Tamiami Sammy had spent the better part of his life searching for the world’s best grouper sandwich. Lucy had taken up the mantle and had parlayed that mandate into the hunt for the pinnacle of shrimp po boys. From the Florida Keys to Gulf Shores and New Orleans, she’d eaten them all over the south and she was proud to have taken up the cause. Her time in New Orleans had been entirely spent looking for good food and cheap beer.

Parkway Bakery and Tavern first opened for business in 1911, and it has been a New Orleans icon ever since. Charles Goering, Sr., a German baker, built Parkway on the corner of Hagan and Toulouse in Mid-City New Orleans and ran it until 1922, when Henry Timothy, Sr. purchased it with the intent of continuing to run it as a neighborhood bakeshop.

Back in those days, every neighborhood in NOLA had a bakery on the corner. Over the next seven years, Timothy, Sr. established Parkway’s reputation for delicious and fresh bread, donuts, and his famous Seven Sisters sweet rolls. But this was just the beginning of Parkway’s innovative and historic legacy.

In 1929, the poor boy was created by Bennie and Clovis Martin (read the full history of the poor boy), two brothers who owned Martin Bros restaurant and were former streetcar operators. The Martin brothers came up with the simple but hearty sandwich when the Amalgamated Association of Electric Street Railway Employees, Division 194, went on strike, sending 1,800 unionized streetcar drivers and motormen off the job and onto the picket line.

The Martin brothers gave away sandwiches to the strikers and the story goes that when a striking union member walked into their restaurant, Benny would call to Clovis, “Here comes another poor boy!”

In solidarity, Timothy, Sr. added the “Poor Boy” shop to Parkway that year and fed union members and conductors French fry poor boys for free. Meanwhile, Parkway was also selling the recently invented “Poor Boy” sandwich to the workers at the American Can Company. They operated twenty-four hours a day, with the addition of the poor boy, so did Parkway.

This Parkway po-boy could easily be the best, but honestly, such comparisons are beneath us. This particular specimen was prepared in a simple, delicious way common to the region. No nonsense with shaved lettuce, pickles and tomatoes on a French sandwich bun with tartar sauce. The one Lucy had was particularly long with perfectly seasoned fried shrimp pouring out onto the paper which she gladly lapped them up like baby sea turtles on the beach.

The entire meal consisted of a poor boy with fresh french bread, flash-fried Louisiana wild caught Gulf shrimp, chicken and sausage gumbo, french fries and a Frozen Porch Swing Vodka Lemonade. Checkmate.

Parkway now serves on average 1,000 people per day. Some are locals and their families, and others are travelers from all parts of the world. Jay, Justin, and other Parkway team members have been featured on television and in various media projects that have told the story of Parkway one way or the other.

Visit the Parkway website and like their social media sites on Facebook and Instagram,

Thanks to Justin for hosting and Rachel and Eric for taking us in. Keep up with the wranglers as we send forth Dispatches from the Quarter from a break in the festival season. Support those who support the wranglers and find your way to Parkway Bakery and Tavern next time you’re in New Orleans. Sit in the upstairs bar to avoid the wait.

The post Parkway Bakery and Tavern: A New Orleans Original appeared first on wook wranglers.

Of course she was still living in the front seat of the Oldsmobuick but this was nothing knew. It had come down to choices, mostly bad ones and while she’d certainly made her bed, she was now crumpled up in the front seat of the car, missing hers. The chickens had come home to roost. When it came to work destinations the last few years, she’d used this vehicle surgically, finding her way into the heart of the city, only to disappear into the sea of soccer moms and street cleaners. Now she was buried deep the heart of New Orleans, nestled inside a constant hum of activity and potential. Laissez les bons temps rouler. Throw me something mister. For Lent, she’d given up self-control and guilt. Thanks to Pig Out BBQ and The Saddle Bar for welcoming the wranglers into their house. Relax. This is “Sans Souci”. Dispatches from the Quarter.

