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.

Backpacking at Mohican

My grandson Connor and I had completed an overnight backpack last November. I picked Mohican State Park because of the area's reputation for scenery. It also had unique "park and pack" system of sites. They offer a backpacking experience but with parking close by, so the hike to the site is no more than a mile or two. Then we day hike - without packs. This plan works for Connor, who likes camping more than hiking and for Connor's Dad, Gregg who favors the hiking more than the camping.

The week before, I gathered my own equipment, plus extra gear (and a few food items) that Connor and Gregg did not have. Early Friday, I'm on the road to the camping area. The drive takes me through Amish country in Tuscarawus and Holmes counties in Ohio. I had not been there in decades. It is beautiful on this sunny, mild morning. There horse drawn buggies, nicely decorated buildings, and bustling activity.

I drive through nearby Loudenville and head into the park. Loudenville is a pretty town - even has a McDonalds. I won't mention that to the campers just yet, so I can preserve some measure of a wilderness experience. Campsite 3 had plenty of parking, and looks like a good place to start. I wait at our designated rendezvous location but without cell service don't know where they are. They arrive ready to hike.

We decide to do a hike first before setting up camp since there is time, and the day is sunny. We hike the upper end of the Clear Fork gorge, starting from the covered bridge towards two waterfalls and the dam. It is a beautiful hike. Along the way, we recall humorous vacation adventures. The falls and views from the dam are impressive.

Gregg stands under Big Lyons Falls; Connor is above the falls - out of sight.

Dave and Connor at the dam.


Connor loves the steep hills and scrambles to the top of the falls. We return to the covered bridge on the gorge trail. The sun is hot; many wildflowers carpet the low areas around the creek.

Virginia Blue Bells

At the camp site parking lot, we sort gear, pack up, and hike to Camp site 3. The trail even featurs a new hiking experience for them - a shoes-off stream crossing of Pine Creek just before arriving at the campsite. It is a perfect site - flat, with a fire ring, several good tent sites, stone tables that someone built, and proximity to Pine Creek for water.

We set up camp and gather fire wood. Incredibly, no major camp item has been forgotten - or malfunctions. Connor tends the fire and cranks up the camp stoves. It is a relaxing time. We devour our respective camp food preparations. Then we gather more firewood, and relax around the fire talking about family, camp gear, and Connor's school activities. We turn in shortly after dark. The stars are brightly shining; Pine Creek gurgles in the distance.

The next morning dawns gray and cool. Connor revives the campfire which is burning brightly as I emerge from my tent. We are planning a base camp, so there is no rush to pack up stuff. I like that. Oatmeal tastes good as we fortify ourselves for the day's hiking. The plan is hike the gorge trail, then check our other trails or points of interest. As we leave camp, a few rain drops are falling....hmmmmm.

We hike the gorge trail. The rain becomes less intermittent, more steady. A shelter at trail's end gives us a break for a snack and review of plans. We decide to hike to Gregg's car, since it is closer - instead of returning to my car along the gorge trail. The rain has stopped. I decide to play the McDonalds card. We stop for lunch but mainly for the wi-fi, so we can check the weather forecast.

I'm not a McDonalds regular, and decide to order a Happy Meal because it has smaller portions and apple slices. I disclose my cluelessness about Happy Meals. When asked what kind of Happy Meal, I respond, "the one with apple slices." Connor becomes hysterical - all Happy Meals have apple slices, it turns out.

The weather radar sounds the death knell for our trip. A huge green blob of rain looms for two states to the west, assuring us of rain the rest of the day and through the night. We finish our McDonalds, return to camp, pack up and head home. I am bummed out - had been looking forward to another pleasant night around camp and had no idea the weather would be that bad.

But I'm grateful for the good experience. Connor had become a mostly self sufficient backpacker. Seeing the excitement he displayed at climbing the hills and tending the fire was a high point for me. Gregg seemed to enjoy himself despite a self professed discomfort with tent camping.

We're planning a trip for Emily and Catrina - a more toned down car camping - but still getting them experience in the out of doors. That's what counts.

