Arctic Dogwalk

It's 10 degrees, 30 degrees below average for mid-February, and snowing outside. Time for a dog walk on the hiking trail. Well, why not? I've learned to dress in layers to keep warm. Gabbie and Tess, our two old english sheepdogs are ready to be outside in any weather. Off we go.

The snow is fine and powdery. It always seems to energize the dogs. Tess immediately starts running around, powder flying in the wind, like she has never seen snow before. The snow crunches underfoot. It is otherwise quiet. Is that because snow dampens noise or because people-activity slows in bad weather?

I stop at the footbridge for a photo of the dogs, fumbling with cold fingers to set it up. Gabbie decides to lie down in a "let me know when you are done" mood. Click, click. We cross over the foot bridge to the east side where the new trail is.



It may be cold, but it does not feel that way as we walk. Something about snow in the woods is just magical. A bird flits from a leafless spice bush. A chipmunk scurries around and under a log. The dogs stop to investigate. A woodpecker taps out morse code on a lifeless tree branch in the canopy overhead. Rabbit tracks cross the trail. There is the faintest whiff of a skunk.

On top of the ridge, the vista through the woods down the valley toward the water falls is fantastic. I try to capture it with my phone camera. Can't reproduce the beauty in a photographic image. We walk down off the ridge towards the bridge. Play time erupts. Both dogs are in a full fledged run-around, snow and leaves flying, complete with ankle-biting, and butt-in-the-air play mode. They fly, skidding as they go, across the snow-covered bridge and back. Surely one of them will fall into the creek.

Composure sets in, and we venture to the waterfall. It is frozen in a static icy array. Gabbie ambles off to make a solid waste deposit. Then we trudge up the hill and back to the house. I stop to pick up some firewood. Tess is running around yet again in huge circles - one last activity outburst for the road, as it were. Then back to home base.

Winter can be miserable and inconvenient at times. But on this day, all is well in a wintry Bittersweet Woods.

Smoky Mountain 7 Hike

The friendly lady ranger at Cades Cove in Great Smoky Mountain National Park (GSMNP) gave me a curious look as I explained our planned backpack trip itinerary. Our first day included hiking from Newfound Gap to Clingman’s Dome –an altitude gain of about 1600 feet. She glanced at another ranger who raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Observing that our hikers were old enough to know about Bob and Ray, rotary dial phones, and computer punch cards may have influenced her reaction. “Are you aware, sir, that the trail from Newfound Gap climbs just about nonstop uphill for the first seven miles?,” she asked politely. Well, yes we were, at least on paper. Visions of collapsed, wheezing hikers along the trail needing medevac transport flashed through my mind. We changed the subject. She mentioned proudly that she had hiked the same route recently, but without that first segment to Clingman’s.


View from Clingman's Dome with Pigeon Forge in the distance

Thus began our backpack adventure. Thanks, Andy S for arranging this trip. The Smoky Mountain 7 were mostly retired hikers, all members of the Buckeye Trail Association in Ohio. The trip was great. The weather was fantastic. John R often says rain accompanies him on any hike he has planned – not this time. The trails and scenery exceeded my expectations. Here are a few observations and episodes, in no particular order.


Smoky Mountain 7 at Derrick Knob Shelter. Do I hear banjos playing?

We wisely decided to nix the planned first segment and drive to Clingman’s Dome area, then hike downhill to the first shelter. Smart, huh? It took several hours of hiker dude denial to realize that we probably shouldn’t try the uphill hike.

The shelters were in excellent condition with extended areas under roof for cooking and protection from the weather. I did not see or hear a single rodent. All but one shelter had a privy. The Derrick Knob shelter privy consisted of a shovel and sign with arrow pointing down a hill that said “toilet area -->.” The hiker-with-shovel pose quickly became a photo favorite.

