Woodsy Wandering Times Two...

For the conclusion of the D/J getaway, we planned to explore Gorges State Park, which had been recommended to me by a coworker when he heard I'd be roaming around the Asheville region. Google Maps helpfully informed us that in order to do so, we'd have to drive about an hour south of the city. So we packed up lots of agua and some portable munchies, and set off to seek adventure. (And for the second day in a row we managed to pass a Dunkin' on the way. I mean, how lucky can you get? Coffee-d up and ready to roll, y'all!)

Based on the fact that the parking lot was already overflowing and rangers were directing folks to leave their vehicles along the road, we figured it must be worth the trouble to get there. It was also shaping up to be a steamy weather scenario, so without further ado we planted our sneakers on the path along with the rest of the walking wanderers and pointed ourselves toward the (eventual) promised waterfall payoff.

Along the way we inhabited the forest with plenty of couples, family groups including some wee children, and no shortage or variety of dogs. However, we didn't find it difficult to move out of each other's way, and people seemed very cognizant of sharing the space in a respectful, safe manner,--which was not unexpected, but still pleasing. As for the actual traipsing through the woods, although the map called it a "strenuous" trail, Derek and I considered it a pretty easy ramble. A few hills, sure, but even though the environment is deemed "temperate rainforest", there was nothing, you know, "death defying" like some of our previous experiences in tropical countries.

Of course, there was the double-H nemesis to contend with, as I mentioned before--it was hot, humid, and downright icky* out there, even with the blessed shade providing a modicum of protection. (*Trust me, it's an accepted meteorological term. Or...I could just be making stuff up as usual...yeah, that's the one...) Fortunately, the reward of "dramatic water views" did turn out to be true, as the first scenic stop on the hike afforded us the opportunity to climb out onto enormous boulders, bask in a breeze billowing off the river, and stick our hands into the cool liquid while resting our legs.

But the real goal still lay a bit beyond this admittedly lovely and tranquil spot. So we rallied for one more section of the path, which led us to...a spectacular sight called Turtleback Falls. Here you could actually stand in the spray and get as wet as you wanted (um...Derek), without having to dip into the pools at the base (although you could do that too, if you wished, as evidenced by several other intrepid visitors who'd come prepared with swimming gear). Or you could just pause there, gaping at the beauty and power of the thundering cascade as it crashed over the rock face. (That would be...me...)

It absolutely paid us back for the tired legs and extra 2 hours on the road--since we learned that the quickest route home apparently involved backtracking the entire portion we'd covered that morning, making our return jaunt a cool...4.5 hours. (Siiighhhh...) Eh, I guess that's what we get for the privilege of enjoying all that remote...splendor...and whatnot? Also, plenty of mother/son bonding and chat time? Yeah, we'll most definitely take it, and check off another gorgeous North Carolina nature destination. Win!

Next up: once we heard back from UNC (in about 36 hours--impressive!) that Husband did NOT in fact appear to be harboring the deadly virus currently running amok in our nation, we were able to move forward with a substitute day trip, to replace the original full-fledged multi-state extravaganza we'd been forced to cancel. Thus we loaded up the (other) car with copious amounts of hydration (in light of the warnings for an obnoxiously uncomfortable triple-digit heat index), edible fuel (because...adolescent males), and sturdy shoes (since Husband had gleefully selected a 6-mile loop for our...forced march...I mean "charming trek amongst the trees").

For this outing we headed about 90 miles northwest to Pilot Mountain, where the first thing we discovered upon arrival was that...all of the amenities were unavailable. You know what I'm talking about, right? Ahem...the bathrooms were locked up tight. Which, you know, whatever, it's a Tuesday during a pandemic, so I guess I get it. But there were also no Porta-Potty-type structures, either. As in, anywhere. So one of the first things I got to do was also one of my least favorite: leaving the trail in search of privacy...and peeing behind a big-ass rock. Fortunately, there were very few other people in the park, so the chances of being caught were minuscule. I'm just sayin', this is why I don't camp, folks! Two words: INDOOR PLUMBING.

Anyway, it was a good thing we arrived when we did, because the overcast skies--while admittedly not providing the cheerful aura of a brilliantly sunny day--at least helped keep the temperature in check while we plodded through our long circular route. While it wasn't a particularly challenging course, the kids did find huge stacks of rubble to climb on periodically, which afforded them mild amusement and allowed them to commune with their...inner mountain goat spirit animals...or what have you.


