Return to Cheraw

I had never seen a Fox Squirrel before. I don't even like squirrels. Tree rats they

call them here, for all the damage they do, but I had to be intrigued by the little masked fellow that greeted us at the entrance to Cheraw State Park. This picture comes from the Internet as I was not quick enough with the camera. But he sat just like this atop the gatepost as we turned in. A friend from the Central Carolina Paddlers had joined me for a paddle trip this past weekend but it soon became a wildlife adventure starting with this little guy and his many cousins skittering through the park.

I posted about the park last October when the paddle club chose Cheraw for their annual club camp out. The lake is exquisitely beautiful ending in a cypress swamp, but cypress trees dot the shoreline and Pat caught this picture in the early morning calm near our campsite.

The ranger station, where we checked in is across the lake from the camping area. The swimming area and a golf course are on the side with the ranger station. Apparently the Fox Squirrels prefer to associate with the golfers, we never saw them on the camp side of the lake. When we settled into our campsite, we were beset with their obnoxious cousins, the Gray Squirrels, pushy critters who immediately assumed we were there to feed them. We spent a good deal of time discouraging them before they left us alone. When Pat inadvertently left a wrapped granola bar in her kayak after we beached, she returned to find squirrels close enough to step on but no sign of granola bar or wrapper.

The lake held other delights as well.

 A bridge and boardwalk connected us to the other side of the lake, a comfortable walk despite the heat. All manner of things were in bloom including laurel and delicate purple water iris. We had hoped to see pitcher plants when we paddled among the cypress trees but the water level was too high. Just across town, the Greater Pee Dee River was 6 to 8 feet above flood stage. There was no flooding near us, but this normally quiet lake had a definite current and we could hear a roar from the spillway back at camp.

Because of the heat, we paddled in the early morning, then again at dusk. On our first day trip to the swamp we desturbed an osprey who cried out and tried to lure us away from a large nest atop a cypress tree.

On an evening paddle, we followed an otter, swimming and diving for his supper. We saw ducks and geese. We saw very few humans on the water, this despite good weather and a very full golf course.

Cheraw's moniker is that it is "the

prettiest town in the South" and it may be. We decided to explore the historic district one afternoon and we're not disappointed.  The graveyard of Old St. David's Church contains soldiers from every war since the Revolution. Family plots are so full, graves are being stacked. Everything in the historic district is beautifully maintained. We have a map now and hope to return in cooler weather to explore more.

There is so much to see and do here, on the lake, in the town, and in the wonderful old graveyard, I hope to return in the fall with my nature-loving, history-appreciating children. Like the squirrels, we'll see what else we can find!

Birthday Boy

So my baby turned 23 April 12 (I got a late start...) and we decided to celebrate at Morrow Mountain State Park near Troy, NC.

Ben has just started a new job and hasn't accrued  vacation time, though he did have Good Friday off, but I was hungry for more solitude so I left out Thursday and spent the first night alone. I do believe we incarnate what goes on with us spiritually. When I am making a major life transition, whether I am fully aware of it or not, my dreams will be of buying a trusty vehicle and taking off in it. I have wondered what the purchase of this trailer heralds and I seem to be especially hungry for time alone and time in the woods to figure it out.

External things are certainly happening. I have undertaken some challenging projects at work, my kids are now grown, my parents are both gone, I am exploring retirement--much around me is changing  but the real shifts are internal. Between the campfires, the night noises and the haunting tall pines, I discern three internal shifts underway in my life: the movement from loneliness to solitude; the movement from anger to forgiveness; and the movement from grief to joy. Clearly I need this time away and alone to nurture and explore them and while I was delighted to share the weekend with Ben and his friend, Sydney, I was glad they had other appointments, too.

