Scenes from the Balcony

2 Hour time difference, so Jackie and I were up at dawn. This is our view out our balcony as the sun came up and the lights were still on.

This is Charlotte Amalia, the Capital of the Island.

Same view about an hour later when blue skies were shining on me... Nothing but blue skies do I see!

We are staying less than 1/2 a mile from teh Governor's Mansion (but the entire Island is only 3 1/2 miles wide, so almost everywhere is within a Half mile from everything else). Again, this is the view of the mansion out our balcony

If you look close, you will see a cruise ship between the two peaks in the islands that protect the harbor. The ship docked in just 20 minutes, while I took a shower.

A Short, Warm Ride

With the cold Spring we have had, I was surprised yesterday when I started to prepare for a bicycle ride. Noon, it was already warm and muggy. Filtered sunshine and almost no wind. Still wanted to ride, so grabbed the road bike and loaded it on the car rack.

In the morning, I was still tired from the ride Saturday, so slept in. Kitting up for my ride, i realized that I had not eaten, so grabbed an apple to eat on the drive to the trailhead.

Aired up the tires and lubed the chain on the bike. Already, I could feel the humidity (though it was only in the low 70s. Headed out of the Lake Manawa Trail. Took it easy, but still feeling pretty good - a decent speed up Mosquito Creek.

A little over 2 miles into my ride, I saw "Tom" (a wildlife photographer - "birder" friend) on the trail. Stopped to visit with him. After all, I was not in any hurry. Drank some water before heading on down the trail. I started realizing that this was not going to be a good ride! Was happy to get to the Indian Creek Bridge for rest and consume fluids. It was obvious, it was time to turn back to the car.

By the time I got back to where Tom was photographing a nest of owls in a tree across the road, I was a little light headed. Stopped long enough to take a couple photos of Tom, drank some water, and popped a Shot Blok in my mouth. On down the trail to car.

A mile from the car, I had to stop to drink the rest of my Gatorade and almost the rest of my water. Slow ride with the wind (what little there was). Seemed it took all my energy just to load the bike and exchange shoes. Glad I still had some of my ice water in the cup in the car.

After resting a bit, I warmed up a pizza from the freezer. Drank lots of water and washed doen the pizza with PowerAde Zero. Processed the couple photos (that's my wildlife photographer friend Tom) and crashed into bed.

Don't want to duplicate that ride! It was about the worse I have ever felt finishing a ride.

In the Spotlight: Currituck Heritage Village

Corolla is one of several beach towns located on the far end of the OBX. (See the area marked with dotted red lines at the top of the map to the right; click the map for a larger image.) One of the town’s alternative attractions to its wildly popular beaches is Currituck Heritage Park — home to not only the Currituck Beach Lighthouse, but also to the Outer Banks Center for Wildlife Education and the Whalehead Club.

After visiting the lighthouse (post to come), we wandered over to see the rest of the park. Our intent was to check out the wildlife education center, but as luck would have it, the place was locked up tight (closed on Sundays). So, we shifted gears and went for a meandering stroll that took us around the grounds of what was once the estate — playground might be a better word — of Edward Collings Knight Jr. and his wife Marie-Louise LeBel. Following their death, Ray T. Adams purchased the estate for $25,000 (got a great buy as you will see if you read on), converted the residence to a hunting club, and thus the Whalehead Club was born.

Although there is a humpback whale skull just outside the wildlife education center, it is a recent addition () and is not the source of the name for the Whalehead Club.

During the latter part of the 19th century, wildfowl hunting conditions in the Currituck Outer Banks was excellent and private hunting clubs owned most of the land. One such club was the Lighthouse Club, which was built in 1874. In the 1920s, the Knights, a wealthy couple that had made their fortune in sugar and railroads, purchased the club property.

Historic photos of the Knights and their estate from signage in the park.

Wanting the property to be known as a private residence, they tore down the old club house, and for $383,000 built a luxurious home, dredged the waterway around the house, and renamed the property Corolla Island. The couple resided here during the hunting season for nine years (1925-1934) until Mr. K became too ill to visit. (Remember how the estate was purchased for $25K after their death; the heirs obviously took a bath on that sale!)

The restored mansion with inset historic photo from park signage.