Weather is always an issue when hiking. The first night was cold – the Cades Cove rangers had warned us that the forecast for the shelters above 5,000’ was 27. OMG - 27?? I had figured lows in the 40s based on forecasts for area towns. That is why I always bring extra clothing just to provide a margin of safety in case of unplanned cold or rain. It was already in the 40’s as we hiked, which explains the odd sensation of seeing our breath hiking along the trail in September. We had no fire that evening; conversation slowly faded as the temperature dropped. By 9:00 most hikers had retreated to their sleeping bags. Temperatures were more normal after that first night.


"Smoke" in the valley

Hiking awakens the senses. There was the pleasant scent of pine needles and crisp, invigorating mountain air. For the visual senses, there were constantly changing views and hues - the forest, distant ridges, hillsides, the sky, clouds nestling in the valleys, and a few wildflowers. The view from Rockytop mountain, partially in the clouds at the time was beautiful. I didn’t want to leave that spot. The last day hike along Anthony Creek was outstanding – a gorge with huge trees with the comforting sound of the rushing water. For auditory senses, there was the frequent sound of dropping acorns and buckeyes – most noticeable as a loud clang on the shelter tin roofs.


View from Rocky Top

Those buckeyes made us feel at home, since we are from Ohio, the buckeye state. There were buckeye trees everywhere, even an area along the trail labeled as Buckeye Gap. Never mind that they were likely a different tree from the Ohio buckeye variety.


View at Newfound Gap

I was surprised how many people were in the park, even during the week in September. Parking lots at popular spots such as Newfound Gap and Clingman’s dome were full. Many people asked about our backpacking gear, itinerary, where we were from, and much more. Maybe we looked and acted strange or (the optimist view) perhaps they envied our adventuresome spirit. Probably it was some of each.

At the end of our hike a nice looking lady dismounted from a Harley that just pulled up in the parking lot. She excitedly wanted to know where had we been, did we actually sleep outside, what did we eat, where did we go to the bathroom (no, she didn’t ask that). I was basking in all of the attention until remembered how bad I smelled, and withdrew a few paces. Upon hearing our answers about camping out, she said emphatically, “Oh, I could never do that.” Her husband kept his distance from us.

We also saw many hikers. A family – father, son, daughter came into camp about 7:00 the first night at Double Springs Gap shelter. They had been hiking in the smokies for many years. So had their wife/mother who was now deceased. Their mission was a unique one – to sprinkle her ashes on Mount LeConte. The LeConte shelter was closed due to bear activity; we don’t know if they were able to complete their mission.

We met several serious hikers, often solo. By serious hiker I mean anyone who can hike twice as far as I can in half the time – and probably with less gear. At Derrick Knob shelter a young guy passed through later in the day on his way Spence Field shelter. About 3 am I arose for bladder relief therapy. I noticed a shadowy figure in a sleeping bag lying on a bench seat. Must have been a really late arrival. At daybreak, the shadowy figure emerged like a moth from a cocoon. It was the same cheerful guy who went to Spence Field shelter. He was alone at Spence Field and let his imagination get the best of him. That shelter had been closed recently because of bear trouble. An entry in the shelter log graphically described a bear incursion into the shelter. He couldn’t sleep and every sound frightened him. He decided to return to our shelter, hiking 7+ miles in the dark.


Self explanatory warning at Spence Field Shelter


Spence Field Shelter Log entries - complete with morbid sense of humor from 9/20 entry writer.

Then on the morning of our last day out, a super serious hiker strode into camp, looking for water. We learned that he was hiking the AT for the entire length of the GSMNP – and back – in 3 days! That is a total of about 144 miles. Wow. He was not a youth – probably late 50s. We figured he had to be hiking about 18 hours a day to cover that distance. At that rate, he could hike the entire distance of our modest 4 day trip before lunch.

On the last day, we met an amiable backpacker who ran a guide service in Glacier National Park. This was a short vacation visit to GSMNP, on his way to NC, to reconnect with the Smokies he had visited 30+ years ago. As we talked, John R nonchalantly blurted out, “there’s a bear.” I thought he was joking. But I turned around quickly enough to see a good sized black bear amble across the road 50 yards from us. We observed him/her nosing around in the brush above the road. After 35 years of being cautious about bears in the backcountry – I finally saw a real bear. And it was not invading my tent or shelter. Cool.

