Revisiting a Trucking Tradition

On Saturday Elliott and I met up again with Marty and Riley at a favorite destination of mine, the Truck Graveyard. We were also meeting another of Elliott's friends, Jacob, who I'd heard a lot about and was excited to see in person. He was super cool and friendly, we had a wonderful little group and I was excited to take not only truck photos, as I thought I'd done it all before, this being my fourth trip here, but I wanted to take more people photos. Well nope, that didn't happen. We chatted for a bit and then everyone spread out in different directions, immediately lost behind rusting relics, inside a dusty dark garage or simply blending in with the fall foliage. I stood alone, looked around, shrugged and turned on the Sony, which definitely had a memory card in it this time, I'd checked three times the previous evening and in the morning. Working in my usual Manual setting on the camera, I fiddled with the dials, set up my focus point, clicked the shutter, and nothing. I clicked again, and again, and again. Nothing. I wanted to just sit down and howl. But I immediately thought, well, I have the iPhone, let's get creative. But I simply stood, head bowed and let the sorrow and frustration wash over me. But then I thought, there's Elliott, I have Elliott now, he'll fix my camera and unjam it for me, and so spotting him in the distance I made my way over to him. He couldn't fix it, but he did the next best thing, and promptly got his back up camera, a Nikon 5300 (I think), handing it over without any reservations. I was a little stunned by this, one, because he was displaying complete trust in me with his equipment, and two, it was a Nikon. Like the Android versus Apple war, the red tractor versus the green, there's always been a Canon versus Nikon. I've always been a Canon user until I got the Sony mirrorless, and now I had to use a Nikon. Whoa! But I put on a stiff upper lip and graciously accepted the hand of my enemy. And I have to admit, I was very pleasantly surprised. It took some getting used to, especially as I shoot in manual mode, but after a few faltering steps I was off, and extremely grateful that I had a quality camera to capture this favorite haunt of mine. I have to admit that I focused exceptionally hard as I wanted to prove that I could shoot OK on an unfamiliar camera, but I was more than pleased with the images I captured. And some may say the shots look good due to my processing, but processing ain't worth nothing if you haven't got a good image to start with. So now, I have to admit the Nikons are OK, actually they're pretty good. So thank you once again, Elliott. He's starting to become a knight in shining armor, constantly coming to my rescue in my most dire of situations. And I love it!

 Sadly, the owner of this truck site has passed, but I have fond memories of conversations with him, sitting in his office while my friends were taking photos, fascinated while listening to his memories and tales of his truck and car collections. He had a very comfy armchair in his office that I sank into, and with him being over 6ft tall, even in his late 80's, he would tower over me as he chatted, my neck aching as I smiled up at him. His sons are equally friendly, I had a few words with one on them while I was walking around pointing the Nikon as various crusty metal trucks, and his smile reminded me of his father.

So here are the photos. Not too shabby, and I have to admit they came out better than I thought, because I felt that I was at a disadvantage not having my own camera, and this made me work harder to get better photos. I guess I have a bit of a competitive streak but also I'm always up for a challenge, and proving I could handle an alien camera made me work harder. There's some lame shots here but I kept them in to give a better overall feel of the place. With the owner passing, there's been talk of selling the land. It hasn't happened yet, but who knows if this is our last visit.

These trucks, despite their neglect, still stand in splendor. Whether in a open field, or slowly being blanketed by creeping vines under shady trees, or with saplings thrusting their way to sunlight through still gleaming chrome grills, they pose silently majestic, sunshine flashing and lighting up fender lenses as though still powered from within. Unbroken cobwebs collect dust inside shabby interiors, faded fabrics unfurl from seat covers, pooling down to the floor and collecting with dried brown leaves from winters past. Windshields, many still intact, grip resolutely to rusted crumbling frames, glass blurred and fogged by decades of exposure, while a few others, peppered with gunshots, display patterns imitating frost on a frozen morning, filigree finger cracks radiating out from where the bullets entered.

It was actually a joy to walk around the fields because I suddenly realized that I hadn't collected any ticks grabbing a free ride, nor had I been attacked by fleets of mosquitoes. On each previous visit, we'd picked quantities of ticks off before we got in our cars, and then found more once at home. I got back to the Blue House this time with no harbingers attached and only one mosquito bite.

The photos below were taken by Jacob. We handed him the Nikon I was using and he snapped away. And Elliott and I loved them. He caught us messing about, we don't remember what was being discussed, but loved the way he captured such unique character shots. He's also an accomplished photographer, having shot photos in many parts of the world, see here.

And so we finished the day with plenty of photos to process. I had a mishap, falling off the back of a truck,but with no lasting pain or wounds so I shan't delve into that incident. I got to work on Monday to be pleasantly pleased and a little surprised at my Nikon photos, and the Sony has been shipped off to a hospital in CA to be nursed back to health, at a great expense, I must add. But all's well that ends well, and this day certainly did. Thanks to a fab boyfriend and stellar company on the photo shoot. Roll on the next event!

