We hope you like it, and let us know what other things you’d like to see improved as we continue to build the new maps!

An example hovering over the Camp Alice trail,
in Mt. Mitchell State Park.

It’s great to see the land managers reaching out for public involvement in this way, and they did a great job of bringing everyone onto the same page in understanding what they’re trying to do. Throughout the various sessions in the workshop, they were able to demonstrate what common goals disparate trail user groups all have when it comes to trail system planning. They also quashed the inevitable suspicion that the Forest Service is out to just close as many trails as they possibly can (it was repeatedly emphasized that this was not the case).  There were over 40 people in attendance by my count, representing a variety of groups such as the Carolina Mountain Club (hikers), Pisgah SORBA (mountain bikers), equestrians, private camps, eco-tourism outfits, and many more. They also did a good job outlining the next steps going forward

The upcoming Working Meetings take place from February to September and will focus more on the specifics of what needs to happen in the trail system. Their stated outcomes include pursuing sustainability; establishing links, connectors, and loops; realistically prioritizing maintenance; coming up with criteria for consideration of future trail system change requests by the public; increasing volunteer contributions and efficiency in the face of dwindling budgets; and monitoring progress in implementing the plan. Although the meetings are open to the public, the Forest Service has asked organizations to send one representative each to keep the groups at a reasonable size, which seems like a good idea given how energized people get about this topic (as they should).

So although I’m not with any established group of the kind mentioned above, what I’d like to do is ask to be a representative for WNCOutdoors.info and its users. I know a lot of our visitors are those who live in the area but perhaps aren’t affiliated with any particular group or can’t attend meetings, and also those who visit from outside the immediate area but have a stake in the future of the trails system here. Please send me email, leave comments on the blog or our Facebook or Google+ pages, tweet to us on Twitter - just send us your input as to what you’d like to see happen to the trails in the National Forests in NC! I’ll try to bring those considerations to the table and ensure that every angle is explored as this important strategy is developed.

Likewise, I look forward to sharing more information back with everyone about what we learn might come out of this. I’ll also be encouraging the Forest Service to continue to be transparent and consistent in disseminating official information (such as potential new trails, change of trail designations, trail closures, and trail map data) as quickly as possible. They’ve been doing a great job at this so far, especially with their new web site (and the Trail Strategy Page), but we want to ensure that this continues so we can pass the information along to you in a way that matters most: boiled down to just the information you need to plan your next hike or ride!

A View of the Home from Front Lake

To the right of Front Lake, there’s a wonderful picnic area where you can enjoy a meal with family or friends before beginning a tour of the vast grounds. Kids are welcome to feed the fish in the lake, as they travel over an idyllic white bridge and up an easy trail to the main house. In early spring, there’s bold yellow forsythia to stroke along the way, and lusty pink and white magnolia blossoms beckon you close to the house like a spell.

The bridge over the dam at Front Lake

It’s likely that young children won’t yet have much interest in taking a tour of the home itself. That’s okay, because there is a simple, circular pond directly out front that is full of music making toads. You can also take the kids down to Lilian Sandburg’s famous goat dairy (they breed the same varieties that she once did).

One of the biggest surprises at Connemara is the intricate network of trails that start at the main entrance and end at the top of Glassy Mountain. Both the Memminger (named after the 1st Confederate States Secretary of the Treasury, Charles Memminger) and the Glassy Trail climb gently and smoothly and are in good condition. There are several signed detours along the Glassy Trail that lead back to the main house if you don’t want to climb to the top of the mountain. There’s even one sign that simply reads, “home”.

The Trail Home

It’s easy to spend the entire day at Connemara. I recommend reading some of Sandburg’s poems to your kids in the car, so that they arrive with their imaginations full. It really is a magical place that you’ll want to visit over and over again.

We’ll be adding the trails at Carl Sandburg Home National Historic Site as a new Trailhead to hikewnc.info, so look for more details there before you plan your very own trip to the Carl Sandburg Home! Here are a few more pictures from around the area to get you started.

Article by guest blogger Tasha Mitchell

Trails at Carl Sandburg Home are great for kids!

