| Doughton Park Hiking Review | Cabins, and Salamanders, and Bears- oh my!

Hello!  My name is Paisley, and I have a debilitating phobia of bears.  I started having recurring dreams of being pursued by them about ten years ago.  Really, truly- about once a week, I will have a dream about bears.  Maybe this just means the bear is my spirit guide, but after so many years of these dreams, I’ve been more inclined to conclude that it’s a premonition that I will someday be mauled to death by one.  It’s important that you know this as I proceed with my tale.

The boyfriend and I spent our weekend up in The Enchanted Forest, a.k.a. The Taj Matrout, a.k.a. my mom’s house, as is often the case.  And, as is often the case, adventures ensued.  There was much feasting, and dancing, and star-gazing, and a brutal hike along the Bluff Ridge Primitive Trail.

Salamanders are basically animated jello.

Our weekend began with an encounter with one of the friendlier woodland creatures at the Taj Matrout: a salamander, which we saved from a certain death by the jaws of Charlotte.  We talked about what hike we might choose to go on the next day, and it hit me that I really, really needed some decent hiking shoes if we were going to go on anything strenuous.  That morning I'd tried breaking in the Clarks I'd ordered, which left me with a blister after just 30 minutes of wear, and would be going back to Amazon.  So, onwards to West Jefferson we went to acquire some Keens.

Once we returned to the house, spiffy new hiking shoes in tow, I was very eager to try them out.  The boyfriend consented to walk up the hill through the Christmas tree farm with me, even though it was about 6:30 already and the sun was fading pretty swiftly.  So begins our tale of woe.

It occurred to me that it might be a stupid idea to go out this time of day. In the woods.  After my mom had e-mailed me a picture of the estimated 400ish lb black bear living nearby.  But onwards I went!

We lingered at the top of the hill to take pictures in the sunset before walking back down.  There was hardly any light left once we started walking down the hill, and through the thick, bushy Christmas trees, there was really no visibility to speak of to either side of the trail.  Near the bottom of the hill, I made Andrew stop and listen.  We both heard a low, rumbling animal noise not far off to our right. Three times.  I darted up the hill expecting Andrew and the two dogs to follow, but he lagged behind when we realized Charlotte was missing.  We both called and called for her, but she made no appearance.  We growled and yelled and made as much noise as possible, and I hid behind a tree, feeling like this was it.  The dream bear had finally found me.  I called my mom- for once my phone had signal in the wild- and told her to come get us ASAP, but watch out for Charlotte.  "She's right here," my mom said.  I figured she hadn't been eaten by a bear, but was still afraid she might have been so scared she ran off somewhere in the dark where I'd never find her.  Nope. Turns out she just abandoned us and ran home!

After what seemed an eternity, our hero in shining silver Subaru arrived to collect us.  I'd been yelling in an effort to scare critters away so much that my voice was gone, and I was shaking for the rest of the night. No one else seemed incredibly bothered or worried, but that's all part of my recurring dream, too.  

In nearly every dream, the bears are after myself and other people I know, but I'm always the only one who seems to notice or sense the threat.  So, maybe now that reality has played out the scenario, the dreams will stop?  We'll see, I suppose.

The real tragedy is that this awful picture could have been the last one of us alive.  Probably the last photo of Wolf's butt, too.

After the bear incident, we ventured forth to Laurel Springs' hottest club....which would be the biker bar down the way- Freeborne's Bar & Grill.  Surprisingly, they've got a rather classy and extensive menu, and it is seriously, uh, lively on the weekends.  I just sat there wallowing in my bear phobia on this trip though.

Fast forward to the next morning- we had decided that after our lovely breakfast of pumpkin pancakes and bacon, we would set out on hike to Caudill Cabin in the Doughton Park area.  It's an area I've been exploring since I was a wee thing and my family took trips up to stay at Bluff's Lodge, which I'm still heartbroken is non-operational at the moment.  

One of the frequent stops whilst exploring this area was always the little overlook where, on a clear day, you can see a little cabin down in the valley.  I've wanted to hike down and take a closer look at it for about 20 years now, so I was excited about us having a nice, clear day in which to finally go there.  But, yet again, it was not to be.

The cabin overlook.

You can just barely see the roofline of the cabin near the center of this photo, in the clearing.

I had noticed the Caudill Cabin hike sign posts the last time we hiked in the area, and logged it in my head as "about an 8 mile hike."  What I did not mentally record was that it was about 8 miles one way, using the trails I had spotted.  Too bad I didn't even realize I'd made this mistake until we were about 3 miles in and thought we were "almost there." If we'd gotten an earlier start, maybe it still would have been doable, but setting off after noon didn't give us enough daylight.  

