Welcome to the Wilderness

The Huckleberry Trail starts at the top of Spruce Knob and runs through shaded high-mountain spruce glades all the way down to the Falls of Seneca Creek. There are only a few overlooks along the trail, but when you start at Spruce Knob, you've already seen the best vistas around.  Apparently the remains of an old plane crash are visible along this trail.  We didn't see the plane, but we didn't really look too hard either.  

Lately I have been posting lots of pictures of these wooded trails.  Their quiet serenity is really underappreciated.  Sometimes I think people hike only to arrive at some grand vista or huge waterfall.  I enjoy those destinations too, but these pictures of wooded trails are my celebration of the process of "getting there."  I like this photo because one lone spruce tree is spotlighted like a soloist in a grand choral ensemble.

We set out for an easy little hike along the Turkey Run trail in the Otter Creek Wilderness Area.  The first mile and a half of this beautiful trail was overgrown with stinging nettles.  In some cases their blossoms reached six feet high.  If we had worn shorts, we would have turned back.  Both of us were averging 20 SPH (stings per hour).  Fortunately, for both of us the burining sensation only lasts for five minutes, though your mileage may vary.  I would not recommend this trail for children.  They would have not have fun among these prickly plants.

With all complaining aside, they were actually quite beautiful.  The old forest road was carpeted by chest-deep nettles and blossoms as far as the eye could see.  The minor nuisance of the stings was a price well worth paying for the beautiful scene.  The prickly panoramic at the top of this entry was taken as we arrived back to the trailhead and looks down onto the Fernow Experimental Forest Road.  

The magnificent nettles of the Turkey Run trail end abruptly when the footpath turns and begins hiking along the north facing side of the mountain.  We were happy to be done with the nettles while the shade of the spruce, hemlock, and rhododendron made for a very comfortable and pleasant hike.  Some folks might disregard this trail as "...a walk in the woods," but in this case, the quiet serenity of the area more than compensated for a lack of drama.     In our entire 8.5 mile hike, we didn't see a single person.  Maybe those stinging nettles are good for something after all.    

I've slogged my way out into this soggy, foggy bog a few times.  It isn't a long hike, but it's always pretty wet.  Generally I end up sinking a boot knee deep into the spongy sphagnum, and Sunday morning was no exception.  When we finally got to the far end, we clambered up onto a rocky ledge that overlooked the highland marsh.  From this minor promontory, we watched the sun illuminate the foggy bog.  In the last moments before the fog burned-off, this magical ribbon appeared and then it was gone. 

I don't think that the highlands of West Virginia are considered rainforest, but sometimes they look it.  Hiking Otter Creek this weekend, the forest was deep green with lush rhododendron, red spruce, and hemlock. This first panoramic is a two row HDR panoramic with five images across for a total of 30 exposures.  In these dark hemlock groves, the contrast between the shadows and the narrow beams of light that reach the floor can be quite dramatic.  

We parked at the south end of the Otter Creek trail.  Before starting our hike, we chatted up some gentlemen with their hunting dogs.  I asked one of them if he and his dogs were training because I didn't think any game was in season.  He proceeded to explain that bear wasn't in season, but that he didn't shoot bear, he just liked to track them with his hounds.  "Why would I shoot 'em?  If your game was football, you wouldn't stab a knife through the ball."  You can't argue with logic like that.

You might think this image looks to you like a stream or  a creek.  You'd be wrong.  This...in the highlands...is a trail.  Beautiful little wet trail-spots like this occur dozens of times in a mile.  As you can guess the rocks make for excellent obstacles due to their super-slippery, high-tech coating of algae and moss. So, if you find yourself being chased through the wilderness by a band of hillbilly zombies you should seek out one of these little obstacles to throw them off your trail. 

I don't normally do funny photos. Landscape and woodland photography doesn't have too many opportunities to make comedic statements. (I admit that there is an obscure school of landscape photographers who focus their lenses on Phallic Rocks.)

This playful photograph of an Osprey with his prize was taken at Ocoquan Bay National Wildlife Refuge. As for the circumstances: Kara had been watching it before I started tracking his flight, and she later explained that this particular fish was struggling and flopping around wildly in the Osprey's talons (I guess it didn't want to be eaten). So, the Osprey ate the fish's head. That might not be so funny, except for the foolish wide-eyed stare that the Osprey had when it proudly flew over my head.

While I was focusing my attention on the vicious fish-eating Osprey, there was another ferocious predator sitting placidly in a tree nearby. This juvenile Great Horned Owl was waiting for just the right moment to swoop down and rain death and destruction on unsuspecting field mice. This may seem cruel, but I have become a fan of the owls. After some research, it seems that the deer tick that carries the dreaded Lyme's disease is most dependent on the field mouse for its life cycle. So, it seems to me, if we can get some more owls out there to reduce the mouse population, we should be able to reduce Lyme's disease infections. If we could just get Ospreys to eat Snakeheads.