While waiting for Ben to arrive Friday, I decided to take a short hike

around the top of Morrow Mountain. You can drive to the summt--to a nice picnic area atop the mountain and an extensive parking area with turnaround. There is also a one mile loop trail with spectacular views. I have been nursing an enraged Achilles tendon but with a sturdy walking stick, I enjoyed the views and the laurel. When Ben did arrive, we explored the countryside by car. Catherine Bishir has written 3 books on the historic architecture of each of North Carolina's geographic regions. Our favorite vacation when the kids were young was to explore a new region of the state using a Bishir book as a guide. It was like a treasure hunt. Greg set the destination, I read the map and the kids spied out the windows for the structures we hoped to see. I carry the books with me now in the camper and we used them to good advantage that afternoon.

Sydney, an art major at UNCC, arrived after a long day in the studio. Grill meister Ben served up roasted corn on the cob and burgers. I provided the rest of the meal including cake and ice cream. We ended the day with a bonfire. 

The next morning, Sydney and Ben returned along with my friend, Ruthie who had not kayaked before. Sydney grew up kayaking this area and knew of a hidden waterfall accessible from the State Park boat ramp. The Uwharrie River empties into Lake Tillery just across from the boat ramp so the four of us headed up the river under Sydney's direction. It was a great first trip for Ruthie--lovely scenery and away from the motor boats, and the waterfall was a treat for all of us.

After a leisurely lunch, the kids headed off to a wedding shower, Ruthie set out for Costco, and I looked for other short hikes and discovered the Kron house. Dr. Kron was the region's first trained physician. He was also a remarkable horticulturist, bringing new plants for

food, enjoyment and medicine to the region. His home and greenhouse have been restored for visitors to enjoy. From the sound of it, his horticulture training may have been more useful to his neighbors than his medical skills as he trained at a time when leaches and turpentine were about the best he could offer.

I spent the evening reading and thinking by a last bonfire, grateful for my children and friends, anticipating the next leg of this journey, where ever it may take me.

Flying Solo

April 2 is always a tough day for me. In 1988, it was the day I married my late husband, Jack Gregory (Greg) Talbott. So I try to honor the day each year with a kindness to myself. This year, the kindness was to allow myself a weekend alone in Asheville at my favorite spot on the French Broad River at Wilson's RV Park. So I left work early on Friday the 31st and headed up Black Mountain.

Wilson's is immediately adjacent to the Asheville Outdoor Center where we have signed on to trips down the French Broad and through the Biltmore estate. Asheville also has an extensive system of greenway parks, one of which--the French Broad River Greenway, starts a mile east and runs right throught the RV park. It

was too cold that weekend, mostly rainy and damp, for comfortable paddling, but it was perfect for a weekend of reading, introspection and long river walks.

My friend Caroline, from the Cheraw trip, lives near Rutherfordton and joined me Saturday night for a craft beer and BBQ in downtown Asheville. It is always good to see her but the point of the trip was to be mostly alone. I needed to know I could manage the rig alone but more importantly, I needed to know I could manage being alone with the rig.

I will be 63 in June. I have been widowed 12 years now and hope to be retiring soon. The limits of my days of good health are becoming increasingly evident and there are things I still very much want to do. It is also increasingly evident that I need to be prepared to do them by myself. So this was a practice run,  and for the most part, it went well--with one tiny boo boo that taught me two things. #1 Unplug the brake cable when backing into a camp site. The truck and camper can turn so tight you (I) can pop the brake cable out of recepticle on the truck. Oops. And #2 Fearing I might lose brakes coming down the continental divide, I took the Saluda Grade home rather than Black Mountain. Easier and faster--good to know as I intend to be back.

Days in Rodanthe: Day 2

 Ben got in about 10:30 pm and went straight to bed. We all slept well. I was up with this lovely sunrise making breakfast. The point of getting LibraryAnn was to have a kitchen on wheels, and while I don't care for the daily routine of cooking at home, I do have fun in my little portable galley.

While Jessie took Franklin to the dog park, I returned to Bodie Light House with Ben. We got this shot from an observation deck at the end of a long boardwalk. It was a good chance to catch up with him and his first view of Bodie.

