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My gut tells me that it's a coincidence, but I really hope that I am earning a reputation. The trip with Kevin that yielded a bear sighting and a bagged peak certainly was a success, and now it was Mike's turn. He told me earlier in the week -- just as Kevin had -- that he had some business to take care of in the Pittsburgh area. He'd be here on Friday night and we had all day Saturday to play. I think that Mike left a satisfied customer.

With only one day to play, we had to fire up a double feature. I informed him that we'd be getting up early to squeeze in as much as possible, and because ATV riders who tear up the trails tend to sleep in. Wonderfalls would be ours and only ours provided we got there early. So, according to plan, we parked the car after the rocky drive down to Rockville at about 9 am and walked the mile down the jeep trail to the waterfall.

It was a chilly 58 degrees when we left the car, but the sun soon grew hot enough that we felt the urge to jump. This place is truly a blast. We spent a few hours jumping and attempting to get the shot, which is the photograph that would in one single glance give the viewer the impression of beauty, nature, and fun, fun, fun that this place possesses. In my opinion, this one comes close.

After we'd jumped to our hearts content, we hiked the mile to the next waterfall, known as Big Splat to paddlers. This one is not good for jumping, but the hike to get there is fun and the scenery and solitude is well worth it.

On the hike out, we passed the ATV riders on their way to ruin our prized spot. Perfect timing!

Lunch was spent at Little Sandy's, where Mike spent a whopping $1.83 on his. He tipped a dollar, which I pointed out was well over a 50% tip, so that waitress must have done something spectacular.

We rushed back to my apartment to retrieve the boating gear. Michael would paddle the Cheat Narrows in the afternoon. It just keeps getting better around here. A little logistical hiccup in the plans threw in a three-and-a-half mile jog for the shuttle, but it was all worth it in the end. Mike swam a half-dozen or so times, ran the big rapid well ("Calamity"), and spent the drive back to Morgantown letting me know that this was the best day of the year so far. It felt great to hear that.

We finished off the day at the Black Bear where some pony-tailed guitarist covered James Taylor, the Beatles, and other 60s soft rock tunes. Mike thought it was great; I was annoyed there was neither a banjo nor a fiddle. A few Oatmeal Stouts and glasses of red later and Mike was drunk dialing our friend Min in Los Angeles telling him tall tales of West Virginia waterfalls and whitewater.

Enjoy the photos!

Git 'r dun.

"Mommy, I Want to Live in the Woods!"

My nephew, Xavier, was being a bit of a baby as we packed up on Monday morning. We'd been camping and enjoying the New River Gorge for a few days and it was time to go home. To a 4-year old, living in the woods probably sounds like a fantastic way of life. There'd be no showering, the weather would always be perfect, and s'mores would follow each meal.

I will admit that I've had the fantasy; it's come to me at various times while on extended trips or hearing stories of those who have indeed lived in the woods. I became fascinated enough about it a few years ago to read a copy of The Last American Man, an account of the life of Eustace Conway, a living mountain man who has spent years living off the land in western North Carolina.

However, I do not intend to ever move to the woods. But, Xavier's words -- even though they came between tears -- reminded me of this constant fantasy. I've even been to a few places that I felt might be ideal for it (outside of Taos, NM, and Santa Cruz, CA to name a couple) because of the resources available. Alas, I've decided that the turmoil of full-time employment is worth it, especially since the things I like doing in the woods aren't free.

The crew arrived at various times on Saturday; me, Marc, and the Groves coming via Morgantown, and Mark Burns, Chrissy, and others coming from DC, Fairmont, and beyond. The agenda, for a change, was centered around a specific event, and all of the other time spent there was keenly directed at the event. Of course, the event to which I refer would be my second Captain Thurmond's Triathlon, and I survived once again after a long day on the river Saturday, a bit too much drinking that night, and two enormous burritos haunting me for hours before the race. Mark, Chrissy, and Jeff survived as well, despite a puncture in the Irishman's tire about halfway into the bike section. Congrats, Chrissy and Jeff, on podium finishes in your respective classes. I was happy to avoid a crash on my bike, breaking my new fast fiberglass boat, or falling backwards while attempting to run straight up a cliff side, as the run course tends to go.

