Swamp Fun:: Durham, North Carolina
Appalachian Mountain Club Bike Packing Tour:: Phippsburg, Maine
I try to make the most of my family’s tradition of summer visits to Branbury State Park in Middlebury, Vermont. As each trip approaches, I scour the web for nearby adventures in the Northeast, which is how I stumbled upon the Appalachian Mountain Club‘s website and learned of a bikepacking tour they had planned on the Maine coast at just about the right time. Armed with my trusty Gary Fisher mountain bike and a set of panniers (a marvelous piece of equipment heretofore unknown to me) newly-gifted to me by my partner, I was ready when late summer approached.
We convened in Bath, Maine; there were eight of us, including me and my friend Joanna whom I had met through the Ladies Climbing Coalition. The group leaders seemed knowledgable and prepared, and they made me feel safely in good hands for my first bickepacking trip.
Once we’d set off toward the Hermit Island Campground, though, I had, well, not quite a rude awakening, but certainly a reality check. I don’t typically cycle on roads—I have a mountain bike; I was not used to the incessant rolling Maine hills; and, in addition to having filled my panniers with camping gear, I was also (because I’m too stubborn not to) hauling all my camera gear—bodies, lenses, flashes, batteries (I’m glad I didn’t bring a tripod!)—on my back. So not only was this my first time bikepacking, but it was also my first time being the slowpoke of the group. Fortunately, everyone in the group was nice about it, and no one made me feel like either a burden or a weakling, and we all still enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.
After the trip to the campground (which included stops for delicious food and even more delicious ice cream along the way), we pitched our tents and spent the rest of the long weekend exploring other sights and destinations on Hermit Island, including the beach and the Fort Popham State Historic Site in Phippsburg. One night at dinner we all made custom license plates for our bicycles.
All in all, it was a fabulous introduction to a new pastime, a beautiful adventure, and a great deal of #funness.
Lion’s Head Mountain :: Cape Town, South Africa
Karen and I awoke on our first morning in South Africa with a healthy dose of good, old-fashioned jet lag—that classic mix of sedentary air-travel hangover and time-zone disorientation (seven hours, in this case). We were at the Ashanti Lodge Gardens, one of the first backpacker hostels to open in Cape Town. Despite beginning the day on the woozy side, we opted to get right on the horse and take a hike (or “walk” as they are universally understated in South Africa). The two most popular hiking destinations around Cape Town are Table Mountain and Lion’s Head; we chose Lion’s Head because the character of its steep cliffs and rocky terrain seemed right up my alley, but believe me, if we had more time, we definitely would have hiked Table Mountain, too.
We began from a different trailhead than we had planned, and thus had a longer hike than we’d expected, but that only meant we got more and more varied scenery than we’d bargained for. We were in South Africa to climb, but we were in Cape Town to experience the place—so we experienced the place.
The first thing we took in was a spectacular view of the city. Cape Town is the oldest urban area in the Republic of South Africa, and the tenth most populous city on the continent1 (at about three and three-quarters of a million people—smaller than Los Angeles, but bigger than Chicago). It’s also home to South Africa’s parliament, and miles and miles of gorgeous, gorgeous coastline. The character of much of the cliffy coast put me in mind of Big Sur.
As an avid backpacker, I was pretty impressed by Karen’s Gregory bag. It’s actually the top of a framed backpack that detatches to become a day bag. I am definitely seeking this feature in a future purchase.
The weather was perfect. It’s technically winter in July in South Africa, and although Cape Town is only two degrees closer to the Equator than Durham, some meteorological miracle makes it mild. The contrast with the Nasty North Carolina Summer Swampstravaganza could not have been sharper (or more pleasant).
We ambled in a leisurely clockwise spiral (see map below), breathing the healthy sea air. We took our time and watched the sun sink low over both the city and its inhabitants—many of whom were up here with us, also watching. I enjoyed watching (and photographing) them in turn. We even saw a couple of whales breaching out in the ocean!2 Had we more time (or been less leisurely), we would have jaunted the mile and a half or so to the northeast to enjoy the view from Signal Hill.
