Camping, the Great Smoky Mtns, NC, July 05

Quick Trip Log, Bill & Peggy, camping at Black Rock Ravine, Cherokee, NC, June 23- July 3, 2005

Yes, it did rain unbelievably long and hard – serious, drenching downpours lasting most of the night, two nights in a row early in the week. Sharp cracks of thunder rolling over the mountain woke us with a start. And some other downpours during the week that kept the big creeks like Deep Creek and Bradley Creek muddy and hard to fish. For the most part, even though it rained hard and frequently, we managed to avoid getting soaked (except for the last 45 minutes of packing the day we left to come home—I was wet clear through to my unders…)

Overall, it didn’t seem rainy and uncomfortable. Actually, it was wonderful & ecstatic most of the time. Lying on the airbed (finally found one that doesn't leak air) in the tent that was perfectly rigged for rain (a huge plastic tarp over the whole tent & its barely adequate rain fly), listening to the stream (my very own stream!) gurgling and rushing down the mountain, I was so happy and content. The message I received from the cosmos was this: yes, it is beautiful and wonderful there, divine even. The mountains have so much to teach me. But (and this is a big But), it is not going to be easy. Finding and buying the land, that was the easy part. Building there or even just camping there will not be easy. But, it will be worth it.

We keep finding wonderful new places down there, too. The last day there, the Saturday of the July 4th weekend, we found a hike in the national park that was basically deserted (it was listed in my hiking guidebook as a hidden treasure). The trailhead was off the Blue Ridge Parkway, close to my land. We hiked down along this little stream through a stunningly beautiful little high altitude stream valley, with tall grasses under a canopy of huge trees. Saw some bear tracks. Bill insisted on bringing his fishing gear, even though I thought he was crazy, since it was just a little stream. Behold, when we got to the first little footbridge, he threw in his fly, and started catching (and releasing) a whole bunch of native brook trout. The stream was so clear even I could see them before they struck at the fly. Brook trout are an endangered species, because in most places the states have stocked brown & rainbow trout, imports who crowded out the brook trout. But, in this remote little valley, upstream from the waterfall where the little stream suddenly plunges 40 feet off a cliff, there was no competition to the little brookies, and they were alive and well. They're small, with a streak of fiery orange on their

sides—very pretty. Bill was so happy, he couldn't stop grinning. At my insistence, he's now using barb-less hooks, so getting caught scares the little fishies but doesn't hurt them. There were all sorts of wildflowers, too, and each turn of the trail brought another beautiful and gurgling pool. There was also that waterfall, although we couldn't get a good look at the big plunge because the trail that led below it was too steep and scary for us. Above the big drop there's a section of cascades and deep pools which was a lovely place to hang out (I read while Bill kept catching trout.) The temperature was perfect; cool, slightly breezy, utterly pleasant. The rain threatened but held off. After we hiked back to the car, we drove home the long way, driving the final section of the Blue Ridge Parkway to connect with the main road through the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. The clouds had lifted and the sun provided golden vistas of the highest part of the park (Clingmans Dome, Mt. LeConte) to the north and the Qualla (eastern Cherokee) reservation/valley to the south. Oh, and we saw some elk up close and personal -- got a photo of a big buck, so close you can read his ear-tag number. What a great day that was.

Earlier in the week we drove up to Hot Springs, NC, where my other land is located, 70 miles north of Black Rock Ravine. I really love it there, too. We ended up not taking the river trip we'd planned (the water was too high and fast to be fun, and they wouldn't let us take the most scenic part of the trip because the rapids were too dangerous at such a high water level). But we had other adventures, including a hair-raising but exhilarating drive up the mountain where my new land is, requiring use of the extra-low 4 wheel drive--I love my new truck!! Hot Springs worked its charms on Bill, just as it charmed Linda & me back in May. There’s magic in the confluence of outdoor activities (whitewater fun meets the Appalachian trail), the hot springs (gotta try that next time), the incipient arts colony, and the basic warmth of the North Carolina mountain folk who are very happy to welcome all visitors, even AT through-hikers who haven’t bathed in a while, or campers who are looking for a laundromat & a hot shower. Plus, if you go there, you must go to the Bridge Street Café for dinner—we had an incredibly delicious meal there, and the Best Soup Ever (a yummy cold avocado soup).

We also met some wonderful people, and got tips from locals on streams where the locals fish (not listed in guidebooks). We spent Friday evening checking out Asheville, and found a great brew-pub called Jack of the Wood, featuring Green Man Ales (nice pagan tie-in, there), ended up staying for some live music and meeting some great folks. Asheville is close enough to Hot Springs (just under an hour) that one could commute between the two, if one could find a job there... It was a long trip back to Cherokee from Asheville after the music (an hour and a half, including the final 3 miles up Black Rock Mountain on the steep gravel road). Good thing we didn’t stay for the second set.

I'm already feeling wistful, and wishing we could've stayed longer. But, it's good to be home, too.