On the Appalachian Trail

The Buckeye Trail Association organized a hiking trip on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia. I reviewed the itinerary - 60 miles from Mt. Rogers Visitors Center west to Damascus. A couple of the days were 12 miles of hiking. It seemed a little intimidating to a once or twice a year hiker like me. So I did some extra hiking in Bittersweet Woods and the treadclimber to get in shape.

Saturday, Sept 10. Karen Smith from Canton area and I arrive at Iron Mountain campground outside of Damascus, VA. The tent camping area is primitive but located next a beautiful stream. I found a level spot and was ready to put up the tent. To my surprise, there was a garter snake curled up in the exact spot I want to use. It did not seem to happy about hikers invading its habitat. After a some flicks of its tongue, it quietly left the area. Later the group went to Quincy's for good food, legal beverages and reminiscing about previous hiking trips.

Not putting my tent here. These and other photos by Karen Smith


Fuel for the trip at Quincy's in Damascus.


Sunday, Sept 11. Mt Rogers Outfitters shuttle us to our starting point. We decided to start where VA 601 connects with trail. Our shuttle driver is a former sheriff but says he has never been on that part of 601. "Don't worry, I'll get y'all there." He did. But the last mile was a narrow, rutted one lane (if that) track hugging the side of an incredibly steep drop off. Whew!

Ready to go.

We hike to Trimpi shelter. There are great tent sites there, but.......no water. The pipe from the spring is dry. No water!? All the AT shelters are supposed to have reliable water sources all the time. Never mind. We bushwack to some less than optimal water on nearby private property - and live to talk about it. That evening we talked some about the 9/11 anniversary, then lapsed into campfire chatter, games of Farkle and a few sips of wine - a first day hiking treat. The evening winds down as a tired hiker snores softly in the shelter.

Monday, Sept 12. A pleasant hike to Hurricane Mountain Shelter except for a steep, unrelenting uphill section on a road just before the shelter. Not a switchback in sight. Shelter is nice, but tent camping areas are marginal. A few more hikers are tending their feet and limping more noticeably. We camp between roots and rocks, spend an hour trying to get a fire started, reminisce about the antics of a group member who passed away since the last trip, and savor the prospect of the great scenery ahead.

Tuesday, Sept 13. Started off with an uphill climb, nice walk through the woods, and lunch at the Pine Mountain trail. A beautiful open area with expansive vistas beckoned before we were back in the woods. We emerged at The Scales, an open area with distant hazy views, long horn cattle grazing, camping, and....real live toilets.

At The Scales near Grayson Highlands State Park

Camping and water near Wise shelter is excellent, along with a new privy built by an eagle scout. Morale is good. Some of the group bathe in the rushing water of the nearby creek. There are a few more blisters among the less experienced hikers. Everyone is a little sore. But we've made it this far, weather is great, and even better scenery is ahead. Campfire chatter is lively.


Mess hall on the AT

Wednesday, Sept 14. It's my wife's birthday. I think wistfully of her and the dogs at home. We're on the move in the open areas of Grayson Highlands State Park. Views in every direction amaze and distract us.



Rock climbing slows us down, but close up visits in Grayson Highlands State Park with the wild ponies are a delight.



Lunch at Thomas Knob shelter, then we press on to Whitetop Mountain road. It's our longest mileage day, 12.9 miles. Thank goodness the weather holds - warm, clear, light breezes. We camp in the open. I guy out the tent just in case. There is an amazing view of mountain ridges from the side of Whitetop Mountain. We talk quietly; a few of us lay on the ground peering up at the milky way. Early to bed.

Thursday, Sept 15. Skies are grayish with high clouds. We hesitate to think of the r word. Scenery is great along the ridge from Whitetop Mountain to Buzzard Rock. Almost a 360 view. Then we head down - back and forth along superbly aligned switchbacks. As we reach the gravel bed along the Virginia Creeper hike/bike trail the sky darkens. A steady rain starts. A quick passing shower, surely. Wrong. Rain continues for 30 minutes, an hour, two hours. Dang, we're climbing again. Is it getting colder? The wind picks up, too. We reach a ridge and hike through rain and low clouds. Where IS that Saunders Shelter? On we go. The hikers with sore feet slow way down but trudge on.