The Knights had a lot of guests stay with them at the estate — over 200 of them between 1922-1934. One guest was a repeat-visitor, staying nine months on one occasion. (I wonder if Mr. and Mrs. K felt at some point that she had overstayed her welcome?)

As there was no public road access to Corolla Island, the Knights and their servants traveled 33 miles (53 km) down the sand from Virginia Beach before crossing one of a pair of bridges that spanned the waterway around the estate. Similarly, guests had to either drive on the beach to get to the estate or arrive by boat.

Left: Sketch of the estate showing the two bridges linking Corolla Island to the mainland.
right: the remaining bridge before it was restored (photo taken in 1992).
[historic photos from signage on the grounds]

The surviving bridge … post-restoration.

The Knights used the finest materials of the time to build their 21,000 ft² (1,950 m²) home. In addition to many Art Nouveau features, the house had a copper roof that showed the patina of time, cork floors, corduroy walls, and Tiffany lighting fixtures. Also on the grounds was the first-ever swimming pool on the Outer Banks.

The swimming pool lives only in historic images.

Since hunting wildfowl was the primary reason that drew guests to Corolla Island, the Knights also built a boathouse on the grounds. The gracefully proportioned structure had a sloping roofline and was painted an unusual pink color. Decoys and hunting skiffs were stored inside, along with corn to lure the waterfowl into gunning range. On the side of the boathouse were hooks to hang and cure the day’s catch.

Pink is not a color that I associate with hunting.

Ray T. Adams, who purchased the estate four years after the Knights both passed away in 1936, dreamed of opening a hunt club where he could host potential real estate investors, politicians (including Dwight Eisenhower), and public figures (including boxing champion Jack Dempsey). Thus, he changed the name from Corolla Island to Whalehead Club, the name by which the mansion is now known.

I’m a sucker for reflections, but the light breeze is working against me.

During World War II, when the US coastal waters became the hunting ground for German submarines that sank hundreds of thousands of tons of shipping cargo, the US Coast Guard leased the club from Adams. From here, the Coast Guard rescued seamen and conducted beach patrols. The house also served as a receiving station for recruits awaiting their assignments following basic training. After the war, the Whalehead Club was demobilized and returned to Adams.

Following Adams’ death in 1957, the Whalehead Club saw service as a summer school for boys. Then came the Cold War, during which the house was used as a rocket fuel testing facility.

No sign of the holes in the roof and the snakes in the flooded basement — that was the
condition of the mansion at the time Currituck County purchased the club.

Now fully restored, the Whalehead Club is a popular wedding locale … I can certainly see why. House tours are available everyday, except Sunday … and wouldn’t you know it, we were there on a Sunday! (Those interested in the architecture of the house can find more information here.)

By the way, if you’re curious as to why the club was named Whalehead, I’m afraid I don’t have an answer. I don’t think Adams chose the name because he thought of his potential real estate investors as whales (in much the same way casinos think of their big spenders). I did send an email to the club asking the question; we’ll see if they respond.

Abrams Falls

OK, now that my wildlife encounter rant is out of the way, I return this blog to our regularly scheduled travel reporting!

The plan for the day was to visit the Great Smoky Mountains Heritage Center, a “nonprofit organization formed to preserve and present the heritage of the East Tennessee region.”  Located in Townsend, just down the road from the Tremont Outdoor Resort, it’s within walking distance, but we were carrying too much gear to get there under our own power.

Mui had just parked the car when we noticed that we had company — two bus-loads of school kids.  Oh!  Oh!  Noticing our concern, a staff member from the center told us that they had two busses a day coming in every week morning for the foreseeable future.  “They’ll be gone by 1:00p,” he continued.  OK; so we’ll come back later.  Well, we never made it back!  Instead, we drove into the park and hiked the Abrams Falls Trail, located not far from the Cable Mill Area of the Cades Cove Loop.

Our focus on this trip is the Cades Cove area; just a tiny portion of the GSMNP.
The inset shows where the Abrams Falls Trail is located in relation to the loop.
[maps courtesy of the National Park Service website.]

Designated as moderate, the in-out trail is 2½ miles (4 km) each way.

