Go Wild in Tennessee: forest

Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts

Sunday, February 9, 2014

The Flavor of Seasons

Seasons flavor hikes.

Something wonderful happens when you go to an oft-visited spot and the scenery morphs - completely changing in every facet - based on the time of year you visit. Let's take my Snow Pocket. In spring and fall its raging waters beckon to kayaks (and hikes). In summer, the cool, deep pools call to casual swimmers, whisper of picnics, and sooth hike-weary feet. In the winter, the shades of water capture blues meant for far-off seas and the landscape transforms again into a stark and crisp reflection of itself.

It was fitting that the sky was spitting snow as we traversed the Snow Pocket. This hike - my longtime favorite - never fails to enchant me with childlike wonder. Its hard to not feel small and inconsequential when walking among the fallen titans of rock that still stand like great monolithic scars of bygone eras. This area is magical... an outdoor cathedral of

contrast. The scars of man-made walls, black coal-dusted soil, concrete foundations for long rotted bridges and open arches of mine shafts forcibly nudge reminders of an industrial area not long ago. But nature perseveres. She has taken back the land and slowly... methodically... she unmakes our "progress" and deconstructs our obsession for dominance.

The freezing temperatures provide new sights. The innocuous, normally unnoticed seeping trickles transform into spires that catch and hold the imagination as efficiently as they do the water. The far-flung spiked seeds of a sweetgum beg to tempt agony from less-protected feet. How can the same place - a place I know better than any single stretch of wilderness - have so many facets? How can her personality shift so eloquently?

My point - yes, I do have one! - is that you can't (or shouldn't) simply check places off of some proverbial "to do" list. Nature abounds with surprises... a good rain on a summer day can alter an entire landscape. Yes: Seasons add distinct flavors. Life isn't always about a "been there, done that" mentality. If you limit your experiences in nature to a single visit, you limit your scope of understanding and appreciation. Nature is like a dear friend... one that must be seen in different light, under varied circumstances, and having different temperaments to truly know her, to see her, and to allow her to share the depths of her splendor.

See more imagery from this trip:

Stephanne Dennis is an outdoor enthusiast extraordinaire. A highly skilled backpacker and apex predator specialist, she shares her love of the outdoors with her unrivaled writing skills and her faithful companion, Bandit McKaye, her Anatolian Shepherd. She is currently studying Wildlife Biology at Oregon State University and dedicates her time and skills to the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency and the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Foundation.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Patriarch

There are few things as splendid as following a lonely mountain road that twists and curves as it follows a meandering stream across the valley floor. That is, until you reach a trail head and begin a journey into a place where the loudest voice is the whispering wind chasing secrets through the seasoned bare branches of the trees.

A quick 1.3 mile jaunt brings me to a waterfall... the stubbornly relentless thrum of white cascades carving the timeless stone face of the falls. I lose myself in the sounds, focusing on nothing. Then a patch of too-green moss clinging to a dampened alcove in the rock draws my attention. To the side, an off-cast trickle seeps, dwarfed by the boisterous falls. Regardless of the differences, all of this works in a symphony to forge a basin that beckons to tired feet and sweaty brows. This is where most travelers stop, take their rest, and then return to their cars. But there is always more beauty bestowed on the less-traveled trail.

Where the asphalt ends and the trail continues, the anticipatory element of surprise calls like a long lost friend, drawing me onward. I am lost... not literally, but figuratively in the surroundings that bring me the most peace.

The forest.

The crisp smells of winter air.

The constant breeze that cools my skin and calms my heart.

I gaze around and the moss covered bones of once towering beacons of timber cause my pause. One more corner... just see what's there, around one more corner.

The bend in the trail is the one I was looking for, the one that enticed me to continue; I gaze in wonder at the stoic last virgin strand standing elegantly defiant against the odds. And there he was: The Patriarch among the elders. He was no longer a tree, he was a symbol of antiquity. His roots no longer staking a claim on the ridge but defining a mountainside. His bark a corrugated, fathomless shell giving testament of his age.