At the very foot of Lion’s Head, the stroll became a proper climb. Karen peeled off to go grocery shopping, and I proceeded up solo. This is not a hike for those unable or unprepared to take the proper precautions. Physically, this schlep reminded me of the ascent to Angel’s Landing in Zion Nat’l Park: It’s steep and sheer in many places, and only made possible by the provided climbing aids (some chain railings and runglike grips installed in the living rock—in at least one place there’s a straight-up ladder). If you’re not paying attention, you could easily suffer a disastrous fall. But in addition to the physical danger, there’s also the danger of being in a remote location in a foreign country, particularly as the sun set. Theft is common on both Table Mountain and Lion’s Head, and all of the sources of advice insist that a woman never be alone after dark anywhere in South Africa. This late in the day, most of the traffic on the climb was in the downward direction, and I made sure to ask each group that I passed how many people remained at the summit when they’d started down; if the count had gotten low enough, I would have turned around myself.
Fortunately, I made it to the top, where I met (in addition to spec-freaking-tacular views of the city and its surroundings) a young, well-heeled Thai gentleman named Pgunch and his mother (pictured, looking like they’re about to drop a track of hot Siamese rhymes, in front of the sprawling glow of blue-hour Cape Town). We talked for quite some time and became more or less instant friends. It was so nice to meet such well-traveled, kind, thoughtful people. It reinforced my belief that travel is important, and justified the spur-of-the-moment, semi-expensive plans that I made to travel halfway across the globe to climb with someone that I had met one time. Travel can be a difficult undertaking to shoehorn into the life of a responsible, working adult; when you get the chance to travel, take it. Grab it with both hands, sink your fingers into it, and hang on until you get there, because it is so, so worth it. Thank you, Pgunch (and, uh, Mrs. Pgunch, Sr.), for this transcendent moment. My readers will read more about you later.
My two fresh Thai companions waited with me while it got dark and everyone else vacated the summit of Lion’s Head. I hadn’t planned on being up here in the dark, so I didn’t have all of the photographic equipment that I wish I’d had, but Pgunch and Mom were very patient with me as I repeatedly stopped to set up shots on the hike down. The final image here shows Lion’s Head with Table Mountain in the distance, illuminated by the nighttime brilliance of Cape Town.
1 After Lagos, Kinshasa, Cairo, Riyadh, Abidjan, Alexandria, Johannesburg, Dar es Salaam, and Giza.
2 Sadly, not pictured.
—narrative assistance by Dan
Here is a video with some Lion’s Head footage that Casey Neistat released the same day that I made this blog post. Check it out!
Castles and Giant’s Causeway :: Northern Ireland
Welcome to Northern Ireland! …Or at least my blog post about Northern Ireland! This five-and-a-half-thousand square miles of the United Kingdom is home to innumerable sheep, romantic stone architecture, dramatic coastal cliffs, and that aggressively vibrant green color only found in locations with chronically dismal weather.
Leslie and I flew into Belfast and headed straight to Dunluce Castle on the northern coast of the isle of Ireland. We were greeted by the customary sheep. As cattle ranchers in the Old West would identify members of their herds by branding them, so Irish shepherds identify their wards with paint; those shown here belong to someone who uses a reddish-orange color. The first stones were laid here in the 13th century; the ruins still rise formidably straight up from the cliffs on several sides. We were excited to see the caves beneath the castle, but they were closed for renovation or preservation (or whatever you do to caves?) so we had to make due with the spectacular above-ground scenery.
(The drive from Belfast Int’l to Dunluce was my thank-goodness-not-literally-crash course intro to driving in Ireland. I will discuss this at greater length in a later blog post, but for now keep in mind that this endeavor generally takes place on the wrong side of what can’t possibly be wide enough to carry two-way traffic, but does.)
After Dunluce Castle we visited the Dark Hedges, which is a strech of Bregagh Road in County Antrim that is lined with picturesque beech trees. Due to its appearance in the second season of Game of Thrones, this place has become quite the tourist destination. The Department of Infrastructure has since closed this particular length of road to traffic, so it should be a nicer stroll now, but at the time I was lucky to get a bus-free image.
Speaking of busses, the entirety of Ireland is lousy with tour busses, and it seems most of the famously pretty sites are swarmed with tourists, at least in the summer, when Leslie and I were there. Fortunately, in the summer, the sun doesn’t set until like 10 P.M. (and likewise rises at some uncivilized hour), so if you’re willing to head out early or stay out late, you may still get the opportunity to experience some of these places in their uncluttered glory.
