Mold and Mountain Meanders

This was the weekend before my vacation to England, so before I went home I had to shop for gifts to take with me and for items I'd need for the trip. But on the way to Warrenton I took a detour to an abandonment I'd discovered, labeled as a 'religious cult house'. This had piqued my curiosity so I took the Sony with me. I found nothing on the internet about any cult houses in my area but a quick nose about seemed a good idea.

The structure was nearly dilapidated and resembled a farm building. Obscured by tall grasses and vines that appeared to be tugging the building down, I wondered about the 'for sale' sign outside. This would be a tear down, the property only useful for its land. Nearly all the windows were smashed and nature was definitely claiming this as its own.

There was little inside of interest, nothing that yelled out religion, only wrappers and napkins from a local BBQ restaurant. A few scattered pieces of furniture, a workshop area with cans so rusty that the labels were unidentifiable. There was little to photograph except the wonderful lighting on the multitude of cobwebs that were spun across doorways and window frames. They had collected dust themselves and hung like delicate folds of material, some even with their long deceased makers curled up inside. The few panes of glass that had clung to the window frames were broken shards, hanging like translucent jagged stalactites, the high sun struggling to shine through the thick dust, and instead casting deep shadows within the musty rooms.
But I soon bored of the building. After 10 years of urbexing, I am now only excited by the bigger industrial properties, or those with architectural interest. Some of my friends still take delight in old homes or any obviously vacated smaller buildings but I have become more selective. I was finding that the stench of mold and old dust was repulsing me and I craved to be outside in the fresh air. Within 15 minutes I was finished with my exploration and back outside in the sunshine taking in deep lungfuls of sweet grass scented air.
Later in the day I drove to Linden, VA, to look at some houses. I'm looking into the possibility of buying a house rather than renting but wanted to see what my options were before I took the plunge. Not being a high earner my choices are limited and whatever I can afford will be further away, increasing my commute. So I was thinking that since I've enjoyed living on a hill for the past 7 years I might consider mountain living. The other end of the scale would be quiet back streets in Front Royal, where I would likely know my neighbors and be able to walk around the streets of this little town right next to the mountains. But today I was looking forward to exploring 'high living' options, imagining myself with a little ranch or alpine style place with a deck and privacy, wildlife on my doorstep and no flooding possibilities. I know that living on top of a mountain does mean that all noise below travels upwards so I'd be monitoring the volume outside also, thinking a weekend day would likely be the loudest at any home.
As I left the main road to explore one house, the road immediately became unpaved and a steep incline. I made my way upwards and upwards, climbing to the top until I encountered barriers. It was a gated community but I wasn't too upset as I realized it would be extremely difficult to get a moving truck up here and would incur considerable wear and tear on Stanley. So I gave up on that one and turned around to drive up another mountain on the other side of the interstate. This time when I left the main road the surface was even rougher.

Thinking I was fine in my SUV I drove on undaunted, heading to a plot where the house hadn't yet been built, but had drawn me in with its promise of 'peaceful solitude and your own strawberry patch', The road was hell. Barely wide enough for my vehicle with gullies on each side, it was muddy and rocky. And damn near vertical. It got steeper and steeper so that I was leaning forward in my seat. The wheels spun, throwing rocks up underneath the car and eventually I stopped. My nerves were frayed, I wasn't going any further. If it was like this in summer, what on earth would it be like in winter? Impassable. How does this community go to work? I had to back down very slowly and then to exit the development, I had another almost 90 degree climb. I was sweating with anxiety when I eventually reached the top, stopping once I was on level ground, and then stepped out to check Stanley. I had a flat rear tire. That was the final nail in the coffin. I could not live in any of these mountain houses. But later, after reflecting on my experience, I realized that I actually could, if I kept to the upper or lower roads, and just avoided the difficult to reach houses in the middle. I need to explore these options further and also the 'quiet street in town' houses too. This research will continue once I return from my homeland.

A Company of Critters at Placid Pohick

On Sunday I was up early and standing bleary eyed in front of the kitchen window was scared out of my wits to find myself at eye level with a huge orbweaver spider in the window. It had spun a web which filled the entire window pane, and was perched bang smack in the middle of it. Not what I wanted to see first thing in the morning while filling up the kettle for my first cuppa of the day, but I was relieved to realize that the web and its creator were actually on the outside of the window and not inside. 4 days later he is still there.

