A Snapshot and The Scoop: Little Hands

I love raccoons! I know they're grabby, thieving little bastards who have a tendency to be aggressive, but they're ridiculously smart and completely adorable. Imagine my delight when I came across a whole bunch of their little pawprints on a low bridge over still water while on my hike in Big Thicket. My brain instantly conjured up a little scene of this woodland cutie clinging to the bridge as it dipped whatever it had scavenged in the water below, washing it's food before transfering the tasty morsel into its mouth and setting its wet paws on the bridge, leaving little pawprints in the thin layer of dirt covering the wood. I had fun with that mental image for a while as I hiked, quickly morphing it into a fairytale fantasy of woodland creatures swarming to me a la Snow White or Cinderella. *Sigh* I can be a total romantic some times...

Leave me a comment below and let me know if I'm alone in the world regarding my fairytale fantasies... Help me out here, people!

Pushing Limits

Self-assured. As the sun rose, tree limbs above my head began to thaw and the frost encircling them rained down on me like glitter. The morning was brisk, hovering right around freezing, and my breath puffed out as smoke in front of me as I picked my way over a carpet of fallen leaves and scattered pine cones, with occasional downed branches and tree trunks strewn across the trail. I heard woodpeckers knocking on the trees, waking up the forests of Big Thicket National Preserve on one of autumn's final days. I had left my home early in the morning and drove a few hours south, intending to day-hike in the Turkey Creek Unit of the preserve, an area in Texas I had yet to explore.

The trail through the thicket was well maintained, if a little bit muddy in places. A couple of times I was forced to bushwhack on the edge of the trail around pools standing water that looked a little too deep for dry feet. I moved quickly along the relatively flat trail that wound through cypress wetlands and dry long-leaf pine groves, paralleling Turkey Creek itself. Even though it was mid-December, green leaves still flourished around me and I constantly stopped to take pictures of the trail. I'm a sucker for trail photos; nothing says "I was actually here" than taking a picture of the trail you're hiking to show people back home. Every turn and twist in the trail brought a new scene, even if was mostly of trees and water. Sometimes the trail opened up into park-like vistas, sometimes the trees closed in tightly on the trail, reminding me of walking down a long hallway or through a tunnel.

Somewhere along the trail, after I'd been hiking for several hours, I turned down a short side-trail that took me to a grassy savannah and a promise of Pitcher Plants. One of several carnivorous plants in Texas, these intriguing plants were everywhere along the boardwalk, and I spent a long time examining them before I finally moved on and continued my hike, though I'd like to go back in the summer and see even more.

For someone who adamantly enjoys solitude, hiking Turkey Creek in December, even on the weekend, delivered. I saw a grand total of five people (and five dogs) on my entire hike, which shattered my previous distance record for the 3rd time in a year, though it didn't take me nearly the amount of time some of the other hikes have. I'm going to have to say I like living and hiking near sea-level. Not only did I hike farther, faster, but it was also incredibly nice weather for someone who is used to snow and below-freezing temperatures in Demcember. Although the frost on the ground and lack of leaves on most trees reminded me that it was wintertime, the day I hiked felt more like autumn and I was shedding layers before long.

I hit my halfway point before noon and turned back, slowing down a little bit and enjoying myself. I had been concerned about having enough daylight to hike the almost 20 mile trail, but hitting my turnaround point less than halfway through the day allowed me to take my time on my way back. As I got closer to my car I definitely started feeling the miles in my knees, and internally kicked myself for letting it be so long between then and the last time I'd hiked (which had been the last time I'd broken my distance record back in September). I hobbled along the last half-mile or so, limping a little bit and slowing to a crawl. I didn't quite hit the 20 mile mark, although if I had circled back up the trail and walked back to my car I would have. That hike wasn't the one though, and I collapsed into my car after fumbling with my pack to find my keys. I was exhausted and out of practice, but still pleased that I had pushed myself and broken my own record again. Next time, I'm hitting that 20 mile mark.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: There are Carnivorous Plants in Texas!

On my recent hiking adventure in Big Thicket National Preserve, somewhere on my 19.65 mile route I took a short stroll along a boardwalk set above a marshy savannah, among which grew the most intriguing plants I've ever seen: Pitcher Plants! These plants are carnivorous, trapping insects in digestive enzymes that allow the plant to obtain nutrients from its prey. They don't move like a Venus Fly Trap, but they stand tall among the grasses of the marsh and draw the eye. They were everywhere, and even in the middle of December only a few were wilted from the morning frosts. Now I want to go back during the summer and see how they thrive!

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you've ever seen pitcher plants, venus fly traps, sundews, or any other carnivorous plants!

