Healer of bodies and forests

A retired nurse practitioner, Marci Spencer is the author of Clingmans Dome: Highest Mountain in the Great Smokies, Pisgah National Forest: A History, and the recently released Nantahala National Forest: A History all published by The History Press. Her children’s book, Potluck, Message Delivered: The Great Smoky Mountains Are Saved!, was published by Grateful Steps. The Yosemite Conservancy included Marci’s essay “Pine Siskins Make History” in its book, The Wonder of It All: 100 Stories from the National Park Service, published to celebrate the centennial of the national park system in 2016.

If you are an outdoors lover who spends time in the Blue Ridge and Great Smoky Mountains, chances are you have probably encountered Marci in person, or through her works. She volunteered for the National Park Service in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, stationed at Clingmans Dome. She has earned naturalist certification in the Blue Ridge, Great Smoky Mountains Institute and the NC Environmental Educators programs. Marci has offered natural education presentations at community events, school programs and science fairs and taught a class on the Spruce-fir forest ecosystem at the NC Arboretum. She has also volunteered as a public educator in black bear natural history for Appalachian Bear Rescue. As you can see, quite active in the outdoors community.

Recently, Meanderthals spoke with Marci about how her background prepared her for what she is doing these days, the importance of volunteerism in sustaining public lands in the future, and about lessons learned during her research into the history of the forests and parks of the region that we all know and love.

Marci Spencer Interview

[Meanderthals] Thank you very much Marci, and welcome. Let’s get started:

I learned of your dedication through your books about the history of the national forests in western North Carolina. For the readers who may not be aware, tell us a bit about yourself, your background and your love for the outdoors.

[Marci Spencer] My restless sense of wonder and insatiable desire to explore human and natural history was inherited from my father and his deep southern roots. When we weren’t exploring regional lakes by canoe or water skis, we hiked trails and old railroad beds in Pisgah and Nantahala National Forests. While I was recovering from knee surgeries, we drove WNC roadways with Carolyn Sakowski’s book Touring  the Western North Carolina Backroads in our lap, devouring the local history.

After earning a nursing degree and later a master’s degree of science, I worked as a nurse practitioner in the fields of family practice, cardiology and emergency medicine and as an overseas medical missionary in India, Zimbabwe and Jamaica.

On my days off, when I wasn’t piloting and exploring the region by private airplane, I helped form a hiking group of cardiac nurses. We hiked many of Pisgah’s trails, hiked half of the Appalachian Trail as section-hikers, volunteered for PNF to help maintain backcountry campsites, and volunteered with the NC Wildlife Resources Commission, re-introducing endangered peregrine falcons back into Pisgah’s high country. 

When my husband became disabled after a massive stroke, forcing him to retire from medicine, I left my career to be his caregiver. To remain active in the natural world, I turned to volunteering.

Retired from medicine, my overactive mind searched for a new direction. I turned my mental energies into something constructive. I found my decades of stored journals, notes and documents of the region’s human and natural history. I began reading, taking classes, and asking hundreds of questions that led to research farther afield.

Physically restricted post-stroke but mentally sharp, my husband joined me in my journeys, interviews and search for new tales or forgotten old ones. It was an enriching activity that we could share to keep our minds active on our new life’s journey.

As we explored western North Carolina museums, libraries, archives, backroads, territories and homes, we gathered the information I needed to write my regional histories and met a forest-full of wonderful personalities that we would never have met. I believe that the genuine, down-to-earth personalities we met who have formed a strong sense of pride in their regional roots have left a much deeper, lasting impression on me than my words in a book have given them. 

[Meanderthals] What have George Vanderbilt, his family, and his legacy meant to Asheville and western North Carolina in general? If you could, what would you want to ask him?

[Marci Spencer] Someone once told me, “Marci, I’ve never known anyone to ask as many questions as you do!” I wish I could have posed my endless questions in an interview with George Vanderbilt. I would have gotten direct response from him about his goals and plans, his disappointments and regrets, and his explorations and experiences in Pisgah Forest.

Although some descendants of landowners who sold Vanderbilt their property 100 years ago remain bitter, local economies and tourism have benefitted greatly by the presence of the Biltmore House and Estate. By hiring Gifford Pinchot, who later became the first chief of the new forest service, Vanderbilt and his foresters initiated the nation’s first scientific forestry plan on the estate.