Finally the shelter trail appears. We file in one by one over the next half hour. It's getting colder and windier. Wind chill has to be in the 40's. The rain lets up enough to pitch tents. We huddle in the shelter, layer up, and cook. We share thoughts about the trip to date and talk about where to go next year. Off to bed. Sleeping bag feels good; pine needles underneath make for a comfy bed. About midnight I awake with a start - the camp is lit up. Then I realize it is moonlight. Good news - that means the sky is clear; back to some much needed sleep.

Friday, Sept. 16. Temps in low 40's. But we're up and moving, ready for the final push to Damsacus. Trail drops steadily along another excellent set of switchbacks. Flora surroundings change as we move through successive zones to lower altitudes. Rhododendren, Mountain Laurel, Golden rod, iron weed, white snakeroot, solomon's seal, cohosh, lobelia, angelica, and other fall wild flowers appear...then disappear as we descend.

White Snakeroot

Great Blue Lobelia

We reached the Virginia Creeper trail and hiked into Damascus. There we got cleaned up, stopped for a final lunch at Quincy's and hit the road.

It was fun, mostly, except for some of the more strenuous sections and the rain. But the beautiful scenery, camaraderie with our hiking group, and beautiful wooded areas more than offset the unpleasant parts. The weather for 6 of the 7 days was great. A big thank-you to John Rethman for organizing yet another great trip! I made my obligatory post hike notes on what items to pack, not pack, or add to my gear. I always learn something new from other hikers.

A week later, I'm rested up.....and ready for another hike.

Thanksgiving Day

Our family gathered as usual in Bittersweet Woods for Thanksgiving weekend. We have so much to be thankful for.

Memories that stand out to me:

Holly, the Wentzell's boxer, tore a toe nail running with the other dogs, within 60 seconds of arriving at our house on Wedesday. It was bleeding; off she went to our vet's clinic for first aid. Pets are such an important part of our lives, but they can be an imposition at times.

Grandchildren Catrina and Emily made Thanksgiving and Christmas cards for my 89 year old Dad. All of us visited him at his assisted living community. The grandkids kept busy writing him messages on the whiteboards - he can't hear much at all. He smiled at all of the attention.

Son Todd laughed out loud at some goofy thing I said. I don't recall what I said but I do remember his joy. At other times, he seemed stressed at some aspects of his work. We did a bible study session and prayed.

Suzanne did a wonderful job of anticipating special things and activities for everyone. She had wonderful food, the pumpkin pie cake that kids love, great turkey dressing, crafts for the kids. The apple pie was too watery for her, but what the heck. The outside Christmas lights, which would not be there but for her insistence, were beautiful.

Grandson Connor wanted to work outside. We grabbed a chainsaw and headed for recently downed trees. On the way, we passed the woodpile. He said, "Can we split some wood?" "Sure," I replied, figuring that any energy-dissipating activity would be healthy for a 13 year old. He proceeded to split an incredible quantity of wood - probaby half a cord in 2-3 hours. He was out there forever, this after spending 2 hours clearing the creek of logs and snags. His enthusiasm was gratifying - I recall numerous times in prior years when he became so frustrated because he lacked the strength to split the wood.

Daughter Amy enjoyed being able to shop with Gregg - on their own - without children and parents.

Son-in-law Gregg had fun splitting wood with Connor. His recollection of humorous songs, movie lines, and family situations is always fun.

Me, I thrive on following a routine. These visits undo the routine, so I struggle to adjust. My victory this time: I did not lose my cool when I spilled gasoline from the chainsaw in the garage, creating an incredible gasoline smell. I calmly (for me) refilled the chainsaw, soaked up the spilled gas, moved the affected mats outside, and left the garage door open. The odor was mostly gone by the time the shoppers arrived home.

Yes, there were the inevitable tense moments when kids, dogs, or adults were "out of sync" for a time. But, there were no flu outbreaks (we have had those in the past), no one went to the hospital, and no travel hassles. Each day we shared our favorite experience for that day at mealtime. That has become a tradition.

Thank you, Lord, for a wonderful time on Thanksgiving weekend in Bittersweet Woods.

Red River Gorge

Grandson Connor wanted to do a backpack trip. His Dad, Gregg, agreed reluctantly - not being a camper person at heart, So, we planned our trip to scenic Red River Gorge area in Kentucky. I spent hours poring over maps trying to find the best combination of scenery, manageable hiking distances, and decent back country camp sites. But weather and a forest fire in the area disrupted my planned itinerary. That's one thing I have learned in 30+ years of backpacking trips - be flexible.