This wasn't a tree... this was a stark yet delicate poem that draws you in and moves you.

Savage Gulf - A Look Back at a Spring Trek

The South Cumberland and Savage Gulf offer a lot of options for the day trekker or for the serious hiker. With over 90 miles of trails and perfectly nestled between Nashville and Chattanooga, it's impossible to not consider Savage Gulf when looking for somewhere to go hike. The trails range from easy to very rugged and the lengths vary from 0.8 miles to 12.5 (one way).

Today we did a minor trek to Laurel Falls and Stone door. Laura Falls is so close to the ranger station that it's near impossible to not take the tiny .4 jaunt to see the falls. While they may be impressive during or after a rain, I was more impressed by the apparent sinkhole/mini-gorge that formed the falls than the falls themselves. Laurel Falls is a mildly challenging hike at worst, primarily because of the uphill slope on the way back to the ranger's station. However, the very short duration of the hike easily make's up for the small uphill.

From the ranger station the hike to Stone Door Bluff is about 0.8 miles one way. The trail is paved for the first quarter mile (to Laurel Overlook) and the remaining trail to the top of the bluff is quite maintained and very easily traversed. The bluff atop Stone Door offers a stunning view of the surrounding mountains. Keep in mind that there is no railing around the bluff, so one should keep a very close eye on kids, clumsy people like myself, etc. Also be sure that no one kicks/throws stones or anything from the top of the bluff as there are often climbers or hikers directly below. By my opinion, the hike to the Stone Door overlook is considered "easy".

The Stone Door is a really nifty structure with an absolute gem of a past (actually - there's amazing geological history to the region). The "Door" itself is a 10-foot wide crack in the sandstone rim that surrounds the entire valley and is, pretty much, the only easy way to get to the bottom. Tennessee State tells us that the 'door' was used by Native Americans as a means to get to hunting grounds. Walking through the seemingly tight expanse of rocks, one can feel the cool breeze and imagine the sounds of eons past. There are (wild guess) 75 stone steps that lead to the bottom of the door. The stones felt well placed and poles were not needed. At the bottom of the door, one can traverse down slightly further and then branch out to where the climbers would go. This section was rugged but very short (I believe there are steps created to go to this area, but a fallen tree made that a non-option). From the bottom of the bluff, one can feel a new appreciation for the 'do not throw/kick stones' sign above. The cool air blowing from the pitted areas of the bluff were a welcome feeling mid-day (the day we chose to go - May 30th - was unseasonably warm and hovering around 93-degrees).

As always, what goes downhill eventually has to go back uphill. We made the trek back up the steps and took another brief glimpse of the expanse of forests. It's worthy to note that while the area has never been logged, the trees don't grow to the grandeur that one may find in, say, Joyce Kilmer park in NC.

Overall the entire trek, including the unplanned trek around the base of the Stone Door Bluff, took no more than 2 hours (and, had we not stopped to bask in the sunlight on the bluff, likely 1-1.5 hours total). I would rate the Stone Door trail - including the steps to the base - to be 90% easy and 10% moderate. If you can't handle steps, then skip the aforementioned 10% and just enjoy the beauty of the bluff from atop.

Wildlife: We saw a very small black snake, typical squirrel, and a very gorgeous copperhead. We first came across the copperhead after a man coming out of the trail warned us of an "eastern diamondback that was across the trail up ahead". I snagged my cell phone (camera) and we trekked on. Not far ahead we discovered the "eastern diamondback" but rather than across the trail, he was nestled just at the corner of a wooden overlook 'pier'. The other embellishment was that he wasn't an eastern diamondback but, rather, a southern copperhead. Copperheads have a reputation as an 'aggressive' snake, but most of the time they are really quite docile. This little guy was maybe 1.5 feet long, so he was a young snake and hadn't found out the hard way that snakes laying on human structures don't usually have happy endings. So, I gently encouraged him to at least move to the grass next to the structure (he did with zero issue). On the journey back, I felt an urge to see if he had moved much and found the little guy peacefully wrapped up in a shaft of sunlight that was breaking through the trees. He was off the path (by a foot, maybe) so hopefully he remained safe. As for the hiker who said he was a diamondback?... I hope he learns to ID venomous snakes of regions he's hiking more throughly in the future. Never bodes well when, if it happened, someone tells the doctors you were bitten by the wrong poisonous snake. (And how someone mistakes a copperhead for an EASTERN DIAMONDBACK is beyond me... they [copperheads] get more often mistaken for corn snakes and vice versa, but at least those two resemble!)

