Buffalo Mountain? Again? *whine*

Nah, it wasn't really all that bad. I hit the Buffalo trail again because it was close by and, on a Monday, timing is important. I usually have many packages to ship (all my eBay auctions end on Sunday nights), so being home in time to make it to the post office before it closes will likely often keep me close to home. Since I had already covered most of this park, and didn't mind a little extra workout since I had so little travel time, I took a bit longer path this time. Before I go into details, you might want to have another peek at the trail map; here's the link.


In truth, my intent had been to do an out-and-back to Tip Top, via the Fork Knob Trail. I got cocky, though, and did not carry my handy printout of the abovementioned map, so instead I missed my turn and wound up taking the longer way around via the Cascade Trail. Once I realized this, I laughed at myself. So many times before on trails I had found myself stressing out over the possibility of missing a turn. Often so much so that it actually ate into my enjoyment of my hike. Now that I finally had missed a turn, although I knew it meant I was in for a longer time out than I had planned, I realized just how silly it had been to stress. Put simply, no matter whether or not I miss a turn, I'm going to get a nice hike either way. And it's not as if I could get lost in this place. Truly, you'd be hard pressed to lose me anywhere, because I do so much pre-work before heading out, and also because I always carry some sort of map or guide the first time (or two) over a given trail. So I laughed at myself both for my previous stress experiences, and for being so silly as to miss a turn on a trail I knew.

The extra steps were by no means wasted, either. As I approached the cascade, I saw many pretty little yellow-breasted birds. There were probably close to a dozen of them sitting drinking from the cascade itself as I approached, but my footfalls frightened them all off into the surrounding bushes, and it seemed no matter how long I stood stock-still waiting for them to return, they would not be fooled into coming back to pose for my photos. So instead I settled for photos of a pretty plant I noticed at several places along the trail. The name of this plant, I would later learn, was Rattlesnake Plantain. How I learned that is a story unto itself, however, so I shall save it for another entry.


After taking the long way around and reaching the side trail up to Tip Top, I still wanted to follow through with my plan to make it up there; after all, what fun would the hike be if I didn't at least cover some new ground? Besides, it would only add another four tenths of a mile to my hike; certainly not enough to prevent me from making it home in a timely manner. So I headed up the side trail, and began to feel the familiar pains of hunger as I did. When I reached the top, appropriately enough, there was this picnic area.


There were also some pretty nice views, although they were somewhat obscured by foliage, especially from the point of view of my camera lens, so I won't bore you with my photos. What I will bore you with is the story of how I think I poisoned myself with salt. You see, I have a tendency, when on the trail, to obey my hunger and thirst. Just seems like a bright idea, really, when working out, to do so. So as I began my descent from Tip Top, I pulled out my bag of trail mix. Now, this was a big bag of el-cheapo Wal-Mart grade trail mix, and while tasty, is very heavy on the salt content to begin with. And this particular bag was very nearly empty when I pulled it out of my pack; I really should have re-loaded or added something more. But, woulda, coulda, shoulda, right? So I eat through all the peanut-sized and larger pieces, and am left with the dregs of the bag, which are really salty. Having been raised by depression-era parents, I am decidedly loath to waste food of any sort, even the unhealthy kind (sometimes especially the unhealthy kind). So I munch on the dregs for quite some time. Thirst of course sets in, and I drink, figuring that, if anything, the salt will help me retain water, thus aiding me in avoiding a trailside pee on the way back to the car (yes, I can, yes, I do, and yes, I pack it all out. So there). Eventually I realize that this salt load is too much for even me to finish (and I'm actually a pretty big fan of the ol' NaCl), and put the trail mix bag away, still with an ounce or two of dregs in the bottom. No worry, though, the damage had already been done.


I should mention that, along the way I ran across the above shelf fungi. They were beautiful and flower-like from a distance, though a bit gritty and sandy in appearance when you got too close. I didn't recall having seen them on my previous trip past (this was back on the Fork Ridge Trail segment between the side trail to Tip Top and Fork Knob), yet couldn't believe that they might have grown so quickly (it had only been a couple of weeks since I'd last been by). Whatever the case, though, I stopped to photograph them, so here they are.