Later, Vanderbilt hired the German forester, Carl Schenck, to manage his forests. In Pisgah Forest, Schenck started the first forestry school in the US, now preserved as the Cradle of Forestry. After Vanderbilt died in 1914, his widow sold 80,000 acres of his Pisgah Forest to the federal government. The USFS joined that tract of land with 8,000 acres purchased in 1912 in the Curtis Creek area to form Pisgah National Forest, the first national forest in the East created under the Weeks Act, which allowed the USFS to buy land for protection.

May I pose 3 questions here that I would have asked George Vanderbilt?

1) “What can you tell me about the personality of Senator Thomas L. Clingman and the conversations that you and your agents had with him, during your negotiations to purchase his Mount Pisgah?”

2) “Where did Dr. Schenck build the wooden ladder up the side of Looking Glass Rock for you to take your guests to the summit?” Several of today’s local rock climbers have scoured the sheer rock cliffs of Looking Glass looking for signs of its previous location. According to Bill Alexander, little information has been located in the Biltmore Estate Archives about the ladder seen in photos taken by Dr. Schenck in a Vanderbilt camping expedition in 1902.

3) “Did you ever meet my great-grandfather, Martin Luther Lance?” — one of the few proud property owners who refused to sell his land to George Vanderbilt. Until his dying day, Mr. Lance kept an early 1900s Asheville newspaper clipping in his wallet, vowing to himself never to sell. That wallet and clipping is in a display case in my library.

[Meanderthals] The US Forest Service in North Carolina has been working on the Nantahala and Pisgah National Forests Plan Revision for a few years now. It should be nearing completion within the coming year. In your view, what are the major issues of concern for the next 20 years, and who are the major stakeholders going forward?

[Marci Spencer] I have attended a number of the public input meetings conducted over the past few years during the preparation stages for the revision of the PNF/NNF Comprehensive Management Plan.The greatest challenge, I believe, is providing the needs of a diverse recreational crowd of forest users while protecting the natural beauty and resources that attract us there.

Mountain bike riders, equestrians, hikers, runners, ATV users, fishermen, hunters, naturalists, scientists, historians, conservationists and others all share the forests maintained by the USFS as a sustainable source for timber production, while wildlife, both transient and permanent, common and endangered, thrive within shrinking habitats.

Who are the major stakeholders going forward, you ask? Sometimes, it seems like the “stakeholders” are those with the most money, the loudest voice or the largest following. Perhaps, those with the greatest concerns for the future of our forests should be those who need us to speak for them — those creatures and plants whose lives depend on the forested freedom within an ecosystem of clean water, air and space to survive.

If we don’t speak up for them, who will?

[Meanderthals] When you were conducting research for your history books, what are a few of the more interesting things you learned?

[Marci Spencer] I think that what I learned during my research for the Clingmans Dome, Pisgah National Forest and Nantahala National Forest books that has remained with me the most is that there are many quiet, unsung heroes who have independently worked to preserve the history of the region’s forests. Many unrecognized, small-town heroes have spent years protecting our natural resources.

A World War II veteran joined the USFS after Germans blew up his tank. He hiked to his post at the fire tower on the top of Table Rock Mountain on a wooden leg. When U. S. Marines, practicing military maneuvers in Linville Gorge, learned that a disabled U.S. Vet was working on Table Rock as a fire warden, the men cut a seasons-worth of firewood and carried it load-by-load to the summit for him.

Lloyd Allen learned that the USFS planned to tear down the Little Snowball Fire Tower; so, he paid $300 for it, took it apart and stored it at his house for 25 yrs. until he could find a home for it — now it is restored at the Big Ivy Community, the site of the CCC encampment of the boys who built it.

The librarian in Old Fort created a large display for the library’s reading room of reprinted enlargements of her dad’s work with the CCC at Curtis Creek. A school nurse in Hayesville created a bicycle course for an after school program that has become one of the most popular bicycle trail networks in NNF. Many others devoted to the regions forests and its history have made valuable contributions.

[Meanderthals] Do you have a favorite go to place for some Marci time?

[Marci Spencer] When I need to reconnect, emotionally and physically, to my natural world, I explore places I’ve never been or I search out a trail that I hiked thirty years ago and experience it during a different season or with more mature, experienced and informed thoughts and senses. Here in western North Carolina, we have enough scenic beauties and wilderness wonders to explore and renew our spirits to last a lifetime!

Ever the adventurer, Marci paddles the Tuckaeegee River.

[Meanderthals] Particularly in Western North Carolina, what are the conservation and preservation matters still needing the most attention?