Otherwise, we all agreed that we found the scenery in general...underwhelming. Husband lamented, "No water features! No scenic overlooks!" Buuuuut there were certainly benefits, such as A) tons of cardio and B) double my required number of steps for the day...all while frolicking in a bucolic setting...so there's that. Ohhhh, and perhaps because they weren't quite stimulated enough by their surroundings, the siblings had ample time for absurd conversations, such as the following:

Derek (jokingly): "Hey, do raptors have butt cracks?" (Now, I could back up and give you the segue that led to this comment--but really, you don't want to know. Also, I'd like it noted that I seemed to be hiking with a passel of 12 YEAR OLD BOYS.)
Riley (in a serious, reasonable manner): "They must...otherwise they'd be constipated."
Derek (cracking himself up): "Then they'd need a...veloci-laxative!" (Siiiighhhhh....I just...I mean...Life with the Dorkasaurus Brothers, my friends...)

This was eclipsed only by the lively discussion about whether any of the three had remembered to apply deodorant that morning before we left the house. And, based on proximity after several hours of sweating, my vote would have to be a strong NO. (I'm not responsible for Husband's upbringing, of course--but I swear, they were all taught these skills at some point...Corona has them reverting to their primitive selves, or something...)


Once we'd finished our long lap, we intended to motor the rest of the way up to the summit, to catch the vistas from the top. On the plus side, the clouds had begun to break up by then, improving visibility and literally shining a light on both the peak, and the countryside below. While this increased the heat factor all of a sudden, the panoramic tableau made it worth a few more minutes of roasting in the July sunshine. (Especially knowing that our first stop after leaving the mountain would be at a nearby Sheetz for additional frosty beverages and fresh post-workout nibbles.)

So, it may not have been the most exhilarating venture we've ever undertaken...but it was an enjoyable day far from the confines of our own house, in the Great Outdoors...and for that, we'll chalk it up to family time well spent! And now, after several long, active days already this week, I've earned a lazy interlude of drinking iced tea, reading a book, and lounging in the air conditioning. Summer Vacation 2020, to be continued from a sofa near you...whoo hoo!

Bumming around the Biltmore

Well, folks--in a shocking* turn of events, just days from its scheduled kickoff, Version 3.0 of the Team WestEnders vacation got blown to smithereens. (*Except that...it actually wasn't even a little bit unexpected, given the raging dumpster fire that is 20-freakin'-20, amiright? Siiiighhh....) You see, we were all set to begin preparations for a hiking adventure (the details of which I won't bother to get into now, because who cares?) when Husband revealed that he was feeling...under the weather.

He responded to my side-eye by hastening to add that the ONLY symptom he was experiencing comprised a very stuffy head, accompanied by absolutely nothing else whatsoever. But...due to the whole "pandemic" and whatnot, I immediately advised him to go ahead and get tested anyway. I mean, I figured the likelihood of it being COVID, rather than a common cold, were approximately slim-to-none--but of the household denizens, he's the one who goes out least often, so the mystery of him contracting any kind of bug at all set off warning bells that called for further investigation. Besides, better to know, yeah?


Of course, this scuttled the get-out-of-town plan, since he wouldn't get the results until AFTER we were supposed to vamoose. And yet...there was one part of the agenda that could be saved...at least for those of us fit to travel. I'm referring to the fact that I'd purchased non-refundable--and extremely expensive, mind you--tickets to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, which we intended to tour on our way out west. While Husband obviously couldn't participate, and Riley jumped at the opportunity to, as he put it, "stay home and have some me time" (whatever the heck that means to an almost-17-year- old boy), Derek agreed to be my road trip buddy, for a brief overnight jaunt to the AVL.

So he and I set off for western NC early Saturday morning, fortified by a stop at Dunkin' for coffee and munchkins, ready for 200+ miles of open highway. We were enjoying a pleasantly smooth journey...right up until we arrived at just about our appointed entrance time, and I realized that I'd vastly underestimated the sheer scope of this endeavor. It quickly became apparent that there would be multiple steps involved, just to get to the front door of the mansion. Show your ticket at the guard gate. Navigate several miles through the grounds to a parking lot. Catch a shuttle to take you the rest of the way to the actual house. Quite the odyssey, I tell ya!