Freshly equipped with bear bells, emergency tools, and paranoia, we started our hike by descending the Bluff Ridge Primitive Trail.

Beautiful/kind of creepy tree at the beginning of the trail.

Immediately I was kind of wary about how steep the hill was on the way down, since, you know, we were going to have to go the opposite direction to get back. Normally I prefer taking the uphill part of a hike first if it's an option, instead of after you've already been slogging for a few hours.  We figured the payoff of getting to see the cabin up close would make the incline worth it though.

About 3 miles in, we reached the bottom of the mountain, and came upon a primitive camping area.  Basin Cove primitive camping, I think?

.....along with a sign near this little waterfall that said "Caudill Cabin: 3.3 miles."

...3.3 more miles??  Oh boy. Abort mission.  No way was I going to be out in the woods that late in the day again.  It turns out that we could have parked near this campsite on Longbottom Road and hiked in 5 miles to the cabin on relatively flat ground, so that will be what we try next time.  For this trip though, we just decided to wander the road for about another mile, eat our lunch, and prepare ourselves for a 2.8 mile relentless uphill journey.

At the campsite, you will also find the grave of Alice Caudill, wife of Famon Caudill.

You might find some weird, fluffy mushrooms, too.

There's a review of the Bluff Ridge Primitive Trail here that says taking the trail uphill is recommended "only if you are in training to climb Mount Everest in the near future," and I do believe my boyfriend would agree.  It was challenging to say the least.  It felt like I was chugging along at a 15 degree incline on the treadmill the whole way up, with no respite.  I've taken to getting at least an hour of exercise every day lately though, and that coupled with the motivation to get the heck off that mountain before the sun started going down propelled me up the trail without much trouble.  My boyfriend, on the other hand, was seriously scaring me with how difficult it was for him, and visions of having the night close in around us with all its wild growly things after he'd passed out and I had to drag him up a mountain were starting to flood my mind.  So, this hike is definitely not recommended for the faint of heart or breath.  As I write this, two days later, I'm still wincing in pain every time I go up the stairs or even sit down.  To classify this hike as a "thigh burner" is putting it mildly.  If you want to test your endurance though, I'd say this is the best trail I've found in the area.

I'm coming for you, Everest!

It really doesn't look that bad here, but photos are deceiving.

2 miles into the uphill portion of the hike, Andrew succumbs to madness and decides to pursue becoming a Swami.

With some determination, we did make it back to the top of the mountain, where I allowed Andrew to collapse since we were now out of what I considered high-risk bear territory (we spotted fresh scat on the way up that was not there on the way down).

And from thence we made our way back across the beautiful meadow to the car.....

....and from there back to the Taj Matrout, where a luscious dinner awaited us.

Build-your-own pasta night!

Nom.

Hopefully we'll get another chance to make it to the cabin soon, but I won't be too upset if we wait until the bears are hibernating.

All roads lead to muddy adventures at the Taj Matrout.

Life Lately- A Little Food, A Little Progress, A Little Thought

Hello, poor, abandoned blog!  I’ve not written in a long time. Why?  For a few reasons.

1. My job has been so demanding that I haven’t had much energy for anything besides getting things done at the office and getting my exercise in.
2. My Post-European Travel Despair has yet to dissipate. Happens every time I come back. Usually lasts until I can start planning my next trip.
3. I’ve been cooking a whole lot less because of the aforementioned things.

Between my bouts of misery and stress, I have, however, still been progressing in living a healthier life and surrounding myself with healthy food.  As I said, I haven’t been whipping up meals on my own as much, but I’ve been seeking out more ready-made or quick to make, no-cook healthy foods.

Oh, and I discovered coffee.  I’m not quite sure how that happened.  For my entire life up until about two months ago, my burgeoning hatred and mistrust for anything coffee-related was a defining aspect of my being, but something changed.  “I think I want to try coffee,” I announced one night after dinner.  My best friend bestowed a few Keurig cups on me, and it was all downhill from there.  At this point, I’ve become enough of a connoisseur to assure you I do hate K-cups, and I’ve developed a preference for medium-bodied varieties brewed in a French press.  Seriously though, I still have barely a clue what I’m doing with coffee.  I just know that our loves deepens with each passing day.

 

My favoritest coffee so far.

