Just outside the thriving megalopolis of Holcomb, WV Morris Creek makes its way to the Cherry River
The forest surrounding Holcomb Road on the way up Hinkle Mountain is stunning. Pottsville Sandstone ridge cap boulders strewn all about.
Botanical toehold.
Beech woodpecker fodder.
Peering West Virginia’s ceiling atop Hinkle Mountain.
Closed USFS gates were a theme for today. Though I cussed a bit about the gates, the scenery more than made up it.
Hey! An open gate out to Snakeden Mountain. Forest Service must be slippin’.
Now how did that get there?
Well at least I picked a soupy spot for a dirt nap. The strap on my EDC bag was the only casualty. Little did I realize those locked gates were protecting me from myself!
Made my way into Richwood for a rehydration and post-oopsie aspirin break. Snowflake is none the worse for wear and her pilot once again reminded to listen to those inner voices. Maybe I’ll learn…eventually?
Headed home up Little Laurel Creek watershed and past one of my favorite vistas.
High ground solitude and rare calm of September on a November day led to an extended bout of cloud watching.
Time to roll on.
A brief photo essay set to the Stillest Hour by the .357 String Band...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVR85ntU6hM
The forest surrounding Holcomb Road on the way up Hinkle Mountain is stunning. Pottsville Sandstone ridge cap boulders strewn all about.
Botanical toehold.
Beech woodpecker fodder.
Peering West Virginia’s ceiling atop Hinkle Mountain.
Closed USFS gates were a theme for today. Though I cussed a bit about the gates, the scenery more than made up it.
Hey! An open gate out to Snakeden Mountain. Forest Service must be slippin’.
Now how did that get there?
Well at least I picked a soupy spot for a dirt nap. The strap on my EDC bag was the only casualty. Little did I realize those locked gates were protecting me from myself!
Made my way into Richwood for a rehydration and post-oopsie aspirin break. Snowflake is none the worse for wear and her pilot once again reminded to listen to those inner voices. Maybe I’ll learn…eventually?
Headed home up Little Laurel Creek watershed and past one of my favorite vistas.
High ground solitude and rare calm of September on a November day led to an extended bout of cloud watching.
Time to roll on.
A brief photo essay set to the Stillest Hour by the .357 String Band...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVR85ntU6hM