I Love to Go A-Wandering...

If January temperatures in the 40s and 50s weren't enough to make me love living here, let me add something else: in less than an hour's drive, we can get to views like THIS:

From Caesar's Head State Park, just north of Greenville

Round 1:

The Cajun and I are enthusiastic hikers, but sometimes it's difficult to overcome inertia and get our posteriors on the trail, so we haven't been going out nearly as often as we'd like.  Fortunately, when my parents come to visit, my mother wants to get OUT and SEE THINGS, so we discovered a couple of state parks while they were here right after Christmas.  Caesar's Head and Jones Gap are right next to each other, about 45 minutes north of Greenville, and we visited Caesar's Head first (mostly because it had more geocaches, about which I have spoken before).  While perusing the list of hiking trails in the park, we all saw the magic word: "waterfall."

Now, my parents love to hike and are perfectly happy to go wander in the woods just for the sheer pleasure of being outside, but I prefer a bit of a payoff to my hikes.  It doesn't have to be huge, but a nice view or watchtower or picnic spot does provide a bit of added incentive to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and I love a good waterfall.  So when we saw a trail labeled "Raven Cliff Falls Trail," we all immediately said, "That one."  It turned out to be a good pick, too; a good two+ miles (each way) of wandering up and down the side of the mountain, strenuous-but-not-too-strenuous, with great views peeking out through the trees periodically.  And finally, a brief climb to a shelter overlooking a gorge, and... our payoff.

Raven Cliff Falls

Pretty, no?  There is a series of trails that will get you over to the falls itself, but it was four times the distance, the trails were all rated "very strenuous," and we were getting tired enough as it was, so we enjoyed the view we had.

The cool thing is that there are views like this all over the place up in the foothills!  On the way up the mountain, we stopped off at a scenic overlook to grab a couple of geocaches, and found this:

Looking south towards Greenville*

And there's a series of short trails right around the ranger station where you can see things like this:

I wonder if I could rappel down that?

Round 2:

We had so much fun with Mom and Dad that we decided, since the weather has been so fabulous this week, that we'd visit the other side of the Mountain Bridge Wilderness Area, and head to Jones Gap State Park, which is next door to Caesar's Head.  Where Caesar's Head is up a very twisty series of roads near the top of a mountain, Jones Gap is at the bottom of a valley, next to a stunningly beautiful stream.

We got to follow this for the first mile or two.  Heaven.

Again, we were seduced by the word, "waterfall," and thus discovered one of our favorite hikes ever: the Rainbow Falls trail.  It starts off nice and level along the floor of the valley**, and then, alas, heads UP in a series of switchbacks that had us both gasping and grabbing for the water bottles.  Fortunately, there were lots of things to distract us, which is why I love this trail so much.  In addition to Rainbow Falls itself, there were at least 4 other falls on the way, plus 6 or 7 bridges (all different), and lovely views as we wound our way around and up.

A neat bridge.  Sturdier than it looks, fortunately.

The trail ascends.

A view.  And a nice place to stop and sit for a few.

I must admit that the final half mile of this hike seemed to go on FOREVER; we could see the top of the mini-mountain we were on, and we could hear (what we hoped was) the waterfall, but the trail kept going up and up and up and...

And then we came around the corner and saw this:

Payoff!

Rainbow Falls is GORGEOUS, and two things made it even better.  One, we've had a lot of rain this week, so the water level was pretty enthusiastic, and Two, it was pretty cold up in the mountains, so there was ice all over the place, making it even more spectacular than it would have been.  As you can see, we weren't the only people there, but it was fun to watch everybody scrambling over the rocks and gaping at the scenery and trying to keep their dogs out of the water.

All that white stuff?  Ice.  SO COOL.

There's a nice view looking downhill, too.

I'm very much looking forward to doing this hike again in the spring; the bottom of the valley is covered in rhododendrons, and the slopes on the way up are covered in mountain laurel, so this place is going to be stunning when they bloom.  Besides, I want to go back when it's warmer so I can stick my feet in all the little pools and streams on the way.  They were so tempting, but when there's ice on the rocks, it probably isn't such a great idea.

