Escape to the Ridge

Posted by dkrashb on June 13, 2013

The sun creeps low in the sky, beaming through the trees as we hike

I managed to go to Stringer’s Ridge twice in the same week. Not just in the same week, actually. In 2 days. It started on a whim. I can see the Stringer’s Ridge overlook from my office window. I have been watching (through binoculars) the progress on the overlook. One day, I peered through the binoculars long and hard and thought, “I think they’re done!”

That was the day, being one of the 2 work days in a week that we don’t have a prescribed cuisine, I thought, “we should have a picnic dinner at the overlook.” And so it went. We packed up Tisen’s dinner, threw a couple of beverages in a day pack, and headed to the grocery store to pick up sandwiches and cookies.

A coniferous tree glows yellow in the light from the setting sun amongst greener brethren

We drove up to the overlook as the sun worked its way toward the horizon. We managed to eat with a spectacular view followed by a nice walk through the woods as the sun continued to set. We made it back to the car before dark feeling pretty darn good (less the bug bites).

It was so nice to get out on a Monday evening, I thought we might make a habit of it (yet to be seen).

Tisen is a great trail dog–always checking to make sure Mommy is coming if he gets too far ahead

The next day, the cleaning folks were coming and I needed a place to work where it was quiet. The cleaning crew didn’t arrive until nearly lunch. I managed to get me and Tisen out without interrupting the conference call I was on. This is perhaps one of the most amazing things about technology today. I think back to when I started my first job and felt really special because I had a terminal and a phone on my desk. Flex time meant you could set your start time between 7-9AM and leave 8.5-9 hours later, depending on how long you took for lunch.

I cannot imagine what our department head back then (who thought email could only be used to goof off) would think of a work world where you can be in the middle of a meeting, pack up your office and your dog, head down to your car, start up your own wireless network, get back online and fully participate in the call without anyone knowing you just changed location.

Tisen’s wallow

On another whim, once I got setup in the car, I headed back to Stringer’s Ridge. I drove up and parked in a shady spot, sitting in the car until the meeting ended. Then, instead of spending lunch sitting in front of my laptop working, I took Tisen for a walk through the woods. I found it doubly refreshing to get out in the woods in the middle of the day. Tisen, I think, found it rather stifling. Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought to bring him water. The first puddle we found on the trail quickly became a mud bath for Tisen who sank into it like a wallowing pig.

He made it back just fine, thankfully, just muddy.

I know I posted similar shots yesterday, but the view from the overlook is pretty cool

Half Open?

Posted by dkrashb on June 12, 2013

Downtown looks far away at 28mm

Stringer’s Ridge has had quite a facelift. It appears to be officially half-open, although I can’t tell from the information on the web. It now has official looking metal gates that cross the main trails into the park. One side still has a big orange “park closed” sign. But the other direction has no sign other than “no motorized vehicles.”

There are many mysteries about Stringers Ridge. First, there is the mystery “grand opening” that still does not seem to have happened. When I first heard about Stringers Ridge, I heard the park was going to have a grand opening in October 2012.

Next, I heard it was going to open later that winter. The only sign of progress at the park entrance was a set of new signs telling people the park was under construction and still closed. Next, it was going to open in April. Then it was going to be May. The last post I saw said it would open around Memorial Day.

102mm pulls the Market St and Walnut St bridges into view

The second mystery is what it is that they’re doing that prevents them from opening the park. I confess. I’ve been in the park. I have never seen anyone working in the park. I have, however, encountered both pedestrians and cyclists in the park, which made me think it really was open before they put up signs.

The changes I’ve noticed since last summer have been:

an improvement in the signage–especially trail markers which were numbers on pin tins until recently,
the removal of large piles of garbage that many people must have worked very hard to gather up and haul to a collection point,
the removal of some of the overgrowth,
the removal of some sculptures that I wish they would have left. There was one arrangement of logs that looked like a giant hiker climbing up a hill. I am both befuddled and disappointed that it was removed. It was clever, humorous, and appropriate to the setting,
the addition of a real overlook at the point where some trees were cleared to allow for one of the best views of downtown Chattanooga–if I am disappointed about #4, #5 makes up for it.