I returned to my car, and proceeded happily home to pack up and mail all of my shipments. As the day wore on I felt less and less like myself, and at first attributed it to the slightly longer-than-usual hike. Eventually I developed a pounding headache, and had to lay down for a very long nap. The nap didn't cure the headache (even though I took two Tylenol before laying down), so I followed the nap with a couple of ibuprofen for good measure. Even the next morning I felt crummy, and the headache followed me well into Tuesday. Looking it up online, I learned that apparently it is possible to kill yourself with salt, although you'd have to consume far more than I did. Much more common (because of the lower dosage necessary) is the pounding headache to which I'd treated myself. I threw away the remaining trail mix dregs. Sometimes food really is trash. Lesson learned.

Butterflies, Butterflies, and more...

SPIDERS!!! That pretty much sums up my hike at Warrior's Path State Park on September 7th.

I had wanted to go back to Roan Mountain as soon as possible, but I was also aware that there was a big naturalist gathering going on the 7th through the 9th. Fearing a lack of solitude on the trails there, I fled north to explore Warrior's Path instead. Lucky for me, Warrior's Path does offer an online trail map, and with it I was able to decide in advance that I wanted to check out the Sinking Waters Trail. This is actually a series of loop trails that supposedly totals about 3 miles in length. Perhaps these trails were just too easy for me, or perhaps I'm getting used to walking more and more, but I would swear that these trails amounted to far less than three miles. And I even walked a little more than what is shown on the map, as I'll explain later!

Of course, my misunderestimation of the trail length could also be due to the level of my distraction along much of it. It seemed as though as soon as I would put my camera away, more photo-worthy moments would present themselves. So much so that I resorted to carrying my camera (my heavy DSLR, even) in hand for long stretches at a time; not a practice to which I am usually given, as it tends to throw off my gait, having 2.5 extra pounds swinging about out there at the end of my arm.

Actually, the first leg or so of the hike was somewhat uneventful. In order to ensure that I didn't miss any nooks or crannies of the trails, I systematically worked my way around them, taking every right turn that presented itself to me. The first thing this took me to was a little shelter over a rocky, wet area that looked like a spring, but there didn't seem to be much water flowing from it, and I haven't checked my maps yet to be sure. It was quaint, but it was also a dead end, so I retraced my path and continued on to the next right, which turned out to be the beginning of the first loop on the map.

This was probably the most challenging loop of the trail, and not only because of the, ahem, local wildlife. Shortly after making my right onto the loop, I began encountering spiders webs, and plenty of them. Most of the spiders I saw in/on them were of the smaller variety, though there was one quarter-sized one that I stopped to watch for some time; he was in the process of taking up his web, I guess getting ready to re-build it. I lamented at the time that I had to break his web and disrupt him from the process. Now I'm lamenting that I didn't dig out my camera and take a bunch of photos.

The other challenge of this loop lay in its terrain; it ascended to a ridgeline, followed it for a bit, and then dropped back down. There was also an informative sign along the ridge, about how it serves as a dividing line between types of habitat. Actually, I think this would make a great family hike, as there are several very informative interpretive signs, and they're all written in easy-to-understand language and leave the reader with questions to think about as they walk through the area. In addition, although there is some climbing to be done, it is moderate, and of course could be taken slowly if need be. Just make sure one of the big people walks in front and swings a big stick. This is what I eventually had to resort to, similar to my escapades in Winged Deer Park, in order to avoid being covered in sticky webs.

Just out of curiosity, is there any skin or other health benefit to be derived from the proteins and other compounds in spider silk?

But I digress. As I emerged from the first loop, and made my way into the second one, the hike got a bit more claustrophobic, but in a good way. Instead of open, tree-canopied trail, I was hemmed in on both sides by tall-growing flowering plants, which of course attracted many, many butterflies (and had a pleasant aroma, as well). The trail itself was often carpeted in grass, and as seen here, butterflies:

The flowers also attracted various buzzing insects, but these were of little bother to me. Perhaps I was just too busy paying attention to (and taking photographs of) the butterflies. Or maybe this is a moth.

One of the interpretive signs, I believe, made mention of how this trail had once been a major highway through the region. Although there was nothing that I noticed to specifically explain this little marker, judging by what I've seen in other countries and regions, I'm guessing it's an approximation of what the original "King's Highway" distance markers looked like.

Just for your edification, this is what most of the spiders I encountered looked like. My apologies for the blurriness, but this little guy was moving fast, and he's barely as big as my fingernail. Kudos for my camera for getting anything in focus, the way I was swinging this stick around.