This is excatly what we ended up doing later that day. As we checked into our Airbnb, our host suggested we visit the Giant’s Causeway late in the evening to avoid the crowds, and she was so right. Northeast of the town of Bushmills, vast stretches of basalt columns jut right up from the sea, forming a breathtaking portion of the coastline. 50 to 60 million years ago, Paleocene volicanic activity brought quite a bit of lava to the surface here. As lava cools, it shrinks, and as it simultaneously hardens and shrinks, cracks form, causing the columnar shapes you see here. Most of the columns are hexagonal, but we saw other shapes as well. The whole thing was slippery, slightly dangerous, and absolutely stunning. It’s not hard to imagine Finn MacCool tromping out into the sea here to fight some Scottish giant. Rain contributed to the slippery danger (you can see that I have deployed the rain fly of my Lowepro Flipside Sport 20L AW), but it didn’t deter us!
The Causeway Hotel was super cool; I half expected to see characters from Mad Men lounging in the lobby. If we’d had more time, we would have definitely eaten and stayed there.
The following morning we wandered down Benone Beach (yet another picturesque portion of Ireland’s northern coast) to the Downhill Demense near Castlerock. Both the sand of the beach and the cliffs above it teemed with life; each step brought into view some new critter or evidence of such burrowing around beneath the surface. In addition to being riddled with caves, the cliffs thronged with seagulls (more seagulls than tourists, even!), and at one point we had to make a dash across an open stretch of sand to avoid getting splattered with guano from above.
Downhill Demense is home to Mussenden “Temple”, a round building perched atop the cliffs overlooking Benone Beach. It was built as a library in 1875 and meant to resemble the Temple of Vesta in the Roman Forum. A few hundred feet south along an arrow-straight track lies the castley ruins of Downhill House, also built in the 18th century.
That evening we made the short drive to Dublin and the Republic of Ireland, where our story shall continue.
—narrative assistance by Dan
Grayson Highlands Solo Backpacking Trip
If you’re not careful, “adulting” can suck the life from you. To fight this, I make an effort to be as spontaneous as I can with my free time; this gives me a sense of freedom I wouldn’t otherwise, as an adulting adult, get. Considering most adults need to plan way ahead of time (for various reasons—kids, family, jobs), it can be hard to coordinate trips with friends, especially because my teaching and photography work give me odd times off. This brings me to this story about my very first solo backpacking trip. A few months earlier, I had torn a page from Backpacker Magazine about Grayson Highlands. With a sudden change of plans (a weekend photoshoot got moved because of threatening weather), I had a free weekend and a day to make a decision about how I’d spend it. This was an easy decision: I’d go explore the area I read about, but I’d have to explore it alone because there wasn’t enough time for anyone else to rearrange their schedule to join me.
I needn’t enumerate the reasons why solo backpacking can be intimidating. We can all agree there is reason to be extra cautious when planning (and executing) these trips, but at the end of the day, fear is not a reason to shy away from what can be a safe, mindful, and fulfilling adventure. Solo backpacking: rain or shine, I just needed to grit my teeth, face my anxieties, and decide to do it.
I left work late on a Friday evening. I didn’t want to fumble with setting up camp in the dark (and possibly in the wet), so I was making calls from the road to anything listed as an Airbnb nearby. After worrying that I might strike out, I was extremely grateful to Scott and Loren at the Sleepy Fox Inn and Spa B&B for agreeing to book me at the last minute.
If there’s a recurring theme to this blog post (and, quite possibly, this entire blog in general), it’s that everything happens for a reason. Scott and Loren were wonderful hosts; they fed me well, they were super friendly, and their place was beautiful. After situating myself in the room, I nestled up in the comfortable, warm bed and had one of the best nights of sleep I’d had in a while. As the soft natural light snuck between the window shades and washed over my face in the morning, I made my way out of the room and to the host’s main building. With grey skies, it was a peaceful morning filled with delicious homemade food served on locally-made pottery. I could have turned around after breakfast, gone home, and called it a fantastic (if fantastically short) trip, but regardless of the weather, I was feeling good about my plans. I reassured my hosts I would be safe (and would call them when I was returning home), and then I made my way to Grayson Highlands.