[Marci Spencer] I suppose I addressed this question somewhat when I talked about the PNF/NNF revision plan. Headwaters of streams and the clear, cool waters of mountain waterways; rare and endangered ecosystems and the special species that inhabit them; old-growth forests; historic cultural areas, such as the Cherokee historic village sites, ancient mounds and the Trail of Tears in Nantahala National Forest — are some of the conservation and preservation issues of paramount concern in WNC that instantly come to my mind.

[Meanderthals] Volunteers in the outdoors community are extremely important for the health and survival of our national parks and forests. Where do you see the greatest remaining needs? What are some good opportunities for volunteers?

[Marci Spencer] With federal budget cuts and reduced labor force, volunteers with community organizations, hiking groups and organized clubs work with federal agencies to assist with valuable maintenance and restoration projects for many of the treasured areas in our national forests, as well as Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

The volunteer needs are ongoing and require a continued follow-up commitment, whether it’s removing non-native, exotic species that squeeze out less-tolerant native ones; repairing deteriorating visitor walkways and overlooks; clearing a trail of downfall from a recent storm; rebuilding an eroded trail with water bars and runoff channels; erecting new signs; removing graffiti and damage from vandalism; picking up litter and dozens of other projects.

Hardy souls can volunteer with wilderness crews, hiking and biking clubs and retired USFS staff who maintain trails with saws, weed cutters and other tools. Others may choose to volunteer with the NC Wildlife Resources Commission which manages the wildlife that inhabit the forests — transport red spruce seedlings to replant trees to help restore the forest needs of the endangered Carolina Northern Flying Squirrel; or, monitor the bat populations or the peregrine falcon nesting sites.

Consider volunteering for annual trash clean up campaigns at Wilson Creek, the Cherohala Skyway and other areas. Perhaps, you don’t have the time or means to physically participate in such activities. Consider donating money to the Pisgah Conservancy, Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy, Foothills Conservancy, Mainspring Conservation Trust, Conservation Trust for North Carolina, Friends of the Great Smoky Mountains, Conserving Carolina and others who work to protect our natural resources.

[Meanderthals] What do you believe we can do to get young people more involved in the outdoors community to enable a continuing legacy of conservation and protection?

[Marci Spencer] I am a huge proponent of educating our younger generation about the natural world. Outdoor education not only fosters a lifelong, healthy respect and love for the natural environment where one can find personal peace and enrichment, but it also encourages the younger generation to become aware of what nature needs to protect it for years to come.

Western North Carolina has had a long history of providing a large number of summer day and weeklong camps for young people that immerse their participants in nature study and outdoor activities. Places like the NC Arboretum, Lees-McRae College, Tri-County Community College, Southern Appalachian Research, Great Smoky Mountains Institute at Tremont, Pisgah Center for Wildlife Education, Pisgah Astronomical Research Institute, Outward Bound, Nantahala Outdoor Center, several privately owned camps and others offer the next generation opportunities to build an outdoor-living foundation and foster a lasting relationship with our natural resources.

[Meanderthals] A few years ago you wrote a book about Clingmans Dome in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. For those who may not know, what happened to the trees?

[Marci Spencer] Great Smoky Mountains National Park and Clingmans Dome receive visitors each year from around the world. One summer, while I was volunteering there for the National Park Service, two exhausted Jamaican visitors stopped and puffed beside a huge rock next to the steep one-half mile Clingmans Dome trail. “Why did they have to put the tower way up there?” they asked.

NPS volunteers stationed at Clingmans Dome answer a wide variety of numerous questions, mostly about the black bears. But, I bet the number one question asked is: “What happened to the trees?” {I know. That’s why I asked.}

In the early 1900s, a nonnative insect pest, the balsam woolly adelgid (BWA), migrated to North America on imported fir trees. By 1983, the aliens had migrated south along the Appalachian Mountains, leaving a wake of fir forest death and destruction, before arriving to forage in the rich green foliage of mature Fraser firs on Clingmans Dome.

Aggressive adelgids pierced the fir’s bark with their feeding tubes to suck up food from the tree’s sap, interrupting the tree’s vital food and nutrient transport channels, starving the trees to death. In some areas of the southern Appalachians affected by the adelgids, predator beetles have been released to help combat the invaders.