By 7:00am I was feeling quite industrious so I pulled Big Red from the barn to see if I could repair the hole in the hull. I used a red bucket made of the same HDPE plastic as the boat. I cut small strips off and then, using a heat gun, melted it on top of the hole. I had to do this in layers and was progressing quite well until I realized that the weight of the warm plastic could cause the repair to drop right through the hole, so after about 90 minutes I stopped to allow the plastic to harden fully. I will have to return to this and build up the plastic even more but I was glad the process was working, and for today's kayaking trip with Emily and Margie I would rent a boat.
I arrived at the Pohick Bay on time but the DC girls didn't, they were having to stop a few times to restrap Margie's boat to her car roof, so after 45 minutes I decided to start without them. It was actually quite pleasant to just enjoy the kayaking trip without the hassle of loading and unloading a boat on the car. I simply walked to the shoreline after my booking and set off. I was given a Wilderness Systems boat, similar to mine, and immediately noticed how much higher I sat in the water and how much faster I could paddle. I guess I'd been dragging that cargo compartment full of water around in Big Red for quite a while, I'd got used to it!

The bay was looking very healthy, the water was clear and didn't seem to be as clogged with weed as it had been in the past. I spotted a number of large fresh water snails at the edge of the water while hundreds of baby fishes darted between the pebbles. Stopping in a bed of water lilies leaves to take some photos I had my second fright of the day as an enormous fly creature with bulbous eyes and massive claw like feet landed on my boat right in front of me. It had buzzed very loudly as it landed so I sat very still not wanting to be bitten. It looked extremely capable of attack and I have to admit that I was petrified.. I managed to very slowly move my camera around so I could snap a photo. It didn't move. I wasn't sure if it was sizing me up but it made me very nervous and I wondered if my bug repellent wipes would encourage it to fly elsewhere. I pulled one out, carefully making sure I made no sudden movements or noise and slowly unfurled it until I had a sheet I could hold in front of me like a shield. It worked. The ferocious creature became aware of the fumes and took off, buzzing loudly like a chainsaw, circled around and then shot off so fast that I had no idea in which direction it went. I realized I'd been holding my breath the whole time and loudly exhaled, slumping back against my seat. I later looked the fearsome fiend up online and discovered that it was a Red-footed Cannibalfly, a predator which apparently does inflict a bite on its prey but rarely humans. No report of anyone being bitten has been received, but I didn't want to be the first! They attack stinging paperwasps but also hummingbirds, twice its size, so I'll have to watch out for these at home. Apparently a good dose of a high powered water hose will see them off. A good blog has recorded them, scroll down on the link.

There were few people out on the water today which I didn't understand. It was hot but there was a slight breeze and not the usual intense humidity. I noticed the invasive Kudzo vine had taken residence on many trees, something I hadn't noticed here before to this extent. It's earned the name of "The vine that ate the South", originally introduced from Asia in 1876 as a high protein cattle food and as a cover plant to prevent soil erosion. But when boll weevils infested the land farmers abandoned their farms and the weed was left to grow unchecked. The Forest Service claims that it isn't so much of a problem now but I see it in most woodlands in our area.
The red wing blackbirds here were readying for migration to the south. The last fledglings were flying and, with the adults, swooped in flocks back and forth over the lilies and rushes, chattering loudly. It was wonderful to sit and watch their activity as they came so low over the top of me and perched momentarily on nearby stalks so that I could see them clearly. Usually I have never managed to get close to these birds in the past so today was a treat.
Yellow paddles of a kayak dipped and swung in the distance above the lily leaves and pickerel rush plants. As I got nearer I saw it was a guy fishing. He'd had a great morning catching plenty of large bass. As my stomach began grumbling I parked up in the vegetation, cracked open a beverage and munched on the crackers, salami and cheese I'd brought with me. No sooner had I munched a few mouthfuls when I heard voices and turned to see Margie and Emily paddling towards me. We all parked up together to enjoy some snacks.

Margie came out top with her tasty Mint and Egg Salad, which I initially turned up my nose at, as the thought of mint and egg combined did not sound at all appetizing, but it was delicious and we polished it all off.