118mm makes for a nice view of the aquarium

stillI can understand why they would have wanted the park closed while they were constructing the overlook. What I don’t quite understand is why they seem to be holding the park opening until all the mountain bike trails are completed. At least, I assume that’s what they’re holding for at this point. Why not just mark the trails that are closed as closed and have the grand opening? Parks have trails closed all the time.

Whatever the reason, I’m happy the park is half-open.

The new overlook has two large “boxes” in the middle that make the perfect place for dinner. It’s a really nice overlook. And the view is even better now that the overlook puts you 10 feet out over the edge of the ridge. I can’t wait until the grand opening!

Tisen caught with a mouthful of his dinner on the overlook

Looking Down

Posted by dkrashb on June 6, 2013

Centipede on moss

After spending a half hour or so at the hang gliding launch ramp on top of Lookout Mountain on Sunday, we decided to take the time to drive over to Cloudland Canyon. Although we weren’t up for a long hike, the flat, easy walk along the cliff seemed about right for us.

I’m not sure why exactly, perhaps it was the sudden realization that the path we were on was bordered by poison ivy, but I started looking down. Not down the cliffs so much–well, maybe some, but the view from the overlooks is spectacular and looking straight out is usually far more interesting than looking down. Plus, looking down always makes me feel a little weak-kneed.

Evening primrose with a few remaining drops of water

Rather, I found myself looking down at the occasional wildflower growing by the side of the path, the insects hanging out along the way, and at the pine warbler who decided to show himself just long enough for me to get my camera in position and then flit off.

I guess I should be grateful for poison ivy because it’s taught me to look down, look at what’s at my feet, and pay attention to where I’m stepping. Who knows, it may have saved my life a time or two.

I thought this was a rhododendron, but after googling, I think its a hawthorn flower

But, poison ivy is one of those plants that you’re either indifferent to or it strikes terror in your heart. I spent the first 30 years of my life pretty much oblivious to poison ivy. I wasn’t allergic to it. Then one day, I was weeding in the garden of our first house. I looked down at the handful of vines I was holding in my gloved hands and realized I was holding a bouquet of poison ivy. Unconcerned, I set them in the yard waste pile and thought no more about it.

The next day, the part of my wrist that was above my glove and below my sleeve broke out in a rash. Pretty soon, I had a 2-inch tall welt that was, at close inspection, a mound of bump on bump on bump. It looked like it had been skinned across the top and clear liquid oozed out of it at such a rate that it ran down my arm. It was truly disgusting.

More hawthorn/rhododendron

That was the first time in my life I took steroids. But I was sure happy to have them as an option! Every since then, I have broken out with poison ivy every summer whether I come into contact with it or not. I blamed the dogs for many years, but then the dogs died and I still broke out. I became paranoid–I frequently jump away in terror when I see a Boxelder sapling, which resembles poison ivy at first glance.

As an offshoot of my paranoia, however, I now notice more plants and creepy-crawly things than I ever noticed before I felt like I had to continually be on the look out for my sworn enemy.

I’m not sure what these are, but they were pretty

The Easy Way to Point Park

Posted by dkrashb on March 30, 2013

View from canon in Point Park

My plan was to walk from Cravens House to Sunset Rock to Point Park and then back to Craven’s house. This would be more like a loop vs just an out and back. Since both Sunset Rock and Point Park are 1 1/2 miles from Cravens House, the math in my head indicated we’d be walking 3 miles regardless of whether we did the loop or the out and back.

I forgot about the part between Sunset Rock and Point Park. Turns out that’s something like an extra mile. While I wouldn’t have minded the extra mile, the rest of the crowd turned against me. Pat completely over-ruled any consideration of walking to Point Park.

Making our way back down the trail

When we got to the point in the trail where we had to pick between walking back towards Cravens House or up to Point Park, Pat asked if we were going to Point Park. We were all surprised. Then, he clarified that he was asking if we wanted to drive up to Point Park after we got back to Craven’s House, not if we wanted to walk to Point Park.

Oh well.