My point of going to Savage Gulf today was actually to peruse the terrain casually as my next planned hike is the 25 mile (round trip), rugged Fiery Gizzard. I can't wait to review THAT one!

...Bring On the Fiery Gizzard! (wow... for some reason that makes me hungry)

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Being the Conundrum: Animal lover hunter?! - by Stephanne

There are a lot of people who may tell you that an "animal loving hunter" is an oxymoron. I'm not one of those people. There is a way for the two "extremes" to live harmoniously because, quite simply, its only in the extreme cases that it becomes an oxymoron - the norm is quite a different story. Before you get your eyebrows in a furrow at me, let me explain.

There's a sentiment often expressed by a lot of very vocal people that hunters are simply blood-thirsty. I won't say that hunting - like any facet of person or activity - doesn't have its own share of extremism. But, for the most part, it's actually quite different. I don't know a hunter that hunts simply to shoot things. I've heard of one once... but of the hundreds of hunters I know... I don't personally know one that is blood-thirsty. If you can give me the tiniest moment of your time, let me tell you about why *I* hunt, ok? I'll be brief:

I woke up at 4 a.m. and drove to the woods. The moon was a slim sliver of pewter arced in the night sky, providing only the idea of illumination. Its ok, I don't need the light. I know where I'm headed. I walk down a path my feet now know well, the soft crunching of damp fallen leaves under my feet and the mist hovering like an unearthly, glowing blanket. It never fails to amaze me how the mist swirls and dances when I exhale. I wish I could see the "wake" of it after I pass through it. I get to my destination, a wooden ladder climbing up a tree with a semi-comfortable seat at the top. I climb up, rope in, and settle into place, waiting for the horizon to erupt in an array of hues. Slowly the sky melts from the blackest blue to the shimmer of blue gray and, finally, the explosion of purples and pinks and oranges and reds that proclaims daylight has found me. It's during this time, when the sky is waking and the woods are still sleeping that is a magical time - the silhouettes of the trees standing stoically in the mist never ever fails to make me think of eras gone by... people who have shed sweat or tears or blood on these lands, natives creeping through the cover of that mist to provide for their tribe, even ancient predators using the cover of the mist to find prey. This scene is brilliantly new every time I see it yet older than I can fathom. Yes, it is magic indeed.

After the sky is alive and the fogs begin to burn away, I have already been sitting here - motionless - for an hour. I'm 20-feet above the ground and still I am the statue. The air is alive with sound: A cacophony of birds enliven the air, the scuttle of squirrels digging for the last of the acorns to store. Then I hear it. The determined trudge of 4 feet. They're distant. How many can I hear? I close my eyes... focus my hearing... three. I open my eyes, searching for the source of the sound. Then, slowly, I see them making their way through the woods. Its three... what... doe? I use a call to lure them closer. It works and they alter their course to head my way. As they near, I see it's a doe and two yearlings. Technically all 3 are legal and, right now, all 3 are entering into the one thing that makes bow hunting harder than any other type (in my opinion) - entering into the range where I feel comfortable taking a shot. But I don't raise my bow. I know that soon her yearlings will leave her side and start a life on their own, but right now I get more enjoyment from watching them nibble on leaves, completely oblivious that I'm even there. Later I do the same thing with a 4-point buck. That evening, as the light is waning, I see a large doe. She doesn't have any yearlings or fawns with her and she's only 35 yards away. I raise my bow, I aim...