Returning to my original point, living in the woods is great at the New. The woods in which we lived for the weekend had picnic tables, fire pits, and a guy named Ray even delivered ice and firewood! Friendly people from Baltimore, Louisiana, and Ohio also live in these woods, and we were lucky enough to all be hungry at the same time. How perfect it is in West Virginia!

Git 'r dun.

Three Days in WV (Arbitrarily Close to Heaven, part n + 3)

Kevin wanted to see West Virginia. Or, at least that's the way I heard it when he called me to let me know that he'd be in the Pittsburgh area for a few days of filming (he's a sound guy). He had a few days off after that, and wanted to have some fun outside.

I reassured him that I could find some.

So we spent three days exploring the Potomac Highlands by day and pontificating by night. It was a memorable experience. The highlights follow.

We arrived at Mark and Margot's cabin at Dolly Sods on Monday afternoon as our home base. We unloaded and spent the remaining daylight hours exploring the North Fork and running the Forest Road (Captain Thurmond's is two days away!!). Anticipating a big day on Tuesday, we didn't want to do too much. When you're camping or spending time at a cabin with no electricity, bedtime and sunset become closer to one another, especially when you introduce a bottle of Shiraz. This often translates to an early rise, making the days even more intense.

We logged a total of ten trail miles on Tuesday, first with the required to the summit of Seneca Rocks. Of course I was skittish up there, but I'm getting more comfortable each time.

A half-pound of turkey and a block of sharp cheddar later, our stomachs were full and we were on our way up Red Creek in the Dolly Sods Wilderness. The plan was loose, but ended up consisting of a trail loop (Red Creek - Big Stonecoal - Dunkenbarger - Little Stone Coal - Red Creek). It's about 7 miles in total. The rush of the hike came about a mile and a half in, when we came across the first black bear I've ever seen in this area, despite its reputation for bear sightings. We spent the remainder of the hike like we were on some aboriginal drum march, tapping twigs or rocks together, whistling, and musing about what weapons we wished we'd brought. Some great information came out of this hike: there are two incredible campsites on this loop for future backpacking. The first is just after taking a left onto Dunkenbarger. It's a very remote site along a meandering creek. The second is where Little Stonecoal crosses Red Creek, which has a nice sandy beach and a deep swimming hole.

We had dinner at the Purple Fiddle and crashed early. That's a productive day in the mountains.

Wednesday was one of those days when things just seem to go your way. After a failed attempt to find a hike from Blackwater Falls (beautiful falls; too bad there's a boardwalk to get there and you can't jump in), we decided to try our luck at finding a good trail. So, we headed toward Morgantown through the Monongahela National Forest north of Thomas. A few well thought out decisions led us to an old gated forest road off US 219. It didn't look very well-traveled, but it was well-defined, so we decided to give it a shot. At each turn, we constructed a rock cairn and felt comfortable with our chances of making it back to the car.

After about 1 - 2 miles of hiking through thick, grassy woods, we came to a jeep road. Turning onto this, we started to see "HP" blazed on trees and figured we were following some access road for Highland Power or Hippie Produce or Hilda's Pasture. After a few more turns (and a few more cairns), we followed the trail to an obelisk-shaped monument that marked the MD/WV border. Okay, that's pretty cool, but I started to remember that the Highest Point in MD is on the WV border, and figured the HP blazes must stand for High Point! A few hundred yards further, and we came upon the summit of Backbone Mountain, complete with a plaque, a picnic table, and little certifications you can fill out yourself to confirm that you'd stood on the highest point in Maryland.

May the peakbagging commence. I have been to the highest point in DC, but that's the entrance to the Wisconsin Ave. Whole Foods. Now, I've got a real highest point under my belt.

Here are the photos I took, but only from the summit hike. I forgot my camera the other times (dumbass!).

49 to go!!

Git 'r dun.