On the way back to Craven’s House, the trail did a switch-back near the top of the cliff and then passed below Sunset Rock. When we were at the top, we passed a group of young adults who had hung camping hammocks between some trees that hung over the edge of the cliff.

Two hammocks visible from the trail below the cliff

We took some photos for them with their iPhones as we went by. I attempted to get a shot for me as well, but I had one of my typical moments where I believed I had my camera set on aperture priority and didn’t worry about checking the exposure. Several minutes later, when we were well down the trail, I took a peak and discovered my shot was a giant black rectangle.

When we passed underneath, I managed to get a shot of the two visible hammocks from below. It looked a lot scarier when we were looking down from the top. All I could think to myself was, “I don’t care how strong those hammocks are, how can they know the trees will hold?” After all, the trees were right on the side of the cliff with very little place to grip with their roots. I had visions of them toppling over and dragging the hammocks with the young campers with them.

Tisen making sure I’m coming along

For the record, we have seen nothing on the news about any hikers who fell from Sunset Rock, so I think they were OK.

We made it back down the trail, past the square tree branch, off the cliff, and back to Cravens House.

While we did make it up to Point Park (via automobile), we made only a quick jaunt around the asphalt path and skipped the off-road trail out to the point. I felt like we short-changed my brother and sister-in-law, but they plan to come back.

My brother and sister-in-law posing being the wheel of a canon at Point Park

Walk to Sunset

Posted by dkrashb on March 29, 2013

Sunset Rock Hipstamatic Style

In the effort to entertain my brother and sister-in-law, I came up with the following itinerary:

Have them assist in a birds of prey program at a local festival.
Take them to lunch at a famous barbecue on a hill with goats.
Haul them up to Lookout mountain and take them hiking for a couple of hours.
Drag them out for Mexican-fusion at favorite taco spot.
Give them a tour of husband’s workshop.

We are now on #3. Hauling said brother and sister-in-law up to Lookout Mountain for a relatively short, easy hike.

Sunset Rock via DSLR

One of my favorite short, easy hikes on Lookout is the hike from Craven’s House to Sunset Rock. There are many routes to choose from so it’s easy to make the hike as short as 3 miles or as long as 10, depending on how long you want to be out. Regardless of which route you choose, the scenery on Lookout and the views from the overlooks are always fantastic.

Our fearless hiking crew

The rock formations on Lookout are amazing in and of themselves. The sandstone (or maybe limestone?) splits, drops, careens, and leans in ways that make you feel like you’re doing something really dangerous by walking on stone that might fall off the side of the mountain at any moment. If the trail were along the creek with the same rock formations, it wouldn’t be quite as adventurous, but it would still be beautiful.

Chunks of ice remind us it’s only spring on the calendar

Water runs between the rocks from time to time. We were surprised on this early spring day to discover chunks of ice lingering in one microscopic waterfall. Just another reminder that only the humans around here are convinced it’s supposed to be spring.

Even the mushrooms look like they are winterized

Tisen enjoys this hike, too. He likes to linger behind, sniffing, and then dart back in front. Sometimes, he stops to check on me if I’m hanging back. I’m not sure if he’s worried I’m going to fall off a cliff (a reasonably probable occurrence) or if he thinks I might sneak off and disappear to some new life that doesn’t include him. He really doesn’t have to worry about the latter–I’m not anxious to find out what life will feel like without him.

Tisen checking on Mommy

We made it to Sunset Rock in tact, although Tisen scared me to the point that I yelled at him when he got so close to the edge that I really thought he was going to lift his leg and immediately topple down the cliff. I called him three times and when he ignored me, I panicked and yelled his name at the kind of volume that echoed off the surrounding cliff sides. He looked up at me, surprised and sheepish. I couldn’t remember having ever raised my voice at him before; I felt a little foolish.

View of the valley from Sunset Rock

The view from Sunset Rock is not actually better than the view from Point Park, but making the hike through the woods and up the mountain makes it feel so much better.

Flowers and Fungi

Posted by dkrashb on January 14, 2013

These early bloomers captured rain drops

On a nature walk on Saturday, we were surprised to discover spring wild flowers in full bloom tucked amongst the leaf litter on the forest floor. I don’t remember the name of these blooms, but they are often among the earliest to appear in the spring. The thing is, it’s not spring. We haven’t even reached Imbolc yet–it seems horribly risky for a delicate spring flower to appear so early.