The air was alive with the fluttering of butterflies, many of which were monarchs who were enjoying the purple pickerel rush flowers. They skipped back and forth above our heads while the red winged blackbirds continued their dashing and diving among the vegetation, chirping noisily. Golden, blue and green dragonflies swept overhead joining in the activity. I was amazed and delighted to note that I didn't see, or wasn't aware of, any mosquitoes. I didn't suffer a single bite or have any buzzing annoyingly in my face. Bliss! We all saw a spectacle we'd never witnessed before, or even thought was possible. A large dragonfly had captured a monarch butterfly and was carrying it to the branch of a tree where it disappeared out of sight among the leaves. It had struggled with the weight. We were amazed at the sight and after researching this I read that adult dragonflies eat just about anything that can be caught and is edible. I wondered if Red-footed Cannibalflies fell into this category...

At the end of the day in the parking lot, as I reached my car, I'd been aware of an extremely loud commotion, birds squalling and squawking in high pitches, and above me on a light pole had been a poor mother osprey sitting in her nest with rambunctious babies. The dad had sat on a pole a few yards away looking pretty fed up. While we'd been kayaking I spotted this guy sitting peacefully up in the tree. He sat there for ages not moving and at the parking lot I wondered if this had been the dad, or the mom, getting some down time, enjoying the peace of the creek. We paddled up to the end of the creek, fighting against rills and across sand bars where the water was shallow, and then on the return trip, we just let the current of river take us. I had my feet and arms hanging outside of the boat in the refreshingly cool water, and let my head rest back on my folded up PFD. It was so comfortable and relaxing that we all lapsed into silence as slowly drifted downriver, no sounds of humans at all, only the birds and insects. Margie even admitted she had fallen asleep. I wished I'd been able to but I was constantly aware that I might need to use the paddle to stay on course or avoid a floating log or simply prevent the boat from stopping in the reeds.

The sun was beginning to set as we slowly paddled back to the dock, casting a golden glow on the plants and water. We left the silent creek, its water like a mirror and a blue heron flew in front of me. I liked to think it was calling farewell rather than croaking its disgust as our presence disturbed its peace.  The bay opened up and the water became choppier, with noisy jet skies jumping over waves and emitting foul smelling fumes. We grounded our boats on the beach, simply stepping out and walking away; it felt very luxurious not having to haul a kayak on to the car roof and strap everything down.I could get used to that! But instead I'll knuckle down and try to finish the repair job on Big Red.

Lotus Lilies and a Weight of Water

It was still dark when I left the house Saturday morning, the air humid, and a dampness from the overnight rain clung to everything. My feet got soaked just walking through a few patches of grass to the car and I rushed to turn on the AC when I started the engine. Mist curled up from the quiet roads as I was drove down to Crow's Nest, a conservation area near Stafford, where I'd be meeting friends for a kayak trip. Due to the horrendous weather we've been having this summer the trip had already been canceled once and looked set to be rescheduled again, but the weather for Saturday looked like the morning would be dry so it was all system's go. Bob had sent a message a couple of days before to all which had made me laugh out loud:
"You are listed as going.  If you have to change your RSVP, please do so TODAY.  We have more cars than can fit, so I have to talk with the ranger on our options, and then I will let all know what our plans are.  But, for now, update your RSVP if you think that you cannot go or you plan on being late due to the usual reasons.  This is especially true if you are likely to dig deep in a bag of stories how something came up at the last minute and you cannot make it.  After today, you have to come if you are listed as going.  Even dying is not acceptable; if you die, reappear to someone as a ghost and tell them that they are taking your place and give them your name"
 I, for one, wasn't missing this trip and had every intention of going, even if rain was forecast. This would be the first time this year Big Red would be on the water and I was looking forward to it.

  It was a long haul from the parking lot to the boat ramp and we all helped each other carry our boats. Bob yelled out that the operation was like a government agency, one person working while another watched and another pretended to be hurt or otherwise engaged. He eventually got everybody in order and then shoved them and their boats down the ramp, and then we were on our way. It was beautifully peaceful, no sounds of traffic, only a large flock of red-winged blackbirds trilling and hopping from one grass stem to another, as though they were indignant at our group invading their territory.Ospreys and bald eagles circled overhead, likely hunting for breakfast.