Our small party hiked around the perimeter of Catoctin Mountain and Cunningham Falls Parks where the elevation rarely dipped much below 1,400 feet above sea level. Despite the warm temperatures, on top of the mountain, there were very few green leaves to be found.  While the landscape wasn't colorful, without the leaves you could easily see the boulder-strewn terrain of the mountain.  Looking south towards Cunningham Falls State Park (above) Chimney Rock still bares the markings of CCC construction crews who carved the date into the rocks (lower left corner).  

Wolf Rock (below) is my favorite outcropping  in the area. As a kid I remember spending  hours crawling and climbing through the deep maze-like crevices through the stone mountain.  Of course, there were bear and mountain lion dens nestled among the rocks between the trolls and the bandits that made their homes in the caves that could, quite possibly, descend to the Halls of Mordor.

Some days I wake up and I don't want to go anywhere. I have a dull hangover from a week long binge of ordinary, everyday office-work. Despite my lethargy, Saturday morning I dragged myself out of bed, knowing I would feel better with fresh air and exercise. Two hours later, I was standing at this scene. The trees were coated in snow-crusted ice. Everything was crystalline. The beauty of the day and the exertion of exercise cleared my mind and focused my appreciation on the serendipity of the moment. I felt lucky that on that day when the trees looked like this, I was there when I could have been at work.

This panoramic image was taken along Three Mile Run at White Grass.  It is composed of three rows of ten shots. It is a very wide-angle image, particularly in the vertical axis. This explains the strange appearance of the tops of the trees. Frequently people ask me why I bother to shoot such large panoramics. "Couldn't you just get a fisheye lens and be done with it?" Yes, I suppose I could, but I like detail. For this special image, I have posted a zoomify version that will give you a sense of how much detail I capture in a shot like this. Check it out.

It has been almost two weeks since the epic White Grass weekend of January 9-10, 2010.  The mid Atlantic weather patterns have returned to rain, sleet, and snow in a mixed bag of winter booms and busts.  No matter.  The glory of snow is fleeting, a constant reminder to seize the day and enjoy the beauty that is given.  Never worry about tomorrow's snow.

This two-row panoramic stitch was taken standing at the back of the Roundtop shelter.  On Sunday it was abuzz with the smiling faces of seasonal, snow-worshippers.  Friends were to be found at every turn.  The improvised stove and prayer flags represent the community spirit of a warmth and open shelter that White Grass provides surrounded by the pure beauty of wilderness. On the right, friends prepare to continue their trek up the mountain.

All over White Grass, there are dozens of little spots that I love to visit.  This segment of the Highland View trail, just below the Sawmill Flats Shelter, sneaks through a grove of Hemlock.  It's dark and quiet, compared to the snowy brightness elsewhere.  The snow hanging in the trees muffles sounds, creating a soft awareness of your own breath. Often you will snag a branch of a tree and shower a skiff of snow down your back.  It's very refreshing.

And then there is the gratuitous display of white and blue, snowy goodness at Bald Knob.  Every tree was covered with a heavy layer of fine powdery snow.  We stood at this spot, breathing, smiling, and relishing in the moment.  No thoughts invaded our minds, outside of the fabulous spectacle of snow.  Friends and neighbors skied by, smiling.  Bemused happiness filled our hearts. Two weeks later, meditating on this photo, I contentedly recall a pale shadow of the wonderous feeling of being there, then.

Last week we found ourselves traipsing around Syracuse New York. We stopped at the Osceola Tug Hill Ski Center where we had a delightful ski tour on beautifully groomed cross country ski trails. Of course when we planned this excursion we had no way to know that our normal stomping grounds in West Virginia would be buried under some of the best December skiing seen in a decade. No worries. Osceola is really pretty, and upstate New York provides some beautifully dramatic rural winter scenes.

These two panoramic shots are taken moments apart. The first image above has a warm orange color that belies the reality of the scene—15 degrees F, with a strong breeze blowing. Despite the ubiquitous power lines, I really like the warmth of the early winter snow.

The second panoramic shot is does a better job of representing the reality of the cold. The blue cast set-in immediately after the sun went fully behind the dusky clouds. To further accentuate the cold blues, I selectively desaturated the yellow, red, and magenta with a transparent black and white layer. All the color is still there, but the cool blues dominate the scene. Both of these images are faithful to the scene as it unfolded in less than five minutes. I used some post processing to make sure that the images really captured the moment.

Last Saturday was the official opening day for White Grass Ski Touring Center. Some years there is no snow, other years, just a skiff enough to ski the snowfarm. This year, there was a delightful ten inches of fluffy white stuff. We had a luxurious season opening tour out the 3-Mile Trail to Round Top. I skied most of the trip with my camera around my neck. Making good time with a photographer never happens. We set a languid pace, and I took lots of pictures.

The word of the day was "vertical." We only skied about 1000' of vertical, but I took lots of handheld vertical panoramas. These shots show the bright December sun low in the sky, even at midday. The white snow sticking to the trees muffled the clatter between my ears, making it quiet and peaceful.