The View from Glassy Mountain

The Memminger Trailhead

S. Trailhead for Little Glassy Mountain

More recently, a Federal house bill has been passed that will allocate the funds for the US Forest Service to acquire the land from the Nature Conservancy, thereby paying off the loan, and possibly develop a larger parking area for public access. Since this news was released mid and late last year, I’ve put the falls high on my list for a visit – and it was well worth the wait. Catawba Falls is a beautiful, multi-charactered falls with two distinct sections – a wonderful addition to the selection of trails and hikes available in Western North Carolina.

The trail begins at the end of Catawba River Road off of I-40, at the bottom of the Old Fort grade (directions on Google Maps). On the day of my most recent hike, there was still a good 6″ of ice and snow on the ground from two recent winter storms in late 2009 (the major snow of December 18th and the big ice storm Christmas morning). The trail was muddy where there was no snow, and it was actually easier to walk on the crunchy snow than the places where the trail was clear!

The trail is mostly level at first, and I noticed that it followed an old power line (which is down in places). The trail starts on the left side of the creek but eventually you must cross to the right side where it continues. There is one place where it is possible to rock-hop, but it was above boot level with the high water. Upstream from that, at the old powerhouse, was a slippery log which I was able to use as a makeshift bridge. It still had snow and ice on it, so it was tricky at best. Expect to get wet on this crossing if you come after wet weather!

After you cross, the trail follows the creek upstream on a gentle grade at first, then a moderate climb. You will pass by the ruins of the dam that supplied the old power house (seen here). The trail drops off steeply to a cascade below the dam, so be careful. This creek used to be the sole power source for the town of Old Fort.

Beyond the dam, the trail climbs a bit more steeply before making another creek crossing. That crossing is an easy rockhop. Next, the trail comes out in a dry wash. Cross to a rocky “island” in between the wash and another creek crossing, and cross that as well. This second crossing was tricky again on my last hike – a big hemlock log makes a good bridge but it too was snow and ice covered.

The trail then continues uphill a short distance through an area of very large boulders to the lower falls, seen below (from a prior trip with no snow). There is a good bit of room for hanging out an enjoying the scenery. The uppermost parts of the falls might be obscured from view when the leaves are on the trees, so I’d recommend going before the winter is over. In very cold weather, I bet lots of ice forms on and around the falls:

Lower Catawba Falls

Now from here, there is a scramble path that leads up the right side of the falls. There is a sign warning you not to go that way and let me tell you – heed the sign. It starts out steep, gets steeper, and eventually gets so steep up some rocks that there is a rope in place to help numbskulls (like me) who go up there anyways keep from getting killed. Because that’s what will happen if you slip – you’ll tumble down the path and off the falls. Not only is it steep, but it’s narrow, with a sheer drop-off into the creek.

So why would anyone even bother climbing this path? There are some pretty neat (scary?) views of the lower falls from up there, but the real reason is to reach the upper falls – which are about 5 minutes upstream from the top of the lower falls. The upper falls is really nice, but until a better path is established, I can’t recommend anyone attempting to reach them. So I got a photo for you:

Upper Catawba Falls

So from the photo you can probably see why people would want to haul themselves up the mountain. It is such a beautiful waterfall, but the trail up there is so bad that I’m torn as to whether I’d even go back that way to reach them.

I’ve added Catawba Falls to NorthCarolinaWaterfalls.info, and I’m considering adding it to HikeWNC.info as a Best Hike also. But for that, I’ll probably wait until the Forest Service buys the land near the trailhead, making the “temporary” access more permanent.

“Now that the old 45 tower has been replaced by the observation deck on Mt. Mitchell, is a person standing on the Clingmans Dome tower in the Smokies at a higher elevation, or does the Mt. Mitchell deck still put you at a higher level? In other words, how tall is the deck above the mountain top?”

Good question! I figured this one was worth a little bit of research.

The summit elevation at Mt. Mitchell is 6,684 ft. and the deck of the new Mt. Mitchell platform is 12 ft. above the mountaintop (according to the Asheville Citizen-Times), so the elevation of your feet when standing on the platform would be 6,696 ft. Now the summit of Clingman’s Dome is said to be 6,643 ft. According to Brittanica, the deck of that tower is 54 ft. high. So if the base of the tower is right at summit elevation, that puts the deck at 6697 ft. Which means that you’re now standing 1 foot higher on the Clingman’s Dome tower than the Mt. Mitchell observation platform!

