Double Trouble

It is always some sort of fun and games for raft guides when we are on the river and one of our favorite rapids to joke around in on the Ocoee is called "Double Trouble". It is a prime location for making a fool of yourself or looking like a true rafting Jedi master. Double Trouble is a pretty sweet wave train. Basically, all the water in the river begins to pile up and the only place it can go is up by making huge waves. It is a straightforward run and risk is fairly limited, it is also a spot where we take photos on every run. So we do stuff like this:

-MG

Equipment Failure

It brings me no joy to announce that my laptop has become inoperable.  This will hinder my ability to update this page regularly in the near future. The issue does seem capable of being repaired. I will try, at least to offer y'all, post smaller entries that may link to larger material.

-MG

Jacks River Trail

This campaign,
year, after year,
season, after season.

Through forest and swamp,
through hill and dale,
through mountain and canyon.

In all the places I have fought,
what rewards were given,
what rewards were sought?

through the snow,
through the rain,
through the burning sand.

In times of heat,
in times of cold.

This time,
this battle,
a river.

Flowing she was.
Gently at times,
violently at times.

I trekked on,
step after step,
crossing after crossing.

After while the boots were removed from my feet.
Bare flesh intimately upon the earth.
With the mosses and the leaf litter beneath me.

She pushed hard,
I pushed harder.

Through the blackberry bramble,
through the laurel,
through the ivy.

Until I found myself,
at length upon my reward.

A great waterfall,
brilliant the cascade was.

And from there I found myself
walking in a great circle.

Searching,
searching,
searching.

That hopeful exit,
that vehicle of my return.

A return to civilization.
Where the mass of men carry on,
working, slaving.

Their misunderstood lives,
their misunderstood desires.

On their backs are carried the burdens of distinguished men.
The great ones being far and few between.
How they seek to be them.

But here in the wilderness,
one can be everything,
and nothing,
all at once.

-MG

Big Frog Mountain

Every day we drive to the river I can see this mountain watching over Parksville lake. It looms over all the others. Sometimes it is covered in the classic mist that is ever so recognizable in these southern mountains; the summit only known in imagination. Other times it takes the namesake of its home range, the Blue Ridge Mountains, and is paled to an azure color of the sky. It took me less than a week to find out it was Big Frog Mountain at 4,200' of glory. Before I knew her name, I desired to be on its peak.

My maps revealed that it was located in the Big Frog Wilderness, part of Cherokee National Forest. The other bit of information that I became privy to was that a trail went directly to the summit. That trail: The Benton MacKaye. A classic, shorter thru-hiker trail, a small section would prove my route.

The hike would take me up one of the forks of Rough Creek. I smiled when I saw the name "rough creek". Cartographers were highly creative back in the day. I have seen at least three other "rough creeks" in the Southern Appalachian.

I made my camp for the night at the start of the climb up the main ridge to Big Frog. It was gently situated near the creek and I continued with my current trend of tentless camping.

The following day's hike up the ridge was rather easy going. I would attribute this to my week of hard work and conditioning. My hike up Cheoha the previous week had been a smoker and really pushed my green legs. On this day I was strong, gaining over 1000 vertical feet an hour. The goddess Diana would bless me as I was fortunate to witness a black bear foraging on my ascent. The first I have seen in these mountains. Once back at the guide camp it was revealed to me that this wilderness area was a prime relocation spot for bears that had disrupted human activity in the past. I can neither fully confirm or deny this rumor at this point.

Once I had gained the main ridge it became a knife edge. Very narrow and rocky. At points I would have been unable to lay across it with all 6'1" of myself. I began to notice, much to my dismay, that I was forming a blister on my left heel. I never get blisters. In my entire hiking career I never had one. This day was different. I was wearing a new pair of boots, stiff boots and admittedly a size too small. I thought it would be fine but it wasn't. After applying moleskin and putting on two pairs of socks to cushion my overwhelming desire to summit pushed me on.

