Winter Hike

Kathy and I went to Morrow Mountain State Park for a hike on Saturday. It was a cold afternoon ( high in the mid thirties), but not uncomfortable. I read somewhere that there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing. We were layered up pretty good, and had hats to protect our ears. The sky was clear, just high cirrus clouds, and a thin white sun, low on the horizon. The winter is the best time of the year to hike. There are no bugs, or snakes, and you get a much better feel for the area you are hiking in. If you look carefully, you can usually spot old road beds, abandoned home sites, and other features you would miss in the summer.

Morrow State Park is another one of those national rewards from the great depression. The roads and walls and buildings were built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, under the Works Progress Administration, which put millions of Americans back to work during the late thirties. It encompasses about 5000 acres of land that is a part of the Uwahrrie Mountain Range, which, some 500 million years ago reached heights of over 20,000 feet. The whole range has now been worn down to a series of puny hills less than a 1,000 feet tall. A nice place to take a walk.

We decided to take the Falls Mountain Trail which starts at the boat landing, winds around and over Falls mountain, then drops down to the Pee Dee River right at the base of the Falls dam. The area just below the dam is the site of an extensive Indian settlement that dates back nearly twelve thousand years. The Hardaway site( a famous archaeological site) lies just a couple of miles up river on the banks of Badin Lake. Years ago I visited this area during a severe summer drought. You could walk out into the river bed below the dam and find pieces of pottery, and arrow heads. It is a big no no to do that now however. Just above and west of the dam you can find where the Indians mined the ryolite to make their stone tools.

We had decided to take lunch, so we packed a thermos of coffee, another thermos of soup, cheese and crackers, and a squeeze bottle of wine. The wine is against park rules, so please don't rat me out. I need to find one of those Botta bags that we carried back when we were hippies. Do you know what I'm talking about? Originally they were wine skins made solely of leather, but I used to be able to buy the ones with the plastic liner, and the fake leather exterior, and the red string strap to carry it over you shoulder. Nothing beats lunch on the trail like cutting hunks of cheese with your pocket knife and washing it down with squirts of wine from a botta bag. The bicycle water bottle we used this time was a poor substitute, but I wiped my pocket knife off on my pants leg, cut the cheese, and made do as best I could. We set an a downed log at the top of the mountain, had a fine view, and I caught a good buzz (from the wine).

After lunch, we made our way down to the dam, and then on down river and back to our car. The round trip was only about four miles, but it was enough to make my right knee sore, and once again remind me that I'm never going to be able to hike the entire Appalachian trail like I've always dreamed.