You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
We're on our way to Lake Sherando, near the Blue Ridge, and we always enjoy seeing how many sorry old flags our retrograde fellow citizen has got up at the same time.
At least these are straightforward -- many of his favorites are crowded with obscure but offensive slogans and symbols.
The weather's fine, and this is the first time in many trips here that we've seen a significant summer crowd. And we just caught it -- we'll be leaving Virginia in just a few days.
The lovely CCC pavilion is worth a quick visit, because in all of our partially off-season visits here, the gift shop has never been open.
And here it is. It's charming -- mostly souvenirs, apparently; there are significant campgrounds spread out as part of the park, but evidently this isn't the best place to stock up on groceries for a week's stay.
It's the 'Cliff Trail' for us again, as usual these days, and that's where it starts.
On y va!
Whoa! What's all that?!
That's another new one for us, despite all our walks up this trail. They're all very beautiful. Walking the trail is like being in a wedding party.
An energetic woman who just blasted past us informed us that these are 'mountain laurels'
Subsequent follow-up indicated that mountain laurel (kalmia latifolia) is common, especially in mountainous or forested environments, from Maine to Florida and westward to Louisiana and Indiana, but it has basically only a two week blooming period, especially in May, sometimes into early June. Like now.
They're shrubs which, however, can grow to 15 feet high, and though they prefer sunny locations (like this side of Lake Sherando), they can also enjoy partially shaded areas.
Mountain laurel, as it happens, is the state flower of Connecticut and Pennsylvania (who knew?), and it's especially welcomed all along the Blue Ridge Parkway through Virginia and North Carolina.
It looks awfully tempting to find out whether these things taste as good as they look. But luckily we didn't bother.
'All parts of this broadleaf evergreen can be deadly to humans and animals. Bark, flowers, seeds, leaves, roots, stems, and sap are all poisonous. Even the honey made from bees that forage exclusively on Mountain Laurel is toxic.'
But they are surely beautiful, like beckoning walkers forward through all the finery. We're topping out on the Cliff Trail here, and this is . . .
. . . a scenic look down at the lake, or rather it would be, if it were not for the beautiful mountain laurel (and a lot of other green things). We're normally gone from the annual scene before the vegetation really gets into high gear.
From the seasonal lookout point, that's a peek down the cliff, which is actually a series of rock bands through which our trail zig-zags back and forth till we pop out at the dam.
Kristin is being patient with those of us who like to pause to take a few photos.
-- Mind your head.
The lovely shrubs draw us onward along the top zig of the trail.
And they accompany us down along the first zag.
Almost hemming us in on the path, along the second zag.
We're going to miss all these bounteous decorations when we're back here next fall.
This is the final zig, northward . . .
. . . pausing by the awkward Big Step, and . . .
. . . preparing for the final zag.
Down to the dam.
We'll return by the higher lakeshore trail on the right or western side of the lake.
Kristin descending alongside the North Fork Back Creek, soon to cross over on the little concrete footbridge.
-- Mind the step!
Oh, how convenient.
Fewer mountain laurels on this side of the lake, but some.
A view of the little island on the far side, and lots of kids having fun.
The anglers' platform, and the little kids' swimming beach across the way.
This is the amply provided picnic area, grills, bear-proof trash bins, lots of aging picnic tables.
We've never seen so many people here, but give it another month, say roundabout Fourth of July or so, and it might all be less attractive.
The lady in the purplish jacket and white hat near the tree is the font of local lore who told us about the mountain laurel just before passing out of sight ahead of us.
One interesting feature of the happy picnickers today is that, as we passed along amongst the family groups, we (I at least) didn't hear any English spoken.
It's a little heartwarming, for aging hermits, to see all of the folks out here having a harmless good time.
Of course, driving home up the Mt Torrey Road to the Interstate, we always have to pass our devoted nutty-flagwaver, and this time we may finally have caught a glimpse of the poor sod himself.
And now another old favorite for the last time this spring, the Augusta Springs Wetlands,
25 May 2025
A hurried start to our hour of healthful exercise (we have a lot of packing up to do)
Across the boardwalk
Across the little bridge (the reading bench is, for some reason, gone), and . . .
. . . up the Uplands Trail
The trail looks blessedly dry today (which we're well aware is a brief illusion).
Here the general muddiness begins -- for the next 3/4 of a mile or so.
But the old carriage track which previously formed the hiking path has now been surrendered to La Nature. With a little single lane path gouged out of the side of it.
This may be some sort of unexpected climate-crisis manifestation, along with the imminent sea level rise, jet stream going random, tornados/hurricanes/heat domes and atmospheric rivers, the permafrost methane belches, the northern migration of horrible tropical insects with incurable viruses, amongst other awful things we've let the rich folks visit down upon us.
Well, hope they're happy now. Probably this should have been posted -- first time walkers here might think it's a good idea to walk two abreast and lose one of them knee-deep into the mud.
Starting up onto the crest of the ridge, which can prompt one to . . .
. . . dress down a bit.
At the crest of the ridge, thoughts are being shared about 'what's next'. The official path runs straight off down the rather unpleasant downhill; an unmarked path runs off to the left, and our bail-out path down the crest of the ridge goes right.
And we will, too. 'Keep your old parachute descending path' (awkward for 19th century carriages, one would have thought).
Ever downward now, but gently
To meet up with the crossover path, and now to the right, back onto . . .
. . . the path we just walked up. That bridge (off-limits!!) leads over into a US Government Hotshots firefighters training ground.
Back onto the wheelchair- and pram-worthy lakeside track, that runs . . .
. . . around the pretty pond as well as the serious wetland on the far side.
That's our usual reading bench; today we're in a bit of a hurry.
Here there was a simple path to the lake shore, but then this natural monstrosity crashed down upon it.
It's TV time, and Melvin is sometimes as devoted to watching Rocco Schiavoni: Ice Cold Murders as we are.
It's mostly set in Aosta, over the Grand St Bernard Pass. We love it.
28 May, we're all packed up for our five day jaunt to northern Wisconsin for the summer, and Melvin, taking a brief break, has already got his leash on for the car.
Next up: A few bits about the drive up, and then our settling down in the Northwoods.
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All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 25 June 2025.