Things were going finer than frog’s hair as she’d found her parking/living spot a few blocks from one of the several dive bars open twenty-four hours. Except for a few errant drunks falling into the hood and someone crashing into the front bumper, amidst a hasty parallel parking exit, things were coming up roses. She had it better than most hippies on the block just because she could sleep in the wagon, as borderline miserable as it was, it was better than the sidewalk. Everywhere she looked, people were falling down drunk. If her vehicle was going to break down, this was as good a place as any. Sure, everyone knew about Sarah Fortier and her ground glitter, (the dirt/moss blend that could be found in her hair at Suwannee), but here in the womb of the French Quarter they had something called gutter glitter and while she wasn’t sure what it was, she knew she’d worn the scent.

Lucy understood there wouldn’t be enough days or money to get to all of the food she wanted to embrace. Red beans and rice, shrimp po boys, etouffee, gumbo filé. It was Mexican Monday in Boone but how could she eat that here with all the Creole fare? By the time it was over, she would alone, consume a metric ton of beignets. Relax Mr. stage manager, I can assure you this is powdered sugar all over me. The Veux Carre was alive with all manner of tourists, homeless, hustlers and an army of patrons waiting to take the order. For days, she’d been planning on taking a shower at the nearest truck stop but life and continued questionable choices had kept that from happening…and things were going south. She was definitely dirty but it didn’t appear as if anyone else noticed. She wondered if she smelled like a goat and was just unaware. Wherever she went, a swarm of fruit flies circled her vaginal area. Occasionally she would “wipe up” in a restroom or anoint herself with groundscored medicated powder from Hulaween and Dollar Tree deodorant. Indeed, these were the times to be thrifty.

There were always lots of people carrying guitars in this town. And how is it homeless folks always run with dogs? That seems like a expensive hassle. She definitely understood the idea of companionship but dogs, like kids, women and potted plants required attention and money. She always felt like a noob when it came to the ways of the street. How savage could she be when she’d never even hopped a train?

As usual, Lucy was making money just about as fast as it took to spend it. But she was on the skreets and it took money to make money. And it took money to buy oysters and draft beer but from 2-5pm daily the Desire Bar made it easy. Just take it all.

She was close to the edge and for a while she considered busking. After watching how much the hippies made panhandling in Boone, she figured a few hours of busking would hopefully pay for some cheap whiskey and absinthe. But the truth was, almost every back in town appeared to be hauling a guitar. She stayed on the hustle, working when she could and exploring the Quarter when she was loose.

What kind of establishment makes deals with the wranglers? Innovators to be sure. Merchandise for promotional consideration? Networking had replaced traditional commercials and now they were presented as friends to the audience. The worm had finally turned for Lucy.

The Saddle Bar. 715 Bienville St.: With 2 stories of country fun, Saddle Bar is located in New Orlean’s French Quarter, just 60 paces from Bourbon St. With our upscale downstairs bar serving up classic favorites and premium whiskeys, have a seat in the special VIP area, or hang out on the dance floor while the DJ churns up country gold on the speakers! Venture upstairs to play games, visit our rustic bar, check out the extra-large balcony or Ride Randy, the biggest cock in New Orleans! Like a mechanical bull, but it’s a #bigassrooster.

Pig Out BBQ. 537 Toulouse St. (504) 224-2434. Fall off the bone ribs, duck and andouille gumbo was the bill of fare. Served up with slaw, smokin’ macaroni and cheese, pickled vegetables and more duck gumbo? Christ on a popsicle stick, things were finally going Lucienda’s way. This would be a regular stop on all her future trips to the Crescent City. Right down the street from Molly’s and Toulouse Dive Bar, two of her favorite night spots. Like their Instagram page and let Johnathan take care of you the next time you’re in town.

Her mother had warned her about visiting New Orleans. She received all of national information from Fox News so to listen to her explain it, all major cities were rearing from unchecked and rampant waves of criminals, homeless folks and immigrants and a very real combination of all three. Lucy, once again, did not find the hyperbole to be true. #fearmongers?

Usually when one actually visits these locales, the threat is very much exaggerated and otherwise unfounded. And naturally, like any other place, there are hard areas of town, neighborhoods best avoided. Don’t believe the fear-mongers. Don’t support the war-mongers. Hang out with fishmongers.