And then...you catch sight of the...honestly, "palace" doesn't seem like an exaggeration. Because my photos don't capture the sheer immensity of the place, here's a figure that our bus driver threw out, which stuck in my head: there are FOUR ACRES of square footage inside that thing. And it's...um...grandiose? Ostentatious? Mind-blowing? Yes, all of these. (Banquet Hall, Salon, Tapestry Gallery, Oak Sitting Room, blah blah blah!) But after we'd ogled one too many excessively ornate spaces, Derek and I were highly amused by the underground section, where we encountered such delights as the "Halloween Room" (No, I don't know why), the bowling alley, the swimming pool, and the super-old-fashioned gymnasium (wooden dumbbells--how quaint!).

Once we'd gaped at all of the indoor delights, it was time to head out to the gardens, where I was looking forward to admiring some gorgeous summertime blooms, surrounded by spectacular surrounding mountain views.  Aaannd, about that...no sooner had we stepped onto the terrace and begun drinking in the vista, than we began to hear telltale rumbles of thunder, coming from the increasingly angry-looking grey clouds wreathing the distant peaks. In about, oh, 5 minutes or so, fat, aggressive raindrops started pelting down from the sky...soaking us in no time flat, and delaying our ramble amongst the roses.

Our attempt to huddle under a woefully inadequate tree for the duration was entirely pointless in terms of protection from the elements...but we did manage to wait out the downpour. On the plus side, the thunderstorm dropped the temperature more than 15 degrees, to a much more moderate level, so we shrugged off our drippy, disheveled state and continued our quest. And as far as I'm concerned, the squishy shoes were worth it, because there was some stunning flora out there in the wilds of the Biltmore. Derek patiently traipsed around with me while I got my flower fix, at which point we decided we'd achieved the desired level of satisfaction for our one-and-only visit to George Vanderbilt's masterpiece.

The only thing left to do was obtain some, you know, "real food" to close out the evening, so we picked up dinner from a cute little joint called Asheville Sandwich Company, which I'd scoped out during my pre-excursion research, and chosen based on its lovely selection of both carnivore and vegan offerings. (My crispy cauliflower banh mi with pickled veggies and sriracha mayo was sooooo tasty, by the way...) And finally, because it would be a shame to go all that way and NOT stroll around the 'Ville, we did our own little walking tour of the hip hop happening town, to soak in the nighttime vibe, listen to the street performers, peer in shop windows, etc. It was altogether entertaining, and left us feeling like we'd hit all the high notes on our (imaginary) To Do List.

Now that we've been fed and showered, it's time to rest up for Part 2 of the mini-getaway, a 4-mile state park hike on the way home tomorrow. Yay, Plan...D?

This week's barrel of nonsense...and whatnot

Well, here we are—still standing after another week in Corona-times, so let’s get a big “Whoo hoo!” for that. And you know what that means: the latest grab-bag of Team WestEnders shenanigans:

--We’ll kick it off with Riley, who has recently constructed a detailed checklist of specific items to complete for each of the universities he intends to submit applications to, when the period officially opens at the beginning of August (because…of COURSE he has…). He already requested letters of recommendation from several teachers, has begun drafting some of the short answer responses, and enlisted me to do a preliminary edit of his Common App essay. So yeah…he’s ON IT. (And lemme tell ya…obviously I love Derek to death, but I find Riley’s organization and motivation to be a refreshing change from our first experience with this process. My supervisory role is MUCH easier this time around!)

Meanwhile out in legislative land, the governor postponed his scheduled announcement about schools reopening, because frankly things in NC still aren’t what you’d call…um…“under control”…or even “trending in the right direction” (not so much our area, which seems to be doing okay, but the state in general). However, our local school system released their own proposal, which is…complicated, to say the least.

Without getting into too much of the minutiae, it features a phased reentry onto campuses, in which everyone shows up for one day the first week, and then does remote learning anyway until the end of September, when they begin attending in-person 2 days per week, in shifts. And it goes without saying that all of this depends on what actually happens when that many people start milling about in close proximity to one another…so we’ll just have to wait and see.

--Moving on to Derek, whose life these days mostly consists of slogging through his painful overnight shift at his Summer job. Although he’s supposed to be off at 2 a.m., he routinely doesn’t get released until 3:30 or so, and then crashes until mid-afternoon. I don’t blame him for counting down the weeks until he can stop working and (presumably) go back to college!