Now these figures are so close, in the age of data and technology I think we need a better way to come up with a winner than just adding up numbers that “The Officials” have told us to be true. So let the new quest to find the highest tower begin! If anyone cares to get some GPS or altimeter readings on both towers, I’d be interested in seeing what they said. The more readings, the better. Both barometric altimeters, and actual GPS measurements. Make sure the unit is on the deck of the tower (the part you stand on, not the railing) when getting the reading. Come back and post it in the comments here, along with as much info as you can – device used, date, time, and other information such as calibration point. If we could get multiple readings by multiple people that we could average together, that’d help correct any aberration in any given unit at the time the measurement was taken. And use the same device for both readings, calibrated to the closest USGS benchmark or known elevation you can find. And if anyone wants to pull a tape up there and confirm the heights of the decks, that’d help too. We’ll collect the readings and start to see which one looks like it’s coming out the winner!

Regardless, of the exact measurements, they’re both literally within a stone’s throw of each other in height (as is Mt. Craig at 6,645′, and it has *no* tower at its top, making it my favorite).  Best to go to each one and enjoy them all so no matter what, you can say you were standing at the highest possible (albeit man-made) point in the Appalachians!

Now, normally, one does not simply walk past a mother black bear and her cubs. She took a curious stance, and looked in my direction, but didn’t move very much. I made a little noise and slowly retreated, feeling the adrenaline, while the bear watched me moving away. After a short time, I was back at the falls and what I felt was a safe distance from her and her cub.

But was my biggest concern at that point being attacked by the bear? Apparently not, seeing as she didn’t even move. I was much more likely to see her disappearing away from me through the rhododendron than to get attacked. Even if she did charge my way, the chances of an actual attack are pretty low. Not absent, but low. But this encounter left me with another dilemma.

Between me and my vehicle was a family of bears that I did not want to disturb any further. The falls is located in a steep, rugged valley, making the possibility of finding a safe bypass a slim one. Looking at the map (which I thankfully did bring) and weighing my options as afternoon wore on, I spied another trail that joined with the one I was on further up the mountain and looped back down the next valley to reach the trailhead where I was parked. I quickly decided to take this route. But not until I was on the dry ridgeline searching for the connecting trail, after climbing 1500′ up an insanely steep ridge on a windy, hot day, did I realize that I had no water, and was quite thirsty – dehydrated, even.

The connecting trail did not appear soon, and when I finally found it, it was not heading in the right direction. It was wildly overgrown and difficult to follow. I was beginning to think I might have to spend the night on the mountain. With…no…water.

So, you see, the bear gave me a much bigger problem without so much as making a move. My only choice at this point was to return the way I came and hope that the bear had gone on her way, which I did, and she had. However, by the time I reached the falls again I was completely parched,  had stopped sweating and was feeling nauseous (classic signs of dehydration).

To make it the rest of the way back to the car, I was forced to take a nice, long, refreshing drink out of the creek. After all, bad water is better than no water when it’s getting dark, you still have a mile and a half to hike, and it’s getting dark. This water wasn’t so bad – it was cold, clear, and tasted great, even – but drinking straight from a stream is not really a good idea due to the various bacteria and flagellated protozoa which may inhabit the waters. These nasty bugs can do a number on a human digestive system, which is why purification is always recommended.

Luckily, I only came down with a mild upset stomach which lasted about 3 days. But it could have been worse. For me, it was a lesson learned and proves that the most dangerous animals in the woods might be the ones you can’t even see.

Update 8/7/07: Hemlocks which still appear to be healthy along the Parkway and Linville Falls are likely ones which have been chemically treated, rather than helped by the predator beetles. Hemlocks are dying rapidly where untreated or treated only by the predator beetles, and it appears that the biological control method will be ineffective. Since chemical treatment is difficult to do large-scale, it looks like we’re losing the war. Article originally posted Sept. 11, 2004.

Original article (edits marked in red):

Spears of morning light shoot through the forest as tiny, winged seeds spin down through the beams like flying insects, or a light snowfall. Light from the rising sun warms one side of the trees’ tiny cones, and a gentle breeze a hundred and fifty feet above stirs the seeds into falling. Steam rises from a log on the forest floor. The sunlight has found its way to this log only thorough a hole in the nearly unbroken forest canopy far to the east. Staying shaded nearly all day log, the log remains wet, and vibrant green moss covers its entirity. Close to the log, a stocky, dense, furrowed trunk rises from the needle-covered forest floor. If you stare at it and let your peripheral vision fade, it appears so large and nearly flat it looks like a wall. Nearby, a cold, clear stream babbles merrily and a rare brook trout flashes through a patch of sun. You are standing in a centuries-old hemlock forest at sunrise, and you feel like you’ve been taken back to a place in time when humans thought the forests were infininte.

