![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
May. 2nd, 2004 12:14 amWe hiked the Dark Hollow Falls trail beside Skyline Drive. The trail descends beside a stream cascading, sometimes quite dramatically, down the mountain. The trail is one of the most frequently traversed paths along the parkway, which was quite evident when we pulled into the packed parking lot beside the trail head. It looked like the entrance to some kind of convention in the wilderness.
Gravel covered the top portion of the trail which rolled under my boots on the steep grade. I did good job avoiding falling on any of the children running around. Many families walked the top half of the trail. Nearly all of them were mixed race--asian woman and white dude as parents. I was beginning to wonder if this was indeed some kind of convention for this type of couple. My wife was starting to look out of place. Before I could trade her in for an asian girl, the overcast sky decided it was time to rain.
The traffic on the path dried up as we got very wet. The gravel had long since disappeared and we walked on mud and slippery rocks, descending at a steeper angle. Going down, not so bad. But we'll need to go back up. We passed a young family who had collapsed on a comfortable pile of boulders. The kids looked like they were itching to continue running up the trail, the mother appeared to be having an asthma attack. We didn't spot anyone else on the descent until we reached the bottom, where we met two young guys fishing for brook trout. I was skeptical, because they were throwing their lines into little pools between steep cataracts in the falls. One guy did catch one, though. These were hardy fish. Dark Hollow is not a complete, flowing fall. These fish would have needed to tumble and bounce down the rocks in several places where the falls run thin to reach that pool. I would have loved to see that. Instead, we saw many plants and flowers we had never seen before. And I really want to mention that I was attacked by a moose. But that didn't happen. Climbing back to the top was uneventful and wet. We took it slow, so as to not tire ourselves unnecessarily. The rain was quite refreshing. Enjoyable, even. It was as if I could feel the collective happy sigh of all the new spring growth in the forest.
After reaching the top, we drove to the nearby Big Meadows Lodge. We figured our soaked clothes and stylish mud-covered boots would look better at the nearly empty bar, rather than the restaurant, so we headed there for some simple food while something significant happened on the television broadcast of the Kentucky Derby. After food, we climbed a short path to a nearby rocky overlook, high above a valley. We found pink roses scattered about the rocks. Next to one rose, a photo of a guy on a motorcycle. The weather was still rainy and growing quite cold, I officially declared myself cranky and we left for the car.
We took a leisurely drive south to the end of the Skyline Drive. It rained and clouds hung low, keeping us perpetually surrounded with fog. Dusk arrived darkly on the cloudy mountain top road. The trees emerged like ghosts overhead while toads leaped under our tires. The sign said watch for deer, next 34 miles. It should have warned us about the road toads.
Gravel covered the top portion of the trail which rolled under my boots on the steep grade. I did good job avoiding falling on any of the children running around. Many families walked the top half of the trail. Nearly all of them were mixed race--asian woman and white dude as parents. I was beginning to wonder if this was indeed some kind of convention for this type of couple. My wife was starting to look out of place. Before I could trade her in for an asian girl, the overcast sky decided it was time to rain.
The traffic on the path dried up as we got very wet. The gravel had long since disappeared and we walked on mud and slippery rocks, descending at a steeper angle. Going down, not so bad. But we'll need to go back up. We passed a young family who had collapsed on a comfortable pile of boulders. The kids looked like they were itching to continue running up the trail, the mother appeared to be having an asthma attack. We didn't spot anyone else on the descent until we reached the bottom, where we met two young guys fishing for brook trout. I was skeptical, because they were throwing their lines into little pools between steep cataracts in the falls. One guy did catch one, though. These were hardy fish. Dark Hollow is not a complete, flowing fall. These fish would have needed to tumble and bounce down the rocks in several places where the falls run thin to reach that pool. I would have loved to see that. Instead, we saw many plants and flowers we had never seen before. And I really want to mention that I was attacked by a moose. But that didn't happen. Climbing back to the top was uneventful and wet. We took it slow, so as to not tire ourselves unnecessarily. The rain was quite refreshing. Enjoyable, even. It was as if I could feel the collective happy sigh of all the new spring growth in the forest.
After reaching the top, we drove to the nearby Big Meadows Lodge. We figured our soaked clothes and stylish mud-covered boots would look better at the nearly empty bar, rather than the restaurant, so we headed there for some simple food while something significant happened on the television broadcast of the Kentucky Derby. After food, we climbed a short path to a nearby rocky overlook, high above a valley. We found pink roses scattered about the rocks. Next to one rose, a photo of a guy on a motorcycle. The weather was still rainy and growing quite cold, I officially declared myself cranky and we left for the car.
We took a leisurely drive south to the end of the Skyline Drive. It rained and clouds hung low, keeping us perpetually surrounded with fog. Dusk arrived darkly on the cloudy mountain top road. The trees emerged like ghosts overhead while toads leaped under our tires. The sign said watch for deer, next 34 miles. It should have warned us about the road toads.
