Stone Door Christmas

Posted by dkrashb on December 27, 2012

What does one do for Christmas when one is far from family? Well, we decided to go hiking. This is not so far removed from what we normally do on Christmas. Although we were without my brother, sister-in-law, and nephews, we normally at least go for a walk on Christmas if not an out-and-out hike.

This year, we decided to undertake a slightly more strenuous outing. Not a lot more strenuous, mind you. We opted for a relatively easy and short hike given we’re a bit out of shape these days. Plus, with Twiggy staying with us over the holiday, we weren’t sure what she would be like on the trail.

Wanting a low-stress outing, we decided to revisit Stone Door in the South Cumberland State Park. The walk from the parking lot to the main overlook is only about a mile and the first portion of the trail is paved and wheelchair accessible.

We layered up although it was in the low 50’s here on Christmas day–the wind was strong enough to make it feel cooler. We’d actually planned ahead for once and had provisions for a special Christmas picnic with wild caught smoked salmon, deli rolls, and cream cheese.

Twiggy’s mom had also provided a care package for the dogs for Christmas, so we packed pigs ears and lamb sausages for them to snack on. The care package also included two new toys–a white fluffy ball for Twiggy and a squeaky green reindeer for Tisen.

Tisen claimed the white fluffy ball instead and wouldn’t let Twiggy near it. Notice the ball next to Tisen’s head while riding in the car.

Tisen uses Twiggy’s new toy as a pillow while Twiggy snuggles with Tisen’s Big Dog

Stone Door is one of the more surprising places near us–at least to us. The drive from Chattanooga to Stone Door is beautiful in and of itself. The highway winds its way through the tree-covered mountains and through Nick-a-Jack lake, making the hour plus drive enjoyable in and of itself. Then, the first overlook on the Stone Door trail is a breath-taking experience, even though you don’t have to leave asphalt to get to it. It’s the kind of scenery that I grew up thinking you had to travel a long way to see.

An easy-access spectacular view

From the easy-access overlook, you can see the rock outcropping where the Stone Door overlook starts

Further down the trail, the top of the Stone Door (which is really a crevice that has provided a path down to the valley below for thousands of years) affords even more breath-taking views.

Cliff-side trees always impress me–good thing they’re not afraid of heights

This tree seems to have given up the ghost, but it still clings cliffside

I sometimes get a little closer to the edge than I’m really comfortable with–unlike the trees, I am afraid of heights

Between the rocks, a huge hole provides a window to the valley below

This is the kind of rock that makes me suspect the ledge I’m standing on is really jutting out over the cliff–makes my knees weak

The “gulf” seems to go on forever

The mostly limestone geography creates spectacular outcroppings

What I love the most about the Stone Door overlook is the sound. We sat on the stones at the top of the cliff and just listened for a while. The only sounds we could hear were the wind blowing through the needles of many evergreens and the river tumbling down the valley far below, out of sight. It’s a magical experience to close your eyes and feel like you are air and water and know that life is good. Seems pretty appropriate for Christmas.

Even Tisen and Twiggy seem impressed by the view

Looking back at the mountain from the overlook provides this view

Tisen freezes for me for just a moment

6 Years

Posted by dkrashb on December 22, 2012

As I write, it’s December 21st. The end of the Mayan calendar. The winter solstice. And, our 6th wedding anniversary–aka, “17 ½ years since our first date.”

Pat and I are apart today. He is in Columbus for the unveiling of a guitar he’s been building. I am left alone to ponder our six years together as a married couple.

The most repeated question my husband has asked me for the past 17 ½ years is, “Why do you love me.” In honor of our sixth anniversary, here are six reasons I love my husband.

