TBT^2: More Mountain Musings

It’s been awhile since I’ve been to the mountains—the last trip was hiking with a friend of mine in early August—and the mountains of western North Carolina were devastated during Hurricane Helene.  One does not typically associate the Appalachian Mountains with severe hurricane damage, but there you have it—the hurricane hit in just such a way that western North and South Carolina suffered terrible damage.  My hometown of Aiken, South Carolina still has massive piles of leaves and tree trunks awaiting pickup from overextended State work crews, and it’s been two months since the storm.

Regardless, it’s fun to look back on my various mountain adventures.  I find that I need to get up to the mountains periodically to rest and recharge.  I’m not sure when I’ll get back up there again, but I’m looking forward to it, hopefully with Dr. Girlfriend, her dog, and Murphy along for the fun.

With that, here is 18 January 2024’s “TBT: More Mountain Musings“:

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SubscribeStarSaturday: Hiking the Florence Nature Preserve

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On Saturday, 3 August 2024 my friend Ashley and I went hiking in the Florence Nature Preserve, accessible via the Upper Hickory Nut Gorge Trailhead, just outside of Gerton, North Carolina and down the road from Chimney Rock.

Ashley had proposed the trip a couple of months earlier, with the inviting question “do you like hiking?”  I couldn’t respond to that query quickly enough, and within minutes we had planned the broad outline of our excursion to the trailhead.

We left right around 6 AM that morning in Ashley’s sweet 2021 Ford Bronco, which she was eager to road test on winding mountain roads, and after a couple of missed GPS turns due to the distraction of conversation, we made it to the trailhead around 10:15 AM.  By 10:30 AM we were lathered up in sunscreen and on the trail.

By noon we were drinking in this beautiful view at Tom & Glenna Rock over some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches:

Panoramic View of Lookout - FNP

The entire trail is roughly five miles up and back, but there are various side trails and alternative routes available that can reduce the trek depending on experience level and time constraints.  We opted for a modified version of the “blue” trail rather than the whole loop, which would have taken us pretty much the entire day to complete.

Here’s a map of our route (I’ve used the map from the Conserving Carolina website and added our route in pink):

Florence-Nature-Preserve-Map - Route with Ashley in Pink

According to some rough math based on the interactive map for the trail, Ashley and I hiked around 3.82 miles in total.  Naturally, roughly half of that was uphill, so coming back down the trail was a bit quicker.  We also paced ourselves heading up, as Ashley was documenting our hike via video for her mother.  That deliberate pace was smart, because we did not wear ourselves out on the hike.

The trail is rated as “challenging” and/or “strenuous,” and after my “Summer of George” I was a tad concerned about my ability to huff and puff up a mountain, but yours portly performed admirably.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Back to the Mountains, Part II

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Three years ago my family took a trip to the mountains around Burnsville, North Carolina, to celebrate my older brother’s fortieth birthday.  I wrote about it extensively in my book Arizonan Sojourn, South Carolinian Dreams: And Other Stories (currently just $12.68 in paperback).  The area is truly lovely, and is very accessible from South Carolina.  My girlfriend and I had the opportunity to do just that over the long MLK Weekend.

After a Saturday full of adventures in the small towns around Mount Mitchell, we decided some hiking was in order for Sunday.  First, however, we rose just early enough to catch the sunrise.  Sunrise in our little patch of the mountains on Sunday, 14 January 2024 was around 7:38 Eastern Standard Time, so we were up shortly after 7 AM.  We threw open the curtains of the large windows, which faced westward.

Because we weren’t facing the rising sun, we watched as the sunlight crept down the side of the mountains to our west, their eastern faces slowly melding from a blueish grey into a glowing red.  Sipping coffee and marveling at God’s daily light show was the perfect way to spend a day spent largely in His Creation.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Back to the Mountains, Part I

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Three years ago my family took a trip to the mountains around Burnsville, North Carolina, to celebrate my older brother’s fortieth birthday.  I wrote about it extensively in my book Arizonan Sojourn, South Carolinian Dreams: And Other Stories (currently just $12.68 in paperback).  The area is truly lovely, and is very accessible from South Carolina.  Ever since that celebratory trip, I have been eager to return.