CW provided entertainment in the evenings with his Readers Digest clippings. The first two sessions were quizzes about definitions of obscure words – such as peckish and lugubrious. The last session was on weather terminology. These were fun, especially when smart aleck side comments were thrown into the mix.

CW is also an excellent writer, religiously keeping a trail journal so he can record trip impressions on his blog/website: cwspencer.com. We often tossed out ideas for inclusion in his journal or blog – such as his arachnophobia. He sat next to the fire on the last night working out the intro to his blog about our trip. He wrote in between nervous glances out into the possibly bear infested darkness every time there was a sound.


CW is ready for a bear incursion

Bob S had a great hike. On previous trips, his health challenges yanked him off the trail before we finished. I was proud of his effort and persistence. Besides he tells entertaining stories, some of which might even be true. Good job, Bob. I applaud him for his decades of involvement in Boy Scouts. Time to retire, Bob, so you can hike some more.

The National Park Service (NPS) and Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) staff we met were all helpful and informative. NPS staffer Christine Hoyer helped us change our shelter reservation for the last night when we saw her at Double Springs Gap. An ATC trail crew was working on a section doing a couple of reroutes around degraded existing trail. They did an excellent job on trail building. I stopped and closely inspected their work and was surprised to learn all of their work was done with a mattock and crosscut hand saw. The new trail was so well graded and groomed I assumed they must have used power equipment. The crew were all friendly and politely listened to our trail building and hiking stories along the Buckeye Trail in Ohio. We saw an ATC ridgerunner the last day. I did not know such trail helpers existed.

As Bob Hope used to say, thanks for the memories. I’m rested up and ready for another trip.

Fall wildflowers

We usually think of wildflowers in the spring. But there are some that bloom in the fall. Goldenrod is the iconic flower of fall, often covering roadside areas and fields. Ironweed is another more visible flower, though rarely seen close up, seen in pasture fields starting August. Here are both together:

Goldenrod and Ironweed


Ironweed is often considered just another nuisance weed. They often fill entire pasture areas, creating a swath of purple. Near our home we have a single plant that seems totally misplaced, deep in the woods and far from open fields. It may be a survivor from decades past when the area was a farm. I always watch carefully for it, expecting that any year it will disappear. But it persists. And it is next to our trail, so we can see the flowers up close.


Lone ironweed along the trail


Then there is a lesser known wildflower, white snake root. It is usually seen in wooded areas and is often quite prolific, sometimes covering several acres in open wooded areas.


White snakeroot

My favorite is great blue lobelia. It is much rarer, usually seen in deep woods along streams. We found a cluster of these along a stream on our property after clearing brush for a hiking path. They are beautiful plants with an almost indigo blue flower.


Great blue lobelia plants


Great blue lobelia flowers close up

Keep watching for other natural indicators of fall. They are all around us. If you have fall favorites or questions, let me know or add a comment to this post.

Grandchildren's visit

It is an almost annual event. Our Amy and Gregg's children summer visit to Nana and Pap's house for a week or so from their home near Cincinnati. They love it here; it has always been their hangout. They can run through the woods, play in the basement, work on projects, and Nana usually takes them shopping.

What's in it for us? We get to enjoy being with them. There are usually activities and projects we have planned for them, and they have their list of things to do. Their visits are fun and gratifying. It is also tiring and occasionally stressful if there are youthful behavior "issues" or sibling arguments. But each time, there are moments that they and we will always remember.


At the American Queen at the Ohio River Landing

Their dogs are part of the visitation package. Maggie (labradoodle) and Zoe (American Mastiff) take up residence with our two old english sheepdogs, Gabbie and Tess. They behaved well together. Nearly 10 days together improved the pack dynamics which had a few rough edges in past visits. It was great to see them romping through the woods together.


Catrina with Zoe and Maggie


Illegal parking - community service for Zoe


Maggie was here.....doing her puppy thing.

