Viremia had passed, the fevers and night sweats were gone, the bottle of Tussin DM remained on the counter like a jilted lover - no action in at least two days. I fufilled my role of 'family man' dutifully leading devotions at the family altar (ie the breakfast table), exposited some Proverbs on the topic of "slander" (in anticipation of the boys' spelunking activites with the Boy Scouts - wanna keep the peace with edifying talk down in the Lost Sea Caves - especially since everyone is using that same porta potty). I then slurped down another cup of brew and had a delightful chat with Uncle Ron - new subscriber to the blog - and recent avid trekking pole advocate.
The wife had left the containers of recyclables in the back of the minivan... a subtle little communications technique she has developed over the years to help 'keep me on task'. I typically find the recycling in an obvious location - one example being in front of my truck so I either have to take it... or else. So, I ran with this one - even going so far as volunteering to bring along the 5 year old to "help". I knew that would be to my advantage later when I would bring up the topic of a hike. The recycling task was made a bit harder by having to lift a 45 lb child up to throw every bottle into the big container to achieve that piercing crash of breaking glass - an upper body workout I had not anticipated. I didn't realize the therapeutic joy that I was robbed of by not being the one to throw those bottles with a little extra spin... the difference between a 'dud' and a loud shrill crash! Coleman overlooked one empty jar of applesauce... I snatched the opportunity! Some guys need time on the shotgun range... all I need is the sound of breaking glass at the recycling center... beats my alternative of primal scream therapy! On the way home, I even made a run through the McDonalds drive-thru to satisfy Coleman's thirst for a soda. I figured I would get him on my side this way - $1.07 - not a bad price to pay for loyalty!
By now, it was getting uncomfortably late in the day by winter hiking standards, so when she gave me the "why sure, honey, of course you can go on a hike", I knew I needed to act... and act fast! No time to go far. So, I decided to take a Burke Classic Hike - Wolf Pit to Shortoff Mountain - along the southernmost aspect of the east rim of the Linville Gorge. It was a simple in-and-out... or so I thought. I could probably go as far as I wanted to and make the afternoon out of it.
By now, you already know of my modus opperandi of eating meat before hikes - if not, refer to my first post for my succinct rationale - quite the water-cooler talk around the hospital these past couple of weeks I might add. Given that my trek to the trailhead passed nowhere near the previously mentioned Hardee's in Marion, NC, I succombed to my weekday loyalty and went, instead, to Bojangles - ordering my usual Cajun chicken filet biscuit combo with seasoned fries to keep my blood pressure sustained and sweet tea to keep my kidneys functioning.
In less than 20 minutes, I passed by the Linville Access at Lake James. I drove down along the ramp close enough to roll down my window and snap this shot:
Many of you know that this is the jumping off point for one of my other... warmer weather... activities. Although, the temperatures were only in the low 50's - and, yes, I have donned my wet suit for far more frigid kayaking forays onto Lake James from this very point, I knew I was just 'passing through'.
Given the past several days' rains, I anticipated more erosion from storm runoff and residual standing water along Wolf Pit Road, but it was fairly dry. I passed the Farmer's Place near the end of the road, and parked at the turnaround spot with no more than five other cars.
I don't know about you, but I'm always a little intrigued about who else might be out there on the trail, and I sorta make a game of looking at the cars, their bumper stickers, etc. and envisioning I know something about the folks I may encounter. I look upon it as elevating presumptuousness to an art form. There were the requisite "Obama/Biden" stickers, a "Local Food" sticker, an AB Tech Faculty/Staff sticker, and a Boone / ASU sticker. That last one was the 'wild card' - if push came to shove, perhaps this one would be carrying a gun to shoot the mountain lion (aka catamount).
It was a little after noon as off I plunged off into the wilderness.
