Conley Cove to River Trail

Springtime in the Gorge

The sun sets over the Black Mountains in the west, a view from atop Green Mountain of the west rim

It's midweek of the last week of March in Carolina, a high near 80 degrees with partly cloudy skies, it is beautiful weather. My horoscope said I'd go home today, it couldn't have been more true. 

I've been mountain biking a good bit recently to get my nature fix, mostly around Charlotte. I haven't hiked in Carolina for almost 2 months.. 2 months too long. Even with the days getting longer, the truth is it's still hard to find time. Time used to feel easier. When you're young you feel abundance in time, you can't bask enough in it. As you grow older you begin to notice that the days, in fact, have limits. Things start to run into each other with greater and greater velocity and next thing you know you're staring down the end of a good run, college. And a good run it has been.  

A view of Lake James and the South Mountains from the Old Kistler Memorial Highway of the west rim

I got out of class at about noon in Charlotte and head home to pickup Clif. I start to get my things together for a day pack and he knows what's going on. He loves it so much. So we set out for the 2 hour ride up to the gorge, up 321 over 40 through Lake James and up the Old Kistler Memorial Highway, a Forest Road that traverses the west rim of the gorge. 

I've been here before, down the Pitch In and up the Rock Jock. This time I set out to go down Conley Cove and up the Linville River Trail, out and back. 

Springtime colors are just beginning to fill the gorge, greening the most near water and blooming from the shrubs. Everything starts to become alive in the spring, and by the summer the Linville Gorge feels as a living and breathing thing. 

Conley Cove switchbacks down a canyon of the west rim wall back and forth. As you begin trekking down the gorge, it is nearly silent, solitude. The occasional bird chirping or the soft sounds of a spring flowing down the mountain are all you will hear, hard sounds of the busy city streets are nowhere to be found. Why do you climb mountains?

As we slowly lose elevation, the roars of the Linville River begin to come into range and I know we're getting close. Massive boulders begin to litter the landscape and next thing we know we've reached the River Trail. 

We stop, catch a breath and soak in the great weather. It's probably in the low 70s here, and I find myself a nice spot to sit on a huge boulder in the river. 

Up the River Trail we go and eventually we run into the old bridge that used to cross the river. From what I understand, the bridge was built in the early 2000s and washed out some years ago. Nature always takes over in the end, it's amazing that they got all of the resources down to construct a bridge in this unforgiving place. 

Now, backpackers and hikers need to either face a wet crossing or head a couple miles downstream to find a crossing without excessive risk of falling into the often turbulent waters of the Linville. 

Out and back on the River Trail we go, exploring the very old and rugged terrain as we go, finding caves and rock outcroppings in abundance. This truly is a special place, and there is a reason I keep coming back for more. 

It's evening now and I begin to hear crickets chirping, the early sounds of summer. This summer I won't be in these mountains, instead I'll be in the Front Range of the Rockies. I hope I'll be able to hike here again before I leave, but as I mentioned earlier time is growing scarcer and scarcer.

Unfortunately, Clif can't come with me to Colorado at first as employee housing will not allow pets. All is well here, though, as he will have good company back home in Pinehurst. 

So I'll be exploring bigger mountains with new friends, and everything is as it should.

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Life is a bus, after all, and you're the driver.

We meet strangers and friends along the way. Some strangers turn into friends, some friends turn into strangers.

Some will hop on and stay for awhile, some longer than others, but no one stays on forever.

It's not always easy to say goodbye to those who exit your bus, but in the end we all have our own path to travel.

Some will leave an impact on how we see the road ahead or even which direction we choose to go, these people are special.

What's most important to remember is that it is your bus to drive and direct, no one else can do it for you nor is it wise to follow someone else's bus. In the end it's only you. 

So, 7 weeks from tomorrow my bus heads West with seats to be filled.

And of course I'll be saving one seat for a black dog.
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