In the Smokies, park officials have tried applications of an organic, biodegradable soap. Today, scientists continue plot impact studies to help predict the future for Clingmans Dome’s Frazer firs {and hemlocks as well}. Scientists have noted fir seedling regeneration. Fewer adelgid population numbers and fewer females laying eggs are promising data findings. Park officials have preserved a gene pool of quality Fraser firs unaffected by the balsam wooly adelgid in a protected nursery for further scientific study and the potential regeneration of fir forests once the BWA is controlled.

Scattered amongst the healthy evergreens below Clingmans Dome are the grey ghosts of the fir and hemlock.

[Meanderthals] What’s next for Marci? Do you have any new projects bouncing around in your head?

[Marci Spencer] When I pushed the big “send” button to submit the final draft of the manuscript for the book on the history of Nantahala National Forest several months ago, retired NNF District Ranger Lewis Kearney, who had been a major resource and supporter of the Nantahala project, sent me an email. His note simply said, “see the attachment for ideas for your next project.” The attachment was a list of the other 153 national forests in this country.

My heart and mind have already started to ask questions about Chattahoochee, Cherokee and Sumter National Forests. I’ve mentally wondered about the red-cockaded woodpecker populations in Francis Marion and the hurricane damage to that forest. I’ve thought about the Croatan of North Carolina and its Native American history.

I have a children’s book manuscript based on a true story of a black bear rescue that was well received at a conference in Pennsylvania.

But, since I pushed the magic “send” button, I’ve been answering the call to venture outside, not for research, writing or study, but just for the pure fun of it. My list of places to explore or return is long, and right now I’m soaking in everything that my soul can absorb.

[Meanderthals] Thanks so much Marci. I’m sure those who read Meanderthals appreciate the thought provoking responses to my questions. Speaking of questions, for those of you reading this, should you have any questions for Marci, simply leave them in the comments below and I will forward to her.

I can’t recommend Marci’s books enough. Copies are available for purchase through her publisher, The History Press, or on Amazon.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Researcher, Conservationist & Bushwhacker

Dave Landreth is an outspoken Southern Appalachian conservation advocate who, through years of researching wildlife in the Northern Rocky Mountains of Wyoming, has developed a passion for protecting clean air and water, public lands and the plants and animals that live among us. His penchant for collecting plaster molds of grizzly bear and wolf paw imprints from the mud of the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone gave him his handle, Griztrax.

If you missed Part 1 of Meanderthals’ interview with Dave, you can catch it here.

Dave Landreth Interview (continued)

[Meanderthals] Dave, this wouldn’t be complete without talking about the off-trail bushwhacking. You are renowned in the Southern Appalachians for going where there is no trail in the wilderness and documenting your discoveries. How did you get started? What is it like?

[Dave Landreth] As mentioned earlier, rambling around off-trail is just what I grew up doing for fun. I don’t look at it as ‘sport.’ It’s just a way of life. I’m a kid that never really grew up, at least not where playing in the woods is involved. I’ve always loved finding my way from Point A to Point B, along with all of the wonders that are discovered along the way.

I think that we as a nation have forgotten how important getting dirty and banged up is to learning to deal with the challenges that we face in life. We’ve gotten used to the belief that any valid outdoor experience has to be very structured and safe. That totally removes the thrill of discovery and the challenge of finding our way through difficult terrain.

Of course, in many smaller parks and reserves, off-trail travel is rightfully restricted, simply because there is little room to explore in those places. They would soon be covered in ‘volunteer’ trails along with the negative impact that goes with that heavy use.

In many of the places that my friends and I explore, we might very well be the only people to pass through for years at a time. In others, like the High Top slide that I love so much on the slopes of Mt. LeConte in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, each climb follows a different route, often following game paths or bare rock left behind after the numerous landslides. That’s violent, wild, dangerous and rapidly changing terrain and our moving through it has no more impact than the bear that roams the slopes in search of mountain ash each fall, and a lot less impact than the violent storms that sweep the ridges every year.

I tend to do most of my wilder off-trail routes with Ronnie McCall. His views toward exploring off-trail are a lot like mine. We enjoy a relaxed, non-competitive sort of rambling with the journey being more important than the destination. I had gotten away from hiking off-trail for several years while competing in road and bicycle racing, but after encountering Gretch and Paul (two more great friends from Maryville), I realized that I had met two kindred spirits.

We were soon roaming all over the backcounty of the Great Smokies. Paul has done a lot of our favorite climbs with me and Gretch has gotten into a few as well, though she doesn’t share our enthusiasm for the open ridges and cliff faces. I’m lucky — no matter how much I enjoy exploring the wilder reaches of the Smokies, the company of good and trusted friends is what really makes it so addictive.

