Davidson Woods

September 6, 2011 - Eastham MA
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
Our motorhome is parked this afternoon at Shady Lane. Anne, Mary Helen and Mom Woods are out shopping. Dad is relaxing inside on this rainy day. Mark Davidson and Frank and Tim left for home with the masses yesterday. At least here the weather for the weekend was marvelous.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTOur motorhome is parked this afternoon at Shady Lane.  Anne, Mary Helen and Mom Woods are out shopping.  Dad is relaxing inside on this rainy day.  Mark Davidson and Frank and Tim left for home with the masses yesterday.  At least here the weather for the weekend was marvelous.  Anne and I returned from a wonderful visit to Alex in San Francisco Monday morning.  Our flights to and from Newark NJ to Harrisburg were cancelled, but United rebooked us on a later flight through Chicago.  Too bad neither they nor Expedia bothered to alert us to the fact.  Anne spent hours on the phone trying to find out what to do after we noticed our flights were cancelled.  Only after Expedia gave up trying to reach Continental did we sift our way through the Continental (our main carrier was this airline) and United sites to log into our reservations and find the new flights listed (in addition to the cancelled flights).  We smartly selected our seats and made it to the airport on time Sunday evening. We arrived home at noontime Monday and began provisioning the motorhome.  I even baked granola on that day.  We finished on Tuesday and pulled out Wednesday morning.  Our rain gauge at home had registered 3.2” of rain between our departure to California and our return.  Otherwise there was no sign of Irene there.  Potted plants on the porch hadn’t even blown over.  We knew we would be driving across the region flooded by the tropical storm.  In fact we saw the Walkill River in NY and the Connecticut River in CT in flood stage.  A few towns in Connecticut and their traffic signals were without power as we travelled through them.  This encouraged us to slide our route south a bit to the coastal zone and I-95 to insure a smooth trip.  Despite the conditions, we arrived at Eastham Wednesday evening. We found Mom and Dad well.  Mom actually seemed to be breathing easier as the weekend progressed.  They walked twice to Kingsbury Beach over the weekend.  We all largely avoided the crowds but stopped for a drink at an outdoor bar, saw the movie, The Debt, and bicycled to Nauset Beach.  Anne and I walked early one morning from near Coast Guard Beach along the beach south to Nauset inlet to watch hundreds of common and roseate terns and even a few roseate terns.  We saw only a few shorebirds but are keeping our eyes open for any wayward buff-breasted sandpipers.  Shady Lane is pleasingly familiar.  Irene did little damage breaking mostly branches and only a  couple of the brittle black locusts that shade the lots there.  Widening bushes have reduced the open space in the yards a bit since we brought our children here for vacations in the 1980’s and ’90’s.  The lots are leafier.  We have fond memories of vacationing with the Woods clan in the cottages and biking with the children to Coast Guard Beach, Great Pond, and Kingsbury Beach with the “target ship” off shore in those days. Tomorrow we start north and east to where the Atlantic coast becomes rocky, a region I have never seen.  We look forward to seeing the tides of Fundy and lighthouses perched on cliffs.  Perhaps the scenery will resemble that of the California coast that we just toured with Alex from San Francisco.  We drove to the coast there through the Anderson Valley of Mendocino County where we visited vineyards.  All of the wine we sampled was good! We lodged at Ft. Bragg where Anne and I boated into the deep water Pacific in search of sea birds.  We joyed in rafts of black-footed albatross and saw one Laysan albatross (adding that to our North American life-list.)  We saw numerous other shearwaters, storm petrels, and gulls, but no Hawaiian petrel hoped for by the three folks on the boat doing a big big year.  We hopped too, but were very satisfied adding two  birds to our life list, the Laysan albatross and Buller’s shearwater. From Ft. Bragg we auto toured two days along the coast with Alex back to San Francisco with stops at Mendocino, Bodega Bay, and Point Reyes.  There was wonderful scenery, cliffs and great island rocks, roaring surf upon narrow beaches, bushy dunes, and redwood forests!  And last we reached the great bridge across the Golden Gate and the skyline of the great city that Alex has blessed with his residency.  He returned to work and we continued our tour to Monterey south of Frisco.  We boated once again with Ms. Shearwater in search of exotic seabirds but found only the usual until near the end of the day.  Then I looked up to see a dark bird that I first thought was a black-footed albatross - it was similarly colored.  But then I realized it was much, much too small and I raised my hand and pointed.  At the same time someone shouted something.  Debra Love Shearwater turned her head to the bird and then to the captain shouting, “follow that bird!”  That bird was a mystery to me.  I knew it was similar to but not a Murphy’s petrel.  My mind saw an image of two other birds in the National Geographic Guide that I remembered had been seen a few times in North America.  I thought this was the bird on the right in the book, but I couldn’t remember the name.  One of the crew called it out, “great-winged petrel.”  Ms. Shearwater shouted that photos must be taken.  They were and I have already downloaded, printed, and pasted copies into my life-list book.  One of our fellow bird tourists could say nothing, but “good bird.”  Too bad none of the big-yearer’s who had been on our first voyage had been on this one. I concluded and commented on this trip that pelagic birding is like playing slot machines.  You put in your money and sometimes you strike gold.  Other times you just get sea sick.  Pelagic birding on boats is uncomfortable, difficult, sometimes dangerous, and sometimes unrewarding, but it provides the only practical means of observing up close those elegant and fabulous fliers that simply turn their nose at the sight of land to zip with the wind over the rolling ocean.  On this day we had paid our money and the slots came up triple!  This was only the fourth time a great-winged petrel had been seen from within the boundaries of this continent.  Could you ask for better birding than that?  And we had good views for at least a minute and decent views for another five. After landing we returned to the city and spent the weekend with Alex.  We toured a bit and worked with him on the apartment before departing Sunday evening to catch our “red-eye” flight home.  A lovely visit over. Now we prepare to begin another.