Our next goal is to hit the new REI store in Greenville and get a couple of hiking sticks and (possibly) a new pair of hiking boots for me.  My current, rather elderly, ones have no ankle support, and, after yesterday, everything below my knees is rather tired and grumpy.  Still, we have lots more parks to explore, and more exercise to get if we want to be able to keep up with my parents the next time they visit!



*Yes, that's graffiti on the rock.  Kind of sad to see, but, on the other hand, it's a HUGE slab of granite, and there's "artwork" all over it, which is rather impressive.  Ron Paul supporters, in particular, seem to be quite artistic.

A very large canvas.  This is only about 25% of what's there.

** "Level" being a somewhat flexible term.  There wasn't much change in altitude, but the footing was rather treacherous.

Is that the stream?  No, it's the trail.  Sore ankles ensued.

Another Step Towards Assimilation

I'm not sure what this says about me and the amount of time I've spent in the South thus far, but I am admitting to you now that I spent the morning of Christmas Eve at (wait for it...) a shooting range.

I was raised in a house that had no guns in it, and my family is a flock of pacifists if ever there was one.  I have never held a gun in my hands, let alone fired one, and, I admit, guns make me very nervous.  Until December 24th, I had never been in a gun store or shooting range.

To back up a bit, this happened because a.) I married into a family of Boy Scouts, and b.) these Boy Scouts were sitting around at dinner the previous evening with a margarita in front of each of them, and somehow, one of the Boy Scouts said, "You know what would be a funny thing to do tomorrow morning?"  And another one of the Boy Scouts said, "That's a GREAT idea!"  And the first Boy Scout said, "Well, I was kidding, but it is a great idea, isn't it?"  And for some reason, I thought it might be fun to tag along*.

Now, I have nothing against guns.  I think they're perfectly acceptable in the hands of RESPONSIBLE owners, and, as the wife of a hunter, I do think that a freezer full of venison is one of the great joys in life**.  Guns just make me nervous, and the hunting rifle we have in the house makes me doubly nervous, because I don't know how to use it.  So this was my way of beginning to learn about them so I wouldn't be quite so angsty about having one in the house.

So it was that I found myself in a gun store/shooting range in Birmingham, Alabama, on the morning of Christmas Eve.  And we weren't the only people there; apparently, Christmas Eve is THE time to go to the range!  The place was packed.  I had no idea what to expect, and, quite frankly, thought it might be a big testosterone-fest and that I would be very uncomfortable, but it was full of families, and diverse ones at that.  Fathers teaching their daughters to shoot, mothers teaching their sons, brothers and sisters teaching each other, different ages, different ethnicities...  Totally not what I expected.  Something else I didn't expect was the very nice young man behind the counter who, when he heard that I'd never held a gun before, stepped out and gave me a quick lesson on holding, firing, and not being nervous about it.  Very, very helpful***.

After my quick lesson and filling out an awful lot of forms, we all donned ear/eye protection and headed inside the bunker, where The Cajun handed me his brother's .22 and a handful of bullets and showed me which end of the gun to put them in.  Then we taped up a target that looked like a terrorist (yes, really), sent it down the range a dozen yards or so, and I got to shoot a real gun for the first time.

It's not a feeling I want to get used to, but it is rather empowering.  The .22, in particular, goes off fairly easily, makes a small enough bang that it doesn't startle you too much, and I found it relatively simple to make the bullet go where I wanted it to go.

Not bad, right?

On the other hand, I also tried firing a 9 millimeter, which makes a much bigger bang, and jumps quite a bit more when it goes off.  I have been assured that the bullets were going where they were supposed to be going, but I felt much less secure while firing it, enough so that I didn't want to try firing the .45 at all.  CajunBrothers said that the recoil on that is much bigger, and I didn't think I'd be able to keep it from flapping around too much.  Still, a very empowering day, and my father-in-law is now calling me "Anna Oakley," so I guess he was impressed.

Seriously.  Don't mess with me.

So I spent the morning of Christmas Eve surrounded by people with deadly weapons and TVs that were all playing Fox News****, and I had a heck of a lot of fun doing it.  I suspect that I'll have to give up my NPR-listening-Liberal card, so don't tell anybody, ok?