Bushwhack Gang – Photo by Ronnie McCall
That’s the ‘crew’ that I do most of my crazier climbs with. From left to right in front, Chris Sass, Dave Landreth, Ronnie McCall, then in the back is Dusty Allison, Tommy McGlothlin and Seth O’Shields. If you look right over Seth’s left ear in the photo, you can spot the huge landslide near Alum Cave Bluffs that occurred a couple of years ago. We were climbing the Chimneys from the picnic ground on that day.

I don’t like or enjoy the competitive nature of the “only my way is right” fuss between on-trail and off-trail ramblers. To me it’s all fun, and what is really important is that we encourage people to get out there and do whatever they can to enjoy our public lands.

A lot of the anti-off-trail folks that I hear voicing their displeasure seem to have no idea of what we actually do on our treks. One fellow went on and on about how wrong it was to step around a mudhole on the trail or to cut a switchback. I can assure you that those actions have no resemblance to our exploring the wild valleys and ridges of the Smokies, often far from any ‘official’ trail or path.

Nothing gives me more satisfaction than the excitement that I see on the faces of the friends that are experiencing the challenge of a good off-trail trek for the first time. I have no desire to ‘test’ them or to prove any skill that I might or might not possess. I’m just a guy that likes to see what’s around the next bend or over the next rise and it’s more fun when I have some friends along for the trip.

Before we take anybody that is new to off-trail along on one of our trips, we do like to have an idea of what they’re comfortable with. Some of our explorations can really test the resolve of even an experienced off-trailer, especially when we get into the areas that are swathed in a rich growth of rope-like greenbrier where progress might be measured in yards per hour.

[Meanderthals] Are there too many maintained trails in the national parks and forests?

[Dave Landreth] No, flat out No! I think that if anything, we need a lot more trails. I don’t want to see trails in every drainage and over every ridgeline, but there is plenty of room for more good trails on our public lands. We need all the opportunities for getting our kids out into the woods that we can provide.

Some of my favorite ‘official’ trails in the Smokies have been closed or at the least, have been taken off the maintained list and I think that it is a great loss. I could see closing them to horseback travel because of the great impact that horses have on wet trails, but it’s a real shame to lose a beautiful path like the upper Hyatt Ridge Trail or the Pinnacle Creek Trail between Sugar Fork and Eagle Creek.

I like to keep those open by using them occasionally and clearing some of the overgrowth and debris from the paths. Upper Hyatt Ridge is pretty much lost to use now following some downburst weather events that flattened vast stretches of timber along the ridgeline. The Greenbrier Pinnacle Trail was one of the most beautiful and enjoyable paths in the park and I hated to see it taken off of the maintained list. I try to walk it at least once a year to keep the worst of the overgrowth cut back.

There are certain manways, or unofficial trails, in the Park that have great historical significance. The Ekaneetlee Manway, for instance, has been traversed for centuries by Native Americans passing over the mountains between North Carolina and Tennessee. I don’t want to see those manways become groomed trails or even easy to follow paths, but I feel that it’s important to maintain a trace of the route so that somebody with an adventurous bent, and a map and compass, can follow in the footsteps of those who passed that way in past times.

[Meanderthals] What is your most harrowing off-trail experience? With wildlife? And your greatest rewards?

[Dave Landreth] Years ago, when I was first getting into doing a lot of off-trail in the Smokies and in the Shining Rock Wilderness, my buddy Nolan and I started climbing each of the streams that have their headwaters inside the Wilderness. I had the bad habit then of letting my enthusiasm overrule my common sense.

We were working our way up the Dark Prong, hopping from rock to rock and crawling along the steep banks of the stream. Near the top of that drainage is a high rocky bluff that the stream pours over. I was leading the climb to the top and broke the “3 good points of contact” rule. I grabbed a tree root to use to pull myself over the final ledge, maybe 30 feet above the rocks below.

Just as I pulled up even with the top, the root gave way and I peeled off backwards. I still don’t know how he managed to do it, but Nolan was able to throw up one hand to catch me and hold me long enough while I regained a secure hold, all while maintaining his own grip on the vertical cliff. At the least, he saved me from severe injury and in all probability, death.

Dave on Roaring Fork Branch – Photo by Seth O’Shields
A climb we did up Roaring Fork Branch from Grotto Falls to a point right below the Lodge on Mt. LeConte. To me, that’s one of the most exciting (and dangerous) creek climbs in the park. There are a couple of huge falls on it that don’t even have names on the USGS topo.

