The essence of mountain living (sort of) & Sam Knob.

I'm starting to fall in love with this land, the sheer energy of it and the protectiveness of the elder spirits of the mountains. Yesterday promised to be in the 90's so I loaded up Kali & appropriate hiking gear into the car. We headed east on Smokey Park Highway just about 2 miles to the junction with route 151. It starts of broad and rolling through the Hominy Valley, past farms & fields and old country churches before ever-so-subtly beginning to climb. It winds past B&B's, more churches, an elementary school & fire station, a couple RV parks mostly empty this early in the season. All of a sudden, the road narrows. The sign on the right reads "windy, mountain road" and then starts a series of three dozen or more switchbacks and corkscrew turns, climbing sharply, the Subaru in 2nd gear the whole time. The temperature begins to drop and the sharp & tangy Bluegrass tunes playing on WNCW in the car ping off the cliffsides and bounce down the valleys. Joy is what I feel. Freedom is germinating. We climb ever higher for 15 minutes until the sign, "Blue Ridge Parkway." We hop on, heading south towards Mt. Pisgah, driving swiftly past there for another 12 miles to Forest Road 816, otherwise known as the Black Balsam Knob access road. But, that's not where we were going.

We passed the dozens of cars parked on the right after about a mile and kept going til the end, to the Sam Knob trailhead. And, what a glorious trail it was, reminding me of the Alpine meadows and edge-clinging paths of Mt Rainier. The trail was very reminiscent of the Northwest in many ways, being highly forested with evergreens in places, streams and creeks flowing all around. We climbed a moderately steep way up to the summit of Sam Knob, a rock-covered platform surrounded by butterflies and flowers with views of other peaks in every direction. At the peak, it is 6050 feet above sea level. Every step was a joy, every glimpse brought a smile to my lips and a song to my heart. Then, we made our way back down to the open, grassy meadow to the junction with the Flat Laurel Trail which was supposed to create the remainder of a 3.6 mile loops. Except, I made a mistake. We cut across the flowing creek - more like a narrow river - and I lost my bearings.

I read the sign carefully. I swear I did. Only I must not have. With renewed vigor, we plunged down the trail. It sure didn't seem like .9 to the parking lot. We should have reached the parking lot. I got a little panicky, began hoarding water and mentally going through the contents of my backpack as the sky got darker and a storm began to blow in. The temperature dropped a good 10 degrees at least. Yes, I had matches. Rain poncho, check. Space blanket, check. Extra food, sort of check. Compass, er, nope. Extra water, um, nope. On and on through my pack as we walked & walked and I chided myself for not following my own best guidance a little better. I hadn't brought my brand new, very clear National Geographic map of Pisgah Nat'l Forest. It was sitting on the passenger seat of my car. I had a small photocopy of a map from the book. Every dozen steps or so, I pulled it out again and re-examined. The route I now felt we were on was not listed on my map but then, we were no longer on the trail it was meant to depict. We passed beautiful waterfalls as I rehearsed my survival strategy (stay put, don't wander off the trail) and thanked my inner hiker for informing my sister of where we were headed. When was the last time I'd gotten lost hiking.... I think it was on part of the Appalachian Trail (the "AT" as they call it here) with my sister in Pennsylvania about 20 years ago. As we walked, I could hear the parkway so I knew we weren't too far from humanity. I imagined the top story on the news as they pulled us out...."middle aged wannabe wilderness woman and crazy dog survive a cold night in one of the highest elevation areas off the parkway; how'd they do it? tune in at 11." Eventually, we saw a family hiking and I was so thrilled to see them, I almost ran up and hugged them. They confirmed my fears. I had screwed up and we were about 6 miles off course.

Eventually, exhausted & thirsty, we came to a widening of the trail across the creek to some campsites which lead to a road. Down that road about 1 1/2 hilly miles was the parkway. Then it was 3 miles to the access road and another 1.5 miles to the car. So, we did what any lame trail sign reader would do - we hitched. An old beat up red pickup let us scramble into the back and up the steep incline to the parkway we rode, bouncing along, doing what I've cursed many people for doing in the past - riding in the back of a pickup with a dog. They dropped us off at the entrance to the parkway and we began walking in the direction I hoped was north. Some people felt sorry for us, or, rather, for Kali and tossed some water bottles out the car window towards us. It was right around then that I got stung by something. Was it a bee? I'm allergic to bees. Yes, I had my epi pen. Was I feeling short of breath or was that just the pitch of the parkway? Was I feeling dizzy or was that just the lack of sufficient water in the midday heat? We ambled along. I started crying softly, cursing myself and making a list of the lessons I had already learned from this (bring MORE water, bring the good map, get a bigger backpack so I can fit everything, bring MORE food, check the signs more carefully, ask people if in doubt, get a fucking compass you idiot!). Lots of motorcycles whizzed by. They definitely couldn't give us a ride. Then I saw a beige Kia coming towards us. I stuck my thumb out. Then, on second thought, brought my palms together near my heart, praying they would stop. They did! Two Asian women from Jackson, TN on their first trip to the area. They were afraid of dogs but let us in anyhow and drove us the my car with me repeating "thank you" over and over.