We decided to grill burgers and pack them along with fixin's for a picnic lunch at the Hatteras
Light.  Since I was not focused on pulling a trailer, I

could enjoy the scenery and was even more impressed with the fragility of these barrier islands. At some points, the sound was a couple of car lengths to our right and the dunes to our left encroached on the road with the ocean just beyond. There was considerable road construction and an obviously temporary bridge in place where the DOT had decided to bridge a new inlet rather than try to fill it in. An amazing dedication keeps the road open.

As we drove south towards Avon and Hatteras, we began to get an idea of the extent of flooding caused by the recent hurricane. For miles, both sides of the road were lined with piles of rubbish waiting to be hauled away--duct work, flooring, insulation, furniture, mattresses, toys--people's homes and livelihoods destroyed.

We stopped for lunch at the Buxton Woods picnic area

at the base of Hatteras Light. After that we wandered the grounds and gift shop. Jessie and I purchased National Park passports with a dream of visiting many more and having them stamped. As we walked across the way to the old light house location we were all nearly crippled with sandburs, particularly Franklin. Ben carried him to the pavement beyond and I fetched the car.

From there we drove to the end of the Island and the Graveyard of the Atlantic museum. There is a monument in the parking lot to General Ambrose E. Burnside's visit to Hatteras during the Civil War.  He was my grandfather's great uncle. I also have a Quaker ancestor from Yanceyville meeting. Maybe that is why North Carolina has always felt like home.

 On the way back, we hit the Food Lion in Avon for some fresh shrimp. I came to North Carolina in 1976 to enter a graduate program at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine in Winston Salem. A friend from Chicago who grew up on NC military bases told me I would hate NC but love graduate school. Well, I lasted a year at Bowman Gray but have yet to leave NC. I did enjoy several camping trips with other students that year, including tent camping on the Outer Banks. It was my first trip to the Carolina coast and I remember eating shrimp boiled in pickling spices at a picnic table, smelling the fresh sea air and tossing shrimp shells to the gulls. I don't think I'd ever tasted anything so good and wanted to do boiled shrimp for Ben and Jessie.

 We had a wonderful meal of shrimp, flounder, slaw, sour dough bread, corn on the cob, and later, marshmallows cooked over the grill.

Ben and Jessie took Franklin to the beach near our camp site to try to fly their kite (and get Franklin tired enough to sleep well). The sunset over the sound was just so lovely, I did a whole lot more gazing than dish washing. Eventually Venus appeared and so did the kids. They traded a very tired Franklin for me and we went back in the dark to fly the kite with glow sticks tied to the tail and then burn sparklers in the sand.

It has been just the trip it needed to be--family reconnecting in this beautiful natural world, away from the daily cares, over good food and good times. Back to reality early tomorrow as Jessie works tomorrow evening and Ben and I need to prep for Monday.

We will leave too early to get our passports stamped at Bodie--guess that means we will have to come back...

Days in Rodanthe: Day 1.5

 I left work on Thursday at noon. Jessie and I both had the slows so it was 3:30 before we pulled out. Our goal was modest, a campground in Four Oaks east of Raleigh. We took the "southern route" to avoid Raleigh and it's heinous traffic--US 421 to Buies Creek then I95  north to US 64 and east.

As tired as I was, hitting the open road just seems to peel layers of stress away. The truck and trailer feel like a happy team. We were cruising 421 just south of Raven Rock, about 40 minutes from Four Oaks, when we heard an odd noise.

We apparently have a very good guardian angel on duty. The truck wasn't jerked around, no equipment was damaged, we found a reasonably safe pull off, and we didn't get hit dismantling the back tool box to liberate the spare tire. And we had one of Greg's old channel locks to help with the job. AND a  kind deputy pulled over in time to do the hard stuff. We found air within a mile to fully inflate the spare and crept into Four Oaks.