Other than the meeting I had with the grizzly in Yellowstone (on-trail), I really haven’t had any bad experiences with wildlife. I’ve encountered grizzly off-trail on a couple of occasions, but in both instances, they knew I was there and we had no problem with sharing the woods.

A lot of folks that aren’t familiar with hiking or backpacking seem to live in fear of 1. Snakes 2. Bears.

Snakes can be dangerous, but are fairly easy to avoid. They are invariably shy, and don’t want to see us anymore than we want to see them. They’re on my mind when I’m off-trail, but not something that I worry about a lot. With black bears, I keep a clean camp and step off the trail to let them pass if need be. I’ve seen hundreds over the years and it’s always a treat. I’ve chased one out of my camp at Sheep Pen Gap with a stick, and had one lick the inside of my van’s window, a few inches from my nose, while napping at a trailhead before a hike. They’re amusing, powerful and deserve respect, but we shouldn’t fear them.

Frankly, the one critter that my buddies and I fear more than any other when off-trail is very small — yellow jackets and to a lesser extent, hornets. On the trail, you can easily run to escape an encounter with a nest of angry bees, but we sometimes find ourselves off-trail in places where it would be impossible to beat a hasty retreat. We avoid areas in warm weather that tend to favor the nests and listen carefully for their hum when in a dicey spot.

Ronnie and I froze in place for a couple of minutes last year while descending the Devils Elbow. We could hear loud buzzing, but couldn’t see the bees. We were really relieved to find that it was just hundreds of large sweat bees making the racket.

Greatest rewards? The looks on my friend’s faces when they first see the wild beauty of some of my favorite places. More than anything else, I treasure the time that I share in wild places with my friends.

[Meanderthals] For those a little less daring, what are some of your favorite trails in Pisgah, Nantahala, and the Smokies?

[Dave Landreth] Pisgah National Forest is my ‘backyard’ playground and I have a lot of favorites there. There is a loop that I often take that walks up the Laurel Mountain Trail and then uses a manway to connect for the return down the Slate Rock Creek Trail.

When the Blue Ridge Parkway is closed, I love to take the Case Camp Trail up to the Parkway. I then walk the high road out to the Seniard Ridge Trail to descend back to the bottom to complete the loop. That’s got a great climb on it and the views are as good as it gets.

I really enjoy hiking the Squirrel Gap Trail above South Mills River during the winter months. I connect it with the logging road on Funneltop Mtn. to make a great loop that offers a little bit of everything in one good hike.

In the Smokies, Alum Cave Trail is by far my favorite. I don’t mind the crowds — I think that it’s wonderful to see all of those people out enjoying the Park. If they’re overweight and out of shape, I like it even better. That is such an incredible trail and I always recommend it first over all others to anybody that is visiting the National Park for the first time.

It was one of the first trails that I ever hiked in the Smokies and I never grow tired of its beauty. It’s also the trail that I use most often when I’m returning from some of my favorite off-trail rambles, so I’ve hiked it at least one way hundreds of times over the 40 something years that I’ve been hiking the Smokies.

Alum Cave Creek – Photo by Jeff Clark

I really enjoy the Baxter Creek Trail to the top of Mt. Sterling too, though it’s been devastated by the loss of the magnificent hemlocks that used to grace the climb. Inadu Knob (aka Snake Den Trail) is another favorite — I love the views there, especially during the rhodo and laurel bloom each year.

In the Nantahalas, I suppose that Naked Ground and the Hangover in Joyce Kilmer–Slickrock
Wilderness is a favorite, but there are so many good trails to choose from there that it’s hard to pick. I like the ‘old-school’ type of trails that exist in the Nantys — they’re steep and rough, but a blast to hike.

[Meanderthals] If you could go back in time and spend a day hiking with Horace Kephart, what would you want to know, and what would you tell him about our time, a century later?

[Dave Landreth] The thing I admire most about Horace Kephart’s writing is that he didn’t try to perpetuate the stereotype of the mountain people being a bunch of lazy ne’er-do-wells.

I would love to be able to ask his opinion about the removal of the families from the Park during its creation. I would like to be able to show him the park today so that he could see how it’s recovered from the ravages of logging that took place during his time. Would he feel that what we have gained is worth the changes in our mountain culture? What about the Fontana Dam that flooded so many of the places that he was familiar with?