Why I Travel and Hike Solo

Deliberate. I know I've written a little about this subject before, but going solo is important to me as a person, especially because I'm a girl. I'll leave the sociology and psychology of women to other writers, but I'll tell you right now that nobody on the planet is going to stop me from travelling and hiking alone. I have a boyfriend who encourages me to pursue my passions and his only words of caution revolve around bears and yetis. He has never once told me not to go on a trip, that it's too dangerous for me, that I should stay home where it's safe. He's not the only male in my life who encourages me like this. My dad is mostly responsible for my wanderlust, and he taught me everything I knew when I first started travelling. It's because of Dad that I love spending time in my car, and he's the one who took me on my first hiking trail.

Going solo has so many benefits, I'm amazed that more people don't travel alone more often. Not even necessarily hiking alone, but just travelling alone in itself is awesome. Now, what follows are my personal preferences regarding why I travel and hike solo, but they're seriously good reasons for you to give it a try yourself!

I like solitude. I'll say it again: I. Like. Solitude. I love alone-time, me-time, whatever else you want to call it. I love the time it gives me to quiet my mind and think, which I can't get when I'm with a companion. I usually feel like I have to make conversation with my companion, although there are a few people where that obligation doesn't exist. Going solo also means I can do whatever I want whenever I want, without consulting another person. I don't have to make sure their needs are being met, or worry about whether or not they're having a good time. Travelling alone encourages me to trust myself and my instincts, and to be self-reliant especially when camping alone. There's also this nasty little monster that travels everywhere with me called being self-conscious; sometimes a shower isn't available for a few days, and sometimes I like to belt out the Frozen soundtrack at the top of my worst voice (I'm not the only one and I know it). Not only do I have all of the above reasons, but sometimes there just isn't anybody to go with; if I waited for someone to be able to travel with me, I'd only go on a small handful of trips, instead of the 16 I took in 2014 and the 18 I took in 2015.

As there is with everything, there is a negative side to travelling alone. There's nobody to consult with if I'm unsure of my path or I'm being indecisive, and there is nobody to help me if I were to ever get seriously injured (sorry Mom). Travelling alone means there's nobody available to take pictures of me/for me, although a tripod, timer and remote go a long way to helping that situation. And finally, there's nobody for me to blame if I get lost, like I would ever blame anybody but myself for that mistake!

As you can see, I've got a whole hell of a lot more reasons to travel alone than reason I have not to. Travelling alone is a personal preference that I'm just beginning to explore, and I do enjoy travelling with or meeting up with companions when I adventure. Sometimes, though, I just want to go alone.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Tracking Predators

It's not very often that I get to see evidence of predators while I'm hiking. Sure, there are occasional occurrences like the time I found massive piles of bear shit on my trail in the Smoky Mountains, and I'll sometimes stumble upon coyote scat, but I don't get lucky enough to see the pawprints of predators. That is, until I went hiking at the Turkey Creek Unit of Big Thicket National Preserve, where I saw an entire unbroken trail of bobcat prints in the thawing frost covering a boardwalk. How do I know they were bobcat? First of all, no claw marks were evident, which is the main way you can tell the difference between canine and feline prints. Next, they were much bigger than your average house cat prints, but smaller than a mountain lion's. Finally, I see bobcat prints all the time at work; I know what they look like. It was neat to see the prints on my trail, especially because I know the bobcat can't eat me; mess me up, maybe, but it can't kill me. Maybe my luck is changing and I'll see more awesome stuff like this on my upcoming adventures!

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a time you saw the prints of animal, or any other evidence of them!

Cades Cove: A Wildlife Wonderland

 

Captivated. Cades Cove was by far my favorite area to see wildlife while visiting Great Smoky Mountains National Park this past September. I saw something each of the times I drove the loop. I've written about my first visit to the cove where I saw a bear here, but my other visits were just as fulfilling. Not only was there an abundance of wildlife, the whole area is full of log cabins, a mill house and old roads used by those who once called the cove home. Can you imagine what it would have been like to live there 100 years ago? Relying on yourself and your neighbors, able to get out of the mountains only by a few wagon roads pecked through the forests surrounding you.

On my second visit to the cove I just wanted to see another bear. It was getting towards evening and I knew I needed to get back to camp and get dinner going. I drove through rather quickly, and although I didn't see a bear I was treated to a coyote running across one of the fields, then right behind my car as he darted across the road and disappeared into the forests on the other side. Bear, coyote, same thing, right?