About that: a few weeks ago we received a 50 PAGE (!) pdf from UofSC, describing their comprehensive plan to safely bring everyone back to Columbia. It includes things like mandatory (free) testing for all staff, faculty, and students upon their return; mask requirements; reduced class size; social distancing regulations in buildings and around the grounds; and an effort to combine online and face-to-face instruction (which is ongoing, apparently, since Derek reports that his courses are still changing). This is also going to be…interesting…to see how it unfolds…and whether it’s successful…or a spectacular train wreck. Ay yi yi…

And speaking of crashing and burning, after weeks of me bugging him to check his grades, and Derek insisting that they weren’t yet available in Blackboard, we finally were able to get a final tally for his Spring semester, and it was…mostly good. Let’s just say that he earned a handful of As (yay!), but also his very first…ahem…”barely passing” score. However, it was the notoriously dreaded and difficult Organic Chemistry, and he pointed out that “when we left for Spring Break [and then switched to the at-home model] I swear I had a B-!” Siiighhh….I do accept that it must be nearly impossible to independently teach yourself a subject like THAT, so I spared him the lecture in this case.

Then we suffered a brief heart-stopping moment, because he’d missed the deadline to utilize the special version of the Pass/Fail option they offered this semester, for just such a…GPA-mergency. But he took it upon himself to contact the appropriate department and explain the situation, and they were willing to reopen the form for him to request his “S”. (Satisfactory? I guess? We’ll absolutely take it!)  Let’s see: forgiveness with no penalty for taking advantage of it--plus preventing the offending mark from dragging down your GPA? I’d call that an offer that is definitely too good to refuse! (And also, WHEW! Transcript crisis narrowly averted…)

--Finally, I had a fairly uneventful week--working from home, running errands when necessary, blah blah blah. But then a group of my bootcamp friends started a conversation about meeting up at a nearby lake to hang out, catch up, and enjoy nature…and that sounded like probably the best thing I’d ever heard of after months of not seeing any of them. It turned out that only a couple could make it on such short notice, but the opportunity to get together and get OUT was enticing enough to draw us from our isolated bubbles. 

So I let the GPS lead me to a spot I’ve never explored before (and would not be able to find on my own in a million years—although it’s technically near Raleigh, it felt like legit wilderness by the time I’d made all the turns into the park). My buddies were already there, manning the campsite they’d reserved and tending a small fire they’d built.

After enthusiastic air-hugs, we settled in to chat about everything that’s been going on—or, you know, NOT, as it were—and bask in the forest atmosphere. A short jaunt on foot led us down to the water, where we were able to ooh and aah over the understated, pink-tinged sunset.

Aaaannd…there might even have been some…(mutters under her breath) singing…involved. First we wracked our brains trying to come up with pop tunes we all knew and could passably recreate, with varying degrees of success (She’s Lost That Lovin’ Feeling--a la Goose and Maverick’s bar serenade in Top Gun--was a dubious high point, if that helps paint the picture.) But we reeaaally hit our stride when I had a sudden brainstorm and suggested…Doe, a Deer. What followed was a rousing acapella medley of Sound of Music staples that I’m SURE were the delight* of our fellow campground denizens (*horror and/or hilarity).

As if that weren’t enough entertainment for one night, to cap it off, there were marshmallows (which I normally eschew due to their questionable content, but as I explained to my pal, I make basically ONE exception to my rule, namely, “roasting over an open flame”. Because c’mon, it must burn away the gelatin, right? Just…humor me on this, ‘kay? Thanks…) It felt so warm-and-fuzzy (and I don’t mean the mosquitos…or the damn humidity) to reconnect with other humans that don’t live under my own roof. So, an extremely satisfying interlude to finish off the week strong.

And with that, we head into…mid July? Sheesh. Anyway, here’s to another week of doing all the safe things, staying healthy, and hanging in there. Peace out, peeps!

A rare solo sojourn

After several months of…either “the new normal” or “freakishly altered reality”, depending on how you choose to look at it…I remain both grateful that so far our clan has been spared from personal contact with the dreadful virus, and committed to keeping up the necessary precautions to help quash the threat. Overall, we’ve adjusted our lives as necessary, and are managing fairly well. That being said, the one thing that’s had me feeling somewhat…unsettled…lately—maybe coinciding with the arrival of Summer?—is a growing restlessness, a resurgence of my innate wanderlust, culminating in an intense longing to just…GO…somewhere.