Then, we climbed into the Outback, cranked up the air conditioning, thanked my lucky stars and elder mountain spirits and twisted our way back down the mountain into the 20 degree warmer heat and headed home.

A perfect day.

A song is heard in the shadow of Mt. Pisgah...or was that a screech?

This morning, I awoke late to the sounds of an avian cacophony. As I listen, I often find myself mentally transcribing the bird calls onto a musical staff, with my best guess of pitch and approximated rhythm. Pretty cerebral stuff for a self-described nature-lover. I guess you can take the girl out the music conservatory but you can't take the conservatory out of the girl. This propensity towards listening too closely and analytically is the same reason I can't just play background music like "normal" people.

There are pros and cons to this compulsive musical behavior but one of the pros is that I can listen...really listen. Which brings us back to the birds, the ones who woke me up this morning. "What kind are they?," you may ask. Well, that's a damned good question. I don't have the foggiest idea. I mean, here I am, a wannabe country girl direct from the land of Starbucks and pho (amazing Vietnamese noodle soup quickly becoming as ubiquitous as lattes), sitting in a leaky, musty log cabin , within sight of Mt. Pisgah, listening to birds. What the hell do I know about birds? Oh, hey, I know that one - its a crow "caw, caw, caw." Yes, I know what eagles, geese, ducks & red-tailed hawks sound like. I know what robins & cardinals LOOK like. But, can I identify their calls while lying supine. Well, by now, you can guess my answer.

Those poor birds, their efforts are wasted on me. Not that I don't appreciate them for I surely do. I just can't identify them. In the slightest. I know that this area of North Carolina represents a joining of two zones, the northern temperate zone and the southern sub-tropical zone. As a result, there is a huge diversity of life here, not just in birds but in plants, salamanders, bacteria and other living stuff (not the least of which are the freaky, "half-back" people - just take a stroll in downtown Asheville). My ignorance makes me feel guilty, a feeling which defeats the simple joy I am aspiring to today. So, with some finger flicks of the keyboard, I hereby toss that feeling aside and promise to just enjoy my feathered friends who joyfully surround my home in the woods with song. Lucky, lucky me! I am smiling contentedly...at last.

LATE ENTRY ~ "Omni Extaris" or Thoughts Regarding 2009 Commencement at UNC-Asheville

Well, it has acutally been three weeks since this wonderful event at University of North Carolina-Asheville. I had mentioned it a bit in my blog a few weeks ago....the fun & warmth of the dinner party at my house, etc. However, I failed to mention that Doc Watson was an honored guest. there to be granted an honorary doctorate.

He's pretty old and he hobbled onto the podium with the help of an assistant When it was time for him to say a few words, he decided instead that he would sing. He sat down in a chair in front of thousands of people, chit-chatting casual as can be, humble and self-deprecating. The assistant handed him his guitar and right there, as if he were in your living room, started singing a few old tyme favorites. I jotted down the titles because I thought I might forget them and, of course, not only did I forget them but I can't find my notes! But, just trust me, it was fabulous! For about 20 minutes, he jammed & crooned, transporting all of as back to a simpler time. There was lots of toe tapping (never before had I seen so many people wearing cowboy boots with academic gowns - that's Asheville for you. We are, after all, the closest city of any significant size to the mountains of Western North Carolina) and cheering. It was, by far, the most entertaining graduation ceremony I've ever been to.

Doc Watson provided a wonderful icing on the cake to the opening ceremony in which Sam was awarded educator of the year by the Board of Regents from UNC. But, I may be repeated myself. I was so very proud of him, his dedication and commitment to his students made clear by the quotes from evalutations which were read out loud.

The fabulous third course, a treat for all present, was the commencement address delivered by Les Purce, president of Evergreen University in Olympia, WA. Just seeing someone from Western Washington made me feel all misty-eyed & nostalgic. But then, he was very charming, funny and impressive. He spoke of the importance of sometime putting one's neck out and beings oneself, (Omni Extaris is their school motto meaning, roughly, "Let it all hang out"). With that, he launched into a solemn delivery of the prelude to the Evergreen University fight song, words and music by Malcolm Stilson, 1971. After a few hymn-like verses, it morphs into a rousing march-like chorus, extolling the virtues of their mascot, the geoduck!

For those of you who haven't been lucky enough to encounter a geoduck first hand, let me share a bit. The geoduck is a mollusk native to the Pacific Northwest. The geoduck (pronounced "GOO-ee-duck") is the largest burrowing clam in the world, weighing in at anywhere from one to three pounds at maturity. The appearance of geoduck's large, protruding siphon has led to the belief that the geoduck has the properties of an aphrodisiac. The geoduck has a life expectancy of up to 150 years with the oldest recorded at 163 years.

Here are the words & the link if you can handle the sheer emotion of it - http://www.experiencefestival.com/the_geoduck_fight_song:

Go, Geoducks go,

Through the mud and the sand,

let's go.

Siphon high, squirt it out,

swivel all about,

let it all hang out.

Go, Geoducks go,

Stretch your necks when the tideis low

Siphon high, squirt it out,

swivel all about,

let it all hang out.

As one who is often preoccupied by the way that she appears to others, this is excellent advice. We all need to allow our true but unglamorous nature to shine through once in a while to remind us that we are, after all, human and as such, utterly outrageously flawed...