Tennessee: Roan Highlands, Part Three

March 28th:

When I finished my hike back into Carvers’ Gap on the 27th, I talked to two older thru-hikers who described the opposite side of the gap as “horrible” due to icy conditions.  The weather forecast was for warmer conditions for the rest of the week, so I decided to put off my climb up to Roan High Knob.

I left my car at the Station parking lot at about 8:30 a.m.  They charge $10 for overnight or day parking/security, which rattled my frugal nature, but small businesses on the trail needs to make money in order to survive. Unlike a Carver’s Gap, there is no large parking lot here at the trail crossing. Running a craft beer taproom/hiker hostel/shuttle service is no picnic, so I didn’t let the fee linger in my thoughts too long.

It was about a half mile road walk downhill on Hwy 19E to the trail crossing.  The elevation here is much lower than Carver’s Gap, which meant I would be climbing all day to my destination at the top of Houston Ridge. As I hiked, I quickly realized that I was overdressed for the lower elevation and warmer day.  I went from full gear to a t shirt and long pants in about an hour.  I was running into thru-hikers who were down to shorts.

After a couple of miles, I left the woods and entered a clearing called “Doll Flats.”  It basically looks like a relatively flat farm field on top of the mountain, overlooking a steep drop off to small farms far below.  The faint call of a rooster let me know that I had not left civilization–yet.

I continued my ascent through the woods on the other side of Doll Flats, crossing from Tennessee into North Carolina.

This above sign is a fairly typical “highway sign” on the Appalachian Trail.  The translation is that, yes, you are on the A.T in North Carolina, and a water source is off to the right.  There is also an implication that this would be a good time to “water up” because there might not be additional water for awhile (up on the ridge).  I was still carrying 1.5 liters of water, so I kept going.

Soon, I was hiking above the trees on the long ascent up Houston Ridge.

Even though the temperatures were much warmer than the day before, the high winds caused me to put on another layer of clothes and my hat.  This particular stretch of trail was the primary reason that I traveled to the Roan Highlands.  The wind, the views, the solitude all combined to make me feel more alive than I had in sometime.

About halfway up the ridge, I saw a little dot on top of the mountain that I thought was a hiker coming towards me, but the dot stopped moving.  Then I saw it was an animal moving slowly back and forth (maybe a dog?)  Finally, I climbed high enough to see that it was a deer, standing like a king overlooking his domain.  I never did get close enough to photograph him.  I was worried he was going to run off while I retrieved my camera, so I just kept going, hoping that he would still be there when I got to the top.  The final ascent blocked my view of him, and then I joined him at the top.  He was motionless for an instant, making eye contact with me. And then he trotted nonchalantly off into the woods on the right, leaving the summit for me.   I have to admit that shivers went down my spine.  For a moment, I imagined being that deer, living on top of the world in that desolate, windy place.  Free.

Then the moment was gone.  I sat down behind a rock outcropping for some wind protection and ate my lunch (trail mix and water)  I lingered up there for about an hour, not another human in sight the entire time.

The trip down was much faster than the ascent.  I was back at the Station for a beer by 2 pm, ate a bbq sandwich in Roan Mountain at Dairyland (really good at $4.99, including cole slaw), bought groceries and firewood, and was back at the campground while the afternoon was still warm.  I cooked up the fixings for beef burritos and then sat by the fire with a water bottle of Ginger Ale and a splash of bourbon. I would be ready for the other side of Carver’s Gap on my final day.  Life was good.

Tennessee: Roan Highlands, Part Two

March 27th:
I woke to a light drizzle and made a quick breakfast of fruit, hot oatmeal, and cocoa.  No one was up and moving at the campground; everyone was tucked into their heated RV’s.  But I was on the road by 8 a.m.  The drive to Carver’s Gap was only about 15 minutes from the campground.

As you can see from the photo above, there were plenty of parking spots available.  In fact, I didn’t see anyone actually hiking for about the first three hours.  Hiking conditions were not ideal.  The climb out of the gap was about 700 vertical feet of icy switchbacks.  The reward was a view of the cloud that covered the top of the mountain.

The Roan Highlands are known for grassy mountain tops (balds) and grassy ridges. In most of the southern Appalachians, mountain tops tend to be heavily wooded and without views. In the northern Appalachians, tree line can be as low as 4000 feet with views for forever from rocky, bare mountaintops.  Although it appears from my photos that there is just a heavy stationary cloud, the winds were actually blowing about 40 mph, so the clouds were in rapid motion.  Down at Carver’s Gap, the thermometer indicated about 32 degrees Fahrenheit.  Up on top, it felt like the low 20’s with colder wind chill.  I was dressed with long underwear (top and bottom), two sets of socks, t-shirt, heavy fleece sweater, rain jacket, and knit cap.  There was a light drizzle at the gap and a stinging sleet on top.