The long MLK Weekend—which yours portly extended by burning a personal day—offered the perfect opportunity to get back there.  My travel-loving flight attendant girlfriend and I were super excited to hit the road with Murphy for a few days of hiking, exploring, and good eating, and scored an excellent deal on three nights at a cabin/barndominium in the mountains.

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Some of the links in this post are links through the Amazon Affiliate Program. If you make any purchase through these links, a small portion of the proceeds go to me, at no additional cost to you.

TBT: More Mountain Musings

Over MLK Weekend my girlfriend and I took the dogs up to around Mount Mitchell, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Appalachia.

I love the mountains.  The mountains are in my blood, and although my home is the coastal South Carolina, every so often I need to baptize myself in the solitude and ruggedness of the Appalachian Mountains.

This trip was not my first to this region.  I went there four years ago to celebrate my older brother’s fortieth birthday.  Here’s a bit my travels during that trip.

With that, here is 21 September 2020’s “More Mountain Musings“:

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Festival in the Park

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‘Tis festival season, and yours portly is living it up.  In just a couple of weekends I’ll be hawking my humble wares at the South Carolina Bigfoot Festival, which will be either my Hastings or my Gallipoli.

Before I return to my spot inside the tent, however, I’m enjoying experiencing festivals from outside.  The coming of autumn means it is the height of festival season, and yours portly couldn’t be happier.

After a successful visit to the Columbia Greek Festival two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to take in Charlotte, North Carolina’s Festival in the Park last weekend.  It is, perhaps, the best festival I’ve attended in recent years.

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TBT: The Invasion and Alienation of the South

Sheldon_Church_2

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With the election still in the balance—it may be decided by the time you read this post—and two formerly conservative Southern States up for grabs, I thought it would be timely to revisit this piece, “The Invasion and Alienation of the South,” which looks at Leslie Alexander’s post “Stranger in a Strange Land.”  In that piece, Alexander writes about the hollow, joyless cosmopolitanism of living in Dallas—a stark contrast to the tight-knit cordiality and tradition of her native Louisiana.

While watching the election returns, it occurred to me that Georgia and North Carolina should not be risky toss-ups, and Virginia never should have been lost to hordes of Swamp People.  It’s an irony of history that Washington, D.C., was placed next to Virginia so the ornery planters, suspicious of federal power, could keep a closer eye on the national government.  Now, that bloated national government dominates politics in Virginia through its largess.

Meanwhile, transplants from up North have infested previously conservative States.  Charlotte, North Carolina has become a wretched hive of globalist scum and villainy.  During my online dating days, I would routinely get matched with babes from Charlotte; invariably, they were always from Ohio, or New York, or California—never actually true North Carolinians.

It’s one thing when local blacks vote Democratic.  Fine—we’re at least part of the same(-ish) Southern culture, and we’ll help each other out.  But then gentry white liberals start coming down here, ruining our politics and our cities.

Now, we live in a world in which Joe Biden might win Georgia, and North Carolina—NORTH CAROLINA—has become a nail-biter every four years.

Such is the price of our addiction to economic growth and convenience.  What we’ve gained in luxuries we have lost in heart.  We have paid for them with our souls.

Here is November 2019’s “The Invasion and Alienation of the South“:

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Bearwallow Mountain

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Also, last week’s post on my third trip to Universal Studios in 2020 is coming soon—I promise.  This past week consumed far more of my time than I anticipated, so subscribers can expect that soon.

My uncharacteristic year of travel continued this weekend with a trip to Asheville, North Carolina, the hipster capital of the Southeast.  After our family trip to Burnsville, North Carolina, my girlfriend was itching to get back to the mountains, so we decided to come up and spend a day exploring the area.

It’s the first weekend in a few weeks that’s it actually been cold, and we reveled in the cold mountain air.  The high was around 60—perfect autumnal sweater weather.  It also made the hike up Bearwallow Mountain more pleasant and endurable.

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TBT: On Ghost Stories

Today marks the first day of October, perhaps my favorite month of the year.  We’re already getting that first crisp coolness in the air here in South Carolina, and it’s feeling more and more like autumn every day.