Finally, I’d love for him to visit Mt. LeConte to witness the thousands of people that make the pilgrimage to the peak each year — something that might not be available if not for his efforts years ago. Oh, and of course I’d want to ask his opinion of off-trail rambling. I believe that I know what he’d say about that, but it would be interesting to hear him say it.

To many in our ‘gang,’ there are two people who we would really love to be able to bring into the present to share the trail with us — Harvey Broome and Dutch Roth. We feel a closer kinship to those two (and their companions) than with just about any other persons in the history of the Great Smoky Mountains.

Dutch in particular was very enthusiastic about going where few had gone before and loved nothing better than heading far off-trail with his group of fellow adventurers. Harvey Broome was instrumental in getting me addicted to off-trail exploration. His book, Out Under the Skies of the Great Smokies, a Personal Journal, is in my opinion, the finest book ever written about the Smoky Mountains. Broome contributed so much to the efforts to protect the park from development schemes and commercialization. He was truly the Edward Abbey of the East!

[Meanderthals] Southern Appalachia is one of the most fulfilling areas in the country for those who love the outdoors. What are we the people doing right, and what are the most pressing issues facing the outdoors community. Where are the volunteer opportunities most needed?

[Dave Landreth] We’re lucky here in Western NC in some ways. Asheville has been recognized as one of the great outdoor cities in America and even though some bemoan the increase in tourism that has resulted from the publicity, we need the enthusiasm for outdoor opportunities that the recognition has brought to the region.

Business interests realize now that preserving our public lands has an enormous financial payoff. The publicity has also resulted in a lot more support for the local land conservancy groups that work with landowners to make their property available to public access.

We’ve had some huge successes here in the southern Appalachians — the Jocassee Gorges, DuPont State Forest, Bearwallow Mountain, Chimney Rock State Park and many other beautiful swaths of mountain land have been saved from development for the benefit of future generations.

We have a governor in office now in the state of North Carolina who has done everything in his power to do away with the rules and regulations that protect our clean air and water resources. Despite the recent coal ash spills that have devastated miles of our state’s streams, the governor is now saying that the best course of action would be to remove even more of those protections.

His crocodile tears are a pretty lousy substitute for a heartfelt mea culpa to the citizens of North Carolina and to the agency that is now taking the heat for following his instructions to back off enforcement of the regulations that would have prevented the coal ash spills into our state’s rivers. Of course we all know that the $1.2 millon that Duke Energy, his employer for 28 years, popped into McCrory’s campaign coffers had nothing to do with his quick work at dismantling the rules that protected our water and air from abuse… did it?

It’s not just dirty water, it’s dangerous, poisonous water. It poisons the water that we drink, the water that we swim in, the water that we fish in, it poisons the fish that we eat, the shellfish that we consume, it poisons the water that livestock drinks before being slaughtered and sent to our dinner tables.

It seems that a $1.2 million campaign contribution is all that it takes for a company to avoid responsibility to the poisoning of our state’s most precious resource. If all of the money that Duke has pumped into political campaigns to obtain immunity from responsibility for their actions had been put into designing and using safe storage instead, we probably wouldn’t be facing this problem now.

I don’t make any bones about it — I’m a big believer in a strong government that uses common sense regulations to protect the interests of it’s citizens from rich and powerful corporate entities. I feel that those who fall for the “deregulation is good for our economy” line are gullible fools that are as responsible for the coal ash spills as the good governor himself. They remind me of the sheep in Orwell’s classic, The Animal Farm, who faithfully chanted whatever line that Napoleon the Pig told them to, regardless of how it would have contradicted what they had been chanting just the day before.

“Two legs good, four legs bad…” It’s Tuesday.
“Four legs good, two legs bad…” Must be Wednesday.

Good sheep, lousy government.

There is tremendous resistance in some quarters of our government to any public land ownership, ignoring the economic and social benefits that we might gain from those lands, along with clean air and clean water. Budgets for our national parks and forests, as well as state parks, have been cut to the bone, ham-stringing efforts to preserve our wild lands. Research budgets have been cut deeply or done away with.

Political and business interests exert tremendous pressure on our public land managers, especially in the National Parks, to manage our land for financial profits rather than resource and recreational protection. If we care about our public lands, we need to vote to protect them. Turning out the vote is one of the most important things that we can do.

On a more personal basis, doing volunteer trail work, river cleanups etc. can be a tremendous help to budget strapped agencies. As hikers and backpackers, we need to encourage others to get out and get familiar with the treasures that many take for granted here in the southern mountains.