* Hey, anything a Boy Scout can do, a Girl Scout can do, right?

** I used to be sentimental about deer hunting; they're so cute, right?  After The Cajun and I each hit one with our cars in the same week, and after my husband, both parents, and both dogs were treated for Lyme Disease...  I became less sentimental.  Oh, and my parents used to have loads of azalea and rhododendron in their yard.  Deer ate 'em.  Overpopulation is not a good thing.

*** 'Course, he also gave me some pointers on which gun might fit best inside my handbag.  First of all, it's so big I could probably carry an entire sawed-off shotgun in there, and second... no.  Just, no.

**** Yes, it's a stereotype.  It was also true.

Ah, yes, the Moxie 2003 was a fine vintage*...

How did you spend your New Year's Eve?  We spent it watching football and sampling local sodas**.  Soda?  Yes, soda.  I like to eat local, and I like to drink local.  Especially when the local offerings are so GOOD.

Our holiday tasting flight

My parents visited us after Christmas, and Mom had expressed some interest in "this Cheerwine stuff" she'd seen at a gas station, so we decided to do a bit of a sampling of the local goods.  If you're a soda*** geek, read on...

The two bottles on the left of the above photo are Blenheim Ginger Ale, our local stuff from eastern South Carolina.  Yes, it's ginger ale, but forget everything you know about Schweppes or one of the other standard varieties.  If you're familiar with Vernor's****, it's similar in that it really tastes like ginger.  The second bottle (with the gold cap) is the "Not as Hot" version, which is delicious, but my favorite of the entire lineup is the first bottle (with the red cap), Blenheim's "Hot" flavor.  Only for serious ginger lovers, this is the stuff you want to be drinking when you have a cold.

Next up is the Abbott Farms (a local peach farm) Strawberry.  Mom took one sip and promptly said, "Tastes exactly like it should.  Red."  Not particularly like strawberries, just pleasantly, artificially, red.

The Cajun and my parents were all familiar with Nehi, but I only knew it as Radar's favorite beverage on M*A*S*H, so I was happy to finally try it.  The grape variety tasted very similar to my childhood favorite, Grape Crush (that is, purple.  Not even remotely like a grape.), but the orange version is slightly more medicinal-tasting and less orange-y.  Orange Crush still wins with me, but the Nehi is pretty good.

Finally, the beverage that started the whole adventure - Cheerwine.  Another local liquid, this time from North Carolina, it tastes vaguely like Cherry Dr. Pepper, only sweeter and without Dr. Pepper's bite.  I like this one, too, and will try out the diet version soon.

Verdict?  My favorites are the "Hot" Blenheim and Cheerwine.  The Cajun and my parents preferred the "Not as Hot" Blenheim, but also really liked Cheerwine.

Next up: de-toxing from the holiday sugar overload.  I crave salad.



* Fallacy.  There is no such thing as good Moxie^.

^ If you're not familiar with Moxie, count your lucky stars.  It's a carbonated beverage from Maine that's most commonly found in New England.  Originally concocted as a patent medicine back in the 1870s, it... still tastes like a patent medicine from the 1870s.  Bitter as heck, though I know people who love it (and, yes, most of them are from Maine.).

** Yes, the level of partying that goes on in our house is astounding.  Envy us.

*** Which leads us to the discussion of What to Call a Carbonated Beverage.  My parents are from Ohio and Michigan.  They both call it "pop."  My cousins from western Pennsylvania call it "pop."  I, on the other hand, moved to New England before I was old enough to drink the stuff, so I grew up calling it "soda."  The Cajun and his brothers call it "Coke," regardless of the brand, leading to odd conversations like this: "Want something to drink?"  "Sure, I'll have a Coke."  "What kind?"  "Sprite, please."  I'm not sure what they call it down here in South Carolina, but everybody seems to understand when I ask for a soda.

**** Vernor's is a Michigan Thing.  In my family, it's known as "Wipe-Out Pop" because it's very highly carbonated, and if you carelessly inhale over your glass as you take a sip, you'll have a coughing fit and make everyone else in the room laugh hysterically.  Fun stuff.  And it tastes really good, too.