After polishing off the first and second loops, the trail descends into a marshy wetland area, but the park service has thoughtfully built a boardwalk through it so that a. we humans needn't get our feet muddy and b. the animal inhabitants needn't have their habitat destroyed by our tromping feet. This "boardwalk" is actually made of plastic. A combination of plastic lumber made out of recycled bottles, and a gridwork walking path that looks (and feels) considerably more brittle (though I hope I'm wrong). Somehow the presence of plastics didn't spoil the effect of the nature walk, though.


The boardwalk had its fair share of spideriffic inhabitants as well, so there was no opportunity to stop swinging my stick. It also had a few other inhabitants, most of them looking like this furry fellow:


According to the map, the boardwalk makes a loop that ends the trail. In reality, however, there is yet another connector trail. This was broad and flat and tree-lined, and for a very short distance reminded me of the sections of the Ice Age Trail I had hiked near the Dells of Eau Claire in Wisconsin. I should've known it was landscaped. Yes, literally, mowed. You see, at the other end of this little connector trail was the park's golf course. The saving graces of this let down were the wildflowers that lined the course edge, and of course the butterflies that inhabited them (though I couldn't seem to get any "on film").

I saw the golfers, but I doubt they noticed me, as I was on the far side of one of the course's bumps. Or whatever they're called. After taking in the, ahem, scenery, I retreated, and continuing to take the right-hand options, covered the remainder of the trail system in what seemed like record time.


In addition to encountering this thistle-loving butterfly, there was also some farmland off to the right of the trail. Interestingly I noted that they appeared to be growing grapes there. I'm guessing there might be wineries hereabouts, but not being much of a connoisseur myself, I probably won't be doing any research on the matter. I ambled back to my car, and the day had warmed rapidly, so emerging from the cool shelter of the woods into my portable blue oven was a bit of a shock, but there was a cool shower awaiting me at home.

Finishing Off Buffalo Mountain

On Monday I revisited Buffalo Mountain once more, to try to cover what I hadn't already. I'm still missing a couple of little stretches of trail, but, everything in time... Once again, here's a link to the map, so you can see what I'm talking about.

I had intended to depart from the trailhead (as opposed to the alternate trailhead), but since I arrived shortly after 7am, the gate was not yet open. Although I have seen no posted opening hours for this park, I'm guessing it doesn't open until 8am, like some others owned by the city. So I instead parked at the alternate trailhead, and hoofed it up to the original, via the roadway. Given that my legs and feet do not especially appreciate pounding pavement, this was a bit of a bummer, but it was definitely a good workout, as there was a steep grade most of the way. Funny how we're less likely to notice these things when driving a car!

After reaching the trailhead, I took the white blazed route toward Huckleberry Knob, and then bore left onto the Fork Knob Trail. You may recall that this is the route by which I returned a week or so ago, and found it to be rather a steep descent in some places. Oddly, when reversing the route and climbing, I didn't find it as strenuous as I expected. But the fact that uphills are easier on my knees than downhills is well known to me at this point.

About halfway up, I heard a gentle rain approaching, and really enjoyed listening to it falling on the canopy. It lasted quite a while, but as before, I felt almost no raindrops making it down to my skin. Eventually, the rain got a bit harder, and I began debating about putting my backpack's raincoat on to protect my beloved camera (for which, sadly, I had no use during this visit). Right as I stopped to put the raincoat on, in a very well protected area, I heard the rain became considerably harder -- perfect timing! As I left my shelter I finally began to get wet, and felt very fortunate to have chosen that exact time to cover my pack. The rain felt wonderful, and had a fantastic cooling effect. It did eventually slacken, of course, but the cooling remained, to say nothing of the amazing scents it left behind. Truly, every forest has its own unique blend of smells, and a light soaking of rain has the amazing effect of bringing them all out in all their delicious pungency!

I continued on up the hill, delighting in the new scents and the light breezes the rain had effected, and eventually reached the bench at Fork Knob. There I turned left, and explored the Fork Ridge Trail. Since I had already been to the south end of the Tower Ridge trail, and I knew that it was pretty high, I expected to climb to get there from Fork Knob. Climb I did, though not before descending a considerable way. I'm not sure if there was any net gain, but no matter, it was a pretty walk nonetheless, and with my freshly dampened skin and clothing, quite a refreshing one as well.