Shake off the fantasy, and you see that you’re really standing on the Erwin’s View trail at the Linville Falls Recreation Area, off of milepost 316 on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The air is absolutely still, and pungent with the smell of earth. The falling seeds bounce off the leaves of a Great Rhododendron, and settle to the forest floor where they blend in with a soft carpet of needles. It’s not hard to drift off here. The forest is so peaceful and majestic, it stirs something from deep within. But all is not well. This is not a fantasy land where forests are never-ending, and these strong, majestic trees are harboring an unseen tragedy. In fact, by the time you read this, it may already be too late to re-live this fantasy: the Hemlocks are dying, and we’re running out of time to save them. (Update 8/7/2007 – most of the hemlocks on this trail are still alive, but in severe decline. A few have died.)

A miniscule insect, the Hemlock Wooly Adelgid, has infested the hemlocks and threatens to kill each and every one. It is barely visible to the naked eye (and that’s if you have good vision). Introduced into the United States from Europe in the 1920′s in the Northwest, the insect had little effect on the hemlocks growing there. The Western trees showed a natural resistance. However, it was found in the East – in New York – in the 1950′s, and something else was discovered along with it: the fact that Eastern hemlocks have little resistance to the bug and suffer and die once infested. From here, the little pest began spreading into landscapes and gardens, but the real disaster occurred when the Adelgid infested natural forest stands of Hemlock. It began spreading north and south, and in areas that have been infected for a long time now, the results are devastating. In the Shenandoah National Park, for example, over 80% of the park’s Hemlocks have died since infestation in the early 80′s.

The Hemlocks at Linville Falls, as well as several other important areas of Western North Carolina such as the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and the Joyce Kilmer Memorial forest, are now infested. As of this writing, much of Western North Carolina’s hemlocks remain healthy and un-infested, but that is sure to change. Pockets of infestation are showing up more and more frequently, and some trees have started to die already. (Edit 8/7/2007 – all hemlocks across WNC are now infested, and most are in severe decline. Large expanses of hemlock groves are now dead.) Once infested, trees are mostly dead within 5 years. An infestation can be identified by looking at the underside of a lacy Hemlock twig. If it’s infested, you’ll see small, grain-of-rice to q-tip sized puffs of cotton-candy looking substance at the base of each needle. This is a sure sign of infestation, and it means the devastating insect is actively sucking the life out of the needles and injecting a poisonous saliva as well. The needles will be come dull, and fall off easily. The tree will be unable to put out any new growth and will probably die within a few years.

Enjoy the forest you are in, because it may not exist much longer. This forest, consisting of centuries-old trees, may be completely dead within 5 years. (Update 8/7/2007: We’re on target for that.) Many trails would almost certainly have to be closed, because falling limbs and trees would be extremely dangerous. The scenic view of the Linville Falls area would be completely ruined; economic losses from reduction in tourism would be immeasurable. The plants and animals that depend on the Hemlock environment would be potentially devastated. Hemlocks protect streams from direct sunlight, keeping the water cold and curbing erosion to help keep it clear. Loss of hemlocks could spell the loss of aquatic species that depend on the shaded water. And watershed cleanliness – that’s right, the water you drink – could be compromised. Several species of birds depend on the Hemlock for their very survival. Loss of the Hemlock could be a disaster of mega-proportions, similar to the one suffered with the Chestnut blight early in the century, but perhaps even more devastating. When the Chestnuts were killed, several species of oak were able to adequately fill the niche that the Chestnuts had previously held. But with the hemlocks, there is no species that could do this. This forest type might be lost forever. And it’s all because we brought the pest into the forests.