Monger in fish, not fear.

Enter Welmon Sharlhorn, New Orleans artist with works hanging in the Smithsonian, Collection de l’Art Brut,  and the American Visionary Art Museum. Wrongfully imprisoned in Angola for twenty-six years, it was there he honed his skills at ink art. He and Lucy visited several times at Igor’s, where he imparted his amazing story. Visit this article from Prospect New Orleans for more information.

By the time it was all over she just about broke even, ending up about where she started. Her guitar was still sitting in Salesury, North Carolina but she she still had a few hustles in mind. The hard weather had broken and the irises and morels were close to popping up. It was time to head back to the high country.

Ratonita Frita and Gutter Glitter. She’d seen about half a dozen mice in the last twenty-four hours. The first was in a trap in the kitchen of the Marriot. “Someone should get rid of that”, he said to no one in particular but no one gave any indication of hearing her or much less caring. She saw the rest after the all-night downpour. Two had been drowned, washed out from their gutters and the rest were noticed scurrying from overturned garbage cans. At five am she was headed back to Check Point Charlies. At the early hour, the mice seemed to exhibit a pronounced and eerily aggressive posture.

She was sitting in the bar at about 9am when the bartender broke out the Red Rider BB gun. His quary, a medium-sized mouse edging across the brass railing above the beer taps. Time froze as he proceeded to take aim and plug the varmint midsection. Nary a sound could be heard as the patrons watched the beast fall into the vat of hot grease below. The television broadcast “Invasion of the Bee Girls” as the bartender walked past the bubbling vermin and carefully hung up the wooden sign. “Kitchen Closed”.

Follow the wranglers as we roll south to the Florida spring festival season already under way with Suwannee Spring Reunion and a slew of furry, forest animals in Live Oak. Check out the schedule here. Look for the Kamp Happiness Wook Trap at your next feral adventure.   namaste y’all.

And now you know the rest of the story.

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We’d just passed through the rust deserts of Utah for the third time that summer and, even with its boundless landscapes, it surely felt as if the cliffs were creeping closer. The mesas and jagged crags, with their vertical cliffs of colored sand and crystals, had affected everyone, mostly Thunderbird, who could no longer be trusted to drive safely. He’d been in charge of the wheel for three days straight on top of another three days of “Salemesque” fun, which had left him scrambled and haggard at best. While the rest of us joined a family of Mexicans in search for dinosaur fossils, our campsite was pillaged by Uintah Indians near Little America. They finished all of our grease and swiped a freezer bag full of Washington smoked king salmon, leaving spirits at a new low. Come to find, the Mexican family wasn’t looking for dinosaur fossils, just shade.

The post West Coast Turnaround: Loose Lucy Lost In Longmont Pt. 1 appeared first on wook wranglers.

Wow. A story about missing a festival? Everyone’s got that yarn and it never sounds like fun. No one would really be interested in hearing that tale of woe. But the truth is that the road isn’t always open. Sometimes it shuts down like a bad daycare. On the wrong day It can get downright weird. But that’s part of the delicious whisper that is the wild and uncharted trail. Get ready to sell expensive fishing poles for twenty-five dollars worth of gas. Almost useless in overgrown truck stops like Rawlins, Wyoming.

Even with ample funds, strange things happen on the road. If you have no money be assured your trapeze act isn’t using a net. When one travels with limited funds they set themselves up to be in a venerable position. There’s less margin for error in an environment where hurdles and consequences can quickly mount.

He was having the dream again. Always the same. It was the long road. Mesas off in the distance. Driving through some arid landscape in Utah, outside of Green River and reeking of Indica and Coors. Some sort of police car directly behind. Not sure what faction of the enforcement branch but, to be sure, a redneck with a gun. Muy peligroso. Mix him up with a poor person and an angry judge. See where that gets you. Falkenburg Road Jail. For dabs? Give me a fucking break. And he thought Shrimphead would be the last guy in Florida to go to jail for grass. Nope. It really never ends.