Did I sat "Bates Motel"? Things looked a lot better in the morning, but when we pulled in, not so much. I joined a discount club and decided to stay in one of their campgrounds for the night as this was just a pass through. The campsites were part of a trailer park/cheap motel/RV park. The place looked a little rough at night, especially with odd Halloween decorations. At checkin, the clerk gave me a bath house key and a warning to lock the door behind me. He didn't have to say it twice. To their credit, the baths were very clean and I am sure we were fine, but we just might not be back.

The next morning we were up very early. The only tire place in the area was literally just across the interstate from our campground. We were there when they opened at 8a. Ronnie'a Country Store is a fascinating place.

It looks like a very large BP station. In reality, it is a 24 hour grocery/hardware/farm store with biscuits and coffee, Pointer brand work clothes, groceries, plumbing supplies and very much more. The building beside it sells tires and livestock feed from the same storage area. The issue with my tires was age (I was planning to replace them at the end of this season). They set me up with three new tires for about half what I expected to pay and did it in less than 30 minutes while Jessie and I picked up some better tools.

So off we went to Rodanthe and a couple of side trips. We made a stop in charming Tarboro where we all took a walk in the historic district. We walked beautiful tree lined streets past gorgeous old homes, including this one elaborately decorated for Halloween.

When we got to Columbia, we got out to walk again on a boardwalk through a Picosin Swamp--The Scuppernong River Interpretive Boardwalk. Sleepy with lunch, Rodanthe seemed to be getting further and further away.

We finally crossed the Alligator River into Manteo and were on NC 12, the Outer Banks highway. I am reading a just published history of NC 12 and am awed by the trouble and dedication involved in keeping this highway open. The way sand is deposited around these fragile barrier islands, they continually are moved to the west. In addition, great storms, like the recent Matthew, open and close inlets, continually redefining island boundaries and where the road and bridges must be located. Without a functioning NC 12, the only way to drive on the sandy Outer Banks is to drive at surf's edge with a receding tide.

We did stop to admire the lovely Bodie Island light house and chat with the gift

shop clerk who said the worst storm damage was south of us, yet to be seen. As I write this, we are comfortably parked at the Camp Hatteras RV Park with this lovely view of the sound out our back window. We have enjoyed supper and seeing the sun set out over the sound. We are snug and warm, safe on our new tires and waiting for Ben to join us for a day of adventure tomorrow.

Nite nite!

Under a Southern Moon

We have just returned from a stunning full moon paddle on Juniper Lake. We are at Cheraw State Park just outside Cheraw, SC.

I am a member (treasurer, in fact) of the Central Carolina Paddlers out of Sanford, NC. We are a club of about 25 members. This weekend is the annual camp out, the first I have been able to attend. My long time friend, Caroline joined me this weekend for her first paddle experience. It could not have been nicer.

Breakfast!

Cheraw State Park is a creation of the CCC, one of Roosevelt's "alphabet soup" programs that created many of our state and national parks. It is an exceptionally lovely place and important habitat for endangered plants and birds. Our campground is at the edge of Juniper Lake, a body of water about 2.5 miles long ending in an extensive cypress swamp.

We arrived before supper on Friday evening. My tiny rig managed to nab the only pull through campsite while large rigs around me were backing into wooded spaces. We have a great view of the lake AND we are right next to the bath house. Someone is smiling on us for sure. Most club members were staying in cabins across the lake and we arrived just in time to join them for a great hot dog cookout at cabin 7. The rest of the group hit the lake about 8p for the full Harvest Moon. Caroline wisely decided her first kayak experience should be in broad daylight so two happy campers hit the hay.

The next morning we were on the water at 9a. For Caroline's first trip, the setting was pretty spectacular. The morning was overcast and breezy. We paddled the length of the lake and then meandered among the cypress knees. Caroline is a soil scientist who has studied forestry and landscape architecture. She was the soil conservation agent for Chatham County (back when there was such a thing) and my first weaving student in the yarn store I opened in Pittsboro back in the mid 1980s. She currently works as a land management consultant and lives near her family farm in Rutherfordton. It was a treat to have her along as she was quick to identify native plants and animals. We saw herons and pitcher plants and water lilies in bloom.