The likelihood that it will manage to set seed before the weather turns too cold for survival seems very slim. But it blooms anyway.

A completely different kind of “bloom”

A flower, presumably, doesn’t ask questions about risk and reward. It simply responds to the external events of water, sun, and temperature. It doesn’t check the calendar before the seed begins to sprout. Collectively, perhaps the seeds will have slightly different trigger points and only a few will sprout now. The rest will require more warmth longer before they come to life. And, in this way (I hope), the next generation will come from the seeds whose triggers allowed them to survive long enough to produce more seed.

Wood ears may not quite qualify in our traditional definition of “bloom,” but they sure are interesting

If we think of these flowers as a single entity instead of individual flowers, perhaps the lesson is more applicable to us as individuals. Otherwise it may be tempting to take a lesson along the traditional lines of “only the strong survive” when the reality is that often it is not the strong that survive, it is the timely.

If we think of those early bloomers as the first attempt in the process of trial and error, perhaps the lesson is more applicable to our own lives. After all, being timely requires a lot of luck. If we sit around dormant until the exact right time, we’ve already missed it when we realize it’s come. But if we put up a few sprouts too early, we get to practice and practice some more. And when the right time comes, we’re there, ready and blooming at just the right time.

Layers of mixed fungi make a fascinating display on a rotting log

Fungi work differently. They largely reproduce via spores, which are different from seeds in that there’s no pollination. While I know very little about fungi, reportedly, at least some of them produce spores on their own time clock without regard for environmental conditions. Others require environmental factors that include nutrient levels, carbon dioxide levels, and and light levels (see microbiologybytes.com). Another study I found suggests that atmospheric moisture (which I assume is the same thing as humidity) has the greatest impact on how much fungus grows. This seems a bit like saying the ground will be wet when it rains to me–after all, do we really need a study to tell us that more humidity drives more fungal growth?

This is neither a flower nor a fungus--it's a Lichen

This is neither a flower nor a fungus–it may look like lettuce, but it’s a Lichen

That being beside the point, the continual, misting rain for the past few weeks has created a unique kind of bloom. Although the fungi had faded a bit from their peak, there were still some really beautiful colonies. Beautiful fungi–words I never expected to write together.

Final look at the more colorful fungus we saw

Welcoming 2013

Posted by dkrashb on January 2, 2013

Interesting clouds over Chattanooga

Having embarrassed myself yet again by writing my blog post way too late at night, I thought I would try writing at a decent hour tonight.

In honor of the new year, it seems only appropriate to think about what I’d like 2013 to be like. As some of you may recall from last year, I am a bit of a resolution-phobe. But, it is always good to reflect on a year past and thinking about what things should come forward and which things I’d like to leave behind.

Unreleasable Prairie Falcon in Oregon

First, I have enjoyed exploring the world through a camera regularly over the past year and a half. I don’t think I’ve gone more than 2 weeks without shooting in 2012. This has provided me with a new way of looking at the world that I can only describe as a sense of careful observation combined with vast appreciation. I notice things I have not noticed in the past. I wait for things to unfold with a patience I have trouble finding without a camera. I work at getting better with both acceptance that I am imperfect and faith that I can improve. All in all, photography gives me joy and hope. This is something I want to keep in 2013.

Parking lot in Portland, OR

Second, during some parts of 2012, I managed to strike a balance between the things I love to do and the things I have to do. I lost that balance and now I want it back. Taking time out to bike, row, hike, do yoga, and bird/teach keeps me feeling happy and makes me better at everything else I do. I don’t have to do any of them really well, I just have to set aside all the things worrying me and go enjoy some time on my bike, on the river, on the mountain, on the mat, or with the birds. It’s a simple formula that requires making room in my schedule. This is something I want to regain in 2013 and I don’t want to wait for the weather to get warmer.

Assisting at a Wings to Awareness educational program for 3rd graders

Third, I really enjoy the time we spend with family and friends. Living remotely from many of the folks in those categories makes that tough. For 2013, I’d like to have more contact with more people I feel close to whether it’s over the phone, in person, or via FaceTime, these are the people who keep me grounded.

