The Joys of Winter Hiking

By: Jayne Fought

When’s the last time you experienced the magic of the forest in the winter?  For me it was last year. Right now, I’m full of anticipation and excitement about the amazing things the forest will show me this winter.  As the days grow shorter and the thermometer starts to plunge, it’s common to feel the desire to hibernate. We get caught up preparing for family gatherings, shopping, attending holiday functions, we warm ourselves in the comfort of our homes, and we find fewer daylight hours to get outside. Resist! 

Seriously, resist! Your mind, body, and spirit need you to get outside throughout the winter months.  First, let’s talk about vitamin D. The human body produces vitamin D as a response to sun exposure. According to Medical News Today, “Vitamin D assists in promoting healthy bones and teeth, supporting immune, brain, and nervous system health, regulating insulin levels, supporting lung function and influencing the expression of genes involved in cancer development.”  Medical professionals are finding that many people are deficient in vitamin D. It is possible to boost your levels by taking supplements, but simply getting a few minutes of sunshine each day is the most efficient way to raise your vitamin D levels.

Getting outside in the winter exercises your spirit of adventure in what can be a sedentary season. There might not be the beautiful “Wow!” of the spring ephemerals, but there are many subtle beauties, indeed.  Once deciduous plants and trees lose their leaves, others, like conifers, enjoy their moment to shine and capture our attention. The Christmas ferns and club mosses demand to be noticed. Rhododendron, mountain laurel, and dog hobble provide a consistent green backdrop that lines the creeks and rivers.  Native holly often stand on their own in silent watch. Even the white bark of the sycamore tree provides contrast to the landscape. The deciduous American beech tree holds onto its light brown leaves until the new leaves of spring push them aside.

Fan Club Moss and Ground Pine carpet the Winter forest in a stunning green color.

Studying the leaves of rhododendrons, known as “living thermometers” can tell us the temperature. At 32 degrees the leaves begin to droop on their stems. The leaves begin to curl like a cigar hanging from the stem when the temps reach the 20s and the leaves curl tightly looking like pencils as the temperatures fall into the teens.

This rhododendron “living thermometer” reads temps in the mid-20s.

Water and freezing temperatures combine to create an ever-changing series of icescapes on the creeks and waterfalls.  Early morning ventures reward us with an amazing variety of icicles and ice formations. Some look like stalactites and stalagmites. Freezing fog can create rime ice or hoar frost. Both are quickly destroyed by the rising sun and warming temperatures. Needle ice commonly forms as moisture from the soil freezes as it comes in contact with the air.  

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Needle Ice on the Bracken Mountain Trail in Brevard, NC.

In the winter the forest opens up and provides longer-range views. The spaces feel larger and we can see nearby ridgelines, rock faces, and creeks that stayed hidden throughout the summer.  These views can help us get a feel for the topography of the area and help us as we navigate. The trails become less crowded. The winter forest is peaceful, serene and quiet. That’s not only due to the beauty of winter, but the beauty of the off-season. Our forests are ours again.

Finally, a few notes on safety.  Please check road conditions and/or closures before going out. Dress in appropriate layers and carry the 10 essentials.  Use caution on any trail that is covered in snow or ice, and do not venture onto frozen bodies of water. Make yourself visible by wearing hunter orange during any hunting season.  Stay on well-marked trails. Be aware of shortened daylight hours and quickly falling temperatures as daylight fades in the winter months. 

Heart-shaped icecicles at Slick Rock Falls.

The Wild Side of Pisgah

I have to come clean and admit that I haven’t always used the best judgement around waterfalls.  Before I moved to Brevard, I came here several times on vacation as your average, run of the mill, outdoor-loving TOURIST.  Don’t hate me; I tried to be a good visitor, but I didn’t know a lot about the terrain I was exploring. I came here from the flatlands of Northern Indiana.  

I had no idea people had died exploring the waterfalls of Transylvania County.  I had no idea how slippery the rocks could be. I had no idea the best place to view the waterfalls was at the bottom.  I didn’t realize some of the things I did back then were risky. I’m a pretty careful person when it comes to keeping myself alive.  I was uneducated and inexperienced. 

Over the years, I’ve become both educated and experienced.  I’ve heard the stories about good people, young and old, having the time of their lives, making one wrong move and falling to their deaths.  I’ve watched the local Tourism Development Agency campaign hard to help educate people and build awareness of the dangers. It’s certainly made me a better user of the resources and a better example for others. 

But I still want to explore the waterfalls in a way that’s up close and personal.  That’s where Joe Moerschbaecher and Pura Vida come in. They do this thing called canyoneering.  I know what you’re thinking, “We don’t have canyons in the southeast.” The term canyoneering is a technical term that describes a very specific way of moving safely over narrow, steep, rocky terrain using harnesses, helmets, and ropes.  As Joe explains, “Our canyons here have a wider watershed, more like Puerto Rico and Costa Rica.” In the Southeast our canyoneering involves much more water than the slot canyons in the American Southwest. Joe and the guides at Pura Vida are not only trained in swiftwater safety and rescue techniques, Joe is certified to teach it.  