I kind of wish I’d discovered it before taking on a healthy lifestyle.  I would have loved to be able to enjoy a pumpkin spice latte in total ignorance of the horrific nutrition facts (even the “skinny” Starbucks version has something like 260 calories for a 12 oz, plus around 4 bajillion carbs and grams of sugar).  Having forever been a pumpkin spice loving, coffee hating creature, I always felt miffed on missing out when pumpkin spice latte season rolled around.  Luckily I found a recipe for a truly “skinny” version, and edited it down into something I could enjoy without guilt!  You can, of course, use real sugar and real maple syrup in this.

Recipe (made in a French press):

2 tsp pumpkin pie spice

3 tbsp coffee (hazelnut coffee tastes best, in my opinion)

2 Tbsp Walden Farms Pancake Syrup (or syrup of choice)

8 oz skim milk

2 tsp sweetener of choice (I like Splenda or Truvia, but whatever works)

-Brew the coffee + pumpkin pie spice with 18 oz of water.

Fill the bottom of your mug with the syrup.

Shake the milk until it's nice and frothy, then heat it in the microwave for about a minute.

Pour the hot coffee and milk into your mug and stir in some sweetener if you prefer.

Enjoy your 80 calorie latte!

Other things I’ve discovered:

Quest bars- holy omg.  These. Things. Are. Amazing!  Especially when you heat them up in the microwave (most of them).  The Quest protein chips are amazing, too (though probably not in the microwave).  I’ve been focusing on a more low-carb/low sugar diet recently, and these things really go above and beyond in that aspect.

And continuing my trend of "What Can I Just Slap Together" meals, we have:

Oatmeal and sliced bananas, with coffee of course . . . 

Toast with cream cheese and apple butter, with coffee . . . 

Mom's homemade banana bread with cream cheese, cinnamon apple butter, and...you guessed it....

Scrambled eggs on toast with Canadian bacon...

Oh, and the delicacy I like to call Bachelorette Pizza. It's toast with a wedge of laughing cow cheese, mini pepperonis, and fresh basil on top.  The basil looks fancy and the pepperonis are cute, which makes it not look as sad.

It's not actually all that sad.  It's actually pretty delicious.  

Which brings me to last night’s dinner- beet and apple salad with balsamic vinaigrette. 

My mom’s single apple tree has proven itself to be a veritable orchard unto itself, and we’ve had to get very creative with ways to use up the plethora of fruit.  I have about four quarts of applesauce tucked in my freezer at the moment, along with three varieties of apple butter, two more quarts of applesauce, a jar of cinnamon apples, and a bowl of raw apples in the fridge. Oh, and two bags of dried apples on top of the fridge.  Needless to say, about every meal these days is accompanied by some sort of apple product.

Anyway, it was simple salads for dinner because yesterday was one heck of a day.  For the sake of being a bright-eyed, positive professional, I won’t hash out details, but my work day was rough.  Don’t get me wrong- I love what I do, find it very rewarding, and feel supremely lucky to have found a position that goes along with my degree and allows me to be creative.  That’s not the problem.

The problem, at its very core, I think, is that I’m not Southern.  By all technical accounts, I am, but by all accounts of my behavior, personality, and soul, I am not.  I had a good heart-to-heart with my mom about it, and she reminded me I am still young, and I am still free to chase my dreams.  There truly is nothing holding me back, besides maybe the necessity of keeping a few fluffballs with me wherever I go.  And what has been my dream forever?  When people ask me, if I could do anything, what would I do, what do I say to them?

I have a few answers to that, but there’s a common thread throughout all of them, and it’s that none of them have anything to do with living in rural North Carolina.  They all have to do with being far, far away from it.  Europe, more specifically.  So, what IS holding me back?  I sometimes feel a bit down about being a nearly-30-year-old woman who has never come close to being in a committed relationship, having no kids, having no home of my own, no grand salary or savings, etc.  Ok . . . maybe “sometimes” is an understatement.  I feel pretty crappy, undesirable, and unaccomplished for the vast majority of my waking hours.  But maybe I’m missing the positive aspect of my lack of ties to anything permanent and lasting: I have complete freedom.  And perhaps I’m squandering it.

I can only hope...

I’m not sure what I’ll do next, or how I’ll make it happen, but I think it’s time to get what I really want out of life back in focus.  There is so much pressure- especially in the South and especially in your late 20s- to be stable and have everything figured out, but that seems to refuse to happen for me.  And maybe if I get back to chasing what I really want, it will finally come together.