Upon reaching the blue-blazed connector trail, I hunted my way through to the service road. I had determined that I was going to make my descent via this road because I expected it to have a gentle, even grade, rather than some of the steeper ones I've been encountering on the trails. Although this surmisal was correct, it had a downside. A gentler grade meant a steadier one as well, which turned out to be just as hard on my knees, if not harder, than the steep downhills punctuated by relative flats that were found in the trail system.

I also determined that this would be a good uphill climb, especially if I were to make it at a slightly higher speed than that to which I generally push myself over uneven trails. So, my learning curve continues.

I only encountered two other humans on this trip, a couple of ladies walking their somewhat overweight daschunds up the service road. The ladies didn't look like they were in grave need of the exercise, but the poor little wiener dogs sure did! So now, the only trails in Buffalo Mountain I haven't covered are the Hartsell Hollow trail and the High Ridge trail to Tip Top. Both of these being dead-end trails (and you probably already have a feel for how much I hate covering the same ground twice!), it may be a while before I muster the gumption to traverse them.

As previously noted, I didn't encounter any things that were so spectacular that I felt the need to whip out my camera on this trip, but stay tuned, as on Wednesday I FINALLY made it to Roan Mountain, and there I found some stuff that was really worth photographing!

And now for something completely different...

What the heck is happening to me? After running across a copy of The China Study at a garage sale a couple of weeks ago (and buying it, and compulsively reading it, of course), I decided to make the switch to a vegan diet. And today, as I was browsing through The Accidental Vegan, I was looking for a new and exciting main dish to try. The very first recipe offered in the Main Dishes chapter was Pasta Primavera. It sounded pretty standard, so I almost flipped past it. But just to make sure Ms. Gartenstein hadn't added some new twist, I skimmed down the ingredient list...red onion...garlic...fresh basil...asparagus...red bell pepper...snap peas...waitaminit...this was sounding delicious! I'm not sure what it is about having adopted this way of eating for such a short time that has changed my tastes (and my taste buds! -- I made a tofu-based version of mousse today (recipe here) that I found quite tasty, but my mom tasted it and pronounced it inedible because it wasn't sweet enough) so drastically, but it truly is an amazing transformation! Whatever the case, though, I'm exceedingly thankful that I decided to make this healthy switch now, rather than waiting until something drastic such as diabetes came along and forced the healthy lifestyle upon me. I realize that evangelizing the vegan diet is probably pointless, but, like most new converts to any drastic life change, I feel compelled to pass along my own excitement to anyone who will listen. So, thanks for "listening!" :)

More Buffalo Mountain

Friday, I had intended to head down to Roan Mountain State Park to do my hiking. Various responsibilities, however (as well as a sale at the local scrapbook store :), conspired to keep me in town. So I decided to head back over to my new favorite spot, Buffalo Mountain. This time, I explored the eastern side of the park, and was not disappointed. Here's another link to the park map, so you can follow along.

I parked at the alternate trail head. I arrived and got to hiking around 7:10 am, as I wanted to be at the scrapbook store shortly after it opened at 10. I hiked the .15 mile trail segment in to the "crossroads," and then took a sharp left to follow the outer loop trail over to the blue-blazed Tower Ridge trail. It appears as though the trail has been re-routed, however, as in my attempt to not miss the point where the white trail intersects a very short blue trail, I wound up heading up a trail that (rather quickly) became impassable. I am almost of a mind to take some red paint back to that spot, and paint over the faded white blazes, but I imagine that would be illegal, so I guess I'll just report it to you here, and hope that my own mistakes can help others.After deciding I was no longer on the trail, I doubled back, and did eventually find the Tower Ridge trail, and also successfully avoided taking the left-hand blue trail.

Here I must pause and make an observation; generally speaking, when I've encountered trails with names like "so-and-so ridge," they usually travel up to the top of a ridge, follow the ridge for a while, and then drop back down. Not so the ridge-named trails in this park. As I mentioned in a previous entry, Stair-Step Ridge appears to cover the cross-section of a ridge, and Friday I found that Tower Ridge would probably more aptly be named Tower Hill or Tower Knob. You see, the Tower Ridge trail goes up. And then it goes up some more. And some more. And so on. Seemingly ad infinitum. Every time I would level out and look around, noting that there appeared to be no more elevation to be gained, I would turn a corner and find another considerable rise in the trail. I guess all those hours I spent pounding treadmills and ellipticals on the "interval" or "hill" setting were not in vain!