The long range weather began to look ominous the week before our trip. Forecast weather was for rain on Friday, then lows were in the 20s, highs in low 40s for the weekend. That's pretty cold for neophyte campers without certifiably warm sleeping bags and clothing. So we decided to stay in the Koomer Ridge campground rather than backpack. We could have campfires there; no fires were permitted in any other areas.

Car camping, as I call it, is a little easier. With a vehicle, we could cover more area than with a backpack trip. And hiking without a backpack is easier. The campfire is a plus in cold weather. The backpack experience would wait for another trip. I brought some extra firewood from home.

Friday dawned bleak and cold, but dry. I left at mid-morning, so I could scout the area, find a campsite, and set up the tents. The boys would arrive in the late afternoon. I arrived at the nearby hamlet of Slade, KY, for a few supplies and extra firewood. The rain had passed through, thankfully.

Slade was memorable from our family camping trip there in the mid-1950's. On that trip, we had become lost - there were only winding 2 lane roads then - no interstates. A kid gave us directions in the finest Appalachian drawl. My mother had misplaced a spatula needed for the camp kitchen and went into a general store (no convenience stores or WalMarts then) in search of one. "A what?", the girl behind the counter asked. "A spatula," Mom replied with a reassuring smile. The girl consulted someone else who asked what we used it for. The other lady finally said to Mom, "Are yew'all lookin' fer a pancake tarner?" Yes, that was it! We still talk about that and many other camping adventures from our youth. I digress....

Koomer Ridge campground was surprisingly busy considering the weather. It's a nice campground with wooded and generally roomy sites. I found a double site with a lot of privacy and set up camp. The guys pulled in about 5 pm.

Connor immediately started setting up the campfire. The rain had stopped, but it was cold - upper 30's by then. We cooked then visited around the fire until we used up our first day ration of wood, then went to bed.




Saturday dawned cold but with a few breaks in the clouds. Connor again built a great fire. We breakfasted, then set out to hike to nearby Silvermine Arch. We hiked through pretty mundane forest, wondering when the scenic stuff would happen. Soon we came to the edge of a cliff, hiked down some long steps, and around a series of narrow, blind turns - until....suddenly a massive cliff loomed before us. We hiked into an opening and saw the arch. Connor's reaction was one of amazement. He started climbing all over and through it. A picture is below. He was hooked on Red River Gorge scenery.




We drove and hiked through several more scenic areas, mostly in the Skybridge area. Skybridge itself is spectacular - a stone arch surrounded by stunning drop-offs with a nearly 360 degree vistas of the surrounding gorge. Later, it was back to camp to recount the days adventures - and restart the campfire, of course. We took a late afternoon hike to Hidden Arch, with several more cliffs for Connor to scramble around.

Sunday, we packed up and headed to Natural Bridge for a final hike before leaving for home. It was cold but sunny. We hiked up a trail built in the 1920's by a railroad company which promoted this amazing natural wonder as a tourist stop. Natural Bridge is a large stone arch. It and surrounding cliff line trail offer incredible vistas in every direction.



We took off for home and the favorable prospect of a warm bed and hot shower. I will always recall Connor's excitement at seeing the arches, cliffs, and vistas. It is one more adventure in the Bittersweet Woods life experience bank.

Changes in Latitudes

We enjoy being able to travel to many interesting places through the Marriott Vacation Club Timeshare program (yes, that is a plug for a great program). Vacation provides necessary time to recharge batteries and gain new perspectives. Right now we are in Palm Springs ending a week's stay. Here are some observations on the trip.

The desert setting is beautiful, and weather is usually crystal clear and sunny. Mountains surround the desert valley, creating beautiful vistas in all directions. The history of the area is fascinating, from the Aqua Caliente indians to the early history of Palm Springs as a vacation spot. We hiked in the Indian Canyons area, with its palm oases and mountain views. I feel drawn to this area by the sunny weather and the wilderness areas beckoning in every direction.





The area has many cultural and ethnic dimensions which we are not exposed to as often. Hispanics, native americans, and asian influences intermingle with more traditional American cultures. On a trip to the outlets, we hear many non-english converations. It's wonderful; we try not to let our curiosity show.