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A Sense of Place - August 11, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
I am driving at 55 mph and a police car is passing me. The speed limit is posted at 30 mph, but I am much more worried about horrendous potholes than the cruiser. We dash out from the Clinton Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, Elley’s home in the Big Apple, on I-278, the Brooklyn-Queens (or Q-E) Expressway toward the Verazanno Narrows Bridge and the relative suburbia of Staten Island on our way home to PA. This atherosclerotic vessel is pumping us forward with traffic, taking us from full stops to full acceleration. I, a provincial, attempt to keep a couple of car
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTI am driving at 55 mph and a police car is passing me.  The speed limit is posted at 30 mph, but I am much more worried about horrendous potholes than the cruiser.  We dash out from the Clinton Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, Elley’s home in the Big Apple, on I-278, the Brooklyn-Queens (or Q-E) Expressway toward the Verazanno Narrows Bridge and the relative suburbia of Staten Island on our way home to PA.  This atherosclerotic vessel is pumping us forward with traffic, taking us from full stops to full acceleration.  I, a provincial, attempt to keep a couple of car lengths open in front of me, but locals often fill them to push ahead a bit.  I don’t mind.  I’m glad to be at all comfortable navigating this crazy roadway. We enjoyed a fine weekend in The City even if it was in August.  We slept in her room on the ground floor with open windows and fans on.  The night sounds are different from those to which we are accustomed.  Now at home the roar of katydids in the evening is almost deafening and certainly would be disturbing to the urbanite.  We didn’t hear their calls in Brooklyn, but the street noises were erratic and variable.  Loud voices would make a sporadic entrance and strike me to wakefulness.  A pair of fire engines pulled up one night and rumbled for an hour before going home.  We slept well between the disturbances. Security is a constant preoccupation in the City.  The doors are always locked.  We scan people we pass along the street.  The need for accessories is considered before each step out the door.  At home we usually lock up when we go out, but don’t always lock the back door.  In the woods a break-in is easier - no one to see or hear - so why make a burglar have to break in.  Fixing that may cost more than what is taken! As much as anything else, what I like about NYC is the food.  The diversity is spectacular, and as much as one can question the value human diversity, the epicurean satisfaction to be found in groceries and restaurants - at almost any time of day or night - is divine.  At home our habitat provides some excellent provisions, but not the extensive variety that can be found there.  We packed home fine Italian table cheese, sweet green olives, and sunflower oil.  These will add to our dining pleasure supporting what we obtain from local butcher and produce shops and a “Dutch” grocery that sells flour and grain by the sack.  Our groceries don’t have so many exotic gems, but here the customers chat with one another and the prices are not so New York.  We picked up two dozen ears of fresh-picked sweet corn from roadside stands at $3.50 a “baker’s” dozen.  At a Brooklyn “green market” I stared at a sign above a pile of maize that spoke, “$.50 an ear.”  Clearly there is some advantage to country life. Our entertainment on this visit was mostly simple.  We walked and drove about the Borough of Brooklyn.  It has the elegance, energy, and grime of a busy city.  Strolling through the now rebirthing DUMBO (down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass) neighborhood we looked up at the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges, both engineering and architectural masterpieces.  Supper found us at home two evenings, but on the last we enjoyed French Caribbean cuisine with live entertainment.  Fine refreshment to close out our visit. Next Thursday we fly to San Francisco to visit Alex and look forward to seeing another great city and a bit of the Pacific coastline as well.  We will boat with Debra Shearwater in search of sea birds we have never seen before (and others we have already seen.)  I note that we arrived in NYC two days too late to see the gray-hooded gull that showed up a Coney Island for a few days.  We were disappointed, but we weren’t prepared to move up our trip because of bird.  We are staining the outside of our log house and want to complete this large chore before going to California.  Ah, the joys of home ownership.
