Sunday, September 21, 2014

September 20, 2014The Carl Sandburg House to Big Glassy Mountain

It is the last day of summer and this blue day out of time is like a lingering kiss goodbye. Up I-26 West toward Flat Rock the ancient Blue Ridge sits majestic under a low layer of fluffy white clouds.  Coming closer blue melts into the still lush green of summer with only a tinge of yellow or brown.  Trees are laden and dripping with nuts and seed pods.  Black Eyed Susans bloom ferociously on the sides of the road.  Here there is a field of dark pink Cosmos and there a roadside planted with orange Zinias.

But the song birds have abandoned their nests, the Monarchs have passed through landing briefly in the Butterfly Bush at my back porch.  I learn in my emails from Fran at Harbor Island, that the last babies from the last Sea Turtle nest have crawled into the ocean.  The snow cone stand has closed:  "Nancy  Has Gone Fishing" on the sign.  I have bought the last real tomatoes from 90 year old Vernon Griffin out in the country. The children have gone back to school on the yellow buses.  And I have gone out in the early dawn and picked the second crop of figs for preserves.

The parking for the Sandburg Home is filled up and I park along a yellow curb.  A thin man dressed for the office tells me there is parking at Flat Rock Landing and then you can follow the brick wall to the park.
At the pond a sign cautions about Banded Water Snakes.  I see none today but once in the past, I looked down on the rocks below and saw countless snakes like live spaghetti, an unsettling sight.

Boofa and I take the Glassy Mountain trail across from the goat barn.  There are more caution signs for snakes, ticks, poison ivy and Black Bears.  But the trail is wide enough for a vehicle and goes straight up one and a half miles to a smooth rock outlook.  There is a team of cross country runners from Hillcrest Middle School in Greenville jogging up, then back down, then timing themselves.  At the outlook, we meet one of the trainers with a dog named Freckles much like Boofa, but he is actually a Cockapoo, white with roan spots like Boofa.  The view here takes in a panorama of green then blue and fading mountain ridges under the clear warm blue sky.  I look for petroglyphs on the rock face, but find none.  I know that they must have been here, however, the ancient ones.  It is a timeless spiritual place.

Going back down I pass the thin man in office dress climbing up.  There is a roped off path which is a short cut made by hikers going to the outlook.  Because it was not traditionally used by the Sandburgs, it is now closed.  Another offshoot of the trail goes to Little Glassy Mountain.

Driving down the Saluda Grade past the town of Tryon, I am listening to country music on 92.5 fm and appropriately, the  love songs are all about loss, betrayal and regret, just like the end of summer.

The summer that I have loved so passionately is boarding a train for South America.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

September 14, 2014 Oconee Station Falls , Fellow Travelers in the Rain

It is raining cats and dogs as I drive down 85 towards Decatur. I take Exit 1 to the right just before the SC/GA border and drive North past Hartwell State Park on Highway 11 (The Cherokee Foothills Highway) towards Oconee Station. Every few miles along the 25 mile trip are signs pointing the way to waterfalls:  Lake Keowee waterfalls, Chatooga waterfalls.  The side roads along the way are Blackjack, Falcon's Lair, and Earth Berm.  I pass the No Sweat Auction, Jehovah's Witness and Seventh Day Adventist churches.
Just after the imposing Spring Heights Baptist church is an apple orchard and a field of orange pumpkins.

Soon there is a left turn onto Oconee Station Rd which takes me two miles down to the entrance on the right.

A green truck pulls into the parking lot in front of me.  There is no one else here, not even a ranger in the tiny ranger cabin.  The couple from the green truck and I read the notes posted outside the cabin, join forces and find our way up the hill to the two stone buildings which were at times, the Indian Trading Post, the outpost to ward off battles with the Indians, a trading post again, a private home and then a vacation home.  From there we find a trail though the hardwood forest which is a kind of orange rivulet from the iron soaked water coursing down the mountain.

Will and Karen are kayakers who have come up from Florence to kayak at Devil's Fork. Their pontoon tour to view waterfalls has been cancelled due to the driving rain and they have left their tent to find their own waterfall.  We find we are kindred spirits, who love the state parks, the woods, the water, the wildlife.

The beautiful trail winds around the mountain where mist is rising from streams below.  After a while we come to the very road we came in on and cross it to continue the trail.  There is a trail that goes off to the right that you can take to Oconee State Park through the woods in 2 and a half miles.