This week southern California has been pestered by an oddity for this area a cutoff low pressure system, creating nearly a week of rainy weather. It has not affected weather in the desert as much. But Southern California TV news has been saturated with coverage of.....rain. Reporters are scattered around the area doing live remotes, and there are frequent cutaways to the weather person who gives detailed radar updates being pummeled by, omigosh, heavy rain and lighting strikes. The area has very little rain most of the time. So, prolonged rain gets the type of coverage which in the east would be reserved for heavy snow or tornadoes. I envy the sunny, bug free weather here. But the obsessive rain news coverage seems odd to us easterners.

Vacation is a time to relax, reflect, and change the routine. Home seems to involve nearly nonstop obligatory activity. Something is always competing for our attention. Not all of it is important, though it seems urgent at the time. It requires extra effort to maintain focus on true priorities, such as faith, family, and awareness of others. Vacation helps restore the balance. We don't have to go to work, walk the dogs, mow the lawn, run errands for Dad, and answer as many e-mails.



Vacations are a good thing. Even short breaks in the home routine, such as a walk in Bittersweet Woods, are healthy, too. I think I need a break from writing this, too. Bye. Talk later.

Snake Rescue

Every year, we hear of fish and sea animals becoming tangled in human trash - from fishing line to soda pop plastic bottle holders. Then there is the occasional video of a raccoon with its head stuck in a jar. I never expected such an event in Bittersweet Woods.

It happened on a Saturday afternoon recently. Our three grandchildren had just arrived for their annual week long visit. All of us started out on a daily ritual dog walk - their mastiff and boxer, along with our two old english sheepdogs. We ambled along the lower yard, headed for the trail along the creek.

I noticed a dark spot in the grass. Figured it was some yard detritus or a forgotten flower pot. Then it came more fully into view - a black rat snake with..........something. First I thought the snake had some prey wrapped up. Then to my dismay I could see that the snake was entangled in a ball of plastic netting the size of a soccer ball.

The snake was not going to live long in that state. It had only limited mobility, could not constrict any prey, and was likely unable to swallow anything. We snapped into rescue mode. I carried the snake to the house. Connor and Suz hustled after the tools needed to cut away the netting - scissors and fine cuticle scissors.




I held the snake while Connor cut away the larger outer netting cluster. The snake had become so entangled that cords of the netting dug were creased into its skin. Suz put on the most powerful reading glasses she has and went to work on the netting imbedded in the skin. In a few minutes, the snake was unbound; the last of the netting fell away.




Connor held it for the photo opportunity session. Then we marched down to a wood pile and released it. Fortunately, it seemed to move normally. It had probably been bound up for some time and may not have lived much longer.




The experience was unique, and gratifying. The grandkids had all participated, learned that snakes are not hostile monsters, and that humans can exert a negative
(and in this case, positive) influence on our natural environment.

It was one more lesson in life from Bittersweet Woods.

Kids in the woods

Our grandkids have enjoyed Bittersweet Woods for many years. Connor was the first to notice elevation differences as a two year old. He clambored up the hill behind the house and announced "I'm way up high." He had not experienced a "high" at his one story home in the flatlands of western Ohio. Everything was on the same level.

Later, he took to splitting wood with a lighter weight axe. "That axe is sweet", he announced after taking a few swings as a 5 year old. Thereafter it has been referred to as the sweet axe. I saw it today as we put away tools in the shed as the rain started falling. He ran several toy chain saws and lawn mowers into the ground "helping" the grown-ups with that important work.

Catrina, the youngest, couldn't he kept from the trail. She demanded, as only a two year old can, to accompany us on dog walks down the trail. She toddled bravely, usually shunning Pap's offered helping hand. By the end of the week, she was negotiating hills, rocks, and roots with confidence.

Their summer visit is an annual event. Here are pix from this year's visit. Bittersweet Woods brings out carefree fun and goofiness - for the adults, dogs, and kids. These are the precious moments, to use a spoofy line from the Trains, Planes, and Automobiles comedy movie, in a serious tone. We remember these times wistfully, knowing that the young'ns will grow older so quickly. But they'll have the memories their whole life.