Woke to forecasts of rain, rain, and more rain, so hopes of some rock climbing kind of out the window. But did a little moisture send us whining to an all-day visit to Waffle House? No (though the suggestion was made . . .), it did not. Very grateful to have gotten out the door and onto the trails at Stone Mountain, NC, a climbing area Clare and I knew from ages ago (and a terrific state park to visit no matter what you do). There's a great old 19th century homestead at the base of the cliffs that really gives a sense of what it would be like to live like the early settlers. For us it was nice, too, because by the time we got up there the rain was coming down in torrents. Neat to sit dry in the loft of a hand-built tobacco barn and watch new rivers come tumbling down the huge cliff above. Henry snapped this photo that captures it a little.
Lots of wildlife in the park. Many up-close deer,a wild turkey, and (best of all?) a little red eft
salamander that we named Tiny. You know,
Tiny, because he's my newt.
Blame for the awful pun (or credit, if you will) to Ron Dawson, who first pulled this one out in my company sixteen or seventeen years ago. Tiny reminded us that, coincidentally, Ron was expecting us for dinner on the other side of the divide. Pea-soup fog and winding roads, but gorgeous country whenever the sky opened enough for us to see. These mountains were such a big part of earlier lives for us and it's almost painful not to be lingering here. A real visit to western NC sometime soon, we promise ourselves.
Just great to see Ron. He makes us all smile.
Camping now beside Grandfather Mountain and hoping for sun tomorrow. It feels good to be outside.
- Dan
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