Is there anything that can be done? Insecticides are somewhat effective, but they expensive and impractical in a forest-wide setting. Each individual tree must be treated for the infestation to be curbed, and many hemlocks are large and remote. Also, this treatment works for only a year or two. Fortunately, new research has discovered a possible effective biological weapon against the evil little Adelgid: the PT beetle. This tiny ladybug like creature, about the size of a poppy seed, feeds exclusively on the Hemlock Wooly Adelgid. It doesn’t affect other species and it has a great effect on curbing the population of the Adelgid. Studies have shown that releasing thousands of these beetles may be a way to keep the Adelgid population in check enough to allow healthy Hemlocks to grow. The only problem with this potential solution is the lack of funding needed to establish laboratories used to raise buckets of the PT beetles so they can be released to combat the Adelgids. This is where you come in. Hike the Linville Falls trail, or Albright Grove in the Great Smoky Mountains; perhaps visit Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest or Douglas Falls in the Pisgah National Forest. Get a true sense of what we may be losing by the infestation of our hemlocks and help by donating to the cause. Time is of the essence. I believe it’s not too late to save the Hemlocks at Linville Falls, but we must take action NOW! One or two more years, and it may be too late…if it’s not already. This is truly urgent! (Update 8/7/07: We probably could have saved the Hemlocks, but it would have taken trillions – not thousands – of beetles to do it. They just don’t spread fast enough to have a significant effect and there isn’t enough money to raise them. The jury is still out, but it looks like the beetles may have been too little, at just the right time.)

Resources

Tsuga Search – project by the Eastern Native Tree Society to locate and document the largest Hemlocks in the Smokies.

The trail to Second Falls has been re-cut to the top of the big staircase, and a new, much-needed bridge was built across the small branch on the way.

Those familiar with the Graveyard Fields loop trail will remember that, after descending on a paved trail to the first bridge across the Yellowstone Prong stream, the loop trail used to climb a small hill, on an extremely unstable and eroded slope. No longer! The entire first part of the trail has been re-located to higher ground. This will eliminate one of the most eroded sections of trail.

Beyond that, the trail has been relocated above the flats near the river. The trail used to descend over a tricky, exposed rock, then come out by the stream in a very scenic, yet eroded, flat area, where a large oak tree leans out over the river. The re-route bears right just before the rock, and stays away from the flats near the stream. A split-rail fence has been installed along this first section of the trail to allow for rehabilitation of that area. A short trail segment still leads to the left down to the most popular spot on the creek, but another split-rail fence keeps visitors away from the oak tree. This long re-route has several neat boardwalks along its length.

Update March 2007: Further along, the trail splits, and the portion leading left goes back to the parking area to complete the loop. Another boardwalk and a new bridge (suitable for very heavy traffic) have been built.

Heading up to Upper Falls, there is another boardwalk, and then the trail joins back with the old trail just past what used to be a very wet section. From here, the original path is followed, but it has been re-worked as well – save for one section where the trail disappears into a foot-deep pool in the creek. Elsewhere, rock steps have been installed along its length.

You can find more photos of the new trail in the Graveyard Fields Image Gallery.

The list goes on and on. These threats, or potential threats in the case of Sudden Oak Death, are ravaging the forests of Western North Carolina and much of the Southern Appalachian Mountain forests throughout the surrounding region. These insects and funguses, mostly introduced by man from continents halfway around the world, have destroyed, are destroying or threaten to destroy various forest components. With so many angles of attack, it appears we may be losing the war. But is it a war YOU are willing to fight? Maybe, maybe not. If I can convince you to read on, perhaps there’s a chance.

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire…
It’s a song we’re all familiar with. But you won’t find any chestnuts roasting on open fires around Christmas in the Smokies these days. Consider the Chestnut Blight. In the early 1900′s, the Chestnut Blight fungus swept through the forests, killing all of the mature Chestnuts. The fungus came to America from Asia on small imported nursery trees. The Chestnuts were by far the most common and by many reports the largest of all the trees in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. The white blossoms covering the treetops in spring were a spectacular display, and (when not gathered by humans for roasting) the nuts themselves became a feast for the animals, such as squirrels and bears, that ate them. Chestnuts fell reliably year after year from 200 feet up, from branches and twigs supported by massive trunks. Gone is the beautiful, useful, rot-resistant, and plentiful hardwood which was once harvested from these fast-growing trees. Chestnuts, though not extinct today, are relegated to short sprouts which spring from the still living root systems of the former giant trees, before they’re killed back by the blight, or to miraculous, scattered larger individual trees which have somehow managed to survive (and do provide some hope for the future).