I passed Round Bald and Jane Bald before descending back into the woods.  I passed an abandoned Coleman tent that was apparently not quite up to the conditions.

At just over 3 miles, I was excited to see my first trail shelter in over 20 years.  My excitement diminished when I got up close and saw that someone had taken over the entire shelter by putting up their tent in the shelter.  I had planned to sign the trail register, but whoever was in the shelter was still inside the tent with the trail register at 10 a.m.  Some things don’t change. On my thru hike,  I was always first up in the shelter and on the trail. I was typically finished by 2 or 3 pm after a 15-20 mile day.  Many of the  twenty somethings hiked the same distance but didn’t get started until late morning (or later) and didn’t get to the shelter until after dark. 

I continued hiking on.  The trail traveled back and forth from winter to spring and back again, depending on where I was on the mountain.  I also passed a marker for Yellow Mountain Gap where a group of mountain men traveled in 1780 to defeat the British soldiers during the Revolutionary War.   Finally, I reached my second shelter, Overland Shelter, and signed the trail register:  “Quid Pro Quo Returns”  GA>ME ’96. Translation:  my thru-hiker nickname was Quid Pro Quo, and I hiked northbound from Georgia to Maine in 1996.

The Overland Shelter is a converted barn and has sleeping quarters on two floors.  A lone section hiker in his 20’s was present when I arrived. He told me that he had been section hiking the Appalachian Trail for about eight years.

After eating my lunch of trail mix and water, I said goodbye and started on the return trip to Carver’s Gap.  The folks tenting in the first shelter had woken up and were having breakfast (at noon).  I waved hello/goodbye and headed back up into the balds.  The view had improved.

As I crossed the balds and down the mountain (southbound), I did run into several thru-hikers who were northbound.  I could tell they instantly dismissed me as a day hiker who was not one of them.   And they were right.  My time as a thru-hiker has passed.  It still felt wonderful to be “back on the trail.”  My hike finished up at 13 miles for the day.  My feet were sore, and I was ready for a beer.

I drove to the Station, which is a newish hiker taproom/hostel on Hwy 19e just east of Roan Moiuntain, TN .  The bartender, who was nicknamed “Crazy”, gave me a couple of samples of Tennessee IPA’s.  I selected the Scatterbrain IPA by Bearded Iris Brewing of Nashville.  “Crazy” called it one of the top three IPA’s in the country.  I  agree that it was a great IPA and drank two of them.  We shared some hiking stories and I arranged to use their parking services for the next day’s hike.

Tennessee: Roan Highlands, Part One

March 25th to March 26th:

As soon as we arrived home from Door County, Julia took off for an Easter Egg Hunt that she has organized for many years.  I jumped in the Nissan truck and started driving south on my tenting/hiking trip.  I stayed overnight at a cheap Red Roof motel in Louisville, Kentucky and then continued on the next morning for another six hours before arriving at Roan Mountain State Park during the early afternoon. 

I wasn’t really sure what the campground would be like, so I was pleasantly surprised to find my tent site about six big steps from a beautiful creek on the side of the mountain.  That’s my truck and tent across the creek.

Add a picnic table, fire ring, on-site water spigot, tent pad, heated bathrooms, and hot showers–for $15/night, and sign me up again.  While the rv section of the campground was about half-full, I was the only one tent camping this early in the season.  A somewhat negative surprise  was that no alcoholic beverages were allowed in the campground. For someone used to camping in Wisconsin, that seemed almost anti-patriotic.  Fortunately, I didn’t learn about that prohibition until the day before I left, so I figured that I was “grandfathered,” more or less.  I imbibed in moderation. No harm, no foul.

On the afternoon of my arrival, I set up camp and hiked a couple of trails inside the campground that were on the other side of the creek and went up the mountain.  After stretching my legs for four or five miles, I ate a light dinner and turned in early.  By the time darkness arrived around 8 pm, the temperature dropped off quite a bit.  During the night, I pulled on a fleece sweater and put on my knit hat.  I won’t lie; I still got cold.  My twenty degree sleeping bag was not up to the task on the first night.  I tossed and turned a bit, knowing that I was returning to the Appalachian Trail in the morning and would be going up into the balds.

Door County Respite

For the last few years, once or twice per year, Julia and I arrange for a caregiver to come stay with our son Justin for a couple of days to give ourselves some alone time.  Justin loves it when “Steve” comes because the two of them stay up late, watch tv, play video games, and order out food.  Steve is familiar with Justin and the special needs of a power wheelchair user, so we never worry when Steve is in charge.