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August 3, 2011 - Home
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
This evening is dank on South Mountain. Anne is with friends watching the movie, Buck, at a nearby senior center. I, Chuck, stay home recovering from intense soreness associated with a week of scrubbing and staining our log house and its porches and rails. The place looks like new and we have not even coated the walls.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTThis evening is dank on South Mountain.  Anne is with friends watching the movie, Buck, at a nearby senior center.  I, Chuck, stay home recovering from intense soreness associated with a week of scrubbing and staining our log house and its porches and rails.  The place looks like new and we have not even coated the walls. We work hard at this project, weather permitting, because we will be on the road again for almost eight weeks beginning in a couple when we fly to San Francisco to visit Alex.  We look forward to seeing that fine town and taking a road trip with Alex to Fort Bragg passing through wine country on the way out and going down the coast coming back.  Anne and I will take a boat ride from Ft. Bragg with Deb Shearwater in search of sea birds including, of course, shearwaters . Bold seniors, we will take a red-eye flight home on Sunday/Monday so we can provision the motorhome and begin a northern cruise on Wednesday before Labor Day.  First stop will be Eastham to visit family.  After the holiday we will continue north to Nova Scotia, pick up my sister at the Halifax airport, and tour that province of Canada.  Two weeks later we will send her home again and take the rig to Acadia National Park.  After that we make a short stop in the White Mountains to check out its leaf color and then arrive at Schenectady for the second weekend in October before returning here. Our stay at home has been good.  The weather has been warm, even hot two weeks ago.  While we appreciate the usual coolness here on summer evenings, it has been pleasant to have at least one year with warm nights.  We are most often home in the autumn when warmth is too scarce. Our return after our ten-week stay in Carolina brought a welcome reunion with our neighbors and an excuse for several relaxed get-togethers.  We have also, of course, been going to York weekly to visit my folks and support their progress. This weekend we visit Elley in NYC.  Driving into Brooklyn is always an adventure.  Wish us well.  Leaving the mountain for that trip we will stop at the old-fashioned hardware store in Shippensburg for some housewares and at a “Dutch” grocery I recently found where Mennonite and Amish folk buy sacks of flour, rolled oats, and even doughnut fillings.  We will buy granola ingredients in smaller quantities, but still cheaper than at supermarkets.  It seems we find treasures where ever we are. The woods here are intense after the wet spring set them off.  At some point I am going to have to drive the forest back from the house.  The shade cools the house in summer but also poses a threat of wood fall. The overhanging branches would also endanger the house if the forest caught fire. Now we struggle with the renovation of our exterior.  I bought a “roof safety kit” with a rope and vest.  The rope includes a rope grab and snap hooks intended to keep the user, me, from slipping and sliding off our steep roof.  It has worked so far and enabled me to clean the wood on our four dormers.  I’ll have to go up again to paint on the preservative stain.  Wish me luck in that too.  We finished the cleaning yesterday after about seven days of work.  Today the rain made for a roofer’s holiday.  We took care of indoor chores and worked at completing plans for our travel to Canada and Maine. It seems remarkable that we, who are retired, have so much to do.  Anne spent much of the morning studying medical insurance.  She becomes 65 this year and “eligible for medicare.”  In fact the government strongly encourages you to enroll in its insurance program.  It becomes almost an offer you can’t refuse.  Medicare is subsidized by the government (supported in part by that amazing FICA tax), but the coverage is incomplete and bizarrely packaged.  She will have to buy some insurance from the government and some from another insurance company.  I will continue with the company that we are currently using, but my cost will be more than half of that of our joint coverage.  Probably in the end our total cost will be slightly less, but so too her coverage.  Why, I ask, did the government ever get into the insurance business?  It is too bad we do most of our chores when we are at home.  The location is so fine and the house is so cozy, but we come here to work, work , and work.  We will have to take a vacation here someday.
