Spring Adventures

In the past 2 months, Tucker and I have been so busy exploring the mountains surrounding our little valley town of Asheville, we haven’t had any time to set it down in pictures. Okay, let’s be honest, it’s not the exploring that took away from laptop time—it was the napping after the hikes that did. But admittedly, most have been rather uneventful and not worth more than a photo each.

So here’s a summation of a few of the places that caused nap-time, not write-time since Easter:

Laurel River was a lovely, easy walk along Laurel Creek where in order to see it meet up with the French Broad Rover, we’d end up on the other end of the tracks.

I enjoyed the brief Stand By Me moment staring down the tracks...

... but otherwise it was just a lovely stroll along a creek through the woods.

The next weekend, we took to Graveyards Fields, which gets busy in the high season so I wanted to so it now while it was empty. We walked along trails that took us through tunnels...

and fields...

across streams...

and to waterfalls.

I know Tucker enjoys the journey, but perhaps he's just a little sick of the photo-ops. At least, that's what I get from looks like this that say, "Really, woman? You, me, water, nature. We do this every weekend. I don't think you need yet another photo of it."

Then there was Rattlesnake Lodge, whose story is much more interesting than the site itself—or what remains of it.  A man built an entire summer estate for him and his family in the middle of the woods--purposely so that no one could get horses up the pathways there, but you had to walk. Over a mile. Through the woods. If you wanted to visit him and his family and partake of their expansive property which included a pool, tennis courts, and guest houses, you had to really want it.

There are even boulders to make sure nothing too wide could get through.

Little remains of the lodge. Just a few stone corners and some rubble in the middle. This is where the "Spring House" stood--a building that surrounded a tiny spring that bubbled up clear water all year round. Perhaps the falling tree smashed it to bits--I don't know. Tucker was unimpressed.

In the end though, it was a tiring enough day for him that he fell short of making it to the bedroom by about two and a half feet.

The journey is the destination, but a tuckered-out Tucker is an additional reward for the experience of wandering through nature's beauty.

Every weekend--barring rain or laziness (on my part, not Tucker's), we've been out in the woods. This was just a few of our adventures worth noting. Two weeks ago I finally got the courage to believe I could do the strenuous 5 mile round trip up to the highest peak this side of the Mississippi. And that deserves it's own entry. So stay tuned...