Last weekend, we took our respite weekend to Baily’s Harbor in Door County, which is located near the tip of the thumb of Wisconsin on the Lake Michigan side.  It’s a popular tourist area, especially for wealthy flat-landers who understandably seek to escape from Illinois.  The Lake Michigan side of the peninsula is known as the “quiet side” of the lake, where there are fewer souvenir shops and galleries and perhaps more locals and cherry orchards.  

March 23

We drove up on Friday, electing to travel first to Sheboygan and then meander up the lake shore to our Door County destination. One of our favorite spots in Sheboygan during the summer is the Harbor Centre, where vibrant restaurants and bars serve people strolling along the Lake Michigan’s shore and piers.  Things are a bit different in late March; we found many of our favorite spots not open for lunch on Friday and not many people out enjoying the breezy weather.

We did find one open bar and ate a “light” Wisconsin lunch of fried fish sandwiches (perch or cod) and coleslaw.  Then we continued driving up the coastline, past the nuclear power plants, until we entered Door County.  After checking into our AirBnb room just outside Bailey’s Harbor, we drove to Egg Harbor on the other side to enjoy the sunset. Then we ate burgers at Peninsula pub with craft beers.  I had the Land and Sea (1/3 pound burger with a walleye fillet) and a Naughty Faye porter by O’so Brewing.  Both hit the spot. We finished the evening at Door County Brewing back in Bailey’s Harbor.

March 24

We drove to Peninsula State Park in the morning and hiked several snowshoe trails that featured mostly ice, not snow.  The footing was hazardous, but Julia toughed it out. We treated ourselves to wood-fired pizza and specialty beers.

 The waiter talked me into the beer on the right, which was the most expensive beer that I have ever had.  He didn’t tell me the price, and I won’t confess here.  It was a Founders Canadian Breakfast Stout on draft, an imperial stout finished in bourbon barrels.  Because I’m a frugal person, I’d like to say that it was overpriced and overrated by the waiter.  But it wasn’t.  It was an incredible, balanced imperial stout that warmed every part of me.  I’m just not going to mention the price–ever.

During the afternoon, we went back to the quiet side of the Lake and experienced Cave Point County Park, a winter wonderland.  Lake Michigan’s waves crash into the side of the bluffs, creating natural works of art.

 We finished the day by hiking on the beach at Whitefish Dunes State Natural Area.  Hiking on the beach in March was a great way to wrap up a relaxing weekend together.

Breaking into Spring

My daughter is home for spring break.  Since we are in Wisconsin, and not South Padre Island or Mexico, spring comes later than what the calendar indicates. I’m still burning 24/7 in the wood stove that heats the house.  The heating season won’t end until close to Memorial Day. This morning, I hiked with Julia, Allie and Elvis on our circle around the Gibraltar Rock Natural Area.

The trail was mostly frozen, rutted mud with a few long icy/snowy stretches in the shade.

With about a week until my big trip south, I took the opportunity to start breaking in my new Salomon Trail Running Shoes.  They were recommended on several backpacking blogs as a lightweight alternative to much heavier hiking boots.  Since I will be truck camping rather than backpacking, I will probably bring along both the lightweight trail running shoes and my heavier Danner boots for comparison/contrast.  As of today, there is a significant amount of snow at Roan Mountain, so I will also be bringing my YakTrax for added traction.

The Salomon shoes feel comfortable to me already, but Allie and I will go on several more hikes in the coming week for some more “breaking in.”  Hiking above 5000 feet in the early spring will be enough of a challenge without worrying about blisters.

A trip to Urgent Care

This post is not about the usual hiking/travel, coffee or beer subjects. There won’t be photos, and it might make some people uncomfortable.  Read further at your own risk.  I’m going to try to complete this post without being political in any sense, but life is politics, so I may not be entirely successful.


When I was a young lawyer, I received a letter from an opposing attorney in a case which ticked me off.  I was all set to draft a combative letter in return and to the judge and to the client.  Before doing so, I went to my mentor (a partner at the firm) and told him about the situation.  He gave me a long, appraising look when I told him how I was going to respond.

“Yeah, you could do that, John,” he said.  “And then he’ll fire back another nasty letter, and it will escalate. You will be able to bill more hours.  Both sides will harden, and you will be in the same position as you are right now.”

“What should I do?”  I asked

“What I would do is pick up the phone and work it out,” he answered.  “You’re both smart and reasonable people.”

The advice worked.  I got what I wanted at at a cost savings for the client.  It was good advice then, and it is good advice now.  No matter who you are, we have more in common than what draws us apart.