Eventually, of course, the trail did top out, and at this, a most unattractive point. But then I had suspected that the "tower" referred to would be of the antenna sort, and not the fire type.

After reaching this point, I had to wonder whether or not I had hit the summit. The only elevation, other than the trailhead, on this side of the map, was at White Rock, along whose trail I intended to return. I figured that I had a bit of climbing left to do before I got there, since surely the highest points would be marked...wrong again! I actually descended a couple hundred feet or so before reaching White Rock. Not such a bad thing, just a little odd. Actually, I had a wee bit of trouble determining when I had reached White Rock, as there were several side trails leading to rocky outcrops along the way. One was comprised of rock a bit more pale than the others, so I'm guessing that was it.


Regardless, each outcrop afforded me with panoramic views of the railroad tracks, fields, streets, and town below, although, as you can see from these pictures, it was once again a misty day. I'll grant you, the fact that I was shooting into the early morning sun didn't help matters, but I can assure you that only a very little more was visible to the naked eye.


As I made my return descent, I noted mostly rocky terrain, and only a handful of short segments that my knees considered intolerable. It probably helps that the return track was a bit longer than the trail I had taken up the hill. I had actually considered returning via the service road, when I was standing on it next to the antenna, because I figured that, being designed to be passable by vehicles, it would likely have a kinder, gentler grade (as far as my knees were concerned). In the end, however, I am glad that I chose to continue my route as planned. The sun-dappling along this easternmost trail was warm and soothing, without being unpleasant, thanks to the still-cool air. It also provided some neat lighting effects, which I completely failed to capture with my camera. :(

What I did notice, and subsequently capture, were some of the many leaves that were beginning to change color and fall. I am a bit surprised that they are turning so early in the season. It has always been my understanding that these color changes are triggered by sugars in the leaves being transformed by cold temperatures, yet we have not had much in the way of a cold snap yet. So maybe there are other factors at work, or perhaps it just gets considerably colder up here atop the mountain than down in the valley where I make my home.

I completed my trek via the white-blazed outer loop, re-crossing the service road, and making my way back along the same segments with which I had begun. A relatively uneventful hike, and I managed to make it to the scrapbook store on time :)

Winged Deer Park

Yesterday morning I investigated another find from the Johnson City Parks website, namely Winged Deer Park. I found this park at the same time I found Buffalo Mountain park, which I visited just a few days ago (blog here), and once I had seen Buffalo Mountain, I feared I'd be disappointed by Winged Deer.

I was not wrong.

However, that does not mean that Winged Deer is not a more-than-adequate city park. It was just a bit of a comedown from Buffalo Mountain. I arrived a bit before 7am, not having been able to find a list of opening hours on the parks and recreation department's web site. Alas, the park did not officially open until 8am, but the gates were open, and there was no one around to stop me, so I went in and parked anyway. I should specify; I parked in the lot off of Carroll Creek Road, which is convenient to both the disc golf course (18 holes) and the hiking/walking trails. There is another entrance on Bristol Highway, which offers better access to the parks historical and athletic facilities. I did a drive-by of these on my way out, and they seemed nice, but they weren't my primary objective, hence my alternative parking strategy.

The first disappointment, which wasn't really any surprise, was that I saw considerably more litter on the ground, especially along the trails closer to the parking area. I expected this, but it still bums me out to see it. Secondly, I was a bit bummed that there was no trail map posted anywhere to be seen. The good news is that I had printed my own copy out before leaving home, and, as it turned out, I REALLY needed it. If you'd like to print out your own map, a PDF file can be found here.

The third disappointment was somewhat related to my need of the map. You see, the paved paths seem to get a decent amount of travel, and the sections of trail closest to the parking areas seem to see a reasonable amount of use as well. But once you get on up the trail, or in the cases of some trails, try to find them at all, you are in for some bushwhacking. And spiderwhacking, too. I found that the disuse of the trails had resulted in an intolerable number of spider's webs overgrowing the paths. After walking into/through a couple dozen of these, I finally got tired of collecting arachnids and found myself a long stick. This I used to bounce along the path ahead of me, from ground to about head height, and it did help. Even with this preventative measure, though, I still had more unwanted encounters of the 8-legged kind than I care to recount. Even on the paved paths, the webs encroached to the extent that I walked through a few. Sheesh!