Sharing Point Park with family last summer

Finally, I have occasionally written about finding peace and, through finding it internally, creating it externally. That’s really what the previous 3 things are about–creating a sense of internal peace that help contribute to more happiness in the world. It seems like a small contribution, but as the Dali Lama said: “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.” Besides, a small contribution towards happiness is better than a small contribution towards anguish. A compassionate, peaceful life. That’s what I look forward to in 2013.

Enjoying a well-earned view after a 5-mile hike on Lookout Mountain

Getting onto the water not quite gracefully

Ascending Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 30, 2012

Having descended as far as we were willing to climb and absorbed the scenery, we decided to start back up to the top of Stone Door. We started our way back up the steep ascent.

Scrambling back up the fallen outcropping proved easier in terms of keeping our footing, but more difficult when it came to heart rate and breathing. I was quickly reminded that I haven’t been spending much time on my bike of late.

Truthfully, there is not much that seems to prepare my body for steep climbs other than, well, steep climbs. Every time I take the steps, I am reminded that riding a bike, rowing a sculling boat, doing yoga, and walking are not really comparable exercises.

This day, I was reminded that only stair climbing is good preparation for ascending steep slopes. I am not fond of stair climbing. I’d much rather climb a steep hill out of breath than spend hours going up indoor stairs in preparation.

When we reached the first plateau, we stopped. I pretended to want to take more shots of the cliffside above us. I really just wanted to catch my breath. But, the cliffside was fascinating. The volume of rock that had fallen next to the volume of rock still standing made my knees feel a little weak contemplating what it would be like to be standing on top of the overlook when it suddenly caved away. I hope no one was there the day the rocks fell.

A chunk of the cliff fell in what must have been the same position it was in at the top

This chunk of cliff must have fallen long ago to have been reshaped into a smooth mound

The natural overlook at the top of Stone Door framed between the trees

We continued slowly up the rest of the ascent. I’ve learned that racing up steps doesn’t pay. Racing leads to having to stop for long recovery times. A slow steady pace allows the heart and lungs to keep up so the turtle passes the hare. I learned this when hiking in the Rockies. In my twenties, my friends and I sped past a woman who was probably the age I am now only to be passed by her when we were all sucking wind later. We repeated our folly, passing her and being passed again 3x before reaching the end of our hike. She finished well ahead of us. That’s when the lesson sunk in.

We made it back up the wooden stairs and slowly made our way up the slippery, dripping stone steps through the stone door. I paused at the top to take a shot of the pitcher-handle tree at the entrance.

This crazy tree marks the entrance to the Stone Door

Having worked up a sweat, we decided it was a good time to find a flat rock to sit on and have our picnic lunch. We stayed much further back from the edge of the overlook this time–the image of that overhang was still fresh in my mind. While we feasted on our wild-caught smoked salmon, carrot sticks, and apples, the dogs chewed happily on pigs ears. Tisen had to be convinced it was edible. But once he got a good grip on it, he was sold. Good thing–he’s allergic to salmon.

Tisen enjoys a tasty treat at the top of Stone Door

Descent Below Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 29, 2012

Once we reached the bottom of the Stone Door, we continued downward beyond both sets of manmade stairs. If we’d been feeling more in shape, we might have gone all the way to the bottom of the valley. However, it was Christmas Day and we weren’t prepared to make the return climb back up, so we limited our descent to a distance we could comfortably climb back up.

The path went through fallen outcroppings of rocks. Rough natural steps were formed (or maybe occasionally placed) from the fallen limestone. But the steps were uneven with cracks and slippery spots. I nearly fell on more than one occasion while working my way down one of the larger rocks. All I could think was “protect the camera.”

When we reached the point we decided would be the end of our descent, we stopped and looked back. The outcropping we’d been standing on earlier looked a little more frightening in the context of the enormous chunk of fallen rock we’d just scrambled down–particularly when we saw just how much that overlook juts out from the cliffside.