It was 11:15a when we set out from the trailhead.  Normally, we’re not ones to start hiking this late in the day, but the cool 60F (16C) temp and the long hours of daylight made it quite feasible.  Despite the ups and downs, and the rocks, boulders, and tree roots that made it imperative that we pay attention to where we were stepping, I’d rate the trail easy-to-moderate.  The trail climbs up to 1800 feet (~550 m) at one point, but you’re 200 feet (~ 61 m) below your starting point when you reach the falls.

With glimpses of Abrams Creek through the trees and wildflowers galore along the path, the trail has what we like to call ‘high entertainment value’.  We made so many stops to take pictures and enjoy creek-side snacks that it took us almost three hours to get to the falls.  We missed seeing rhododendrons and mountain laurel in bloom, but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing as we probably would have doubled our time going in otherwise!  (By comparison, the return hike took a little under two hours.)

Left: Pink Lady's Slipper Orchid — considered rare/endangered in Tennessee.
Right: Crested Dwarf Iris — very common; found growing on wooded hillsides.

The Red-Belted Conk is a ubiquitous shelf fungus that can grow to huge proportions.

Clockwise from the top left: Rhododendron (just blooming); Purple Trillium;
Spicebush; Mountain Laurel (budding); Meadow Beauty; Dog Hobble.
[please correct me if I am wrong on any of these.]

I didn’t mind the tree frog (looks like it’s about to pounce on its lunch).
I didn’t mind the five-lined skink (to the right of the snake in the top right photo).
but I sure could have done without seeing the common water snake.

There were three or four of these log bridges on the trail.
They were easy to cross actually; I’m just hamming it up for the camera :-)))

A boulder in the middle of Abrams Creek makes for a nice spot to have a snack.

Left: Now why can’t I just take a picture from the path like everyone else?
right: this cross vine was hanging down in the middle of the trail; I’m guessing that someone who walked up after us broke it off because it wasn’t there on the hike down — grrrr :-(((

At this uphill portion of the hike (left) we get a glimpse of Abrams Creek through the trees.

No, Mui; you don’t get to go for a dip at the falls.

Located as it is within the Cades Cove Loop, the Abrams Falls Trail is very popular, so we were very pleased (and lucky) that we didn’t encounter very many people while we were hiking.  The falls were similarly near-deserted.  The couple that was enjoying a snack left soon after we arrived; as did the young man who was taking a break from his 48-mile three-day hike.  More power to him.

We made ourselves comfortable on a couple of boulders at the edge of the water and had lunch in view of the falls on the far side.

Though only 20 feet (6 m) high, the volume of water rushing over makes the falls a sight to behold.

A Zebra Swallowtail Butterfly joins us for lunch.

After a while, we moved to the spit of rocks at the base of the falls.  We thought the spray from the rushing, tumbling water wouldn’t allow us to get too close.  But there was no spray whatsoever, so we stuck around to play a bit.  A few other visitors showed up, took photos and left; a family arrived just as we were leaving.

Any closer and we’d be taking a very cold shower.

I was surprised at how many people we saw going up while we were on our way down.  I sure wouldn’t want to be on this trail at dusk.  We made a few stops to take photos, but otherwise maintained a pretty even pace all the way back to the parking lot.

a ‘Silky water’ view from our snack break spot on the return leg of the hike.

Once off the trail, I wanted to stop at one of the heritage sites on the opposite side of the Cades Cove Loop.  So we took Hyatt Lane, one of only two roads with two-way traffic that cuts across the loop.  That detour led to a black bear sighting — this time a sow with her tiny COY (cub of the year).  This was followed by four other sightings; only one of which fit my definition of an encounter — we could see its beady black eyes.  Our total for the day: seven black bears, including the one that was the inspiration for my rant; and another bear we saw high up in a tree, looking down at a man that was standing at its base — I’ll resist the temptation for another rant.

See those eyes; if I can see them, the sighting is an encounter.

The return drive was particularly slow thanks to a couple of wildlife jams on the road ahead of us.  Nope, not for deer.  Nope, not for elk.  Nope, not for bear.  Rather, the traffic jams were all for wild turkeys :-)

Just as we exited the loop road, the rain that had been expected yesterday afternoon finally arrived.  The slow drizzle turned into quite a downpour, making for a slow drive home.  We were in no hurry, so we took our time driving the narrow, curvy roads.  Even as I finish writing this at 10:30p, the rain has not stopped once.  I love the sound of rain on the roof of the motorhome; it lulls me to sleep.  Speaking of which, it’s time to get under the cozy comforter.