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July 2, 2011 - Thomas Legion - The Civil War and the Oconaluftee Cherokee
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
Our campground, Fort Wilderness, lies near historic Qualla Town at the edge of the Qualla Boundary, the designated lands of the Eastern Branch of Cherokee Indians. At the top of the hill on this property is a small graveyard, about twenty feet square. Most of the folk who reside there bore the names Conley and Wallace. The stones are mostly simple and old. Small tablets, a couple of narrow meter tall spires, and a few small standard round-top blocks make up the display. A small square well-etched horizontal stone marks the grave of James and Robert T.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTOur campground, Fort Wilderness, lies near historic Qualla Town at the edge of the Qualla Boundary, the designated lands of the Eastern Branch of Cherokee Indians.  At the top of the hill on this property is a small graveyard, about twenty feet square.  Most of the folk who reside there bore the names Conley and Wallace.  The stones are mostly simple and old.  Small tablets, a couple of narrow meter tall spires, and a few small standard round-top blocks make up the display.  A small square well-etched horizontal stone marks the grave of James and Robert T. Conley, CSA.  James, it notes, died in battle in Virginia in 1862.  The Conleys were prominent members and officers of the Thomas Legion, one of the many units raised to defend southern states during the so-called War of Northern Aggression.  I have previously written of Will Thomas, “White Chief of the Cherokee,” without whom, there would be no Qualla Boundary or Eastern Branch of Cherokee Indians.  In 1861 he supported secession and proposed recruiting a joint Cherokee and White “Highland Rangers” force for North Carolina demanding only that the Cherokee be recognized as citizens by the state.  An initial denial of this demand delayed formation of the unit for six months until the autumn of 1861.  Thomas intended to develop a defensive force, an army with infantry, cavalry, and artillery, to defend the western frontier, and although he did raise a force of a few thousand that ultimately achieved the “legion” structure, the demands of war continually pulled his best units to other attachments and action in Tennessee, Virginia, and Maryland.  The troops were sorely diminished in the doomed campaigns of the Confederacy. Eastern Tennessee was Unionist and largely Union territory during the war, and Thomas‘ troops were pressed by and well suited for the somewhat guerrilla warfare along the mountain frontier.  They guarded passes and railroad bridges to prevent invasion and sabotage and pursued invaders.  In the end western Carolina became surrounded and the legion counterattacked and overwhelmed a force advancing from the east.  The Union Colonel Bartlett surrendered at Waynesville, but pointed out that General Lee had surrendered his army weeks before at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia.  After weighing this information overnight, Thomas surrendered his small army to Mr. Bartlett and made peace.  The Cherokee, recognized citizens of North Carolina, went home. This month I enjoyed reading Storm In the Mountains, a treatise on Thomas’ Legion; and remembering seeing the small cemetery here,  we looked finding the grave of the Conleys.  I recognized their names.  Their photos are in the book.  We give thanks that the mountains are now at peace. The book speaks of Thomas’ troops joining Jubal Early in the Valley Campaign that threatened Washington D.C. in 1864.  I was not really aware of this part of the war.  It was in three parts, an advance of Union forces down the Shenandoah Valley, Early’s counterattack and advance that threatened Washington, and a final Union drive led by Philip Sheridan that resolved the matter.  During the initial Union advance, the Virginia Military Institute was burned in retaliation for cadets joining the resistance.  During the Confederate advance troops were sent to extract a half million dollars ransom or burn Chambersburg, Pennsylvania in retaliation for the burning of VMI.  Chambersburg unable to come up with such a sum, was burned.  I have learned that Chambersburg was occupied three times during the war, in 1862, 1863, and 1864.   I knew the town had been burned, but I assumed it was during the 1863 Gettysburg Campaign.  So my studies here give light to history about my home.  We give thanks that there is peace there as well.  We are quietly celebrating the holiday weekend.  Anne is off work on Monday.  We dine out tonight with our old friends who originally brought us here.  We also have shopping planned for today.  No plans yet for the next two days.  We have begun to prepare for our departure to home next weekend.  We’re ready to leave enchanting Cherokee to return to our little log house on South Mountain. This holiday celebrates a declaration that led to another great war.  The principles on which it is based are noble even if all of the motives of the founders were not.  The fight for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness must never end.  Consider the saddness of Kelo vs. City of New London where the Supreme court supremely misread the simple words of the Fifth Amendment to chip away at our freedom or much more recent court decisions that support the right of government to require we buy a specific product.  Let us contemplate on the need to continue to declare independence or it will soon fade away.
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Hike in the Smokies - June 22, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