While we didn't see any ospreys, apparently they are abundant here. It was pretty amazing to see a marker explaining their habits and habitat nailed to a tree smack in the middle of the lake. The endangered Red Cockaded Woodpecker and some 200 other species of birds reside here as well.

In the afternoon (after a generous nap) we drove into Historic Cheraw to explore "the prettiest town in the South". As if the gracious homes, beautifully renovated churches and buildings were not enough, Cheraw is the birthplace of the great Dizzy Gillespie. We visited the park at his
homeplace, found his statue downtown on the town green, and visited with a delightful gift shop proprietress who lives in the former town library--a gracious old home that served Sherman's troops. Apparently, the Yanks fell into some hidden wine and had a munitions accident that leveled much of the old down town, but the restoration of what is left is well worth the visit. And the annual jazz festival in honor of Gillespie sounds like a must-attend.

This evening at 8p, Caroline joined the club for her first night time paddle. The moon was an hour later this evening, but it made a spectacular entrance through the clouds and reflected in the glassy water. It was well worth the wait. Truly a moment of peace on Earth.

The entire weekend has been so special. And the best part of all of it is that Cheraw is only 1.5 hours from home. We will be back.

Dan River Adventure

I have known Cathy since I was pregnant with Jessie--over 25 years. She is a world traveler and far more intrepid than my timid self. But we do enjoy kayaking together and for my 60th birthday, she booked a sweet little cabin for us near Lake Tillery where we hiked and paddled and contemplated the next decade.

Now it was my turn to treat her to a special trip and on August 26 weekend, I did.

Twice now I have paddled sections of the Dan River with my son, Ben. The scenery is spectacular. The first time we went, Jacob from the Haw River Canoe and Kayak company, a dear friend, offered to go with us. I have this thing about wanting to do a new stretch of river for the first time with someone more experienced and Jacob's offer could not have made me happier. Jacob is seriously whitewater so I figured he'd be bored to tears and took his offer as a gracious favor for this old lady. Instead, as we traversed an almost continuous slew of Class 1 rapids, he noted that we were seeing Class 4 scenery on a Class 1 river and was duly impressed. The river passes by enormous cliffs. Apparently, it is these huge cliffs that typically break off the create the challenging Class 4 rapids. In this case, we got the great cliffs without the treacherous rapids.

I had so much fun on that trip, Ben and I went back this spring and did another section of the Dan that was familiar to him through his work at the Betsy Jeff Penn Environmental Education Center. I guess Cathy heard me talk so much about the Dan that when I offered to take her away for a weekend in LibraryAnn, she chose a trip to paddle the Dan.

I don't have a waterproof camera yet. The image on the right is courtesy of the Danbury General Store--a shout out to the owner who rescued us on our second Dan River trip when Ben locked his keys in my truck back at the put in and couldn't drive us home from the take out. Please buy your chips and drinks from her--she never let us pay her.  The image of the cliffs below is from the NC River Paddler Blog (I promise to get a GoPro soon...) and gives just a glimpse of the sights to be seen.

So despite the wicked heat, Cathy and I had a grand time. The trip we took was courtesy of the Dan River Company which has a private put in upstream of the most scenic stretch. The water level was perfect, the riffles were enough of a challenge to be interesting without being scary. And the air was cool on the river.

We were on the river about three hours. We took ourselves to historic Bib's BBQ in Winston-Salem for a late lunch then walked the art district until heat and rain sent us home.

Our home base was the Dan River Campground, 45 minutes away in Stoneville, NC. Apparently they have their own river adventures to offer. I was intent on showing Cathy the section of river I had enjoyed so much but couldn't find a closer place to camp (Hanging Rock State Park campground is lovely but was fully booked for this weekend). The Dan River Campground in Stoneville was very nice and I think it would be fun to go back and try their section of the river the next time. Always looking for a good excuse...