But what’s a citizen to do? It was time to take what could hardly be called a strongbox and head south for the Florida festival season. Lucienda in tow, they would soon be leaving for a shotgun tour of Florida and all the strange fun that comes with March and April.

Baitbucket was getting a mite riled up as things were starting to get funky down south. He’d taken time off work schleping beers and was headed out for a couple months of festivals and fishing. All the things. With all the “winter-mix” fun North Carolina had to offer in February it would serve as a seriously much-needed reprieve. They would soon be heading down the mountain, stars in the sky (Caprisun rising), Chihuahua in the lap, tunes blasting and a car crammed with blankets, guitars and dead cats. It still wasn’t certain whether Big Betty was going to fit but many in the logistics department were cautiously optimistic.

“Money had exchanged hands. Promises were made”. “Yeah it sucks but in this case we’re just going to have take lemons and make mushroom tea.”

The road is a beautiful, fickle bitch. Weird things happen out there and with each trial comes experience and wisdom. There was Longmont, Colorado and the busted Adventurewagon in the Walmart parking lot. No money and a lost Chihuahua. Good times. Sleeping in the front seat of a Nissan Xterra. Good times indeed. Rockygrass in Lyons and Tim O’Brien showing up in the strangest places. Then there was free camping in Green River, Utah and the “wrath of God” sandstorm that would show up everyday around three and blow the ez-up into the ionosphere. It’s to be expected and it comes with the territory.

The Night the Oldsmowagon Died

B.B left the bar at a reasonable time. They could now stay open until 11:00 pm in North Carolina (Thanks Roy) so it seemed everyone was being responsible all the time. The Oldsmowagon came to rest in the parking lot of Mountaineer Hall at Appalachian State. Exactly one week later he was still in Boone. Sitting in the darkened office, listening to “A Song Before I go” on headphones. Crosby, Stills and Nash. A boy band of superstars. He would need good music to stay sane today. And more whiskey. Yesterday’s George Dickle was already in the trash. Once again he hadn’t heard from the mechanic in two days. Last they spoke, the team was confounded by the Oldsmowagon’s security system which when the juice went out, apparently engaged like some kind of advanced computer weapon.

He put on Captured Angel by Dan Folgergerg. This would all prove to be an important ongoing meditation. Trying not to be apprehensive or bummed-out by not being at the Maddox Ranch Medicine Show. They had passed around the narcotics collection plate and they were making bets on when he would get there. The good money was on suicide. The news kept coming out of the show. Bonnie Blue and Firewater Tent Revival had slayed it. Chase Holiday had been seen running naked through the field screaming, “viva revolucion!” and Tim proposed to Sunnie Ray. Plenty of action for a crowd that was more than ready for it.

Friday Part II

Exactly a week later he was still sitting on pre-launch, plied with liquor, painting rocks and clothespins in the slim chance that he might ever make it back to a festival. The Oldsmowagon had been towed from Bill’s Automotive to Team Chevrolette and had sat there for a few more days. Finally, thankfully and fifteen hundred dollars later they would be on the road again. That being said, after this expense the coffers would surely dry. It would make more sense to stick around, work for two weeks and gather a little coin for the adventure, but…

La Rosanostra, Moonshine and the rest of the fam were already at Suwannee for Spring Fling. They would be there dancing their tits off in Live Oak. Once again the strategy was the same. Immediately head south and figure out the rest later.

The Road.

He was excited to get on the road. If needed they would sleep in the car at a rest stop. They would sustain themselves on bad food and cheap beer. The way God meant for it to be. Lucy might have to survive completely on the cheese-laden foil burger wrappers that would litter the vehicle. As he got closer to the park, the tinglies started and he was forced to engage the cruise control so he wouldn’t push too hard and fast.

Suwnnee Spring Fling: Mind if we dance with your podmates?

Kuddos to Beth Judy and Spirit of Suwannee Music Park for hosting the much-needed festival with safe and responsible fun. There’s nothing better than solo Keller on a Saturday night. Not sure where I’m supposed to be. Mind if I share your pod? I brought treats.

