woods – J. Parker Nature Stories

2020/07/04 Jumping John Rock is a Gas, Gas, Gas

I wasn’t sure I could go. I was pacing, or at least the best approximation I could do, back and forth in our hotel room, testing out the injured foot that would need to have far more than the 20 hours I’d give it to recover from the nasty turn I had given it on the Flat Laurel Creek Trail. It really wasn’t good. My foot had swollen so much through the gaps in the compression sleeve that I was wearing that the edges nearly cut my skin. I wasn’t sure I could walk down to the car, and was half hoping Jess would push me a luggage cart. I could barely make it from bed to bathroom, and yet in less than an hour I was hoping to tackle a 7 mile, 1100 foot elevation gain hike.

In normal times I might have heard the fat lady sing. But these were covid times, and the fat lady’s performance was canceled as it was against CDC regulations.

2020/07/02 – Abrams Falls

We were stuck in traffic. This may not have been uncommon if we were back in Orlando, where we have the happiest congestion on Earth, but that’s not where we were. We were waiting on the entrance road to Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains, an entirely new opportunity to inhale carbon monoxide fumes and allow your middle finger to get some exercise. It seemed apocalyptic; cars stretched in either direction as far as we would see. They were releasing women and children only. The vehicle in front of us had long since resorted to cannibalism.

2020/06/29 – Little River of Big Wonders

Step by step I worked my way up the gradual incline, trekking poles assisting me to make the burden of each step just a little less. The sound of two feet and the knobby end of two poles constantly pushing off the ground filled the air with the distinctive sound of crunching dirt. There was another sound permeating the air; that of the heavy breathing of the three people enjoying this hike with me, my wife Jess and our friend John and his wife Lauren, making their first trip to the Great Smoky Mountains. I paced onward, practically oblivious to their plight, my overriding concern being to push the group forward to minimize the possibility of us getting caught in a significant thunderstorm, something I had experienced before and wanted to protect my less experienced friends one. If I may be excused for being oblivious to the physical struggles of my group, one must understand that it almost unfathomable that I could outhike anyone; for in the days and weeks leading up to our Smoky Mountain trip, I had legitimately barely been able to walk.

2017/10/21 – Black Mountain Magic Woman

Somewhere in front of us was a mountain. Not that we could see it, but we were taking it on good faith that it was there. I don’t know why, considering the Blue Ridge Parkway signage had been rather inconsistent this summer of 2011, but we were. We could definitely see the base of it, but impenetrable mist shrouded much of the top. And that top seemed to be enormously high – far higher than I had ever imagined could occur in Appalachia. Not that I had ever spent much time imagining the tallness of Appalachia. I was from Florida, after all, where the largest hills nearby are landfills (one might think I am joking. But it’s pretty much true). This massive peak was beyond anything I would have expected. It was mysterious, foreboding, fantastical. For a second I thought I might have been in Alaska, and that was only partially because I would end up in the hospital later that night with a systemic infection.

2017/10/19 – The Wonders of Linville Gorge (Table Rock and the Chimneys)

“The last mile to the parking area is very steep”, one of several trail guides I referenced had warned. Well, they weren’t joking. At least it was paved. The serious nature of this ascent mean that after miles of rustic roadway, you suddenly found pavement again. That made the road feel much safer in much the same way that duct tape always provided reassurance when one was on a poorly maintained fair ride.

2017/10/16 – Three Falls at Dupont State Forest

In my haste I allowed the filter to slip out of my fingers in the wet conditions, striking the rock with a force no filter was designed to sustained. One look at it confirmed its days of usefulness were at at end, and in a moment of anger and frustration I chucked it as far as I could see. Jess saw what I had done and raced over to scold me, and she was right. I had littered the forest, though that wasn’t my intention and the consequences of what I had done didn’t even pop into my head at the time. But as I said before, I was angry. (There’s a popular saying that it’s impossible to hike in the woods and be angry. That person clearly never hiked with a photographer).

2017/10/15 – Trial at Tallulah Gorge

Jello leg. That’s what you call it when your legs are so tired the soft tissue has lost all strength and has simply become a gelatinous mass, and you rely on the structure of your bones, any assisting devices such as railings, and sheer willpower to ply your way up the remains of whatever inclineContinue reading “2017/10/15 – Trial at Tallulah Gorge”

2017/10/14 – High Falls State Park

I felt a pop in my hip as my right leg hit the ground with a lot of force. Clumsy me, I had tried to get out of my chair quickly and tripped over the mobile home sized box of Gold Fish I had left sitting on the floor. With my cat-like reflexes, I kept my balance and managed to avoid tripping. Unfortunately, I didn’t have cat-like joints, and I placed far more force on my hip joint than it was designed for according to the owner’s manual. I didn’t feel any pain, but I knew from the pop and knowing how hard I had landed that I might have an issue on my hands…er well..hip. But as I stated before, I’m clumsy, and I combine that superpower with what doctors have told me is a high pain tolerance. At any given time I generally have between 2-5 potential injuries, none of which ever really hurt that acutely, and I can usually only tell the bumps and bruises from the tears and fractures after 4-6 weeks of things kind of hurting for a bit. I logged that pop and new weakness in my hip in my mental inventory of potential injuries and moved on with my life, knowing that a genuine injury was bound to find a way to distinguish itself and make its mother proud.

2019/11/04 Raven Cliff Falls and Duke Creek Falls

As humans we are biologically conditioned to judge things based on endings. We place an unbalanced weight on finales. It doesn’t matter how good things were leading up to it. A TV show can deliver deliver eight seasons of captivating, acclaimed programming, and then become subject of derision and ridicule over a lackluster final episode. The New England Patriots can go 18-0 leading up to the Super Bowl and everyone will still think its hilarious when they lose the last game of the year. To Eli freaking Manning. We expect endings and signature moments to help make sense of this cold, cruel world.

“Huh” was all I had to say as I reached the namesake and terminus of the Raven Cliff Falls Trail. That is not exactly a ringing endorsement.

2019/11/03 – Panther Top Tower

My ascent up the trail was greeted by the pleasant sounds of nature. My feet on the dirt. Gun shots. Wind rustling through the trees. Gun shots. Small animals rustling in the brush. And gun shots. So many gun shots. Nothing but gunshots. Drowning out all other sounds. Gun shots. There’s a shooting range just downhill of this place. It gets LOUD. Though the sounds of bullets piercing the air interrupted what would have been a peaceful walk in the woods, I felt comforted to know that I would be so protected should any dangerous situations arise.