I don't want to shoot because I am blood-thirsty or barely a step above a Neanderthal. I want to shoot because I have been outside all day (all day on numerous occasions, really), not looking for a trophy, but looking for food for my family that is organic, lean, and that I worked for myself. Could I have driven to the store and bought some steaks? Sure. But it's far less green (to use a term we all know). That deer is very green... no fossil fuel use to transport it, no agriculture to sustain its growth, no electricity to process it... Yes... this is as green as it gets.

People promote eating organic foods - growing their own gardens, composting, organic beef, etc... where is the difference in harvesting my own meat rather than that organic beef or pork or whatever? Only... mine is even more natural. And it bothers me when self-proclaimed animal lovers condemn me for being a "Bambi killer" yet they have leather seats and leather boots and a leather coat and eat things like veal. It makes my blood boil. I'm not saying this is all animal activists by any means... but sometimes people get a little too emotional about things on both sides of the fence.

The only thing that I'd ask everyone to do is maybe calm down a little and stop being so emotionally invested in name-calling and side-taking. There's lot of fights out there to engage in... there's many things worth while to involve in.... but animal activists (of which I am a member of many groups) and hunters (of which I am one) can be one-in-the-same.

So... when you have some free time, whether you're a hunter or an animal activist (or both)... do me a favor take a walk in the woods with just you and your trail supplies and consider how powerful of allies we could be if we wouldn't chastise or taunt each other with names... because a lot of us really are on the same side.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Melancholy and the Art of Distraction - by Stephanne

Today was supposed to be fun. Sort of... fulfilling. I woke at 6 a.m. with the intent of having a good day, one full of hiking in a splendid area and being all "official intern" collecting and analyzing bear bait stations by myself. I was ok at first; my daughter and my pup were going with me so it was a casual, fun day. I had my maps, I had the GPS, I had the ziplock baggies to seal in the "stanky" that I was off to collect. It was supposed to be fun. We were on the road by 7 and the weather was perfect (with a threat of uck that held off). However, about an hour up the road, in a little city called Rockwood... it dawned me:

This was the last day of the bear study for me and I was going it "alone"... and that would be the end of it for me... the last official tie... complete.

I tried to shake off the feeling of melancholy that was looming but... maybe because it has just been a really rough week, it wasn't budging. It actually got worse as I went. We hit the trail around 9 and huffed it up the mountain, agreeing that I'd gather the last bait station first to try and fend off the odors. On the way up, just before getting to the top bait station, there were hog tracks - fresh - all in the trail. I pointed out an older deer track to Jess and explained to her how to tell the difference. An hour later the station gathered, we were already headed back down.

When we were about halfway back Jess and Bandit took off, opting to follow the creekline which was far more scenic. I don't know why, but I didn't have the urge to follow. I stayed on the trail, ensuring I didn't get too far ahead of them every now and again (keen ears sure help) and collected station 3. I waited there... looking around at the lush and moss-covered surroundings with more sadness than awe... for Jess and Bandit to catch up. We again parted ways, me going back to the trail while they stuck to the creekline.

At station 2 they were waiting on me, the creek was the more direct route this time and I *may* have been distracted by three butterflies that created their kaleidoscope around me as I walked. I analyzed the

area and removed the bait and Jess asked if we could stop there to eat. Sure. Why not. Why was I in such a hurry to get off the mountain? We ate in virtual silence as Bandit played in the water. I cleaned up our mess and told Jess to head back to the trail with me since we were only a half-mile from the trailhead. We continued down the hill in silence.

Before I knew it I was at the end... or the beginning I suppose?... I collected the last bait station and we crossed the creek in our shoes. We all piled into the car and headed back. They slept on the way home and that was ok with me because I felt the urge to hide within myself... marvel at the joy that I recently felt as I gallivanted from mountain to mountain for days on end.
...the end of things... things, even while appreciative, you still find tht you didn't appreciate as much as you should have.

After we got home the skies finally caught my mood and the clouds let slip their hold on the rain. It was ok... rain masks so much.