This is a well-worn pathway many of you may have climbed, but for those unfamiliar with this trek, just a few observations: When I first climbed Shortoff back in the 90's, the entire climb was forested. But, since a couple of large forest fires in this area, it has left the hiker with an incredible view - almost from the start - to the south. On sunny winter days, this southerly exposure allows warmth and sunshine with countless stopping points along the way to take in the panoramic views from the west spying the "Catawba" side of Lake James and Marion all the way around to the east - catching the southern aspect of Brown Mountain, Highbrighten (in Lenoir), as well as the background of the South Mountains (High Peak, Burkemont, Walkertop, etc.) beyond Lake James to the direct south. This picture simply doesn't do it justice:
Next, most folks who hike this mountain know that this southerly facing aspect of Shortoff Mountain is 'dry.' There are no streams, no springs, no water crossings of any sort. Normally, it is only after one has almost reached the summit that one may... may... encounter a small trickle from a mountaintop spring. THIS was where the serundipidous timing of this particular hike paid off: by virtue of taking this hike on this particular day, I was able to observe a very rare and unusual phenomena on this mountainside: the ephemeral Shortoff Cascades! It so happened that the major sustained storm the prior week which had pummeled the Southeast with several inches of rain (and snow in some places before departing to the Northeast), had served to completely saturate this mountain. For about half the length of the trail from the 'turn right to Shortoff' sign to the peak, one was walking up one long continuous stream. Of note, it had been over 36 hours since the last drop of rain had fallen on this hillside - yet the flow remained steady. Fortunately, as it was such a short-lived phenomena and in complete sunshine, there was no time for slippery algae to form, so it was like walking up a continuous creek bed with steady trickling flow - never deeper than the sole of your boot. The 'stream' would follow the trail for several hundred yards, and then it would dart off the trail and cascade in a more direct fashion down the hillside creating dozens - if not hundreds - of small cascading waterfalls. The sound of rushing water filled a couple of the small coves through which the trail passes - a pleasant and refreshing reminder of this ephemeral wonder! With wet soles to my boots - thank goodness for that Neoprene - I summited with dry feet!
Many of you have asked about my peakbagging exploits, and this photo is significant for yet another reason: the background. In the distance are the northernmost peaks of the Black Mountains - of which Mount Mitchell is the most famous (not in view here). The biggest 'dip' in that line of distant mountains is appropriately named, "Deep Gap." To its right are Whitestar and even further, Celo Knob. What this view fails to reflect is the fact that from the 'dip' of Deep Gap to the peak immediately to its right (Whitestar), is a harrowing climb of about 700 feet - a feat I accomplished last summer - only to run out of water... and time... midway to Celo Knob to the far right - thus leaving this as the sole 6K in the Blacks I have yet to "bag". Seven hundred feet doesn't sound too much given the Shortoff climb so far, but the real curve-ball is the 3000 foot climb from Carolina Hemlocks in Celo up to Deep Gap - the cumulative 4000 foot climb makes this a marathon for a day hiker. All in due time, my friends! By the way, for those of you who drive down by the Post Office in Morganton, you can get this same view on a clear day in the distance - it's a daily reminder of my nemesis - Celo Knob!
A view looking down from Shortoff into the gorge. Photos just don't give good perspective on just how high you are. Yes, that's the Linville River down there! That big rock is every bit as large as a big house!
Okay, so I had to do it - one required 'up the gorge' shot. The 'wildest' place east of the Mississippi. To the left you can follow the upper portion of the Linville River as it passes between Wiseman's View and Table Rock/Hawksbill.
So, after catching my breath - no angina this time - I sauntered on up the pathway until I reached my goal: Shortoff Pond.
For those who haven't experienced this site - this is a seemingly bizarre place for a small natural lake - on top of a mountain - yet, here it sits! I had been curious given the completely saturated mountain I had encountered - was this going to be enlarged - perhaps overflowing onto or over the trail? It was not. I did not venture around the perimeter of the lake - from the photos, one can see that just beyond the distant trees, the gorge literally drops away, so I presume there must be some drainage which allows the pond not to overflow but, simply, drain - a natural limitation to this most bizarre wetland.
I did note a small trail leading off to the right (the east) away from the gorge just before I reached the pond. On a rock was a blue blaze, so I followed this trail through significant blowdown to a small isolated campsite. A Good Samaritan had thoughtfully laid some firewood to dry for the next camper at this well hidden venue. The trail continued a bit further but stopped at a most prolific spring emanating from beneath a large tree in a grove of rhododendrons. This spring - about 150-200 yards off the main trail was significant - I would estimate a flow of several gallons per minute - leading off the other side of the mountain - eastwardly - away from the gorge. Who knows if this spring is always so strong, but I cannot help but think - based on the limited trail use - that it's use is confined to only the few hearty souls who are aware of its obscure whereabouts.
At this point, I decided to start heading back, thinking my adventure was complete. Little did I know that when I reached this sign, the real test would begin...
You know what a sucker I am for the MST...
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