It was a classic experience in these hills. Even though I was precipitously placed high above the world I was enclosed in a dense hardwood forest and was given few opportunities to view the surrounding landscape. One spot, listed on the map as the "Chimney Tops" did have a decent rock outcropping that opened up to some reward. This, beyond finally reaching the summit, was the only reward given on that day.

The summit was equally unforgiving. If there had been a frog on the top of that heap of dirt, rocks and trees, it would have surely been huge due to the unfathomable quantity of black fly, house fly and myriad of other flying pests that called that place home. Promptly upon arrival I left. I spent a second to try to locate a USGS marker but deemed it not worth it. The confirmation of the trail intersection and my altimeter was enough to prove it was indeed the summit.

I possessed enough food, time and the ability to spent another night in the wilderness area but my blister had become quite poignant. I decided to rush the estimated 12-14 miles down and back to my Jeep. This proved a tiring endeavor. Once I reached my Jeep, the Endeavor, I was elated and comforted. But what was even more comforting was knowing that a hot meal and warm bed was only a 20 min drive away back to our guide encampment, and not 9 1/2 hrs back to New Orleans.

-MG

Saturday Night Movie: Call of the River

So I have been on this quest to document the history of paddling. I found this gem the other day. Many of the people interviewed in this one have been friends of some of my current teachers who I am studying under. It is so cool to come to understand that I am playing a part in this story. My fellow raft guides and myself are the next generation. We carry this torch; this is our inherited legacy. I am also lucky enough to have met and paddled with a few of the people in here.  Uh? Stoke?



COTR 67 WIDE 2014-Large 540p from Kent Ford on Vimeo.

-MG

Microcosm

(The Author)

In case you haven't noticed over the course of my posts, I am fascinated by the microcosm. It is absolutely amazing what you can find if you get on your hands and knees and look at a patch of earth. There is so much going on. Sometimes it is hard to comprehend.

Hope spiders don't creep you out because I love them. And I love to get CLOSE to them....

-MG.

In Bloom: A Hike Up Cheoah Bald

Last Monday the entire staff of N.O.C. had their seasonal orientation at the main campus in Wesser on the Nantahala River. It was a mild affair. We took a complementary trip down the Nanty with some of the founders of the company and this was the true highlight. Most of these guys had been on these southern rivers for over 40 years. The wisdom and insight they had was deep and fantastic. I hope to spend some time in the near future getting some interviews for my "history of southern paddling" post. ( I do feel that may be a long time coming)

Following the exhaustive second day of orientation, filled with talks about policy and behavior, I decided to hike north bound on the Appalachian trail for 8.1 miles to Cheoah Bald. That was a good decision.

I hit the trail by 1:30pm and reached the summit by 6:30. It was a pitiful hike on my part. This was my first hike with any major elevation gain (3200ft of gain) in months so I couldn't be too upset with my physical ability. I spent the night on the summit at 5200' with only three other hikers and descended in the morning. Sunset was fantastic and so was sunrise. I highly recommend this summit should you ever get the chance and time while visiting North Carolina.

The best thing about the hike though was all the wild flowers. Many were in bloom and as I gained elevation what was in bloom and wasn't changed.

Of all the flowers the most spectacular, and classic, was the Flame Azaleas. In the 1700's William Bartram (whom the Bartram trail in these very mountains is named after) stated:

"The epithet fiery I annex to this most celebrated species of azalea, as being expressive of the appearance of its flowers; which are in general of the color of the finest red-lead, orange, and bright gold, as well as yellow and cream color. These various splendid colors are not only in separate plants, but frequently all the varieties and shades are seen in separate branches on the same plant; and the clusters of the blossoms cover the shrubs in such incredible profusion on the hillsides that, suddenly opening to view from dark shades, we are alarmed with apprehension of the woods being set on fire. This is certainly the most gay and brilliant flowering shrub yet known." 

I could say it no better if I tried.

-MG