In 2003 Joe earned his Bachelor’s in Wilderness Leadership and Experiential Education from Brevard College and went on to earn his Master’s in Adventure Recreation from Ohio University.  He’s a certified guide with the American Canyon Guide Association, and has been teaching and guiding for over a decade. His list of accomplishments and experience are rich and deep.

Joe has a passion for teaching.  He wants to give people the tools we need to be able to spend time in canyons in a way that’s both safe and fun.  One of the things Pura Vida focuses on is teaching people the technical canyoneering skills that will then give someone the ability to go into the canyons out west or in other countries as safely as possible.  

Recently, my husband Clyde and I were able to go canyoneering at Cove Creek Falls in Pisgah Forest with Pura Vida.  As we put on our harnesses and helmets well away from the top of the waterfall, Joe went down to the water to set up the anchor for the rappel. Daniel Ligon, a senior in the Brevard College WLEE program, made sure our harnesses were on correctly and then took the time to explain the finer points of both body position and controlling the rappel speed and brake. There was time for practice and soon we were ready to go.  

I went down to the water first.  At the water’s edge, 50 feet above the bottom of the falls, there was a rope where I clipped in.  This would provide a safe way for me to cross to the other side of the creek where Joe was waiting to get me rigged up for the descent.  He rigged my rappel device, gave me some last minute instructions, reminded me to take my time and enjoy the views, and sent me over the edge.  I could see Joe watching me from above, and soon I could see Daniel tending the fireman’s belay from below. I felt so comfortable that I was able to really enjoy and savor the experience.  

The sun felt warm on my skin and the white water danced over the rocks to my left. There were bright green mosses and ferns dripping with sparkling droplets of water.  The sound of the waterfall pushed out all of the other clutter from my mind, and I was completely caught up in that moment. It was beautiful and awe inspiring. I lowered myself a little at a time, taking frequent breaks to soak it all in. 

Arriving safely at Daniel’s side, he and I traversed across a flat ledge to the other side of the waterfall where we rappeled another short stretch to the bottom of Cove Creek Falls.

Joe wants people to understand that canyoneering is the safe way to explore waterfalls, and I’m here as living proof that he’s telling the truth.  I left the forest after my afternoon of canyoneering without a single scratch. What I did leave with was a better appreciation for the activity of canyoneering, an understanding for what Pura Vida can offer, and a desire to do it again.  

While we were standing at the top of the waterfall preparing for the rappel, I asked Daniel what he enjoyed most about guiding people on canyoneering trips.  He thought for a moment and said, “It’s really awesome to see how the demeanor of people changes from before the experience to after.” He went on to describe the contrast between the nervous jitters and superficial conversation that happens at the top of the waterfall, to the relaxed, nothing-else-in-the-world-matters-at-this-moment euphoria at the bottom.  I certainly felt it. Connecting with the natural world is good for the soul. Do you need to disconnect from technology and the stresses of this modern world? Would you like to get an up-close and personal look at one of Pisgah’s beautiful waterfalls? Would you like to learn more about the technical side of canyoneering? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, give Pura Vida a call.  I’m glad I did. 

Swiss Army Knife of the Digital Age

What is technology’s place in the outdoors? Often we go out and immerse ourselves in nature in order to detach from modern society.  We seek peace and serenity, enjoying the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves of trees and the birds chirping from their branches.  When we encounter someone on the trail using a cell phone or playing music, we throw a few darting glances of disapproval and hope to create distance between ourselves and that insult to our ears as quickly as possible.  So, is there a place for technology? 

We’ve been using technology to improve our experience in the outdoors since the invention of astrolabe, sextant, and the compass, more than 2000 years ago.  We would literally be lost without it. Our modern GPS systems, made available for civilian use in the 1980’s, uses 24 satellites and give a location with an accuracy of a few meters. This system became fully operational in 1995.  Soon companies were marketing and selling stand-alone GPS devices that you could carry in your hand.  

By 2009, New York Times author Jenna Wortham was calling the smartphone the, “Swiss Army Knife of the digital age.”  I would imagine the old GPS devices are now piled in the back of your drawer or closet with things like your Blackberry and PalmPilot.  The smartphone is no doubt an amazing piece of technology, so the question we have to answer is, “Will the smartphone enhance or detract from our outdoor experience?”  That depends on the user.

The Leave No Trace organization is wrestling with the issue of technology in the outdoors.  Two of their seven principles state, “Be considerate of other visitors” and “Respect wildlife.”  These principles have been in place for 20 years, but do they go far enough to address the current technological advancements?  

Neither bluetooth speakers nor drones are considerate of other visitors or wildlife.  Wearing earbuds cuts you off from hearing things around you and can be a safety hazard.  Many people have taken falls because they are looking at something through a screen, creating tunnel vision.  A study published in the Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care in 2018, found that more than 250 people have died while trying to take selfies between the years 2011-2017.  

It’s obvious that technology can be detrimental if we lack the maturity and judgement to use it safely.  But can it enhance our experience in the outdoors? I would argue that undoubtedly, it can. The smartphone, specifically, can offer many “services” for us while we’re on the trail, granted our battery is in good condition.  

