jparkernaturalflphotographer

2019/11/03 – Trouble at Turtletown Falls

I ran my windshield wipers. They glided gracefully over the surface of the ice. They may have even performed a triple axel. What they never did was move a single particle of ice. So that didn’t work. The towel didn’t work, though I supposed I could have thrown it in. Suddenly, I had an idea.

2019/11/02 – Ascending Brasstown Bald

I eased off my break and attempted to get to my gas pedal as quick as possible. I was on an incline and had to be sure I didn’t roll back too far, lest I roll into the vehicle behind me. I hoped that they noted the Florida license plate on my vehicle and allocated me a little extra space than they would usually provide. I needed it. I wasn’t sure how people managed this in the mountains. Do they keep one foot on the break and hit the gas with the other foot? I wasn’t sure. But I would have ample time to try out any method I could conceive of, for I was stuck in traffic roughly half a mile long leading up to Brasstown Bald, Georgia’s highest point. (I guess that would mean I was also stuck in Georgia’s highest traffic jam, for whatever that’s worth).

2019/11/02 – Hike Up Blood Mountain

I looked up, but I didn’t like what my eyes saw. The hill stretched as far as I could see. Hundreds of feet in the air the trail weaved a serpentine path up the hill, and dozens of tired people littered its path (unfortunately sometimes literally), bestowed in bright colors of neon green and pink, ostensibly to try and ward off hunters. Or maybe to make it easier to find the body in the woods, I’m not sure. One might have called it a stairway to heaven, except it was going to feel like hell. Gravity pulled me downwards while my insatiable curiosity for spectacles lied at the top of that hill pulled me upward. Such is hiking; moments of physical discomfort, boredom, terror, all endured so one can satisfy curiosity and enjoy the natural rewards of a trail in an organic way that driving to a scenic spot could never provide.

2019/11/02 – Exploring Amicalola Falls

My legs screamed in protest. My lungs strained, for Floridians are neither well versed in cold air or the concept of going uphill. My pack felt heavy. It didn’t just feel heavy. It was heavy. An obsessive planner, I made sure my pack was stocked with every lens, drink, snack, and backup camera I might need on a long foray out into the wilderness. Except I wasn’t going to the wilderness this morning, I was going to one of Georgia’s busiest state parks. My body shuddered at every step I took up the long stairway I had embarked upon. In my head, one phrase rang out repeatedly. Cloudland Canyon. Cloudland Canyon. Cloudland Canyon.