Blackwater redux

Last year, when an impending snowstorm shut down the federal government, a few of us used the time to go play in the woods.  We had so much fun that we decided to do it again this year, when the promise of more snow bore with it the promise of another chance to use our dusty, neglected snowshoes.  We rented a cabin at Blackwater Falls State Park, filled it with people who in turn filled it with food and beverage options, and spent a couple days playing outside.

More like Windy Point, amiright??

Saturday's hike took us first to Lindy Point, a rocky outcrop over the Blackwater River, whose valley on that day formed a screaming windtunnel of clouds and snow.  Many of us took pictures, working as quickly as possible so as to facilitate quicker egress to the relative comfort of the forest.  The smaller members of our group had to hunker and lean windward to avoid getting pushed around too much on the overlook's high wooden platform.

Lindy Point

Further hiking led us to a wide creek crossing which was thinly covered with ice and thickly blanketed in snow.  Our trail-breaker at the time, a towering, bearded gent known for lifting pick-up trucks in his college days, had carefully picked a path around the pool before the rest of the group decided it was time to eat lunch and turn around.

This tree grew for decades on a rock shelf before the broad and extremely shallow root system failed it.  This view shows the bottom of the root mass and the top of the rock where the tree lived before it fell.

We had one other hiking goal for that day, so we passed the Nordic Center and headed uphill to Balancing Rock.

I am but a medium for her self-portraits.  Nice camera, though!

I probably don't have to tell you what Balancing Rock is.  You're smart; I'm sure your reading comprehension skills will get you there.  Unfortunately, I can't prove your conclusions, because the rock balances in a fairly thick forest, so by the time you're far enough away to get a good picture, trees block the shot.  Instead, I took a few macros of tiny hemlock cones, snow clumps, and droplets of ice.

like this one!

We did make one other stop on the drive back to the cabin.  A couple of us wanted to take a look at Elkalala Falls, after seeing it named on our map and a couple signs.  It's close to the main lodge at Blackwater, and we figured it wouldn't take more than 20 or 30 minutes to walk there, get our fill, and return to the parking lot.

I'm not sure this sign is necessary in this weather.

Just before we crossed the bridge in the above picture, we encountered a couple we had seen earlier in the day, and asked them if the falls were worthwhile.  "What falls?  There are no falls," they assured us.  We consulted our map again, questioned their assertion, and decided to take a look anyway, just in case.  Then we reached the bridge, and realized why they didn't know about the falls: they weren't falling that day.

Elkalala Stand

The falls had frozen solid, which was somehow more satisfying than if they had still been ... um... falling.  A couple of us carefully found our way to a lower vantage point, an activity fraught with Bad Ideas from which I save you, dear reader, by supplying these views.  Remember: I am not a role model.

This very impressive ice cave is about sixteen inches from floor to ceiling.  neat, huh?

Saturday evening was filled with card games, a Munchkin battle prolonged far too much, and the 38-course meal which is a standard with that group of people.  There may also have been a variety of Adult Beverages, some of them home-brewed.  Maybe.

Sunday lunch break

On Sunday, we drove to Dolly Sods and hiked up the side of an active ski run to find a wilderness trail known to a handful of our group.  It was all new territory for me, and as much fun as it was to use snowshoes in conditions worthy of them, I was a little bit sad that I didn't get to go skiing.  I miss my days on the mountain.  Maybe I'll get to go skiing this winter.

Too cloudy for real views, but still pretty.

Our only real goal on Sunday was to hike for a little while; some of us had rental equipment to return, and most of us had long drives between us and home.  We stayed along the ridge after our lunch break (during which the tall, bearded one made us cocoa from melted snow), and a small group of us turned around when we realized we had just enough time to return to the rental center before closing.  The rest of them pushed on to a rocky outcrop they had aimed for in the past but never reached; I'm sorry I missed it, but I didn't want to be too tired before I started that drive.

The Girl leading our sub-group back to the cars.

This is why you shut off the outside spigot in the fall.

Snowquester

A couple weeks ago, when the weather forecasts assured us that the entire east coast, as far back as Iowa, would be buried four feet deep in snow, there was the expected reaction of panic, early shutdowns of schools, businesses, and government offices, and shortages in every grocery store of milk, bread, and eggs.  I once heard a comic wonder why people always went for those items in time of crisis, and concluded that everyone dealt with major storms by making French toast.

Not us.

A friend of ours decided that the best response to the Snowquester (I can't take credit for that--it was all over the news) was to head for the mountains and play all weekend.  We agreed.  Snowquester was Wednesday (we only got wind and rain, but Ohio got hammered.  Go figure.), but Saturday morning we got up early and drove to Blackwater Falls State Park in West Virginia, where a group of us had rented a cabin for the weekend.

West Virginia got a little more snow than DC.

Once everyone had a chance to shovel in some lunch, we broke into two groups.  One went to nearby Dolly Sods to test their homemade gear sled.  Mainly they wanted to make sure it would pull straight behind them and not run them over going downhill, but as their pictures proved, they also wanted to go sledding.  Who could blame them?

This majestic cataract is about ten inches high.

Our quartet set off on snowshoes (and one pair of cross-country skis) to walk along the rim of Blackwater Canyon.  We passed the reservoir, where I later made several unsuccessful attempts to breach the slushy ice at the surface by lobbing hard-packed snowballs as high as I could, worked our way down to a smaller stream (see above), and finally found a great viewpoint at the canyon's edge where we built a couple mid-size snowmen, and pummeled them with snowballs until they fell.  The weather was amazing; our trip's organizer remarked several times how weird it was to be out snowshoeing in short sleeves and feel relieved when we found shade.

Not shown: the huge rock where we hung out  building snowmen.  I don't know why I don't have that shot.

When we returned to our cabin, the timing was just about perfect to try to get some good shots of the larger, more impressive Blackwater Falls.  Unfortunately, due to snow higher than the guardrails and ice-slicked stairs, the access to the lower viewing deck was closed, but I got this picture to let you know what you missed.

I bet it looks even cooler from up close.

That night, as is the custom with this particular group, we feasted.  There was a lasagna brimming with over three pounds of cheese--I really don't know what else was in there, but I did spot a couple lasagna noodles--which was brought from home to bake, tomato-basil soup, homemade sourdough bread, more cheese and crackers than any group of eight people could really need (all of which was consumed), a large salad, garlic bread, and hot fudge brownie pudding for dessert.  It may not have been camping, but that was never the point of the weekend, anyway.  Food and snowshoeing was the point.  Or maybe snowshoeing was the excuse for the food... I lose track, but we had a great time.

The Chase

For no apparent reason, she started running.  For this reason alone, she became the Quarry.  Hers was an easy lope; she dared not go faster for fear of tripping in her snowshoes.

I had no such fear.

She had a generous head start, but I knew within three long, running steps that she didn’t stand a chance.  My speed was greater than hers from the start, but it built as my over-sized feet hammered the snow, churning the virgin expanse of glimmering white and leaving a narrow but thoroughly destroyed swath in my wake.

With each step, the tails of the snowshoes snapped upward, sending a fresh cascade of fine crystals over my head and into the hood which flapped behind me like a battle pennant.  I was closing fast, and knew I could go faster, but her speed suddenly dropped, oblivious to the imminent threat swiftly approaching from the back.

Deprived of the chase, I bellowed in rage, arms thrown wide for a sweeping tackle,and was rewarded by a quick turn, a look backwards, and an expression of sudden horror upon a visage already pinked with exertion and cold air.