This year the fun included endless swimming and games in the pool. We watched several favorite movies, including Second Hand Lions, Sea Biscuit, Secret Garden, and the Narnia Chronicles. Connor and Pap played tennis (including a 6-1 rout by Connor) and a little golf. Pap managed to dodge the retail activity, but Nana treated the youths to two or more shopping trips.


Emily and Catrina show off their wardrobe additions.

We also perform an important grandparenting function - what I call coaching. We encourage, suggest, and even scold when necessary on topics such as values, faith, behavior, family time, wise use of money, the dangers of drugs and alcohol, and more. The challenge is to be stealthy about planting seeds on these topics, so we get the point across without being too "preachy" about it.

We always eat dinner together which also means they are eating with each other. The latter often is not possible with their activities and schedules at home. One dinnertime tradition is that each of us tells their favorite activity of the day. The kids mention one good thing that they observed about each other that day. The youths ("utes," if you have seen My Cousin Vinny) helped plan dinner menus. We enjoyed a Hawaiian night and an Italian night.


Nana and the "utes" grilling on Hawaii Night

Suddenly, after the anticipation and excitement of their being here......they are gone. The house is eerily quiet. It is bittersweet - sad goodbyes mingled with relief that we can get back to our normal routines.

It was a success complete with fond memories. Connor and Nana finished their coffee table project Emily grew noticeably in her ability to go with the flow with her siblings. Catrina's swimming skills improved markedly. All three were much more patient with each other. And their Mom and Dad enjoyed their Hilton Head vacation.


Connor, Emily,Catrina, and Nana with the finished table project.

The Wind

July 1, 2013. One year plus one day after the derechio, a devastating storm system which knocked out power for days to millions of people from Indiana to Maryland. It was a warm humid evening. There were a few green dots on weather radar but nothing to warrant concern - no watches or warnings. Yet the sky darkened, a breeze kicked up, and soon there was a heavy rain shower. The rain intensified; water soon overflowed the downspout. Thunder rolled, putting the dogs on edge.

I looked at the phone app radar and saw the culprit: the ugly red signature of a strong but very localized thunderstorm. The TV radar showed only a small green speck. Soon the wind was gusting wildly, whipping leafy tree tops back and forth. This usually means trouble. I saw the rain blow sideways, literally - first one way, then the other. The house shook. I briefly thought of moving all of us to the basement. Then the winds abated, and the storm moved on.

I walked outside with the dogs to look for obvious signs of damage. I saw only one large branch protruding from a hemlock tree. But the "branch" was the end of a one foot diameter cherry tree that fell from the woods into the hemlock. There was more bad news as we surveyed the nearby woods the next day - three areas where large trees fell. One clearing with planting area was an impenetrable jumble of twisted tree trunks and leaves. Three large trees had toppled into one another.

Our chainsaws would be busy for the next week. As we cautiously walked the dogs around this tree mess, a brown mass caught my attention. A closer look revealed a sizable hive of honeybees in a ruptured tree trunk. We called Todd, an MD who keeps bees, and Mike, the county bee inspector, to check the hive and attempt to remove them. Mike arrives first and animatedly educates us bee novices as he dons the white suit and gathers gear to inspect the hive. Bees are critical to our national food supply as they pollinate fruit-bearing plants and trees. He approaches the hive in his white bee suit and exclaims "Hello, girls!" Most bees are female, we learn. He is definitely in his element.

Soon Todd arrives. Together they examine the remains of the hive like crime scene investigators. Most of the honey is gone, "robbed out" by other bees in the area in two days since the tree fell. They look for the queen but do not find it. With the queen, they could easily move the bees into boxes for a win/win/win outcome. The bees survive, the bee guys add to their working bee population, and we are relieved of the swirling mass of anxious bees. Todd finally manages to move most of the survivor bees with a queen bee from his own bees. Mike collects the empty honey comb for wax. We are pleased to be rid of the bees, so we can start cleaning up the fallen trees.

It was another encounter with mother nature in Bittersweet Woods.