Further on, we hear the high screech of birds which turns out to be children playing at the foot of the  falls. The sight before us is astounding.  We cross the stream over smooth stones, crawl across rocks and breathe in the negative ions of the misty air.  A family is here with two small boys of about 3 and 4 cavorting in the water, skipping across the rocks, their clothes totally soaked.  One boy laughing, gives me a big acorn he has found.  We take photos of ourselves standing on the rocks in the water with the falls behind us.

We are in awe.  We are soaked.  My pants are covered in red mud where I slipped on the trail.

I drive down to Decatur singing along with the radio.


Monday, September 8, 2014

September 7, 2014 Long Shoals Park on the Eastatoee Creek, The Drednautalus and the Pit Bull Asteroid

It is still morning when I leave Devil's Fork without walking the Bear Cove Trail feeling sadness and regret.
Driving back on Hwy 11, Rodney Crause and Emie Lou Harris are singing a haunting song saying "I'll always rove your way again...til I can gain control again.."  I cross back over the deep green Keowee River and on the right is a sign for the Long Shoals Park.  I pull over and find a young family getting out of their van, an older woman helping her wheelchair bound husband back into their truck, all hauling picnic coolers.  There is an enticing path inviting me down the sharp incline through the forest. I follow the family and suddenly we come upon the glorious and fantastic sight of the creek rushing across smooth rocks, surrounded by bounders the size of Drednautus, the dinosaur unearthed in Argentina four days ago, as long as a basketball court, two stories tall and as big as 6 elephants. There is a small beach with a few families, children splashing in the cool water. Boofa and I meet a man with a dog on a leash and a fat black and tan puppy named "Flash".  The man tells me he found 8 puppies under a burned out house, gave the rest away and kept Flash.  There is a trail going down by the creek. Muscadines are on the ground.  The magic feeling that a key has unlocked the other world of the woods, the water, the cloud filled sky above is suddenly with me again.

The wayside park is part of the SC Department of Forestry and managed and maintained by the Andrew Pickens Chapter of the Cherokee Foothillls Byway Association.  The managers are Dennis Chastain and Dr. George Smith.

The magic has infused my heart again.  I feel a part of the universe, the universe where the Drednautulus skeleton bones were found, the universe where the Pit Bull asteroid is flying by only 25,000 miles away from earth today.  The place where we live.

September 7, 2014 Devil's Fork State Park, The Oconee Bell Trail, Spooked

The blooming wild plants along the Foothills Hwy 11 are announcing the Fall that is nearly here: wild coriopsis in huge yellow  clumps, goldenrod in all its varieties, fields and hedges of purple and red morning glories, the Joe Pye bush in dusty pink profusion, Elkhorn sumac, pink Scottish Thistle and here a stand of Okra, six feet tall with blooms like hibiscus.  Driving Southwest along the escarpment of the mountains, passing Jones Gap, Caesar's Head, Table Rock, Sassafras Mountain, Keowee-Toxaway, over the Keowee River and the right turn toward Salem and then it is  3 miles to the park.

Side roads are Whipporwill Hollow, Chapman Bridge Rd.  A sign nailed to a tree says "REPENT" and then a sign for Jocasse Tours proclaims "Welcome to Paradise".

There are two trails, the Oconee Bell and the Bear Cove Trail.  I intend to walk both. The Oconee Bell starts down some steps at the single vehicle parking lot near the park office.  This park is about Lake Jocassee and the big lot is for vehicles pulling boats.  The park is for fishing, but it appears most visitors are enjoying boating and picnicing and sunbathing on the water.

The Oconee Bell Trail is a lovely loop where in late March you can see the rare Oconee Bell plant in white bloom.  I find the plants with heart shaped leaves along the way.  Andre Micheau, the botanist, first discovered these plants in 1787.  (The French Huguenot ancestors of my family included Micheaux.  It would be nice to think that some were the Micheau Botanist brothers).  The trail moves up and down along a narrow creek, at times the water courses in short waterfalls over black mountain rock.  I counted four foot bridges and one bench near one of the little falls.

This trail was only a mile and since it was cool and lovely, I drove back down from the office area to the day area by going right on Devil's Fork Rd, another right on Buckeye road and up the hill to another park recreation area building where there was a snack bar:  coffee $2.00, hot chocolate $2.00, ice cream and other goodies, kayaks and canoes  in a multitude of colors for rent as well as umbrellas, chairs and other equipment. Here there are picnic shelters and a path to walk in camping. Between the shelters, the Bear Cove Trail winds into the woods.  I am ready to go when a great hulk of a hiker looms beside me speaking to me and plunging into the trail. I notice there are no other hikers and I wait for a while sharing an apple with Boofa.  I am torn. I want to walk the trail, but I decide with immense regret to leave.   I am spooked.  The forest can be a lonely place.