As for the bushwhacking: I walked almost all of the trails/paths in this park. I started with the outermost loop comprised of both trail and path, and after completing that in far less time than I had anticipated (note that there are no segment lengths on the map; there are also relatively few mile markers along the trails), I purposely walked down huff and puff hill so that I could walk back up, and then did a few more fancy loops and double-backs until I had covered everything except a few short segments of paved path. What follows is the lowdown.

Beginning from the Parking lot near Tee 1, I headed up the paved path to the first right, which put me on Poplar Ridge Loop (note the misspelling -- Popular -- on the map). This was a nice trail, aside from the rubbish strewn about the first few hundred yards, and the downed limbs which made one short segment nigh impassable. There were also a few thorny bushes that enjoyed grabbing at my legs as I passed. If I had realized just how much bushwhacking I was going to be doing, I definitely would have worn long pants! Poplar Ridge is the outer loop, and has a nice amount of elevation change, and the trail varies from hardpack to roughly inch-deep leaf litter. Canopy is reliably shady, and the understory varies from almost nonexistent in the places where you seem to walking in a ditch, to quite brambly and grabby in other areas.

Once I hit the paved path, I made the aforementioned detour down and back up Huff and Puff Hill, then followed Cedar Trail back to the parking area, encountering only a few spiders along the way. Next I followed the unnammed inner loop trail that results from taking the first fork off of Poplar Ridge Loop, and then taking a left at the next intersection. Nothing too remarkable along that route, nor the section or Wise Oak Lane I followed to reach Bluebell Loop. Bluebell Loop seemed to be a bit overgrown, but not horribly so, although the few signs along it were all but unreadable. The first section was blazed in blue, but the return section of Bluebell was, oddly, blazed in the same white that Poplar Ridge uses. This made it a bit confusing for me, even though I'd already traveled Poplar Ridge. I just stayed left wherever it was an option, though, and managed to find my way back to Wise Oak Lane.

Next I continued along Wise Oak Lane and went for the next side trail after Bluebell Loop. This is where the fun really started! At first, I blew right past it. You see, none of the trails in this park are what you'd call "well marked," and this particular side trail was not marked at all. It diverged from the paved path at what appeared to be a slightly wide place, so if you're looking for it, hopefully that will help. I didn't realize I'd blown past it until I saw the signs telling me I had hit Hemlock Loop on the paved path. So I turned back and looked really hard, and eventually found this faint path through the underbrush. Very faint. Here begins the serious bushwhacking. So much so that I actually lost the trail at one point! I did eventually find my way back, though, and picked my way through to Poplar Ridge. Then I found the similarly overgrown short trail back to the paved path. Whew! No more of that for me. To try to round out something resembling a workout hike, I made a few more loopy loops around the paved trails, shook off a few more spiders (and spent a lot of time picking the hitchiking seeds I'd collected during my bushwhacking off my clothing), and made my way back to the car. At this point it was after 8:30, and the park was showing some signs of life. Several cars and trucks were there, and I even saw a couple humans heading off on the paved paths.

Alas, I saw nothing during my perambulations that struck me as worthy of preserving photographically. I plan on heading out for another hike tomorrow morning, though, so hopefully that will yield some Kodak moments.

Summary advice for this park: walk slowly, carry a loooong stick, pack your own trail map, and wear long pants!

Buffalo Mountain Park

This is, without a doubt, the prettiest, most wild, and cleanest city park I've ever visited. I thought the greenways out in Austin (TX) were nice, but this trumps them all.

I was investigating city parks near where I live, and stumbled across this hiking trail map on the Johnson City, TN, Parks and Recreation web site. It seemed too good to be true, but I had to see for myself anyway. Turns out, the place is very real, and offers some great hiking! Admittedly, I only explored the western side of the park, but I definitely plan on going back, not only to check out the rest of the trails, but also to see how the park changes through the seasons. I'm excited to find such a beautiful natural space so close to me.

I started out at the main trailhead. This was around 9am on a Sunday morning. There were two other cars nearby, and I thought I heard another approaching just as I started up the trail. So the place was pleasantly deserted -- lots of points for that! I had also chosen an excellent weather situation for hiking; the morning temperatures were in the sixties, and it was overcast with a heavy sky that threatened rain. I don't mind walking in the rain at all, so this was perfect for me, and kept things cool which was also ideal. The humidity was quite high for this area (in the 90% range, according to the Weather Channel before I left), which was also helpful to me, as, being a Florida native, I'm used to breathing moist air. It did produce an almost instantanous damp sheen on my skin, but because of the cool air temperature, this was not as icky-sticky as the cloying humidity of Florida. There was also a nice breeze, at least up to the southwest corner of the trail system, which also aided in creating a pleasant atmosphere.

