So much to do. So much to say. Somewhere to stay… yay yay yay.



Am searching for an apartment. Again. I’m already tired. I want it to
be November because then I’ll be halfway through the semester, I’ll
have moved and December will be soooo close.






That’s my street.

So before I forget, I did get that job. I’ll be teaching film
production to undergrads starting this fall and I’m scared. And
excited. and scared. and excited…





That’s my favourite road sign from the entire trip. The sqaure shows a man falling off a motorcycle!

There’s
a lot of people out there reading this and rotfl right now. Or maybe
just surprised. I wasn’t known for my verbiosity. Keyword ‘wasn’t’.  But it’s been something I’ve wanted to do
for a long time. I never really thought I would, or could. Imagine me standing in
front of a class of 20 year olds and teach them how to shoot a film.
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…. I’m so excited.

Those poor kids.


Anyhow… back to the rest of my trip.






The Nantahalah forest.



We hiked about 4 miles in and realised it was getting really late and
really dark and we were nowhere near the shelter (on the AT) or to the
campground a couple of miles before the shelter. I kept looking over my
shoulder cause I was convinced a
bear was following us. I don’t think anyone noticed.



We settled for the first almost level ground we could fit in.




That’s the sunset through our tent.


By the time we got our tent pitched, it was, well, pitch dark. We
still had to cook and eat, pack our food
in a sack and hang it off a tall tree (10′ high and 4′ away from the
trunk). The first stone we tied to the rope went sailing over the
trees. We tried a heavy twing instead. It lodged perfectly in the fork
of the branch. We pulled and swung on it. It would easily take my
weight. Which I thought was good. But no. Some people love making
observations. Like “how are we going to raise the sack 10′ high if we
don’t have the other end to pull on?”

Whatever.



We ended up cutting the rope and hanging the sack on a lower branch not
too far from us. We’d just have to deal with the bears when they dropped in.




This isn’t the tree we hung on the sack on.

The forest there looked like a battlefield. Wounded trees leaned on others
deep within the forest. Others lay dead across the trail at many
places. Many had not been able to withstand the various storms, some
just couldn’t take the weight of the ones that fell.



That night hurricane Cindy decided to overtake us. We hadn’t had a dry
day so far on our trip, I didn’t see why we’d have it at that moment. So she stood
over our tent and handpoured buckets of water all night. Exciting. And
cold. Wasn’t this supposed to be a summer camping trip? uh.. huh.



We hiked back the next morning. It had poured steadily through the night and didn’t want to give up on us yet. So we decided
to give up on it. I’m glad because hurricane Dennis was right
on Cindy’s heels.



One of the reasons we wanted to
backpack through the Nantahalah forest was that a trail off the
Appalachian trail would lead us to the Joyce Kilmer Wilderness.





It’s one of the few untouched tracts of forest left in this country.

We were disappointed that we
couldn’t hike through the forest to reach there… but we didn’t want
to leave without seeing it, so we drove out and spent the rest of the
evening amongst rhododendrons.

The memorial forest, which is a small part of the wilderness, has a two
mile trail with beautiful flowers against some very old trees.

The lichen was beautiful.


Fallen and blue…

… or just hanging on, red.




A creek
runs through it all.

We drove north towards Pisgah National forest the next day.


  

I got my wish of driving down the Blue Ridge Highway.

BEEEEEOOOOOOOOTTTTTTEEEEEEFFFFFUUULLLLLLLLLL!







And really blue.



to be contd. <smirk>

I sit, sweltering, in my un-airconditioned room. It’s an unusually hot
day for Chicago – 105 deg of humid heat and no signs of the evening
being cooler. I curse my decision to ‘manage’ the few hot days and not spend $80 on an
air conditioner.

Wait a minute. My friend Dave had offered to give
me the air conditioner he no longer uses. (Curse oneself with some uber
choice abuses, bang head against the window that would have held that
ac. Shrug shoulders *phew* Pretend it’s not such a big deal after all.)

Frankly speaking, I’ve had a pretty cool summer. And no, I didn’t go north.

B and I drove down to Florida last month to .. er.. work on his thesis film. It rained every day that we were there.

After a couple of weeks there, we drove north so we could backpack a stretch of the Appalachian Trail. I was going to hike for a week or ten days and then head back to Chicago. B was going to stay on the trail for longer.

Planning the trip was as intense as the trip itself. We had to figure
out where we’d start and where we could end up so we could take a bus
back to the car. Easier said than done. We pored over Greyhound and
Amtrak websites. We pored over the maps to figure out the closest
towns. We pored over the AT companion for any leads.

Nope, nothing, nada. I am always surprised at the lack of a strong
network of buses and trains in America, this time I was just pure
amazed. Weekend service was nonexistent. (We were looking at some
really small towns here) and weekday service almost existed if you
could find the bus-station. (We drove all over Waynesboro asking for
the Greyhound Station. The nearest direction we got was “it’s on the
other side of the river.” Oh you mean that little nullah of water right there. Right.
But I forget, everyone in America has a car. <shake head>.

We also had to buy food that we could cook on a tiny hiker’s stove in
the backcountry. Which meant no gourmet dinners, no four course meals
(At least not if I was carrying it) and basically, something that the
two of us could carry without straining our backs. Ramen won the day at
the cheapest and fastest thing to cook. That coupled with Miso soup
made for edible meals. Granola bars, oatmeal, Gorp – granola, oatmeal
(yes, again), raisins, peanuts(?) were lunch. Yes, I am alive to tell
the tale.

“So where are we going?” I asked B.
“I don’t know yet.”

This was the night before we were supposed to leave.

We ended up driving towards the Shenandoah National Park. 100 miles of
the AT runs through the park and is considered a good place for a
beginning backpacker. Since the last time I hiked was almost five years
ago, beginner’s was good enough for me.

12 hrs into the drive (stuck on I95 for two hours of that), we realised
that we weren’t even halfway to Front Royal, at the north end of the
park. B suggested we change our plans. “Spontaneity is the name of the
game.”

Sure. There were some choice abuses hurled his way. I took out the map to find the nearest airport.

But dammit.

We arrived at Fontana  in Nantahalah national park the next
afternoon. B had suggested the Smokies, but  hanging out with the bears would be the last thing I’d do.

To be contd.

I’m back.