A rainy morning in the Smokies. Anne is at work. If the weather were otherwise I would be exploring some patch of forest or field in search of birds before going to Bryson City to shop for groceries.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTA rainy morning in the Smokies.  Anne is at work.  If the weather were otherwise I would be exploring some patch of forest or field in search of birds before going to Bryson City to shop for groceries. Anne was off work yesterday and we made a hike along the crest of the Smokies.  Starting at the Clingmans Dome parking lot we walked the paved “tourist trail” to the spiral tower at the summit.  On the border at 6643 feet elevation, “Clingmans” is the highest point of Tennessee, but not of North Carolina.  Mt. Mitchell, east of Asheville, has that honor at 6684 feet elevation.  Still, it and the ridge of the Great Smokies are impressive and always worth visiting.  More, it is never hot there, even during the current heat wave in the south.  Before starting the walk we debated what to wear and decided to put on a light jacket over a long sleeved shirt.  We wore short pants to produce lovely goose bumps.  The view from the overlook at the parking area was grand.  The vista was largely clear but numerous clouds raced along above and below.  Reaching the ridge line, clouds arched up and slipped across through the balsams.  The movement of sunshine and shadow seemed to put the landscape below into motion, much as waves give life to the sea. Already at nine a.m. there were a dozen cars in the lot, and people were beginning the one kilometer ascent.  Most had found shirts or jackets to throw on, but some ventured boldly in T-shirts.  Families, couples, and a school group ventured up, challenged by the steep slope, the gusty wind, the chilly and thin air, and the strange shifting light illuminating stark rock and the dark foliage of the spruce and fir trees.  We listened for birds and heard and saw waxwings and siskins giving their thin twitters.  Winter wrens and veery gave their lovely songs along the trail seeming out of place this far south.  We chatted with a Louisiana couple at the end of the trail who told of their son studying ornithology.  Before we reached the spiral tower at the summit the mountain had become permeated by cloud, so we did not bother to climb the structure.  Instead we stepped off the pavement and walked a few yards to the Appalachian Trail which follows the great ridge of the Smokies for some seventy miles from the Fontana Dam to Davenport Gap.  Clingmans Dome is the high point of the entire Appalachian Trail.    We walked southbound  to enjoy vistas and the mountain flora and fauna along the narrow ridge.  The trail generally descends going away from Clingmans Dome, but climbs to pass across lesser summits including Mount Buckley.  The trail is well worn, eroded, and rocky in places, but much smoother than that in the northern high peaks where glaciers have recently scrubbed away much of the soil.  Here it passes through patches of thick spruce-fir forest and across openings filled with blueberry and  thornless blackberries bushes and small mountain maple and mountain ash trees.  The blackberries were in full bloom while their cousins in the valleys are already ripening fruit.  Once away from the paved path we became part of a different and much smaller group.  We exchanged greetings with a day hiker at a trail junction close to the summit and then saw no one until we reached the Double Spring Gap Shelter where we lunched.  There we found four section-hikers also stopped for a meal.  The weather had deteriorated.  The ridge was enveloped in fog and the trees collected the mist and dropped it upon we hikers.  Fearing an afternoon thunderstorm, we decided to turn around rather than continue to one more summit, Silers Bald.  While eating we chatted with a couple only a decade younger than we, who were making a four-day hike.  He was from Florida and she was from Colorado.  They rendezvoused here in the Southeastern mountains.  Returning to the Dome, we got our exercise climbing about a thousand feet.  The clouds opened up briefly to give us grand views of Mount LeConte on the Tennessee side of the Smokies Ridge and the numerous smaller ranges in between.  On the Carolina side we saw the Thomas Ridge descend to Bryson City and Fontana Reservoir.  This is named for Will Thomas, the “white chief of the Cherokee” and colonel of Thomas’s Confederate Legion that defended this part of Dixie from the northern aggression.  Part of his unit was victorious in one of the last battles of the war.  Receiving a request for surrender from the Union commander, but at the same time receiving word of General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Courthouse, the confederate ironically surrendered his troops instead. Although we were blessed with a window of clear skies at the end of our walk, clouds poured onto the parking lot when we stepped from the trees.  Rain began as we pulled out and followed us all the way back to our motorhome.  It rained all night and through this morning.  Still, we enjoy our time here even in the summer rainy season.
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Bearly Finished - May 22, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
Sunday in Cherokee. It is warm this morning (finally) and we are planning a lazy day at home. Already there are screams from the nearby campground pool as children take advantage of warmer weather. I (Chuck) am still suffering from a persistent cold that Anne has left behind. Still, Friday and and yesterday we made hikes in the Smokies.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTSunday in Cherokee.  It is warm this morning (finally) and we are planning a lazy day at home.  Already there are screams from the nearby campground pool as children take advantage of warmer weather.  I (Chuck) am still suffering from a persistent cold that Anne has left behind.  Still, Friday and and yesterday we made hikes in the Smokies. We had planned an overnight walk on Friday and Saturday, but the national park reservations system was not working so we could not reserve spaces at a shelter.  We could have gone anyway, but we would have been camping illegally.  Instead, we made two day hikes.  On Friday we planned to walk the Appalachian Trail from Clingman’s Dome southbound until lunch, and then return.  Upon arriving at the top we found the weather too cold for our dress.  The forecast was for a warm day, but Friday ended up cold, especially so at 6,000 feet elevation.  So, we drove down the road and made a walk to the Chimney Rock towers on the Tennessee side of the ridge.  There at a lower elevation the temperature was very pleasant. This hike was lovely and dramatic.  At first the trail passed along Road Prong Creek with its numerous cascades and moss covered boulders.  We enjoyed hearing bird song and seeing a few of the songbirds mostly hidden in the leafy forest.  The trail was steep, 1700 feet in two miles.  This provided a workout.  After leaving the stream the trail wound up a ridge and followed it to the twin towers. The trail is a busy one and even on a Friday we passed and encountered other people along the way.  In the central section we found ourselves playing leapfrog with another couple.  While chatting with them we came upon a couple with children who showed the garb and grooming of Germanic Anabaptists.  They were retreating and calling to us.  