Consequences shmonsequences.

In their absence it seemed everyone in Florida had acquired PTSD and a medical marijuana card. Legal coffee and a dab? Well now. He wondered what the Suwannee County sheriffs would be doing now that they didn’t need to hassle kids smoking a little reefer around the fire. The days of bail money, magistrates and missed shows would hopefully be coming to an end.

Onward and upward. Next they were headed to Fool’s Engagement with Spacebug and Mott Guilty and then to Suwannee Rising with a group of involuntary nudists. Things were getting real, real fast. There was funk on the horizon. Enough to go around. For now the car was still running and one can’t ask for more than that. The wranglers are thrilled to have been picked up by FloydFest and Mountain Music Festival. Check us out for tickets and information and keep up if you can. Thanks for continuing to enjoy the iconic style and bold sophistication of the incomparable wook wranglers.

“You bought a ticket, you might as well see the show.” -C.W. Roanoke Mafia

#freebritney

The post The Spring Road: Part 1 appeared first on wook wranglers.

You know how it is. We’re why we can’t have nice things. We are the wookies of the Fifth Order. The Watusi incarnate. If one beat is allowed to cop a squat and hang their dirty laundry from the white cedars then soon to follow there will be a whole bevy of hippies tweaked on moonshine and washing their socks in the creek.

But what’s a walkin’ man to do? Haggard and worn, the flight from Colorado deputies can eventually leave a mark on both man and beast. As much as Thatcher wanted to complain about the gestapo this time, they probably saved lives. Thank God for the acid from Boulder. It was the only thing that counter-acted the Coors and moonshine offering some semblance of balance and making the operation of a motor vehicle at least a sliver of a possibility. He was so bent, driving south along the Sangre de Cristo range that he had to close one eye to keep the passing lanes in view. At one point he had to turn the radio off just to stop the hallucinations. Why were there giraffes standing on mushrooms in the middle of the sidewalk and why was he driving on it at unsafe speeds? Thank ye gods for the police.

Colorado makes it easier than most states to camp on the cheap. For scenic vistas of the Collegiate Peaks and pro bono camping, look no further than Buena Vista and Turtle Rock.

Turtle Rock is a campground in the Four Mile Recreation Area of Buena Vista, Colorado. This is one of several campsites in the area that allow a stay of up to 14 days. Slightly up above the Arkansas River, Turtle Rock is a secluded campsite that is several miles from the nearest paved road and offers tons of privacy. There are many opportunities for hiking, biking, climbing, and kayaking in the area, and Turtle Rock campground is only a few miles from downtown Buena Vista.

The various aspects of this nifty granite outcrop feature bouldering, climbing routes and a cool “two-pitch” scramble. The scramble to the top of this neat little rock takes only minutes, but the trip to the top is quite a joy. From the summit, enjoy views of the Arkansas River valley to the north and the south. The twin humps of the Buffalo Peaks thirteeners rise in the near northeastern distance. The views up and down the mighty Sawatch range will leave your mouth hole gaping.

There is little mystery as to how this peak got its name. For certain, when viewed from the east, the shape of a large turtle, head pointing southward down the Arkansas Valley emerges. The summit area is wide-open, a bare granite viewing platform. Enjoy your stay here in nice weather. Avoid the sheer drops, especially on the east side, in high winds. Kick back, be stunned by the views, and bask in the beauty all around you.

Colorado Rank: Unranked

Prominence: 160 feet

USGS Quad: Harvard Lakes

YDS Rating: Class 4

THINGS TO DO IN BUENA VISTA:

Mount Princeton Hot Springs: A must do at Mt. Princeton Hot Springs Resort are the hot springs pools located right in midst of the cool rushing waters of Chalk Creek. Each pool is fed by its own natural geothermal hot spring that bubbles up into the actual creek bed and into majestic circles of stones that create natural pools of warmth and rejuvenation.