 Our original plan had been that we would be paddling among the water lilies in the creek. Unfortunately the flowers were finished, their leaves beginning to curl and brown along the edges. but as we paddled down further we saw groups of lotus lilies sprouting up from among the dying water lilies, their leaves large and a fresh bright green, the young growth pushing past the decaying leaves like bright beacons of new life. Pale yellow flowers reached up as though searching for sunlight, their light gold petals shining lamps among the green. Huge seed pods peered over the lily pads. like the plants from Day of the Triffids, or periscopes from submarines.
There was little sunshine and I was glad. When the sun did momentarily burst through the grey clouds the temperature immediately soared but thankfully the clouds manged to resume their total coverage of the sky,as if pulling curtains shut over a window .The water was still, the only ripples created by us as we paddled. I dipped my hand in, surprised to find it so warm. Every so often a welcome breeze cut through the humidity. It was a while before I realized that we weren't being invaded by mosquitoes. I had wiped my arms and legs with a repellent but those pesky whining insects weren't bothering me at all today. I relished their absence. We were the only people in the creek and even as it became wider, we could see a few boats moored up by silent houses but there were barely any on the water. No jet skies or motor engines at all, only an occasional buzz could be heard in the distance.

 We came across a lone fisherman in his jon boat, standing and grinning hugely as he held aloft a large snake head fish. These are an invasive species which have gotten a stronghold in the waterways and are slowly decimating other fishes and small animals so fishermen are encouraged to catch and kill them. I had read this a few years ago assuming their population was still increasing and so was amazed to read this article, informing people that this is no longer true. This gentleman was holding tight on to his catch, they can live up to 4 days out of water as long as they stay wet. He was going to eat his, saying they were the best tasting freshwater fish around. I took his word for it and resolved to look out for them on future restaurant menus.

 A couple of photos of me from Bob when we stopped for a break. I'd been chatting to a guy called Doug who had me howling with laughter as he recounted a time he'd taken a nap on a sunny day while sitting in his kayak. The hot sun had lulled him to sleep and he'd woken up as he tipped out from his boat into the water. Today, even though there was no sunlight he had crossed his arms and his head tilted down as though another nap was imminent. I kept an eye on him. Bananas, chips and nuts were tossed back and forth from boat to boat as people shared their munchies. My jerky went down well, the packet disappearing in a couple of minutes.

 Bob  suggested we start back as the tide was going out and low tide would have a depth of 0.0ft which he thought would cause a problem paddling. The tide was actually going out quite quickly as I found it harder to push against the current.

I got left behind though as I wanted to push in among the lotus flowers and lily pads for a few final photos. The thick rubbery pads fascinated me as they floated on the water, perfect circles with creases like open fans. Huge droplets of water sat on top like glass pebbles you find in flower vases. The thick weeds grabbed on to my paddle as I pushed my way in further. After enjoying the lilies for a few more minutes I started backing out. Reversing was a lot harder and my paddle blades were weighed down with the heavy wet weeds. It was a strenuous workout to return to open water and then I paddled hard to catch up with the others. I was finding the going tough and was a little annoyed with myself at being so unfit. I had also evidently been splashing too much as I had more water than usual in the bottom of my cockpit and my seat was wet. It wasn't until I had dragged my boat along the wooden walkway, thinking how heavy it was, that the penny dropped. I spotted a thin trail of water following behind me and at the car when I turned Big Red over I saw the hole. Looking inside my rear cargo compartment I was amazed to see it filled with water. Last year I had been paranoid thinking my weight was causing the boat to sit lower in the water. This year I knew I was lighter but was still experiencing the same issue. But it had been my laziness of dragging the boat everywhere that had worn a hole in the plastic hull. Bob told me a shop in Harrisonburg, PA could repair it but I resolved to do some research when I got home to see if I could do it myself. I'd save the ordeal of a long car journey and likely a couple of hundred dollars.

As we finished loading our boats onto cars, the rain began to fall, so our planned picnic had to be canceled. I managed to get home with just a few showers following me, thunder rumbled overhead as Big Red was stowed in the barn, large splats of rain hit my head while I walked to the house, happy to spend the rest of the afternoon curled up with Rosie Lee and Tricksie Treat, not forgetting to look online on how to plug a hole in the hull of a kayak, and to buy a kayak cart.