We have things in common. Having something we both love to share makes staying connected a little easier. This was taken last year at one of the knobs in the Cherokee National Forest when we went to Snowbird Lodge for Thanksgiving weekend.
Standing on a Knob in Cherokee National Forest just outside of Great Smokey National Park
He’s willing to try things because I like them. Sometimes, we have divergent interests. But Pat can rally around part of one of my interests and share some of it. For example, he can’t get into birds in general, but he really loves raptors. This allowed him to enjoy a Raptor Experience, which was a dream for me and of only slight interest to him. I love when he doesn’t just “suffer through,” but genuinely enjoys something he would have never done if he didn’t love me.
Pat holding Artie, a physically challenged Barred Owl that cannot survive in the wild.
He loves dogs. It’s not about the dog as much as it’s about the man. A man who cannot empathize with creatures dependent on humans are usually men who are insecure, brutal, or psychopathic. While there may be other reasons not to like dogs, it’s not something I can really understand.
Pat cuddling Tisen shortly after he came to live with us.
He enjoys learning new things. My husband is a rare combination of inventor and explorer. He loves to tinker, experiment, figure out. Occasionally, he takes on a new adventurer. When we moved to Chattanooga, he repeatedly mentioned hang gliding–he really wanted to learn. In this case, I tried something new just because he wanted to. We both had a great experience learning. He swears he will fly again when he gets things more stable at his business. I don’t really care. I just enjoyed learning with him.
Pat gets set for his first mountain launch.
He has a sense of humor. This should probably be number one for me. I am incapable of loving a man who has no sense of humor. Fortunately for me, my husband is not only hilarious, but he thinks I’m funny at least half of the time I think I’m funny. I can’t imagine spending my life with someone who never gets my jokes.
How many husbands would understand why this shot was funny when originally posted with a bunch of photos of the moon?
He’s so smart, he can solve anything. He’s brilliant with any kind of mechanical issue. This goes back to #4. I often call him MacGyver. He could escape captivity with a pack of matches, a stick of gum, and a string. His brilliance is what I most admire about him.
I don’t have a photo of Pat problem solving, but can’t you just see in his face that he’s coming up with some new amazing invention?

There you have it. Six reasons I love my husband.

I love you, honey. Thanks for sticking it out with me.

Giving Thanks

Posted by dkrashb on November 23, 2012

Thanksgiving is the most important holiday of the year to me these days. It’s a holiday that isn’t overloaded with expectations, can be celebrated with little effort (for those of us who don’t cook), and usually offers the opportunity to reflect on all that is good in life.

It’s the last part that makes this a special holiday. It’s always easy to find something to complain about. Yet complaining rarely makes me happy. On the other hand, remembering what I have to be grateful for fills me with the sort of joy that both reminds me how good my life is and makes me sad that not everyone can find a long list of things to give thanks for.

In giving a little more thought since yesterday’s post to my gratitude list for Thanksgiving this year, here is what I came up with on my second attempt. I am grateful for:

Friends and family who accept and love me with all of my shortcomings, laugh with me when I laugh, laugh at me when I deserve to be laughed at, and remind me that the greatest joys in life often come in the smallest gestures when they’re least expected.
A world so full of wonder that I could live a thousand lives and still not come close to exhausting the potential to be awed and amazed.
The extraordinary number of people in the world who believe that kindness is more important than being right, justified, recognized, or fair. Examples: A friend of mine picks up other people’s dogs’ poop in the park. A neighbor walked across the street with a trash bag one day and start picking up the trash left behind after a marathon. A woman across the street stood on the corner asking passers-by if anyone recognized a puppy who had been hit and killed, wanting to inform the owners. Every day there are people taking care of others in ways that often go unnoticed. I am grateful to be surrounded by inspiring people.
The abundance of food that makes it possible for me to have to watch my weight. I am sometimes ashamed that not everyone in the world has the same access to basic resources like food. But for today, Thanksgiving Day, when we Americans traditionally feast until we burst, I set aside my guilt and simply feel incredibly grateful to have had the fortune of being born in a part of the world where food is plentiful and affordable.
Finally, technology. It gives me the opportunity to experiment with forms of personal expression like blogging and digital photography, the ability to make a living, and access to information from anywhere I have a cell signal. More importantly, technology connects me to people all over the world I would have never known about otherwise.