My next visit to the cove was actually thought out. I wanted to stop at each of the turnouts on the road, explore the old log cabins and see what the community that called these mountains home was like. I spent an entire afternoon there, going in to every cabin, climbing rickety staircases and entering the dark mill, where I purchased some cornflour ground right there in front of me. I also discovered a bat roost in one of the old cabins set back a little bit from the road. I noticed their droopings on the floor in a dark corner of the cabin and went over with a flashlight to investigate, and got real quiet when I realized they were bats. I showed the family who was also in the house with me, and they left rather quickly, leaving me to gaze at the tiny little faces that looked bewildered in the beam of my flashlight.

Yet another random side-trip through the cove was a little more productive; I saw another bear! A big male, from what the park ranger told me. He was far off the road in the forest, and since night was falling the photos I tried to take without flash didn't turn out, but that's ok. Bear number two! Cades Cove, you didn't disappoint.

My final trip through the cove couldn't be beat. I wasn't even on the cove loop road for fifteen minutes before I hit the traffic jam that indicated the presence of wildlife. Slowly but surely, the cause of the jam came in to view: a mama and a baby bear, right on the side of the road!!! They were engrossed in foraging for acorns and took no notice of the crowd of cars and people jammed tightly together, all trying to get photos of the adorable little ball of black and brown fluff. All too soon I was forced to keep driving, leaving the sow and cub to the people in the cars behind me. But I was ecstatic; I'd seen four bears, hadn't had any bad encounters, and it was my last day in the park. I finished the cove loop and left for my campsite. Content doesn't even begin to cover how I feel about my Adventures in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I can't wait to visit again!

What I'm listening to: Dumbledore's Foreboding by Nicholas Hooper

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Camping in December

I've lived in Texas for ten months now, and I'm still getting used to the weather. October felt more like September, November was definitely still Autumn, and December? Just wtf? I was able to go camping! No snow, temps never below freezing, and leaves still on the trees. It was awesome! I decided on a whim to camp at my local state park on a Friday night, which is located right on the road I take to get to work every day. Why haven't I done that before?! I had a fire, made a hot meal, and when I was done with those, went and read in my tent. It was exactly what I needed; pretty sure I'll be camping all throughout winter down here, and I love it!

Caves and Arches in the Appalachians

Casual. I wasn't in any particular hurry on my hike to Alum Cave in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and set my pace a little slower than my usual hiking speed. I had gotten out of bed early enough to ensure a parking space at the trail head for one of the more popular hikes in the park, and having secured the space, I was going to enjoy my morning.

This particular trail was undergoing maintenance when I visited the park, and they had it closed Monday-Thursday. I planned my hike for Friday, ensuring the trail would be open and I wouldn't run into any roadblocks. The morning was actually perfect, sunny and warm, with the light cutting between the leaves of the forest in ever-moving patterns and the mists rising off the mountains like smoke.

I wandered through the forest, following a mountain stream and crossing it more than once. It wasn't long before the trail started climbing, as it usually goes in the mountains. You almost always go up. As I turned a bend on the trail I stood facing what looked like a stream crossing, and a solid black rock wall. Then I noticed the stairs at the base of the wall, winding up into the rock and out of sight. I eagerly crossed the log bridge and stared up into "The Arch," a hole in the rock wall through which stairs had been chisled and cable rails had been attached. I started through the arch, admiring the work that had to have been put into such a trail, before I reached top and continued on.

I stopped often, pulling out my camera and snapping photos. I caught up with an older gentleman, who was using a cane as he hiked, and got to talking. I commended him on getting out and hiking on a beautiful morning and found out he was on a trip with a group of friends who take a trip in autumn every year, and have been for fifteen years. They had hiked ahead of him, but he didn't mind. I kept pace with him, exchanging travel stories. Eventually he stopped to rest at a gorgeous overlook and I kept going, promising to save him a spot at the Cave when I got there.

The path climbed sharply for the last half-mile or so, and it quickly became apparent why the trail was closed for maintenance. It was nothing short of a scramble up the bluffs to get into the cave proper. I was faced with a wide, shallow hollow in towering white cliffs over a hundred feet tall. I scrambled up the steeply sloping debris at the foot of the cliff which made up the floor of the cave, hundreds of years worth of decaying rock. I climbed all the way to the top of the cave and found a flat rock to sit on, stretching my legs and pulling out snacks. The gentleman I'd left behind entered the cave at the bottom, and waved when he spotted me, flashing thumbs up, before tearing into his granola bar.

Before long I was ready to hike back out and spend my sunny day elsewhere in the park; I was going to take full advantage if it wasn't going to rain. I waved goodbye to the gentleman as I departed and wished him luck with his future travels, and he returned the sentiment. The hike down didn't take me nearly as long as the hike there had, mostly because I was traveling downhill. I did get to see a couple of salamander on my trail, trying to stay under the leaves my boots disturbed. It was just a nice hike, on a nice day, and it couldn't have been better.

What I'm listening to: Dueling the Basilisk by John Williams