Today, the Flowering Dogwood is the state flower of North Carolina. Who can resist a second look at a hillside covered with the white Dogwoods, whose blooms emerge before the new leaves of spring and stand starkly visible below the still-barren branches of the overstory trees? In some places, they grow so thickly you could mistake the scene for a late April snow. But the Dogwoods are declining. Dogwood Anthracnose, another imported fungus, has spread across most of the trees’ native range, and slowly kills these diminutive beauties. Although they have not been completely wiped out, like the Chestnuts, the Dogwoods are becoming less and less common. Or consider the plight of the Hemlocks, whose lives are currently hanging in the balance as they’re being attacked by billions of tiny, wooly adelgids – insects that WE brought to them from Asia. The Adelgids are literally sucking the life – sap – out of their soft, lacy needles. Can another imported beetle, a predator of the Adeligids, which is currently being released throught the Hemlock’s range, eat enough of the adelgids to stop this? Can we keep the cool, moist Hemlock coves from becoming homes to tall dead trunks like the skeleton Fir forests atop the highest peaks, killed in years past by the Balsam Wooly Adelgid? Only time will tell. Find out more about the Hemlock Wooly Adelgid in a separate article here.

A New Threat
Tomorrow, and in the months and years ahead, our forest face a new, incredibly formidable threat: Sudden Oak Death. A major outbreak of this newly imported fungus could make all the other plights experienced so far look trivial. This incredibly virulent fungus can attack and kill an oak tree within just a few weeks. The Hemlocks, by comparison, get at least a season to survive after being infected, and can live several years sometimes with no treatment. Sudden oak death, like the Hemlock but unlike the Balsam Wooly Adelgid, kills young trees, so that a new crop of lush, vigorous new growth like we’re seeing with the Fraser Firs is impossible once the Oaks become infected. They’ll simply be gone. And when the Chestnuts went back in the ’20′s, it left our forests dominated by oaks. Now, it’s hard to find a forest that doesn’t have Oak as one of its main components. Ravaging oak forests in California right now, the disease has already been tracked – once again on imported nursery stock – into North Carolina during the early part of the new milennium. Luckily, the infected plants were quickly burned and destroyed in an attempt to curb a potentially catastrophic chain of death. What if the nursery plants had been bought, and planted, in someone’s back yard (bordering an oak forest that borders almost all the forest from Florida to Maine) and the fungus had escaped? For many, it’s not a matter of if, but when, the Oaks go the way of the Chestnuts, and maybe the Hemlocks, and definitely the Fraser Firs.

Is there anything that can be done to stop this torrent of death? In some cases, the answer seems to be yes – it’s possible. But we can’t rely on “the officials” to do it for us. Are we Americans willing to change our lifestyles to prevent these problems? Should we? The answers to those questions may be less encouraging.

The predator beetle certainly seems like a viable hope for the Hemlocks. The problem is, each beetle costs upwards of $2 just to grow, and private donations are badly needed to fund this project and release enough beetles to stabilize with the population of the Adelgid. Are you convinced yet? Click here to make a donation. Even two lousy dollars would help buy one beetle, which can eat thousands of Adelgids and produce dozens more beetles.

Experience What We Have to Lose…and Then Decide
If you’re still reading, then you’re not convinced (or you’ve already made or decided to make a donation – thanks!). You’ve decided to do nothing for now. I don’t blame you – seriously – with all of the activist groups and individuals who are, right now, dying to get a little piece of your paycheck, why should you care any more about this cause than any of the others? In fact, let me just say “thanks” for at least educating yourself on this issue. You’ve done more than most people to help our cause just by reading this, and other, articles and books about the subject. Unfortunately, I really don’t have any more educational information to offer you on the subject. Take no action, and there will be fewer dogwoods, but still some, left in the forest. And that’s not so bad.

Heck, with some of these diseases – probably including some we’ve not yet even discovered – our success hinges on doing nothing. If history has taught us anything about this subject, it’s that imported nursery plants have brought with them some very nasty hitchhikers. This means that the practice of buying nursery plants from far away states or countries should stop immediately. It can’t be governmentally regulated to stop, although they try. Instead, homeowners, landscapers, businesses and gardners need to use native plant species instead that can be cultivated and grown from locally available sources. They’re cheaper, more natural looking, better able to adapt to the local climate and local pathogens (insects, funguses) and require less care. So that’s something simple you can do – stop importing non-native plants, and everyone benefits. Is everyone *really* going do do this, though?