All-in-all, I am grateful I have the opportunity to live my life, to find my own path. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday.

True Colors

Posted by dkrashb on November 14, 2012

As Tisen and I stroll along Stringer’s ridge, my feet drag through a thick layer of leaves. As they crunch and swirl in front of my feet, I remember what fall meant to me as a child.

Halloween was, of course, central to the fall experience. Dressing up in some costume that never quite looked as glorious as I expected it to (except the year my mother cut and sewed her wedding dress into a Cinderella gown for my costume), parading through the yards of our neighbors to go door-to-door for halloween candy.

Even though it was a special occasion, we were only allowed to walk through the yards where adjacent neighbors had their porch lights on and were giving out candy. Some yards, we got to crunch our way through un-raked leaves while other yards were sparsely dotted only with leaves that had fallen in the past hour.

Stringer’s ridge has no gardener to obsessively clear the leaves away. They fall and create a weaving of color over the broken and dilapidated asphalt that marks the ridge’s recent history. As we leave the nearby urban residential area and enter into the preserve, the leaves become denser and the views become more colorful.

Tisen has taken his time getting here. Me with my camera stopping to shoot frequently had nothing to do with how long our walk has taken, I’m sure. Tisen needed to sniff and mark every mailbox on the way through the neighborhood. I tried to coax him on his way, but he insisted in at least making an attempt to leave his mark, even if it was only a gesture by the time we got to about the 10th mailbox.

As we crunch our way through the leaves now, I don’t hurry him, but I do occasionally try to get him to sniff a yard or two in one direction or another so I can shoot while he sniffs. I wonder how many photographers struggle to get the angle they want because they are walking a 70 pound dog who doesn’t always cooperate? Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m the one on the leash.

Given the slowness of our progress and my need to be somewhere in the near future, we take the shortest route to the overlook. It’s not an overlook in the sense that anyone built a structure or anything. But, they did clear a few small trees so the view of downtown was unobstructed.

I love this view. You can see the best part of the riverfront as you look across a sea of colorful trees. It’s hard to believe there are so many trees between me and home as I look down the ridge and across the neighborhood Tisen and I have just walked through.

I say a silent thank you to the good people of Chattanooga who had the foresight to make this a preserve and then we turn to walk home.

Sleeping In (nomadicmainstream.com)
Fall Impressions (nomadicmainstream.com)

Skin Problems

Posted by dkrashb on November 10, 2012

I have one last story from our wedding/elopement (that always seems like a fake word to me) to share with you and then I will return to current events in tomorrow’s post.

On the day after our “wedding,” we decided to go to Taliesin West–the Frank Lloyd Wright school of architecture that was out in the middle of nowhere the first time I visited in the early ‘90s. As of 6 years ago, it was on the outskirts of Scottsdale. Now, it may be in the middle of downtown.

I like Frank Lloyd Wright buildings when it comes to interesting places to visit. However, I wouldn’t want to live in one. For one thing, he apparently sized everything to make himself look taller. I am tall. I don’t feel the need to be made to look taller and I don’t really appreciate being forced to duck through doorways just because the man had a complex. It is a great tour, however.

Only about 5 miles away, McDowell Mountain promised a nice hike in the afternoon, so we took the long route back to the resort and made a stop at McDowell.

Mountains in Phoenix are like miniature versions of the mountains of the Pacific Northwest minus all the foliage and, of course, snow. Without the trees and snow caps, they resemble acne. The desert is suddenly, almost rudely, interrupted by a big old brown bump that looks like some sort of underlying infection caused it to swell above the surface of the landscape. I mean this in the most loving of ways.

While the sudden appearance of these bumps on the landscape might be somewhat odd, one of the great advantages of these isolated, suburban mountains is they afford amazing views across otherwise flat land.

