with profound rocky outcroppings at every turn.

Then we turned onto US Highway 42 and headed West to Saltville.  Old Saltworks Road took us to Route 80 and through Poor Valley, through Hayter's Gap and over Rich Mountain.  In the valley below, it was quite peaceful and we found lots of people out working in their yards and gardens.

The landscape in extreme Southwest Virginia is very profound and not very much like the lush valleys and steep hillsides in our part of the Forgotten Virginia.  When we came into the valley of Elk Garden (not the hillside on the AT where we were married), it was like stepping across the continent to the West.  Rusty fences and rocky fields gave an impressive feeling to the land.  Mike and I stopped to admire the uniqueness of it all.  In one field, where they were probably growing hay, people had picked up all of the rocks and it was a smooth contrast to the lumpy landscape.

After a stop in Lebanon at a drive-in that claimed to "the best burgers in the USA," we traveled on to our destination.  Once inside the National Forest, we saw the results of the prescribed burn that was taking place back in April or March when we came to visit Anna and Mark.  The forest floor was bare of leaves, but new green life was springing forth everywhere.

Finally, the falls.  Mike and I swam for two hours and played with some of the children who had come with their family to the secluded spot.  The water coming down the falls was quite warm, compared with the pool below and felt like a very rough shower on my back.  The water was much lower than the first time I had come there.  It was, however, just the right depth for swimming.

When I was a sophomore at Emory & Henry, Dr. Davis asked me to fill in as secretary for a committee he was serving on.  It was a committee appointed by Congressman Boucher to advise concerning a new National Recreation Area in the Clinch Ranger District.  It was full of interests from all sides and had met many months debating the issues.  There were many fears, including takings like the ones that happened in the formation of the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area. 

I took 22 pages of notes at the meeting, and we went on a field trip.   We piled into a bus and traveled many back roads to the Falls of Little Stony, Bark Camp Lake and High Knob Fire Tower.  A hubcap even fell off the bus at one point because of the rocky roads.  We also went to the Guest River Gorge and walked its trails.  I saw my first solar composting toilet there, and met wonderful people like Steve Brooks and Tom Davenport.  All the while we were followed by a caravan of protesters against the National Recreation Area.  Some places we couldn't even get out because the crowds were too threatening.  After it was all over, no such High Knob National Recreation Area came into existence.  The political climate was just too unsettled.

Rebecca ( krusig ) came over to our house on Tuesday afternoon and spent the 4th of July with us.  We enjoyed taking a vegetarian to the Sugar Grove Diner and then on a short jaunt to Hurricane Campground to plan the Friends of Mount Rogers volunteer picnic.  In the evening we did a little sewing and lots of talking.  We had Blackberry Pudding (recipe to follow soon) in the morning and then went to my parents' cabin for lunch and a hike.
We made our summer pilgrimage to the Big White Rock, which is really a very impressive cliff.  There were loads of blueberries we're hoping will be ripe in a few weeks.  Like last time, we seemed to be following a bear at least half the trip.  It left interesting little signs along the way until it finally traveled off the trail through the high grasses.  We sat on the cliff for some time, looking through binoculars out into the valley and inspecting Rebecca's single grey hair. ;-P

We came home for supper and enjoyed Sun-Dried Tomato Basil Pesto with the first major harvest of basil from the garden.  I can now recommend Hodgson Mill whole grain angel hair as quite delightful.  Rebecca went home with one of our manual mowers and Mike and I rounded out the evening watching fireworks from the living room window.

This whole past week, time has been really funny.  The weekend seemed to be the longest ever.  Now this week, time has flown by.  With the holiday in the middle, today definitely doesn't feel like Friday.  I wish I could take every Wednesday off.

We really rather enjoyed getting to know Rebecca and her hair.  Rather like a mini-vacation, I'd say.

Overlooking the Shining Rock Wilderness Area, I strained my eyes to see the quartz outcropping that gives this place its name, but the haze and coming rains had other plans.



We found a little trail just off the parking area that claimed it was only 3500 feet to summit. 

To keep my spirits up, I'm going to continue to savor my vacation.  I've got Ben Folds rockin' my suburb and I may get out of my Spring funk after awhile.  I'll continue to savor views like these.

Spring was just beginning to waft up the hillsides to the Blue Ridge range.  I guess the old timers would have been standing out in the fields talking about planting because the oak leaves were getting to be bigger than a squirrel's ear.

This trip to the Parkway was a little different because I've not spent much time there in the early spring.  I'm usually in the Mount Rogers NRA for the Naturalist Rally, where spring is a bit more advanced.  In the lowlands, greenery was bursting forth, trees were ready to face summer and the trilliums had already withered away.  But up in the the 5,000 and above range, the spruce and fir trees were the only plants fully awake.

It was interesting to see the days pass in a new, slow way that I am no longer accustomed to.  Time was my ally, creeping when I needed it and zipping when I felt a little bored.  Sleeping to 7:00 felt like it was so late and the hours trudged along until the next meal, which divided our days.  Most meals were trail foods of dried this or dehydrated that, with a few fresh berries and grapefruit thrown in.  It was a fine thing to cook breakfast on our little porch and sit with our hot drinks looking down into the valley, where life was bustling.  And where we were not.

The Pisgah Inn was a great home base.  They've got all sorts of recycling and conservation practices implemented, though I have to wonder what the hotel staff thought to step into our room to tidy it.  GladRags soaking by the tub and drying on the little laundry rack I packed along.  The food was wonderful, but it's clear they need to do a better job wrangling the trash.

It is good to be back so that I may tend to the house and yard again, but leave it to vacation to show you a long list of what you don't need.  Sometimes I wish I were an Appalachian from just a hundred years ago.  I could have been good at working the land and dealing with rougher weather and a subsistence life.  It's just too much of a shame sometimes, all the things we think we need.