Mt Rogers, my destination, is in Jefferson National Park, but the trail begins in Virginia’s Grayson Highlands State Park. I departed early from the Massey Gap parking area. This was new territory for me, and it greeted me with appropriate mystique: shifting mists, fog, and varying rain. Horse trails criss-cross this area, and I saw my first wild horse! It was chewing grass and not at all alarmed by me. You’re not supposed to feed or pet them here, but they will let you get surprisingly close.
The beautiful thing about hiking solo is that I can stop whenever and wherever, for however long I want. I can take as many photographs as I want. I don’t have to worry about holding up others. I can enjoy the entire journey. I like to investigate; be it a banana slug, a four-leaf clover, or a cave, I like to stop and take a look (and a picture or twelve). I will not hesitate to head off-trail if something catches my interest. (I do this confidently because I bring a map and a compass with me wherever I go; I am directionally challenged without them, but with them I very much enjoy wandering.)
And it’s the best feeling, wandering free in the fresh, crisp air. When you have no obligations or worries, and all the possibilities the wide outdoors offers you are at your fingertips. You can wander into the woods with a Plan A and a Plan B, but end up executing plan LMNOP, and it’s fine, because the outdoors expects nothing of you. You don’t have to explain yourself to it, or show up on time; it’s not impatient with you. It’s just beautiful and fascinating, and there for you to soak in and be.
In this mode of reverie I encountered a pair named April and Landon. I asked them if I could find a reasonable water source the way I was headed (I could!), and we walked for a while together and got to talking. It turns out they were P.E. teachers, too, at Caldwell Community College and Technical Institute; they were here leading a group of students for a backpacking unit in the Outdoor Recreation course they teach. After quite a bit of chatting and hiking, they offered to let me join their group. It was an easy decision (everything for a reason, remember?), and I accompanied them back to their students and their preferred camping spot: a tree-sheltered grove surrounded by longhorn cows, who were just as unconcerned by human proximity as the horses were.
As we pitched our tents and ate together, the weather started to clear up, and as the sun went down, the perfect conditions for nighttime photography were upon us. Two of the students (Michael and someone else) had been getting into photography and were eager to help me shoot in the dark. We had a magical time. Michael ran around waving lights to help get the starry night/tent shots, and we stayed up late dodging cow poop and navigating by each other’s lights and laughter. My anxiety about solo backpacking had evaporated like the mist; when I headed to bed I fell asleep immediately, comfortable and warm.
With the lifting of the mist, I had hoped to also get a sunrise shot. I rose as the clear sky began to lighten in the east. The calm cows helped set the mood as I dressed and equipped myself for my morning masterpiece. Just as I was gathering my camera and attendant gear, a stew-thick wall of fog crashed the party. My photographic options were limited to a tree and some cows, so I shot the tree and the cows. The rising sun winked at us once, just long enough for the camera’s shutter to fire. Had I been using a narrower aperture, there might not have been time to capture it.
After breakfast, April did some morning stretching and yoga, so I shot that, too. While we were at it, the fog, disappointed that I had found an interesting subject despite its best efforts, dissipated in defeat, leaving a shining sun and a blue, blue sky. We went from hats and puffy jackets to tank tops.
After a group shot, we packed up and hit the trail. I hadn’t taken many pictures the previous day because of the weather, and so had been able to keep up with the Outdoor Recreation class. The second day, though, they left me to explore the area on my own.
The loop trail we were on had some optional portions. I had skipped Wilburn Ridge the previous day because, again with the weather, the rocky terrain just hadn’t been worth the lack of scenery. Sunday, though, was different. After finishing the route, I left my backpack in the car, and took only a day pack with some snacks and some water, and began the trail again, but this time I hiked the Wilburn Ridge portion.
Wilburn Ridge was beautiful. Peak Fall season had passed, but there was still plenty of color variation, blue sky, Katharine Lee Bates’s “purple mountain majesties,” and more horses auditioning to be in a shampoo commercial. While I was snappin’ around at the crest, I asked a woman I encountered to photograph me. Becky, her husband Roscoe, and I ended up talking on and on about all manner of things, both grand and personal: family, love, freedom. We had an automatic connection. We babbled all the way back to the parking lot (taking yet another trail—I think I hiked upwards of twenty miles that day). We still keep in touch.