Root Beer River

I just love the color of tannin-rich rivers! Tannins are commonly cited as being the cause of root beer colored water. The Presque Isle River in Michigan's Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park has some of the most delicious-looking root beer colored water that I've ever seen! This photo shows one of the first ledges of many that make up Manido Falls. This was an incredible waterfall to photograph using my 100-400mm lens and I easily could have spent the whole day photographing just in this one area. Alas, I had to hit the road for home after a few hours of shooting in the early morning light.

Happy Anniversary

Yesterday after a morning of getting up at 5:30 am but not leaving the house until 7:15 am and stopping for pee breaks and gas breaks and then getting lost when the google directions had us take an exit off the freeway that was closed, we arrived just a touch too close to Morgan's start time. I think he had maybe 15 minutes to get ready.

I got out of the car and almost threw up because we'd just driven 75 mph on a two lane highway with some near misses in a gigantic safari land cruiser packed with bikes and food and other crap.
All this so we could race for 45 minutes each.
I went up the hill and registered all four of us for our respective races and then pinned and poked Morgan a bit.
With the kids off on their bikes to explore and climb trees and Morgan taking his one lap pre-ride, I went back to the car to make my breakfasts - some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then it was back up to the course to hang around and watch and take some pictures.
I ate both peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a matter of minutes and was a little too stuffed. And then over the next few hours I drank a whole lot of water.
The kid's race was right before the women's race and regrettably I missed them starting because I was down at the bathroom taking the 12th of my 15 pee breaks or something like that. On the way back up to the start I could hear them making their way down the side of the course so I pulled over to wait and cheer. And there he was, poor Sam, on the ground whimpering.
I made my way over to him and he moaned something about how he'd crashed on his "you know whats". Which of course a mom tries to be empathetic about, but also doesn't fully understand because us moms have never experienced the getting hit "in the you know whats" pain.
So as he was doubled over I asked him if he was ready to get back on and finish and he shook is head yes and got back on and I pushed him through the sand, hopped on my bike and rode the rest of his race right behind him cheering him on. By the time he got to the finish he was sobbing and thankfully there were a few dads there who understood what he was going through. Ice was magically shoved into my hand (does that really help with the nut pain?) and Sam sat down to rest.

(pic of lulu by rick)
Afterwards he told me that he'd hit the top tube with his "area" and then proceeded to ride down the hill in that position and then hit again at the bottom. A double whammy.
My race seemed short. I brought along some good mojo from some of those Facility kids and tied it in a secret place and it helped. I felt like I was really racing this time instead of just hanging on from a thread way in the back. I was in the mix this time.

The peanut butter and jellies and water came back to haunt me though. First because I think I had one of those peanut butter and jelly mustaches while I was racing. I was so busy peeing and pre-riding that I'd forgotten to check and primp my hairdo and face. I could kind of feel it on my cheeks and so I kept trying to wipe it off on the down hill. It was there, I think, maybe. Like a pirate mustache.
On the 3rd or 4th lap, I tried to pinch Tom Feix's butt while he was standing on the side talking to Rod and getting his strawberry trophy. So on the next lap he gave me some strawberries and I grabbed them and tried to eat one on a very STEEP climb and that one bite just pushed me over the edge. I started gagging and the dry heaves gave way.

I kind of heaved and gagged for the rest of the race.

(these 2 photos by rick too)
And then I finished and immediately proceeded to throw up in the bushes. And it tasted like strawberries and peanut butter and jelly. People pretended not to see me. I pretended not to see me.
Later that night Morgan suggested I google "dry heaves" and "bike racing" like it's some sort of condition. Maybe it's called "soccer mom trying to pretend she's still 30 and racing cyclocross in the B, B, B's and not really training" condition.
On the way home after another bathroom break for the kids in a dirty gas station bathroom, Lulu announced that she'd gone poop 5 times that day (probably because she'd eaten 3 tins of strawberries on her own) and it was then that Morgan turned to me and said "happy anniversary" and I said "oh yeah, that's right! it's today!"