We can find our location without cell service using mapping apps like Avenza Maps, or Gaia GPS.  Emergency calls can usually be made by moving to higher ground. We can find our bearing using a compass App, find the names of unfamiliar peaks using PeakLens.  Our cellphones can serve as a flashlight, a camera, and we can identify the constellations with Sky Map. Highly recommended apps that help us find trails to hike or ride are AllTrails, Trailforks, MapMyHike, and Yonder.  

In order to enjoy any of the benefits of your smartphone, your battery needs to have a charge.  There are simple steps you can take to conserve your battery. If you are out of a cell service area, turn your phone on Airplane Mode so you phone stops searching for a cellular signal that may not exist.  Enable Low-Power/Battery-Saver Mode, turn off Location Services, and avoid extreme temperatures.  

I’m a true believer that a smartphone can serve as a supplement to traditional map and compass navigating skills, but not as a replacement.  If you are going to spend time on the trails in our state parks and national forests learn to read a topographic map and how to use it in conjunction with a compass in order to navigate.  

Smartphones and other modern tools can enhance our time in the outdoors.  They can help us identify plants and birds without carrying ten pounds of guidebooks, and may just save our lives in the event of an emergency.  If only we can remember to be considerate of others people’s experience and to respect wildlife.  

If anything we do out there with our technology interferes with other people’s peace and serenity, or changes the natural behavior of wildlife, then we are either too close or being too loud.  Maybe it’s time to turn that phone off and put it in your pack.

What is your favorite outdoor app?  What are your thoughts and experiences on this topic?   

Lessons From Looking Glass

Lessons from Looking Glass

There’s this relationship I want to talk to you about.  You know the kind. On one hand, you get a little giddy with excitement, and on the other it’s that sweaty-palmed, “I think I’m going to throw up,” kind of feeling. Yes, my husband knows all about this relationship.  He even made the introductions and continues to encourage it. The relationship I’m talking about is my relationship is with Looking Glass Rock.  

We’ve all seen it from a distance as we’ve driven the parkway.  Maybe we’ve pulled off at an overlook to admire the giant granite pluton and its 400-foot walls reflecting in just the right light.  It’s a photographer’s dream. My first intimate experience with Looking Glass was a 6-mile round trip hike to the top as just another tourist in 2014, before moving to Brevard.  The trail was challenging for this flatlander from Northern Indiana, but the view from the top was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. It naturally became one of my favorite hikes.  I felt connected, drawn in, wanting more. It was puppy love. It was easy. 

My next intimate experience with Looking Glass was in July 2015.  By this time, I had been a Brevard resident for a year. I’d hiked many of the trails in the area, started working at Rockbrook Camp, and taught my first backpacking class.  A new opportunity to get a little closer to the rock presented itself. The man I was dating, now my husband, invited me to go climb the first pitch of Sundial, a route on the Nose area of Looking Glass Rock.  I’d been climbing in a gym a couple times 20 years ago, so naturally I said, “Sure!” 

It was very early on a Sunday morning, Clyde and I hiked in and put on our harnesses, helmets, and climbing shoes.  I looked up, put a hand on the cool rock, and started to feel a little nauseous. I belayed him as he climbed up 80 feet to a tiny ledge where he would belay me.  I quickly learned some new climbing terms. One is that the “eyebrows” that give Looking Glass a unique dimpled appearance don’t offer anything good to hold on to. I was visited by the “Spirit of Elvis” as my legs began to shake.  I also experienced the term “gripped,” meaning gripped with fear as I attempted to move through the “crux,” the hardest part of the climb. When I got to the top, I cried - not tears of joy, but of utter relief. Intellectually, I understand that the ropes, harness, and system are safe.  I’m statistically safer climbing that I am driving across town. My heart was still scared.  

As a little girl, I can remember trying to keep up with my two older brothers, climbing trees, silos, barn rafters, and even the roof of our farmhouse.  Every time I was scared. Sometimes I’d get “gripped” with fear and would need help getting down. Now I was reliving that feeling as an adult, but deep down I felt like that scared little girl.  How many times in life are we presented with something challenging, new, and exciting? How many times do we let our fear hold us back? The other day someone said to me, “When something scares the heck out of you, pay attention, and move toward it.”

I’ve done a lot more climbing since that day in the fall of 2015, but there’s still something about Looking Glass Rock that scares the heck out of me.  I’ve climbed the bottom portions of other routes, I’ve done some easy multi-pitch climbs on other rocks, and recently I rappelled 400 feet down off the top of the Nose of the Looking Glass - in the dark.  I love rappelling down. So what is it about climbing up? Do I feel out of control? Is it that I really don’t trust the system of ropes and gear? Do I want to quit when things get hard? Is it that I don’t trust myself? This is definitely a work in progress.  

Whatever you do in life, do something that scares you.  Courage, they say, isn’t the lack of fear; it’s taking action despite fear.  Face each crux in your life boldly and with courage. One of these days, I will climb my entire way up Looking Glass Rock.  One of these days.