So with Halloween just thirty days away, I thought it would be fun to look back at a post from last “All Hallowe’s Eve Eve,” as I wrote at the time:  one all about ghost stories.

I finally finished slogging my way through The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories, thanks in no small part to quarantine.  It’s an excellent collection, and I stand by my recommendation from last October, but there are a handful of stories that are way too long—or dense.

I’m now reading through a more accessible, far lighter read:  the classic Tar Heel Ghosts by John Harden.  It’s a collection of North Carolina-based ghost stories published in the 1950s, so it has that pleasing sense of implicit patriotism and love of place that is now so sadly missing from our cynical, cosmopolitan writing of today.  Like The Story of Yankee Whaling, it possesses a refreshing innocence about and love for its subject:  no hand-wringing over now-unfashionable ideas, no condemnation of a lack of diversity, no talk of “marginalized” groups being “unrepresented.”

I picked up the book sometime in my childhood on a family trip, but I don’t think I ever finished the collection.  I’m rectifying that all these years later, and I’m thoroughly enjoying it.  I also plan to reread Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree, one of my favorites to pull out this time of year.

Here’s hoping you find some spooky tales of your own to curl up with on these cold, October nights.  Here’s October 2019’s “On Ghost Stories“:

It’s Halloween!  Well, at least it’s All Hallow’s Eve Eve, but that’s close enough for some ghoulishly delicious ghost stories.

I love a good ghost story.  The Victorians did the genre best, but many writers since have honed it further, adding their own unique twists and scares.  Even Russell Kirk, the great conservative philosopher, was a fan of ghost stories.  Indeed, his bestselling book was a ghost story.

For the Victorians, ghost stories were told at Christmastime.  This timing, while peculiar to modern readers, makes sense intuitively—Christmas is a time for remembering the past, in part (perhaps especially) our honored dead (just ask Washington Irvingif he comes by to haunt you).  The “ghosts” of departed loved ones linger closely during those long, frosty nights.  The inherent nostalgia of Christmas and the winter season—and bundling up next to a crackling fire—sets the perfect mood for ghostly tales.

Nevertheless, what other time of year can beat Halloween for a good tale of witches and werewolves; of monsters and mummies; of ghouls, goblins, and ghosts?

As such, I’d encourage readers to check out “Nocturne of All Hallow’s Eve,” a deliciously frightening, blood-soaked tale of the supernatural and the macabre from Irish-American author Greg Patrick.  Alternative fiction website Terror House Magazine posted it back in September, and I’ve been saving it to share on the blog until now.

Patrick’s style conjures the dense verbiage of Edgar Allan Poe.  Indeed, he overdoes it a bit (see his more recently published “The Familiar“).  But his subject matter is pure Halloween—the tenuous space between the natural and the supernatural, the mysterious rituals, and on and on.

If you’re still in search of some ghostly reads, check out The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories.  It’s the collection I’ve been reading since my trip to New Jersey this summer.  It’s a truly spine-tingling collection that covers some of the great—and many of the undeservedly unsung—writers of the genre, the men and women who truly created and molded what makes a good ghost story.

So wherever you find yourself the next couple of nights, curl up with a good book, a warm fire, and a good ghost story (and maybe someone else, if you’re so inclined).  You and the ghosts will be glad you did!

Ghost

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More Mountain Musings

I made it back from my weekend trip to the mountains near Burnsville, North Carolina.  I slammed that SubscribeStar Saturday post out after being up since 5:30 AM, two hundred miles of driving, and a full day of family fun in Asheville, so I skimped on some details, even if I hit the main points I wanted to address.

It was a very rushed trip, with my girlfriend and I departing around 11 AM Sunday to take in some sights before rushing back to prepare for our busy workweeks.  We managed to spend a little time in Burnsville, which is named for Captain Otway Burns, a sailor and hero of the War of 1812.  A statue of Captain Burns, erected in 1909, stands in the town square, with an inscription that reads, “He Guarded Well Our Seas, Let Our Mountains Honor Him.”

From there, we headed into the mountains, eventually reaching the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Our destination was Mount Mitchell State Park, which provides easy access to the summit of Mount Mitchell.  Mount Mitchell is the highest peak in the Appalachian Mountains, and the highest in the eastern continental United States.

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