Brown’s Canyon Rafting: The Browns Canyon section of the Arkansas River is the most popular whitewater section in the U.S., because it is challenging enough for experienced rafters, yet forgiving enough for first-timers. This boulder-strewn canyon sports large, exciting rapids, each followed by a calm pool that allows time to recover and prepare for the next big rapid. It is this pool-drop character that makes Browns Canyon suitable for a wide range of ability levels. Be sure to check out Brown’s Canyon Rafting for some world class rapids on the Arkansas River. Visit Byron in early summer for some “sporting” rafting as the snow melt turns the river intro a frothy mess. Big fun, here in River City.

Free camping area on BLM land with free porta-potties. There are beautiful overlooks of the valley from Turtle Rock and about 20-30 sites. The road to the campground isn’t bad at all, just a little washboarding, but the campground itself is somewhat challenging to get around with low clearance or extra long rigs.

The summit of Turtle Rock sits just 3 miles north-northwest as the crow flies from the town of Buena Vista [BYOOnah Vistuh], Colorado. From the traffic light on U.S. 24 in Buena Vista, turn east onto Main Street. After.2 miles, in the center of old town, turn north (left) onto Colorado Avenue (which becomes Chaffee County Road 371). After about 2.2 miles, CR 371 turns into a graded dirt-road suitable to all passenger cars.

From this point, there are two options for parking and approach:

From the east (turn before the Midland Tunnels and park in the campground)

After traveling 2.7 miles on CR 371, turn east (right) on CR 375 just before the Midland Tunnels. Following this twisting, graded dirt road for 0.8 miles to the entrance for the Turtle Rock Campground. Limited day use parking may be found near the back (western edge) of the campground.

From the west (continue through the Midland Tunnels and park in a pullout on the east side of the road)
After traveling 2.7 miles on CR 371, pass CR 375. Proceed through the narrow, one-lane series of tunnels. Immediately after exiting the northern-most tunnel, there will be a pull-out on the right-side of the road.

Four Mile Rd

Buena Vista, Colorado

GPS: 38.881945, -106.145212

Elevation: 8286′

Keep up with nailtravels as we continue the Summer “Low-Brow” Tour with an occasional stop the next few months. Continuing with Purple Hatter’s Ball in Live Oak, the Moonpies then head to the North Plains, Oregon and Northwest String Summit Kids and Family Tent. Then it’s on to hillbilly heaven and LOCKN’ in Virginia. This is about as low-brow as it gets. Thanks for showing up.

The post Free Camping in Buena Vista appeared first on wook wranglers.

Covering two-thousand feet of elevation the eleven hiking trails vary in difficulty and ecological communities. From gentle paths along with Watauga River to some of the most “sporting” hiking anywhere adventure seekers can get a serious workout while enjoying some ridiculously amazing vistas.

History

You know how it works. Over 700 million years ago tectonic plates within the earth’s crust came together. Among the results was the creation of one of the highest peaks in the Blue Ridge Mountain range.

The Cherokee named the mountain “Tanawha,” meaning “a fabulous hawk or eagle.” It was later named “Grandfather” by settlers who recognized the face of an old man in one of the cliffs. The area has been recorded in literature by countless historical figures including Daniel Boone (1760’s), Andre Michaux (1794), Asa Gray (1841) and John Muir (1898).

It is the highest peak on the eastern escarpment of the Blue Ridge Mountains, one of the major chains of the Appalachian Mountains. It is located at the meeting point of Avery, Caldwell (highest point), and Watauga (highest point) counties. The Blue Ridge Parkway curves past the south side of the mountain and also through the nearby Grandmother Gap.

Trails of Grandfather Mountain:

The west side trails begin at NC 105, near NC 184 (Tynecastle Hwy). A sign reading “Profile Parking” points to the Profile trail, which climbs steadily for 3.1 miles before intersecting the Grandfather trail. From there it is 0.4 miles south to Calloway Peak, and 0.8 miles north to Attic Window Peak. It’s 1 mile to Macrae’s Peak and 1.9 miles to the swinging bridge.