How could we resist making the short drive to one of these pimples to check it out? Unfortunately, we didn’t really pack hiking clothes. We had many layers and waterproof jackets/pants for the Grand Canyon tour, but waterproof clothes are really hot. While it wasn’t scorching hot in Phoenix in December, it wasn’t “wrap yourself in plastic and hike up a mountain” cold. Having just come from Taliesin West, we were wearing our “good” clothes. We looked the paved, gently graded trail and decided we would be just fine.

For once, we were right. Although the climb got a little steep, we managed to make it to the top without sweating through our shirts too badly.

And the views were completely worth it. It was at that moment I realized why so many people move to Phoenix. That little pimple makes for quite an overlook!

Mt Hood and the Mighty Ducks

Posted by dkrashb on October 10, 2012

If the Tualatin River Wildlife Preserve wasn’t enough for one day, taking a drive up to Trillium Lake by Mt Hood sure did top it off nicely. Trillium lake has a lovely two-mile trail around it and we were promised a great view of Mt Hood by the internet, which is always right.

We decided to get there a couple hours before sunset so we’d have plenty of time to walk the two miles and pick out the perfect spot to shoot Mt Hood as the light changed.

We didn’t get there two hours ahead of sunset. In fact, by the time we parked and were walking to the lake, sunset was about 45 minutes away.

Thankfully, the best view of Mt Hood was about a 5 minute walk from the car. In fact, they built a deck there and put some benches on it so we could be comfortable while we watched the sunset.

Instead of sitting and relaxing, I got busy setting up the tripod I’d borrowed from my father and getting my camera ready to go. Moving quickly kept me warm–even with my many layers (a light fleece plus a leather jacket plus a huge, thick fleece borrowed from my dad), it wasn’t exactly toasty. The wind was whipping up a pretty good froth on the lake, meaning there were no glass-like reflections to be had of Mt Hood. But, it was still beautiful.

And, sunset took long enough that we had time to take a break from shooting the mountain to walk part way around to get up close enough to identify some ducks that eluded me.

After looking at them through binoculars, shooting them with a 400mm lens, and after enlarging the images to look closely at them, I’m pretty sure the little ones are Pie-billed Grebes and the larger ones are Ring-necked Ducks. I feel more certain about the Pie-billed Grebes than I do about the Ring-necked Ducks. They were fun to watch in any case.

We returned to the deck so I could shoot as the sun faded. The light turned amber and the mountain shifted from gray rock to glowing orange. The trees below timber line moved from green to purple on the color wheel. It’s almost hard to believe I didn’t change the tint or white balance between the early and late shots, but the sun did all that for me.

I kept hoping the wind would die and let me get one good shot of the mountain reflected on smooth water, but the wind only got stronger and I only got colder. About the time we were going to call it quits, we spotted two otters making their way towards us across the lake. This was the first time I’d seen wild otters anywhere other than the ocean.

Pie-billed grebes, check. Ring-necked ducks, check. River otters, check. Mt Hood at sunset, check. Definitely time to call it a day.

Tent Cabins

Posted by dkrashb on October 1, 2012

On our trip to Yosemite several years ago, we spent one night in a tent cabin at Tuolumne Meadows. This was long before the recent scare related to the Hantavirus infection in Curry Village. Plus, Tuolumne Meadows is a long way from Curry Village.

There are many differences between Curry Village and Tuolumne Meadows. Curry Village is located in Yosemite Valley, where the temperature is far warmer. It’s also the most popular part of the park, so Curry Village is larger and has more people in it. This results in a lot more noise and a lot more bears.

It’s really hard to get that many people to comply with rules about keeping anything scented in a bear locker. Even well-intentioned people overlook things like lost M&Ms in their cars or in pockets. Cars parked at Curry Village are often in danger of bear raids.

By comparison, Tuolumne Meadows is cold. It’s at a much higher altitude in a remote location above the valley, resulting in much cooler temperatures.