Traversing the Channels

 Back in August I booked a hotel room in Abingdon, VA. I had planned a solitary hike, wanting to explore The Great Channels, a 20 acre, 400 million year old maze of sandstone slot canyons near the top of Middle Knob Mountain. It's a 6.6 mile in and out hike with over 1300ft elevation, and being over 4 hours from home, I knew I'd not be able to drive there and back and complete the hike in one day. And on my own I didn't want to. I was also a little nervous about losing my way on the hike, as I have sometimes done in the past, so I didn't want to rush it. Then Elliott came into my life and the dynamic changed completely; he wanted to join me. Wow! Instead of a solitary hike which I'd embark on with some trepidation and a long drive which would seem longer because I was alone, this suddenly turned into an exciting adventure because I now had a partner. And he insisted on doing the driving, rendering me completely speechless, not a condition many friends of mine have witnessed. And so now we planned together, setting off on Friday to get down there early to scout the trail head and have an early night.

I did suffer a catastrophe while on the hike, which I didn't discover until Monday morning, a photographer's nightmare. I had failed to put back my camera card in my Sony and the camera never flashed the warning message across my viewfinder telling me there was no card. I went through the whole hike, clicking away merrily, thinking I'd captured a wonderful collection of photos. I was sick to my stomach when I tried to download the photos on Monday morning and discovered there were none there. Thank God Elliott was with me taking spectacular shots. He generously offered to share for my blog so all the photos of The Great Channels are taken by him. The few others are from my iPhone.

We were up before dawn and on the road, arriving at the trail by 6:30am. There are only 10 parking spaces here and we were determined to snag one. We sat in the car, munching a breakfast of boiled eggs, bananas, cheese and nuts, and watched the first light peek above the mountain top. By the time we started the hike there were only 3 spaces left. We'd heard that any cars not in the allotted spaces received parking tickets or were towed, and on previous occasions there were as many as 70 vehicles waiting to park, although now a warden is present to enure only 2 cars wait in line. All others are turned away.

It was freezing cold as we started up the trail. Elliott was wrapped up in multiple layers, a hat and gloves, it looked like he'd planned for Mt. Everest. I had a t-shirt and a thin jacket but wasn't worried, we'd soon warm up.

We took our time climbing the mountain, stopping to enjoy the foliage and views, and to chat with others we met on our ascent. We spotted clumps of this beautiful blue flower, which I'd never seen before, and hoped would open its flowers once the morning warmed up. But they were still closed when we came back down and I later discovered that they are called Bottle Gentians, or Closed Gentians, because they never open. Pollinators simply squeeze their way in through the top, and the flowers will bloom until the first frost. Mountain laurel and a passageway of rhododendrons also lined the trail, in places creating a green tunnel.

The uphill climb wasn't hard at all, and the trail was mostly wide enough for two people to walk side by side. I'd warmed up and Elliott had even taken off his gloves. We reached the summit, elevation 4208ft, enjoying a fabulous view from the rocks of the flat topped Beartown Mountain and Great Appalachian Valley before we descended a short steep way into the slot canyons, and another world.

These deep crevices were formed over millions of years ago by water gushing over the 400 million year old sandstone rocks, creating tiny cracks which would then be eroded further by permafrost and ice to form high walled corridors between the huge blocks of rock. With their own ecosystem, the Channels are almost cave-like, with temperatures much lower than outside, and because of this and the lack of sunlight, snow can still be found inside them long after it has melted on the mountain top. It became a Natural Area Preserve in 2008 to protect the habitat, the trail having been forged by volunteers and the Appalachian Detention Center inmates. Previous access had been by the more rugged Channels Trail, an 11 mile round trip with a 2600ft climb.

The Channels are accessed by climbing down into them and my first reaction was astonishment. it was like descending into a dark cave, tall damp cold walls coated in green moss and lichens, like a natural cathedral, pathways ranging from 20 - 40ft deep crisscrossing and winding through the rock. It was a labyrinth of rock corridors so natural but somehow reminding me of a grid street system, as these passages were often perpendicular to each other. Many of the rock walls had a pitted surface, smooth round holes bored by water.

And now for Elliott's superb photos, all shown below are his, and I can't thank him enough. This blog entry would have been a waste of time if not for him, and the hike would certainly have left an empty feeling in my gut if I didn't have these memories. And there's plenty of 'me' shots too, he really is a superstar!

It was easy walking around, only a few boulders needed to be scrambled over but for the most part it was like walking around a maze. I did make a conscious effort to remember my route after reading some reviews of others getting lost, but it wasn't really necessary. I always ended up at a corner I recognized or a familiar rock face. I was just awestruck with this ancient geological wonder.

We sat on a rock to snack on our lunch, more nuts, cheese and jerky. And sitting here was cold, I estimated the temperature to be in the low 40's. The Channels were mainly shady, yet spotlights of white sunlight beamed down into the passageways, so direct and bright that I was tempted to stand under a few and call out, "Beam me up Scotty!" 

 

We spent well over an hour down there, exploring and taking photos, although of course I wasn't, but didn't know it. We meandered through the hallways and I persuaded Elliott to follow me down a narrower corridor. He exclaimed it wasn't possible, he couldn't fit, but I assured him he could and so he gamely forged forward. I was bent over double, laughing so hard, as he puffed and shoved, rocking from side to side as he battled his way to me. It was hilarious especially when he finally popped out, a victorious grin lighting up his face. He said I should have videoed it but I don't think I would have been able to hold my phone steady, I was howling so hard.

We finally climbed our way out and headed back to the trail, glad to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces and backs once more. The hike back down wasn't too arduous, but it was grand to sit in a restaurant later and chow down on an exceptional Cajun pasta dish washed down with a couple of pints of a local stout before the long drive home to the Blue House.