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!" :)

Whaddaya Mean, "Born Explorer?"

or, "Why did I start this blog, anyway?"

One of my earliest wishes was to live in a house that reconfigured itself every night as I slept, so that I would have a whole new home to explore every single morning. Despite the fact that I, even then, realized this to be an impossible dream, it is a memory that has stuck with me to this day. Though I led something of a sheltered life, as I grew up, I managed to find ways to feed my hunger for exploring. Not allowed to snoop around in houses into which I was invited (for reasons of propriety), I contented myself with nosing around houses in the process of being built. A little later in life I would explore the small hummocks and wooded areas remaining in my neighborhood, although I would sometimes get in trouble for this, as such areas were considered unsafe; full of frightening and deadly prospects like rattlesnakes and alligators.

I was limited in those days to the areas I could reach on foot or via bicycle, and I always had to be home in time for dinner (the sheltered life isn't all bad :). So I explored and re-explored the same places, while deep inside me grew a longing to continually expand my range. It was always a little exciting to discover that someone else had been operating in an area; finding dirt freshly churned by bike tires, or the wood and nails indicative of a nascent tree fort. Still, I knew there was a much wider world out there to be discovered, and I longed for the day it would be within reach.

When I got a little older, I had a friend who lived across the highway. Her neighborhood was unexplored territory for me, and I ached to walk or bike it and get myself lost among the unfamiliar twists and turns. Given the size of the subdivision, I realized it would be nigh impossible to truly get lost, but that did nothing to dampen my enthusiasm for exploration. Alas, my friend was not similarly inclined, and so those many roads remained closed to me.

More than almost anything, though, I wanted to be a Girl Scout. They, it seemed, had all sorts of adventures: camping, hiking, picnicking, and all sorts of learning. Many reasons were given for why I was never allowed; mostly relating to my allergies (for which I was in constant treatment) and money. It wasn’t until much later in life that I discovered the real reason: my mother was terrified that I might be molested while out on a camping trip. Nevertheless, I checked the Junior and Cadet Girl Scout handbooks out of the library repeatedly, practicing knot tying and lashing things together, reading up on the numerous other skills required to be a good camper, and endlessly poring over the requirements for various badges, daydreaming about someday being able to fulfill them.

Needless to say, that day never came. Thus I am now in a permanent second childhood; one where I grab every available chance to explore. Regardless of whether it’s a friend who’s bought a new house giving me the nickel tour, a two-week camping trip planned around the ghost towns of a given area, the hiking trails of a nearby state park, or the urban exploration of a deserted old building down the block, I am constantly looking for, and finding, new ways to discover the world around me.

During my explorations, and especially during my long hikes alone in the woods, I make many discoveries about life, the universe and everything. Most importantly, though, it is then that I learn the most about myself. I have come to many epiphanies, including the realization that I am a die-hard fan of novelty. Exploring the same place twice holds little appeal for me, unless it has been long enough for the place to have changed. This desire for the new and unusual is a consistent thread throughout my non-exploring life as well. I'm always looking for new flavors, new music, new scents, and new scrapbook supplies. :)

It also has a somewhat darker side; this desire for constant change and newness does not lend itself well to anything of permanence. It is to this trait that, among other things, I attribute the fact that I had already bought and sold a house and begun and ended a marriage before the age of 30. If I had given myself the opportunity to realize my deep-seated need for novelty, I hope that I would never have made the mistakes I did. The reality, however, is that I did make them, and that the best I can now do is learn from them. Learn from them, and also share them here, in the hopes that someone else may be so enlightened, hopefully before they make similar errors. We must make an important choice in life; either play the hand we are dealt, or fold (spend our lives wishing we were, had, or did something we didn't). I've chosen to do the best I can with what I've got. Rather than fight my innermost nature, I now embrace it, and accept that it likely means I will never have a life that most consider normal. It can be difficult, but thus far I have found it very rewarding; much more rewarding than trying to fit in, keep up with the Joneses, and otherwise conform to a norm with which I was never truly comfortable.

This, then, is the place where you can vicariously join me on my journeys, and enjoy the amazing wonders that might be found halfway down the street, or halfway around the world. And if you happen to learn something about yourself or someone you know in the process, well, don't blame me. :)

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.