The man reported a large bear pushing them down the trail.  He mentioned concern that some of his other children were farther up the trail.  I told him not to run from the bear.  He said it was large and bold.  He was correct.  In a moment a solitary bear, probably a 300-pound boar, came walking into view.  I stood large and shouted.  The bear kept coming.  It was only about twenty meters away when my remarks and our snapping of hiking poles against one another finally caused it to pause.  The bear looked at us with amusement and resumed its approach.  I wondered about backing up against the high side of the trail and letting the bear pass by on the outside.  Instead I took an even higher position and snapped the poles a few more times.  The bear stopped again.  I reluctantly walked forward a few steps and snapped the poles again.  The bear then turned and began a dignified retreat.  We followed and after fifty meters the bear turned onto a game trail above the hiking trail.  We gave it a minute to move off, hearing it through a Rhododendron thicket.  It’s only in trafficked parts of national parks that one has this kind of problem.  This bear had no fear of man.  It probably would have left us alone, but I wouldn’t rule out its mugging a hiker for a pack or even taking a small child separated from parents.  We found the family’s older children at the trail’s end, fine and happy.  The parents who were plainly not used to wilderness walking were very impressed “with our courage.”  I told them it wasn’t courage, just knowledge.  One does not run from a black bear.  Still, not knowing if the bear would turn I enjoyed a flash of adrenaline as I stood and the bear kept coming.  I wondered if reaching the peak was worth the confrontation with the bear.  Yesterday being on the weekend, we hiked a backcountry trail on this, the North Carolina, side of the park.  We encountered only two serious day hikers on this walk.  The largest wild mammal we saw was a gray squirrel.  Again, we heard more birds than we saw.  The Black-and-white Warbler, or “Wheezy Zebra” gave its buzzy “wheeza wheeza wheeza” song.  The tiny Ovenbird or “Teacher Bird” announced its presence with a sharp and rising in volume, “teacha teacha teacha teacha.”  The glorious Hooded Warbler with a yellow face surrounded by a black hood gave a sweet and melancholy “weeta weeta weeteeo” from various Rhododendron thickets.  We paused when we heard this song to try and see the bird.  We heard many but spotted and savored views of only two.   Black-throated Blue Warblers sang “bee-bee-bee-beer” and Black-throated Green Warblers throated “zee zee zee zoo zee.”  All part of the symphony of the forest. Along the streams an occasional Acadian Flycatcher gave its sharp “pee-shut” song about once every thirty seconds.  Most people walking the trail never notice this sound, or if they do, probably wonder what insect or rodent made it.  The tiny olive bird returns from South America in May to haunt rich forests across the Southeast.  We, hearing the song, pause and wait, trying to spot the male perched on a twig in the shadows of the swamp forest.  Each time we hear a phrase we decide to stay or move closer to the source.  Moving closer risks his becoming silent or moving off but improves our chances of seeing him if he stays.  When we are lucky, we eventually notice his form or a movement, his tipping his head back and opening and closing his beak to produce the pee-shut song. Then we stay a minute to watch and hear his performance a couple of more times before continuing our passage through the forest.  A few miles away in the valley near Bryson City, a close kin of the Acadian Flycatcher makes its summer home.  The Willow Flycatcher appears almost identical to the Acadian Flycatcher, but would never make a territory in the deep woods.  Instead, it sets up territory at a meeting of marsh and woods.  These birds arrived only last week, also from their home in Latin America.  Like the Acadian Flycatcher, the Willows make the trip north to stay only about 15 weeks to reap the abundance of insect food that arises here in late spring and early summer and use it to nourish one or two broods of young. We distinguish this bird from its cousin not by appearance, the differences are too subtle, but by its sitting on a willow tree at the edge of a moist field and periodically raising its beak to give forth a dry and rattly “fitz-bew.” After our walk yesterday, we drove out of the park and across the Cherokee Qualla Boundary to nearby Bryson City.  We had decided to visit the Nantahala Brewing Company tap room.  The only place within the Boundary where one may buy alcohol is at the casino, and we’re no aficionados of that establishment.  So we followed the Tuckaseegee River out of the Boundary and past the overpriced package stores that cater to Boundary residents who don’t want to travel the additional mile to Bryson City proper. We didn’t know exactly where the new brew pub was but thought it was near the Smoky Mountains Railway Station.  We found it, parked, and walked into an old Quonset hut that now houses a bar, the brewery and tap room, and a kayak outfitter.  The barkeep greeted us and told us that in accordance with town law, this was a club.  I became a member and  Anne my guest.  The five dollar membership fee got me a 16 ounce glass, but we ordered eight ounce servings, sampling four of their rich and potent brews.  Anne ordered two IPA’s and I ordered a brown ale and a stout.  We sipped from each other’s glasses to judge the character of the brews.  Great news is that one can find quality beer all over America.  That was not the case in the last century!  Following our imbibing we walked about downtown Bryson City.  This town, like Cherokee is at the edge of the Smokies.  It benefits from the national park but is a bit isolated.   There are still complaints that the government reneged on a deal made in the 1930’s.  When the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Lake (an important source of hydroelectricity raised by the highest dam in the East, the one that Harrison Ford’s fugitive improbably survived washing over) the federal government promised Bryson City that a new road would be built around the north side of the reservoir providing a scenic loop passing through the town.  This would replace old roads flooded by the lake.  The road was never built.  Here and there there are signs and bumper stickers complaining that the government failed to keep its word.  In Cherokee there are no such signs.  In Indian country they would be redundant.