The east side trails can be found at Boone Fork parking area at mile marker 300 of the Blue Ridge Parkway. The trailhead is joined by way of the Asutsi trail at Serenity Farm on Hwy 221. The easiest east side route to Calloway Peak is to follow Tanawha Trail to the Daniel Boone Scout trail. This includes two large fixed ladders that traverse rock faces. The Cragway trail is steeper and littered with boulders but offers excellent views of the Boone Fork bowl, or “medicine valley.”

The Grandfather trail covers the 2.4 miles of ridge line between Calloway Peak and the Swinging Bridge (Linville Peak), passing Attic Window and MacRae Peaks along the way. This trail is among the most difficult and technical in the region. In addition to significant steep elevation gain and loss, trail conditions include frequent exposure to very high winds, contiguity to several large cliffs, crossings of cracked boulders, and multiple traverses aided by fixed ladders and cables. This 2.4 miles is normally covered at below half of normal hiking pace. In favorable weather conditions this trail is considered advanced. In poor weather, this trail should only be attempted by experienced hikers.

Features

The primary ridge of the mountain is oriented roughly north to south, and features four named peaks: Calloway Peak (5,964 ft.), Attic Window Peak (5,949 ft.), MacRae Peak (5,844 ft.), and Linville Peak (5,295 ft.). Although not as high as the adjacent Calloway and Attic Window Peaks, MacRae is much more difficult to reach due to challenging and exposed approaches from both both directions.

The area represents the Eastern Continental Divide. Two rivers have headwaters on Grandfather Mountain, the Linville River, flowing east, and the Watauga River, flowing west. Many lesser streams originate on the slopes of Grandfather, including: Upper Boone Fork, Little Wilson Creek, Wilson Creek (North Carolina), Stack Rock Creek, and others.

The attraction side of the mountain, which includes the Mile High Swinging Bridge, is accessed by way of Grandfather Mountain Entrance Road. Admittance fees are charged at the main gate. Part or all of the attraction is sometimes closed due to frequently inclement weather in the late fall, winter, and spring.

Hiking and camping are free in the “backcountry” area now designated as a state park. The required permits are available at all trail heads. Those intending to enter or leave the park via the attraction must still pay admittance. Fire is prohibited at many of the higher elevation campsites, due to high winds.

Visit the Grandfather Mountain website and like their social media sites at Facebook, Instagram Pinterest and Twitter.

Taken from the field notebook of Lucienda Rosalita 

“We are on the trail about 6:30 am. A late departure for such endeavors but Thunderbird was up late smoking and drinking rum. The walk up Profile Trail is a wonderland of blooming rhododendron under a thick deciduous canopy. Thunderbird’s knees and ankles are already visibly trembling and we are no less than halfway up the trail. He’s begun grumbling about the size and frequency of the boulder fields. We pass streams and thickets as the trail through the hardwood forest gives way to the “Peregrine’s Flight”, a vertical path of boulders rising all the way to Shanty Spring. This is the last sure water source on the trail, which is good news for those of us who have already began rationing our limited supply. Once again, we have run out of water somewhere near the summit and history has shown us that on the way back down no one will care whether the water running down the side of the mountain is full of parasites or not. 

At Grandfather Trail we decide to head south toward Macrae Peak and the swinging bridge. This is an amazing walk/scramble along the ridge line, supplying us with breathtaking views of the mountains all the way to Virginia. It is also littered with boulder-strewn vertical assents that are working to break both the spirit and body. Thunderbird continues to creep ever slower and produce more and louder noises when climbing over and around the rocks. After five hours we both realize it’s time to start heading back or someone is going to be sleeping on the mountain. The trail has gotten no less easier and as his feet and ankles deteriorate Thunderbird’s pace continues to drag. It is like mountain climbing with a manatee.”  l.r. 7/13/20

From the land of the Cherokee, keep up with the wranglers as we forge ahead into the very vortex of summer fun with foundations in advanced tubing. Learn from world champion river tubers as we navigate the raging rivers of Watauga and Ashe counties. Also watch for the five part series, “Lessons in Sloppy Fly Fishing” and answer the question, “How safe are the river trout?”  It may just be another in a long line of serious missteps.

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