We were there in July–and it was even a warm July. We slept in sleeping bags rated to -10 degrees. We wore fleece, warm hats, and zipped our mummy-style bags securely around our heads to stay warm. Thankfully, the bags were warm enough even after the fire in our tiny, inefficient wood-burning stove went out. There is nothing about a tent cabin that is energy efficient, unlike our 2-person tent that can often get quite warm with our bodies in it.

But the advantage of the cold temperatures and more remote location is that it’s a smaller village with fewer, quieter people who tend to be more serious about hiking and more conscientious about storing their stuff properly. There are far fewer bear encounters in Tuolumne Meadows as a result.

Another advantage was that, because of the remote location and smaller number of people, they served a really awesome hot breakfast right in the village.

The biggest challenge we faced was identifying our bear locker in the long row of lockers. People used unique rock arrangements on the lockers to mark theirs. We made the mistake of remembering the rock arrangement on the locker next to ours, which had changed by morning.

Anything with a scent must go in a bear locker. This includes toothpaste, hair gel (if you happen to have brought hair gel), deodorant. If it could possibly smell like food to a bear, into the locker it goes.

The black canisters are a portable equivalent of a bear locker–all things with scent go in one on the trail. The Yosemite bears are so familiar with bear canisters they don’t even try to break into them if they see one that’s been properly closed. We left extra stuff that didn’t go on the trail with us in a bear locker at the trailhead.

There was often evidence a bear had checked out our campsites, but they’d always left quietly without disturbing anything.

1 Man Dead From Rodent Disease at Yosemite (abcnews.go.com)
Hantavirus in Yosemite: Ninth case reported in another visitor (latimesblogs.latimes.com)
Long Wait and Worry for Visitors to Yosemite (nytimes.com)
Yosemite shuts cabins at center of rodent probe (fresnobee.com)

Stringer’s Ridge

Posted by dkrashb on September 29, 2012

Among the many places in the vicinity of Chattanooga to hike, Stringer’s ridge is both new and old. It’s old in terms of having been there for a very long time. But it’s new in that a group is now working hard on creating new trails throughout the ridge area.

For us, it made a great Sunday hike when Pat was tired, having been on his feet all week working on building guitars. Instead of driving an hour and hiking a a strenuous path, we drove about 5 minutes to get to Stringer’s Ridge.

The area has many trails still under construction; they are marked with signs indicating they’re closed. But, in spite of the closures, we found a lovely loop open by following the deteriorating roadway that seems to be a remnant from when people had homes in what is now a preserve. It went from deteriorating asphalt to gravel, which was actually easier to walk on.

Where the road intersected several trails (most still under restoration efforts, but one open to traffic), it appeared someone had been expressing their artistic talents in wood. A collection of what appeared to be bird houses lined the main intersection. A giant sculpture of a hiking man created by creatively placing a forked log and adding appendages made a very cool trail marker.

We’re excited to see the progress. We could see some of the trails under construction winding their way through the woods below us and were certain they would be a great walk when they’re open.

We were also thrilled to discover the fantastic view of the Chattanooga riverfront and north shore areas from the South side of the ridge road. Who knew we could find such a view just minutes away from home?

Through the Woods

Posted by dkrashb on September 14, 2012

Stepping silently is impossible, especially in the woods. But under the refuge of a heavy rain, each step disappears, blunted and blended into the sounds of the rain. If ever I needed to escape or evade, I would hope for a downpour to hide my sound, my scent, my very presence, truly allowing me to leave no trace.

Perhaps it is the feeling of being encapsulated in a rain shower that causes an illusion of privacy. As we put one foot solidly in front of the other, I forget my companions. I look around in a panic realizing I haven’t heard Tisen’s familiar jingle for quite a few yards. He is close at my husband’s heels, still trying to keep his head dry by hanging out under the over hang of Pat’s pack. He hasn’t yet learned rain is its own kind of shelter.