Of course, this is not novel in any sense; it does happen to me on a regular basis. It’s just that in these times, the ability to scratch the itch, if you will, has taken on heretofore unknown layers of complexity, since we’re unable to simply pick up and gallivant away on a whim, without stopping to consider the required health and safety preparations, the potential for social distancing, and even whether things will be open for exploring. And to think, in halcyon Days of Yore (um…that would be ”pre-March 2020”) the weightiest decisions I faced were probably something along the lines of “How many snacks should I bring” and “Is there a coffee stop on the way”! Siiighhh….

Now it’s obviously more like “Did I remember a clean mask?”, “Is my hand sanitizer full?”, and “Are there things to see and do outside, and enough room to stay the heck away from other people?” (I mean, along with the food and java concerns—that goes without saying, right?) Thus I’ve been focusing my attention recently on hiking-type excursions, where I can tromp around in the Great Outdoors to my heart’s content, with a very low risk of…infectious repercussions.

But sometimes I just want to, I don’t know…learn something? Appreciate an urban view, rather than rocks and trees and whatnot? Plus, with cultural establishments and the like mostly still (understandably) shuttered, I found myself struggling to figure out something different and amusing to achieve my field trip fix. Oh, and did I forget to mention that every so often, usually without advance warning, I just yearn to hop in the car and DRIVE--which can be soothing in and of itself, but pleases me even more when I have an actual “destination” at the proverbial end of the road.

So with no clear target in mind, I consulted the Research Department (yeah: Google) to compile some viable options. Without digging too deeply for a quick jaunt, I came up with: Smithfield, a tiny burg about 60 miles southeast of Chapel Hill, boasting a “historic downtown” and also a “riverwalk”. Let’s see…the possibility of interesting architecture…the chance to be educated about a place that’s been around since the 1700s…and the opportunity to stroll along a body of water (something else I’ve been missing, incidentally)…SOLD!

I’ve gotta admit, although I didn’t think about this ahead of time, part of the fun for this adventure ended up being reestablishing my travel routine-- packing non-perishable eats and plenty of fluids; outfitting myself in light athletic gear and my sturdy trekking sneakers; grabbing my camera, sunscreen, and hat; and in this case printing the relevant maps, since I wouldn’t be able to snag them from the shuttered Visitor’s Center during a pandemic.

All of that felt comfortable and satisfying, to be sure. But what I couldn’t have predicted ahead of time was how palpably I felt my entire psyche r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g, mere minutes after I hit the highway. It was like some immense wad of tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying suddenly unraveled, loosening the pressure in my shoulders and making it easier to breathe. Huh. Who knew?

Anyway, I motored into Smithfield, parked the Subaru, and set out on foot to meander next to the Neuse River. From the direction I started, there wasn’t a whole lot to see, aside from the expected natural splendor, blah blah blah, but it was certainly a pleasant little path. However, it was also rapidly approaching Hades-hot, so I moved on to my next agenda item, which was following the self-guided pedestrian tour to take in some of the notable sights and delve into the area’s past.

One thing I quickly discovered was that the entire county is named after…a Confederate general. (Grits teeth, grimaces, attempts to suppress a frustrated scream, fails…REEEAAAALLLY? Let. It. GO, and pick someone else to commemorate, already! Sheesh…) So yes, there were numerous spots that had significance during the Civil War, as well as a couple of lovely churches, and a tranquil cemetery with headstones from as far back as 1825. (Although it was founded in 1777, earlier markers didn’t survive.) And—believe it or not—an entire museum dedicated to the life of…Ava Gardner, who was born on a farm somewhere in the surrounding countryside. (Of course it was closed…not that I would have needed to experience it, regardless!)

After several hours of happily winding my way through the park and streets, I’d clearly exhausted all the available entertainment in the tiny hamlet, at least for the present. Sweaty, craving some carbonation, and ready to rest my legs, I headed back to my ride, chalked it up to a successful endeavor…and fired up Maps to find the nearest Sheetz (1.3 miles—SCORE!). While this little foray admittedly didn’t rank up with the most exciting getaways I’ve ever planned, it was absolutely what I needed to calm the…nomadic beast? Or what have you… 

Most importantly, it will tide me over until the official Team WestEnders vacay, in a few short weeks. So to sum up: reasonably engaging activity, check. Mental stability restored (at least temporarily), you bet. Crucial peace and quiet, away from the close quarters I’ve been sharing with my beloved fam: YEEEESSSS. All adding up to a very definite WIN/WIN!