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Cherokee - Here We Come April 22, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
After our marvelous backpack in Virginia we returned to busy times on South Mountain. First a day of cleaning and drying our gear, recovering our baseline metabolism, and resuming our typically more sedate lifestyle. Then, dealing with the unusually wet spring that continues to throw a storm at us every few days. Thank goodness I installed a drain inlet beneath the basement floor. The pipe has been taking water, at times lots of water, for more than a week. On one day we took 3.7” of rain some water infiltrated through the opposite side of the basement.&n
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTAfter our marvelous backpack in Virginia we returned to busy times on South Mountain.  First a day of cleaning and drying our gear, recovering our baseline metabolism, and resuming our typically more sedate lifestyle.  Then, dealing with the unusually wet spring that continues to throw a storm at us every few days.  Thank goodness I installed a drain inlet beneath the basement floor.  The pipe has been taking water, at times lots of water, for more than a week.  On one day we took 3.7” of rain some water infiltrated through the opposite side of the basement.  That required only a minor cleanup. The incident prompted even more drainage improvements.  I graded and trenched around one side of the house to end pooling there from downspouts and precipitation.  Remarkably I was able to hand trench almost 24” to maintain grade.  No boulders nor major roots stalled the project.  I made a shallower trench across the back of the house and it quickly turned into a flowing stream from ground water that is still flowing.  Hopefully these efforts will end the hydrologic incursions into the basement. We awakened the motorhome (installed chassis battery and plugged into the house) and began the provisioning for Carolina.  Adjusted tire pressure, disinfected, flushed, and filled water tank, washed exterior, exercised slides, lubricated here and there, and exercised truck engine and generator.  Now, if only the refrigerator starts when we turn it on before we go.  We also are taking care of other chores and making plans for later in the year.  Both kids will come to Carolina for a week in June.  That should be fun.  We will go to San Francisco in August for a week to visit Alex.  Then an excursion to Nova Scotia in September “for vacation.” Meanwhile we enjoy the arrival of spring here.  Today it is “greening up the mountain.”   Anne worked a few hours today in Gettysburg.  On our anniversary we went into this town for a fine dinner at the 1863 House Restaurant.  The forest on the mountain is still gray but the orchards below are variously in flower and sprouting leaves.  At Gettysburg the trees are lime green.  A wonderful time.  Sad to leave, but in Sylva, NC they are celebrating the official “Greening up the Mountain.”  We will arrive in time for spring in the Smokies. 
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Spring Hiking Plans from South Mountain - March 30, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
An early April walk on the Appalachian Trail in central Virginia seems pleasant enough. I wonder though, as I see my porch here in southern Pennsylvania turning white this evening from a late snowfall that may continue off and on through tomorrow night. The weather is supposed to turn warmer next week but will remain damp. We begin our planned nine-day backpack on Monday morning at Pearisburg near Blacksburg. Give our adventure your thoughts and prayers.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTAn early April walk on the Appalachian Trail in central Virginia seems pleasant enough.  I wonder though, as I see my porch here in southern Pennsylvania turning white this evening from a late snowfall that may continue off and on through tomorrow night.  The weather is supposed to turn warmer next week but will remain damp.  We begin our planned nine-day backpack on Monday morning at Pearisburg near Blacksburg.  Give our adventure your thoughts and prayers.  We returned home on Sunday from a weekend visit to Chappaqua and Brooklyn.  We helped our daughter install a small vegetable garden.  We drove to York on Monday for a visit and so that Anne could join Chuck's Mom for a round of chemotherapy.  Mom is doing well with the cancer but has become almost deaf.  That may lead to other problems, but for now it is only a nuisance. Our stay here is to be short.  We leave for Cherokee on April 30.  Anne starts work on the first Monday in May.  We look forward to the stay in Carolina, but this will now be a busy year.  That is not bad.  We'll pack the canoe and welcome visitors in the Smokies.  Meanwhile there is lots to do here.  We're still planning and making reservations for an August visit to Alex in SF and a Canadian Maritimes "vacation" after Labor Day.  I installed a storm inlet after another round of basement flooding.  Water should never again pool on the basement patio and seep into the basement through the door.  Still finishing that project and working on other household improvements. The taxes are done, hurrah.  Filing on-line was an amazing hassle but worked the third time.  We needed a new IRS pin number.  I guess that is an annual routine.  Next year we will know we can't use this year's. Now the woods are a glorious white.  The moist snow is sticking to the branches whitening them as well as the ground.  We would not have enjoyed this show if we had stayed in Florida.  