During the previous post, I mentioned that I caught a bad cold and passed it on to the rest of my family.  Julia and I recovered, and Justin seemed to recover, but then he had a really bad relapse.  We were concerned that he might have pneumonia, which is a big deal with his weakened respiratory system.  We ended taking him to Urgent Care.

While I rarely go to the doctor myself, I’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals and doctors’ offices due to Justin’s neuromuscular disease.  Waiting rooms are typically filled with sick people, and this place was crowded with coughing, sniffling people who generally looked “out of it.”  During the morning, a little boy threw up into a paper bag as he passed me on his way to the bathroom.
The only danger I perceived as I sat in the clinic was from all of the sick people around me.

 Justin and a young man were seated near each other, waiting to be called back for lab tests. The young man was African-American and of slight build.  I probably wouldn’t have even remembered him if not for what was about to happen.  Justin and Julia went back for more lab tests.  A few minutes passed.

Suddenly, I saw two security personnel at the front desk talking with several Madison police officers.  My curiosity increased as the police officers started walking towards me and then beyond me.  A few steps away from the young man, they slowed down.  In a calm voice, one of the officers politely stated that he knew that the young man was carrying a knife and asked if any more weapons were in his possession.

The look on the young man’s face was genuine shock.  He started to deny that he had any weapons and then realized that he had a visible but sheathed knife on the outside of his pants  His next step was to inform the officers that he didn’t have any other weapons.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked in a concerned voice.

 The officers stated that they would need to talk to him about that and to please stand up.  As this was going on, the few other people on that end of the building (besides me) were ushered to the opposite wing.  A private security officer placed herself in front of me  and apologized that something like this had to happen.

When the young man stood up, an officer on each side grabbed an arm, moved his arms behind him, and clicked on the handcuffs.  Then they sat him on his chair. He yelled out at the discomfort of sitting down while handcuffed.
I couldn’t hear everything that was said at this point while they talked with the young man, but I gathered that the officers were informing him that weapons were not allowed inside the clinic and that he had passed a sign advising him of that fact when he entered.

It didn’t surprise me that weapons weren’t allowed in the clinic, but I hadn’t seen or paid any attention to the sign when I came in.  I sometimes carry a knife in my pocket but not that day.  When I do carry a knife, I’m rarely conscious of my knife as a weapon. I consider it a tool that is used to cut stuff with, as needed.

Next, the young man was ushered out of the building through a back exit.  The law enforcement officers brought him around to their cars in the parking lot and talked to him for awhile.  I don’t pretend to know what was said or what happened in the parking lot.  I have no idea.  I did observe officers come in to interview clinic employees.  Everyone agreed that the young man had not brandished the weapon or done anything other than politely sit there waiting to be called for his labs.  Everyone agreed that clinic policy is no weapons allowed, and I heard the private security officer state it was policy to call the police in these situations.  “We have no choice,” she said.

Eventually, the police left.  Awhile later, the young man came back inside without any police escort or his backpack or his knife.  I could hear him talking to someone on his cell phone as he walked past me.  “Man, I’m going to jail,” he said.  “They found my pot.”

Without further incident, he completed his labs, saw the doctor, and left. He looked embarrassed but stayed calm, quiet and polite.   Undoubtedly, besides being sick, he was having a really bad day.

Those are the facts, as best I recall.  I honestly believe that private security and law enforcement did all of the things that they are “required” to do under the circumstances.  No one forced the young man to wear a knife on the outside of his pants or to have pot in his possession ( and it had to be more than just a tiny amount, which is decriminalized in Madison). I believe he made an honest mistake in forgetting about the knife and that he made a bad choice in carrying around the pot.

Having acknowledged all of that, I can’t help but think that someone at the front desk or a private security officer should have been able to exercise discretion and advised the young man of the no weapons policy and that the knife was considered a potential weapon. “Sir, you can’t come into this medical building with a knife (pointing at the sign).”

I also couldn’t help but wonder how many guys like myself have accidentally entered the clinic with a concealed pocket knife without being handcuffed and taken down.  I guess the next step in ensuring that we are all safe is to walk through weapons detectors on the way to the doctor.

Finally, I wondered what kind of world we live in where “policies” have taken away our discretion to solve problems like reasonable, intelligent people with common sense.  Make no mistake; this event will be costly to the young man and to taxpayers. Yes, there is a huge cost to “feeling more safe.”

Getting back to Justin, he was diagnosed with pneumonia, started a treatment with multiple antibiotics and is back at school.

Roan Mountain is still on the calendar for the end of the month, along with a short trip to Door County.  Back to our regularly scheduled program…