Don’t worry about that for now. You’re still reading, and I’ve already told you that I don’t have any new information to offer. I think the best thing I can recommend to you, at this point, is to go out and have some fun! (Hey, if you’re going to do something, it might as well be fun!). So put away this article, get outside, and hike, bike, fish, ski, hunt, jog, picnic, swim, or even just relax and read a book in the woods. Take some pictures. Smell the flowers, turn over a rock and look for bugs and salamanders. Whatever you wish. This is a hiking web site, after all. Just follow the link to “trailheads” at the top of the page and find a place close to you! But most importantly, while you’re out there, allow yourself to – really – develop a sense of what we have to lose. Along with loved ones, some people become deeply attached to the place they live. Some are nomads. If you’re not a nomad, then try really experiencing where you live – or where you visit, if that’s why you come to Western North Carolina or the Appalachian Mountains – and let the sense of attachment grow. Sense what is special about this place, because it is.

Fact is, most people just don’t care. And why should they? Dead trees aren’t going to affect their lives – not immediately, at least – not those who don’t spend time outdoors. We all have day-to-day and larger difficulties, social obligations, and other things that must be dealt with in our lives. And these are immediate and more important needs. For some people, dead trees may matter some, but issues such as diversity of species and potential loss of genetic variability mean little. When it comes to causes to which you could donate, diseases affecting humans directly are certainly more important. And granted, it’s a complex issue, and people have a lot to learn already. Maybe these changes are inevetable – after all, change is. So the Southern Appalachain Temperate Forest as we know it may be lost.

Oh well?

Perhaps my faith in the path-finding skills of my fellow man is overreaching, but it seems that more and more often people are straying off course – and across switchbacks.

Now I doubt it’s any lack of instinct that’s causing these diversions. I’m almost sure most people who find themselves tumbling down a steep mountainside between legs of a switchback still have the ability to see where the trail goes, and where it doesn’t. I’m sure they saw that the trail went on a hundred feet further, and then turned 180 degrees to end up 30 feet down the slope from where they took off the path. So it must’ve been a conscious decision to cut corners that caused them to take the path of least resistance – and shortcut the switchback!

Honestly, I don’t see the point. Almost everywhere I hike or bike, the trail surface is MUCH more desirable than traversing whatever vegetation and geology is jutting up from the ground on either side of the path. But even a relatively clear shortcut can be steep and inefficient. I enjoy the smooth, gradual climb and descent that the switchbacks provide. So I stay on the trail! But apparently this isn’t enough to keep some people on course. Perhaps the following discussion will change a mind or two.

I’ve been guilty of cutting a switchback or two in my day, and I regret it. Perhaps I just wasn’t aware of the damage it causes. So let me make it clear to those of you who might be thinking about taking a shortcut next time: IT CAUSES DAMAGE! Water is the primary factor causing trail erosion, and on a shortcut, it runs straight downhill. Compaction of the soil and the death of vegetation (such as Trilliums and other wildflowers) by user impacts both accelerate the rate of water flow, and your favorite shortcut quickly becomes a rocky, rooty, or knee-deep gully. Where does all that dirt end up that was once in the gulley? Probably on the next section of trail, as a layer of mud, or worse, in your favorite, clear-running trout stream.

Other negative impacts of trail shortcutting include trampling of possibly rare or endangered species of plants and animals. They’re usually steep and sometimes dangerous, increasing the risk of injury to yourself. Trail shortcuts are plain ugly. And they’re a slap in the face to those who designed the trail. Taking a shortcut is like saying, ” Hey trailbuilder, I don’t like the way you built this trail. To heck with the hours of backbreaking work you put into it. I’m going this way!”

But perhaps the most destructive consequence of shortcutting the trails is that it gives land managers yet another reason to complain – and close trails. Similarly, it gives them reason to squirm when it is suggested that new trails be built. This is tragic, and it happens all the time. The trail is set aside as an area that we humans can keep destroyed. It is it’s definitely not the natural state of the land to have a hardened, brown strip running through it – so let’s keep our privelage sacred and leave the rest of the land undisturbed!