After I called Scott and Loren to let them know I was still alive, I had plenty of time on the drive home to reflect on the weekend of serendipity I’d just enjoyed. If I had gone with a group of planners or gung-ho, goal-oriented route grinders, none of this ever would have happened, but I’m so glad it did. Grayson Highlands has a piece of my heart.
Love, Family, Cabins, and Waterfalls :: Massachusetts
It’s the summer and I think it’s fitting to catch up on all of my blog posting. After all, I have stuff from last year I haven’t posted yet! Eeek! Here’s a few of my favorite photos from my trip to Massachusetts. My family and I went to several waterfalls in the surrounding area, saw my cousin’s beautiful wedding, and overall, just had a fantastic time exploring.
BY THE WAY, we stayed at the Woolman Hill Quaker Retreat Center (where the wedding was). It is a very peaceful and gorgeous place to vacation to and have events at. They have so many cute cabins to stay in.
Camping at Grassy Ridge Bald :: North Carolina & Tennessee
I crave fresh air, the sounds of water flowing in a nearby stream and the birds chirping in the morning all while the sunlight tries to peak in the tent. Camping. It’s not for everyone, but it is definitely for Gillian and myself. Backpacking up a mountain, setting up camp, collecting wood, filtering water, creating fire, eating the surprisingly delicious Mountain House freeze dried food, getting dirty (well, mostly- I do keep my pocket shower handy), and being outdoors in the middle of the woods is refreshing and soothing.
This time around, we spent our trip with an entire group of people I’ve been wanting to backpack with for a long time! I was a little intimidated at first because I knew they were hardcore backpackers. For example, we were suppose to do this same trip during the winter…in the freezing cold. I was almost up for it, but decided it probably wasn’t the best idea if we weren’t prepared with the right gear. They also tend to get in a lot of mileage. I’m a trooper and can probably handle it, but I also like lounging out in a hammock or wandering around trying to find a cache.
Anyhow, we went to Roan Mountain and hiked to Grassy Ridge Bald. Gillian and I parked in Carvers Gap and started our journey around sunset. I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing the view was during the sunset. It was hard to keep on hiking when all I wanted to do was stop and take pictures. Keep in mind, I’m not a landscape photographer. I admire those people because it is sure difficult getting the image you see in person to come out in the image in a photograph. Seriously….hard to do.
We finally got to the top of Grassy Ridge Bald and set up camp. Later that evening, a few other of our group members joined us and the next day, we met up with the rest of the group. We hiked back to Carvers Gap in the morning and went to the Rhododendron Gardens . The flowers were expected to be in full bloom (especially since it was Rhododendron Festival weekend), but NONE of the flowers bloomed in the gardens. In fact, we saw more Rhododendron flowers while backpacking to Grassy Ridge Bald than we did in the gardens. As you can imagine, that was a quick tour. We visited a few other scenic areas and headed back to our site. If we had more time, we would have hiked to the Overmountain AT shelter, but that will be for another trip. When we got back to camp, we lounged around, ate dinner, and watched another beautiful sunset.
Overall, we had an amazing weekend. Everyone was so nice and knew how to have a good time. We laughed a lot and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We are thankful we got invited on the trip! Oh, and before you ask, YES, those are kilts and YES, we had five dogs camping with us. lol
Asheville and Plus Adventure :: Asheville, North Carolina
Back in April, Gillian and I vacationed with our good friends, Holly and Kelly. We had SO MUCH FUN! We explored Asheville, North Carolina. It is a place Gillian and I go to often and eventually, we hope to move there. Our mini vacation this time around included exploring the River Arts District , having breakfast at Sunny Point Cafe , having my very first glass blowing class at the Asheville Glass Center , meeting up with our good friend Gabe, staying at the Hot Springs Resort Campground, and hiking up to Max Patch .
Hanging out with Kelly and Holly always mean there will be a ton of laughter. They are super competitive- having short competitions throughout the entire weekend such as having a push-up and racing competition on the train tracks. They joke around with each other a lot and it’s fun to capture those special moments with them. I do have a lot of shots of the two of them during our vacation and Gillian got a tad jealous. lol. So…..she photo bombed quite a few photos with Kelly and Holly (see if you can notice which ones). Hint- one of them is not so obvious.
Good people. Good times. I couldn’t ask for a better mini vacation!
