After the homespun hokiness portion of my mini-getaway was in the books, it was time for a little frolicking in the Great Outdoors--um...also known as "hiking". When traveling west to Mt. Airy as I'd done the previous day, it's impossible to miss Pilot Mountain as it appears in the distance from the highway. It's the distinctively tall-ish thing rising from the ground, with the somewhat bulbous-looking peak....kind of like a mushroom was placed on top of a big hill. Had I known what awaited me on my planned "walk in the woods day", I definitely would have pulled over and taken a photo. Ah...hindsight, that old bugaboo...I mean, the conditions on Friday, when I wandered around town for hours, had been partly sunny and altogether pleasant. However, I woke on Saturday morning to overcast skies and the threat of drizzle. But it was my only opportunity to visit the park before heading home, so I decided to accept the possibility of getting wet ('cuz that's never happened before...yeah, Colorado, I'm talkin' to you...) and just go with it.
Then as I began to drive uphill on the steep, snake-y path leading to the uppermost parking lot, I had to laugh...when dense, drifting FOG enveloped the car and obscured most of the landscape, except for a few feet around the vehicle in all directions. Siiighhh. Now, hold on a minute...this situation seems eerily familiar...oh, right, I like to call it "The Rainier Effect" (or "The Curse of Rainier", if I'm feeling less generous). Admittedly, the swirling ground-cloud was quite captivating--at least in a spooky, potentially death-defying manner, that is. Anyhow, when I arrived at the summit of "Little Pinnacle", and peered hopefully off towards the horizon (I think) at one of the designated "scenic overlooks", my gaze met...you guessed it, a whole lotta thick, white nothin'.
I'm told you can see "the knob"--as Big Pinnacle is called by those in the know--on a weather-cooperative day, and lots more of the surrounding countryside, as well. Which I'm sure is all charming and lovely. But this was obviously NOT going to be one of those fortuitous days, so I picked a route and set off on foot to find some other...picturesque stuff...or whatever. And you know, all whining aside, it was still an immensely satisfying stroll, amongst the towering trees, skirting ponderous granite formations, with just enough effort required to make you feel like you'd earned your sweeping vistas.
And happily, as time passed, the pea soup did lift a bit, allowing more visibility from the various ledges where the trail led you to walk out and peer over into the valley below. At one point you could look out upon and admire not only a pastoral farm setting, with neatly arranged buildings and rows of late-season crops, but also the treetops that you'd risen above, on your trek. (I found this immensely rewarding...if also mildly vertigo-inducing...)
The other entertaining feature of the outing was getting to watch the groups of rock climbers going about their business with ropes, harnesses, helmets, and--from what I could observe--an impressive amount of skill. (Well, as a non-cliff-scaler myself, I can't actually judge how competent they were, to be honest...but no one slipped when I was nearby, so I'm gonna give them the benefit of the doubt...)With my enjoyable 3-ish mile meander concluded, I figured I'd milked all I could out of the stubbornly grey day and the moody terrain. Although I'm absolutely certain none of the Male Posse would have any interest whatsoever in Mayberry, I could likely get them to agree to return with me to Pilot Mountain. So we'll just consider this a recon-excursion for now...and next time we venture out that way, we'll make sure the forecast promises things like "bright sunshine" and "clear skies" for our mission. Until we meet again, Yadkin Valley!
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