Stepping through the rain becomes a meditation. I cannot hear my own breath nor even my thoughts. My mind has gone still and I focus on planting a trekking pole, placing a foot, planting the other trekking pole, placing the other foot. I feel the muscles in my arms flex as I push off the poles. I feel the twinge in my knee that threatens to turn into a sharp stab should I push it too hard. My shoulders are already screaming. I shift my focus back to my steps. I don’t think about the distance left or the distance behind. For those moments, I am my feet, my arms, my shoulders, my legs. My boots and the ground move together as if the earth moves with me and all of me has melted; I am the rain.

Then, it stops raining. My metaphysical moment evaporates even before the sun dares to break in through the clouds.

Returned to my more mundane reality, we find a spot to stop for a snack. I slide out of my pack and dump it, rain cover down, onto a log. It looks like an overturned turtle who has given up and stopped waving its legs.

I can’t remember ever enjoying trail mix so much as I enjoy it standing on the trail with a grumbling stomach, wondering if we will make it back without stopping for lunch. Tisen stretches out and opts for a quick nap while we finish eating our apples before strapping our packs back on.

Now, the wet forest demands my photographer’s eye. Every stretch of the trail reveals even more beautiful mushrooms. I do my best to capture some of them with my 24-70mm lens, but I wish there were such a thing as a weightless macro lens and tripod so I could get up close and not worry about camera shake.

We hike faster as we get near the end. My mind is no longer in the moment. I’m longing for when I can set down my pack and know I don’t have to pick it up again for a very long time.

Overlooked

Posted by dkrashb on September 13, 2012

Something I always seem to forget when I haven’t been backpacking in a while is just how badly I sleep. At first, I thought it was about equipment. I gave up on the ultra-light sleeping pad and invested in a Big Agnes inflatable mat. That was a nice upgrade. A big, thick, insulated, cushy air mattress that really didn’t weigh a whole lot more. I still didn’t sleep well. There are several factors involved:

Noises. These range from bears to my husband snoring (he claims it’s me), but there always seem to be noises I can’t ignore.
Fluids. I drink a lot of water when we’re hiking. Unfortunately, particularly in cold weather, this leads to having to get up many times in the middle of the night. The whole process of managing getting out of the tent and then wandering out into the cold and/or rain has a pretty significant impact on sleep.
Discomfort. Backpacking uses muscles that don’t get used while sitting at a desk all day. They don’t even get used in yoga class, rowing, biking, or the gym. These muscles start screaming as I struggle to find a good position for my head. At home, I sleep with two pillows to keep my neck and lower back comfortable. Perhaps I need to find light-weight pillows for backpacking.
Time Shift. When one backpacks, there is little to do at the campsite after dinner if there’s no fire. We rarely have a fire. In many places, it’s not allowed. In places where it is allowed, it’s often a lot of work. Sometimes, it’s just impossible. For example, when it’s pouring down rain. So, once dinner is over, the dishes are washed, teeth are brushed, the supplies are appropriately stowed, and fatigue from the many miles of hiking sets in, it’s bedtime. When bedtime is very early, this contributes to waking up throughout the night.

Rain suddenly pounding on the metal roof above our tent caused noise issues. No pillow and sharing a tent with both a man and a dog created discomfort issues. Going to bed at 7:30PM contributed to time shift issues. The only thing I did well was taper off on water consumption. None-the-less, I felt like I’d gotten no more than 15 consecutive minutes of sleep all night.

I think Tisen felt the same way–he wouldn’t get out of the tent in the morning.

But, we made it back on the trail eventually. On the way back, we discovered Tommy Overlook, a highlight of the trail we’d missed in the heavy rain the day before. We were making good time on the trail–all of us walking double-time in some unspoken agreement that we wanted to get home as fast as possible. We stopped for a good 15 minutes to enjoy the view of the 3 gulches converging. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would look like in a few weeks when the trees are in color.

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Combining living on the road with a mainstream lifestyle

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