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Home Again at South Mountain - March 13, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
Already a week since our return. The drive went well despite the painful increase in the price of gasoline. I had sympathy for Mohamed Bouazizi, but the cascading events have been painful to all of us. Sadly we didn't take out Gaddafi before he recouped to carefully exterminate the opposition. Now, until he accomplishes that, the price of oil will flutter.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTAlready a week since our return.  The drive went well despite the painful increase in the price of gasoline.  I had sympathy for Mohamed Bouazizi, but the cascading events have been painful to all of us.  Sadly we didn't take out Gaddafi before he recouped to carefully exterminate the opposition.  Now, until he accomplishes that, the price of oil will flutter. We stopped at Jacksonville for a wonderful visit to Anne's cousin there.  Already the weather was cooler than in Ft. Myers.  The next day took us to Roanoke, VA (I-77 to I-81) where we stopped alongside the Appalachian Trail to check out accoodations for our planned hike there next month.  We found the Howard Johnson's just fine.  I spotted a white blaze from the lobby!   Winter continued in the Virginia mountains and made us dress thickly again.  We had passed out of spring quickly spying redbud and dogwoods in bloom in the coastal plain of north Florida and Georgia.  At home winter was still hard.  Our house remained gracefully within the woods.  The sun had melted the snow from our drive, but the woods were full of it.  That was too bad this week when a double storm brought 2.2" of rain upon the still frozen ground.  My drainage failed and almost two inches of water coated the basement floor.  Lots of work to drain it.  Then, yesterday, while still putting items out to dry, a snow shower swirled and deposited a half inch of new snow.  The items came back in quickly.  The trees were lovely this morning, and the sun melted the snow.  The basement is almost dry.  I don't complain of minor crises.  Consider Japan.  Today was day two of taxes.  The year may come when I choose suicide over dealing with the paperwork.  1099-what?  Cost basis?  Pension taxable by feds but not by PA.  Did I not contribute to Health IRA?  Yes, found payment made from moneymarket account.  Whew!  No 1099-G from North Carolina.  Probably because we had a different address in 2009.  I know the amount and will just use it from my records.  Foreign tax paid?  Forget it, I pay a few extra bucks.  Insurance company sent an annual activity statement saying that no payment was made for 2010.  I called.  "That is because payment was in December of 2009."  I said, oh, and I paid for this year also in December of 2010, so I guess I'll get another such statement?"  She looked.  "No we credited your account January 4."  "Fine, I said.  I'll take care of it."  The forms are useless.  Next year I'll pay again in December and take credit for it in taxes, but form will show payment that I took credit for in Tax Year 2010.  If the IRS should ask, I'll show them the checks.  Our neighbor's mother died today.  She and her husband arrived here from Florida a few days ago in response to her sudden decline.  We didn't expect to see them again until summer.  Sad, but it was time and the death was peaceful.  We give our prayers.  Dad Woods called today about a mail item that missed us.  It was grand to hear his and Mom's voice.  We miss them already.  We miss Florida's weather a bit, but the sunshine here is already strong and the Pennsylvania March coolness is refreshing.  The cold makes the jogging seem easier.  Anne worked in Gettysburg Thursday and Friday.  That went well but work is always an adventure.  That left me to haul most of the water.  I was very sore yesterday.  Blisters on my feet and hands and sore muscles all over.  Oh, the joys of home ownership!  We made a quick food shop coming in and are making do with a very slim cupboard.  We go to York on Monday.  We will probably make four our five shopping stops there before visiting my (Chuck's) parents.  Anne will join the recorder group in the evening and I will probably finish up the shopping while she makes music.  Unless plans change we'll return home that night to fill our pantry.  The flood interferred with other chores.  The exterior of the house needs cleaning and sealing.  That work will start when the drainage problem is corrected.  I will form a drain box around the pipe.  Once the taxes are knocked out next week I will complete planning and reservations for our Virginia A.T. hike next month and our North Carolina work and play expedition in May.  Whew!  Just a month ago we weren't sure what we would do all year.  Now, I have to keep cracking so we can fulfill our plans.  Next Saturday we will attend the live broadcast of Lucia di Lammermoor at the Gettysburg Majestic Theater.  I hope others will enjoy this great show of Mr. Donizetti, a gripping Italian musical with a sad ending.  We made reservations to see the broadcast of Wagner's Die Walkure in Asheville NC in May.  After seeing the broadcast of Das Rheingold last fall, we must find out what more trouble the bien pensant gods can get into.  Oh, what a blessing these broadcasts are to we plebeian opera fans!
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A Farewell on Ft. Myers Beach - February 25, 2011
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
This was a fabulous day in southwest Florida. Bright sunshine, warm air, and a fresh breeze off the Gulf made the water sparkle. Anne, Mom and Dad joined the Gallup’s early. I arrived in mid-afternoon. Everyone had a wonderful week. Great tans, not too much burn.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENT    This was a fabulous day in southwest Florida.  Bright sunshine, warm air, and a fresh breeze off the Gulf made the water sparkle.  Anne, Mom and Dad joined the Gallup’s early.  I arrived in mid-afternoon.  Everyone had a wonderful week.  Great tans, not too much burn.  Our party cleaned out the icebox to make a last supper and then walked to the beach to watch the sunset.  The “red rubber ball” fell behind Sanibel Island at 6:26.  People all along the beach watched, photographed, and even danced as the sea turned from blue to gray and the scattered clouds turned pink as the sun disappeared.  Then began the dusk, now lasting almost a half hour.  There were final goodbyes and hugs.  We left early to let the tourists finish their affairs and pack for an early morning departure.  We’re at the condo now.  Mom and Dad are enjoying Jeopardy.  I listen from the study.  We’re home early tonight and can all use the rest.  Tomorrow should be another fine day.
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