I headed south along the Cascade Trail, which rises pretty steadily and so provided me with a nice warmup. I didn't come across much of note for a while, just a few strangely misshapen trees and a couple that had grown around obstacles. Eventually, however, I encountered this downed tree that was fostering quite a colony of shelf lichens. I've never seen shelf lichens quite like these (down in FL they're usually much larger, and don't have mossy-looking stuff intermingling with them), so I had to snap a photo of it.

As I approached the Cascades, I noted that the trail was suffering from erosion in several places, even to the point of making it a bit difficult to traverse where it had almost matched the hillside in steepness.

These are the Cascades. I didn't know what to expect, but I guess I was thinking it would be a bit more waterfall-esque. This was a nifty feature nonetheless, and had some great exposure of the bedrock layers where the water has done its slow, careful work over the eons. What you see above is actually a part of the trail, as well, so I guess these never see especially heavy waterflow. We had a considerable rain last night, so I would think that this would be on the heavy side. Which actually leads me to wonder...if we hadn't had that rain, would there have been any water present at all? Just one more question to be answered by my repeated visits. :)

The view above is of the Cascades as they tumble down the hill away from the trail. There were also a great many bees in this area, as it seemed many of the plants, which were obviously quite lush near the water source, seemed to be flowering. So, hikers who are allergic to bee stings, be aware! I myself didn't have any serious run-ins with the little pollinators, though, and moved on up the trail toward Stairstep Ridge. As I did so, I continued to encounter portions of the trail which were a little difficult to traverse due to erosion. I do hope that the trail sees enough use and maintenance that the erosion does not win the battle. I certainly plan on doing my part!

The elevation continued to climb up and over Stairstep Ridge, now in increasingly steep sections. After rounding the westernmost hairpin in the trail, I began hearing strange noises in the distance...humans! The noisiest critters in the forest. At first I feared the bane of my existence -- the omnipresent boyscout troop which has plagued me on so many of my other expeditions (more on that another time). This, happily, turned out to be a small group of trail-running girls headed in the opposite direction, who thanked me for vacating the trail for them as they passed, and kept on scooting along. I would have liked to warn them about the washouts on the trail ahead of them, but they were moving so fast I would have had to shout after them. At any rate, I imagine they probably use the trails often enough to know them far better than I.

Shortly after encountering the trail runners, the soft sound of wind through leaves gradually changed to the slightly more staccato song of light rain falling on the canopy. Although it rained for at least 10 or 15 minutes, very few of the drops managed to make it through the canopy and down to me, so I had no reason to stop and put my backpack's raincoat on (yes, my light backpack has it's own, built-in raincoat!). I just wandered and enjoyed the sound, as well as the occasional droplets that made their way to my skin.

Happy with the cardio effects of my upward hike, I eventually crested the ridge, and began a gentle descent to the bench at the west end of the Fork Ridge Trail. Given that I am a bit overweight, any cardio is a good thing. What I had forgotten was that, for every step I go up, I must also take a step down. Therein lies the rub, especially on descents which are a little steep. My knees, and the muscles surrounding them, are not in the best shape, so they complain early and often as I "put on the brakes" going downhill. Trying to jog downhill isn't really any easier on my joints, although I suppose it does get the ordeal over with a bit quicker. But given the fact that I really needed the outdoor time to keep my spirits up (the last two weeks have been spent mostly indoors, unpacking, organizing, cleaning, and organizing some more after an inter-state move), I didn't especially want to hurry home. So I went downhill slowly, comforting myself with the knowledge that I was building muscles I'd be using much more often in the coming months and years.

I nearly trod on this little feller as I made my descent. Well, little compared to me. I have to admit, he was nearly as big as my fist, which is a pretty big amphibian where I'm from. He moved enough to get my attention (and not get stepped on!), but then calmly posed for me as I dug out my camera and took photos of him from several angles.

The rest of the descent I made without incident, and even took the tiny (.04 mile) detour to Huckleberry Knob and gazed out over the hazy gray city. I took some photos there, too, but they're not really worth publishing, as, well, they're mostly just gray.