An example of a rock shelf that looks like it will slide off down the hill at any time

Looking back at the overlook we’d been standing on, we realize how much of an overhang their is

So much of the stone looked like it was precariously perched, just waiting for the wind to pick up enough speed or water to pour down hard enough or lightening to strike or a few too many hikers to jump up and down on the overlook to break free and find its way down to the valley below.

Tisen and Twiggy were unimpressed by the scene. They were busy searching through the leaves for interesting new scents. Did they find evidence of a bear? Perhaps just a deer. Whatever smells they found, they buried their noses in them and wagged their tails feverishly.

Thankfully, Pat had them back on leashes and was able to keep them from running off on down the valley tracking whatever scent they’d picked up. To be honest, Twiggy probably knew exactly what scent she’d found–she’s a true hunter. Tisen was more likely to just be imitating Twiggy, going through the motions, trusting that Twiggy had found something really good.

We stood gazing at the fallen rocks with trees growing out of them and tried to guess how long those rocks have been lying there. I have no idea how to guess how old the trees decorating them are–they could be 20 years or 100 years old. The rock no longer looks like a disaster scene but rather like it’s settled into the earth it met with some time ago. The sharp edges have softened and fissures have opened in the rock, allowing for more trees to grow.

I like this metaphor. A big crash that seems like total destruction creates a place for new life to flourish. Lichens cover the rocks. Leaves decompose on and around the stone, creating rich new soil. The rock collects and redirects water into the fissures, watering the seeds the have fallen in the cracks. Life reclaims the fallen and uses them anew.

Through the Stone Door

Posted by dkrashb on December 28, 2012

When we went to Stone Door for our Christmas hike, we decided to go a bit further than the last time we visited. On our previous trip, we had a second hike scheduled and didn’t have a lot of time to spend at Stone Door.

This time, having no other destination and not having worked up an appetite for lunch yet, we decided to take the steps down through Stone Door to see what it was like from below.

The steps, I’m sure, have been improved since ancient civilizations used them long ago. The rocks look to have been cut and placed for easier access. This does not, however, make them an easy descent. Especially not with two dogs on leashes. Fortunately for me, Pat took the dogs ahead and carefully made his way down the steps while I took some shots from above.

Twiggy takes the lead down the Stone Door steps

Pat holds on to the Stone Door frame while working his way down with the dogs

The way down was made more treacherous by the water dripping on the rocks. Slippery in places, steep, and uneven, I had trouble making it safely while protecting my camera from dripping water. Good thing Pat had the dogs.

At the bottom of the stone steps, I paused to take a shot back up the crevice. The “pitcher handle” at the top of the steps is a misshapen tree that looks like it might have been one of the forces that originally pried apart the rocks (not really, but its shape is pretty mysterious).

A tree forms a pitcher handle at the top of the Stone Door steps

The stone steps only took us down about 50 feet or so. The river at the bottom of the valley was still well below and out of sight. We continued down a bit further, curious to see if we would have a view of the river.

Once through the Stone Door, a big chunk the rock face has slid down the mountain, leaving a flat spot. The park added wooden stairs for the next section of the descent.

At the bottom of the Stone Door, wooden steps make for easier access

We had a bit of a dog logistics issue at this point. About half way down the stone steps, Pat had let the dogs off their leashes, feeling it was safer for all. They decided to go around the wooden stairs and headed off on a rock that came to a dead end over a big drop. I got a little frantic that they were getting close to the edge and in calling them, caused Tisen to panic and, instead of meeting us at the bottom of the stairs, which would have been easiest, he decided to leap up the 4-foot retaining wall to get back to my side as quickly as possible. He did a belly flop into the wall on the first attempt. He made it the second time and showed no signs of injury, so we allowed ourselves to snicker a little.

Tisen flopped into the retaining wall trying to jump back up to get to the top of the steps

We all made it to the bottom of the stairs together safely. We stood for a few minutes looking back at the rock face we had just come through. I imagine the stories if it could talk!

Straight, even, and not slippery, the second section of the descent went much more smoothly

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
	1	2	3	4	5	6
7	8	9	10	11	12	13
14	15	16	17	18	19	20
21	22	23	24	25	26	27
28	29	30	31

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