Buckeye Ridge from Max Patch on the Appalachian Trail – Photo by Jeff Clark

Return to Part 1 of Dave Landreth Interview

[Meanderthals] Dave, thanks so much for all the time and effort telling your story, and for your works on behalf of the public lands across this country. This has been an educational opportunity for me, and a means of increasing awareness for those who are just discovering all that the great outdoors has to offer. Those of you reading, if you have any thoughts to share or questions to ask, please feel free to use the comments facility below.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Researcher, Conservationist & Bushwhacker

Dave Landreth is an outspoken Southern Appalachian conservation advocate who, through years of researching wildlife in the Northern Rocky Mountains of Wyoming, has developed a passion for protecting clean air and water, public lands and the plants and animals that live among us. His penchant for collecting plaster molds of grizzly bear and wolf paw imprints from the mud of the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone gave him his handle, Griztrax.

Dave recently agreed to this interview with Meanderthals and pulled no punches regarding how he feels about the current state government in North Carolina’s capitol city of Raleigh. But don’t take it from me, let’s let Dave tell his story:

Dave Landreth Interview

[Meanderthals] Thank you very much Dave, and welcome. So, tell us a bit about yourself; your background and what molded you.

[Dave Landreth] I grew up country in a then-rural county in Western North Carolina, with the hills and creeks of Green River and the Big Hungry area as my playground. No World Wide Web, no TV (thank goodness) and no video games. Playing outdoors in the woods wasn’t a ‘sport’ — it was just what kids did to fend off boredom. Some of my happiest memories are those of my buddies and me riding our bikes down to the logging roads that laced the mountains along Green River where the I-26 high bridge now crosses the Gorge. We’d leave at sunrise and spend the day racing and pushing our bikes up and down the ridges and through the river, then ride back tired and dirty, often well after dark.

None of us wore packs — we’d take a small cloth sack and carry a candy bar and a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and get our water from the streams and springs. Looking back, I wonder if the frequency with which we came down with the ‘flu’ wasn’t actually some sort of intestinal malady picked up from drinking the untreated water. At any rate, we survived and had experiences that I wouldn’t take anything for. I had two buddies that were really close, John and Mike, and we were like the 3 Musketeers, always ready for any sort of hair-brained adventure, especially if the adventure included bikes and mountains.

As I grew into my teens, I started spending time hunting in those same hills, toting an ancient 12 guage shotgun that my Dad gave me (it’s still sitting in a corner by my bed, but the barrel is worn so thin that I’d be afraid to shoot the thing.) I could buy shells for 25 cents a pop and 3 or 4 shells would be adequate for a day’s hunting. We rarely killed anything — the trips were mostly about rambling the hills down in Green River, telling tales and making excuses for not having any luck. To tell the truth, none of us really cared for the taste of squirrel or rabbit, so we would deliberately miss easy shots to avoid having to eat what we shot. I have some really great memories of those long days in the woods with good friends and unlimited horizons.

I mentioned that we didn’t have a TV in the house — Dad didn’t like them and figured that they would be a bad influence. Right or wrong, it was one of the best things my parents ever did for me. I learned to read at an early age and by the time that most kids were still reading the Adventures of Dick and Jane, I was devouring the stories of Mark Twain, Jack London, Rudyard Kipling and Jim Kjelgaard, a great writer of outdoor books for kids that not a lot of people are familiar with.

There was a lot of adventure in those books and I was greatly influenced by the early explorers and adventurers. One book in particular stands out as a life-changing influence in my life. I don’t remember the exact title and I’ve tried to find a copy on Amazon, but it was about the life of John Colter, a member of the Lewis and Clark expedition who struck out on his own, being one of the first white men to explore the fantastic wonderland that we know today as Yellowstone.

I was hooked immediately and started reading everything that I could get my hands on about the mountain men that explored the west, often being more skilled in survival than the Native Americans that they shared the wilderness with. It became a lifelong passion and I couldn’t wait until I got old enough to see some of the wild country that they explored.

I have to mention a teacher that I had too — a grand lady named Mamie G. Wells at the old Flat Rock Jr. High School. When I found out that I was going to be in her room, I was terrified because I’d heard rumors that she was a holy terror of a teacher. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and one of my greatest regrets is that I never got around to telling her what a strong and positive influence she had been on my life.

I was a problem student, a teacher’s nightmare, always dreaming about the world outside the window, rarely listening to instruction or completing work on time. The one thing that I had going for me was my love for reading and science and she took a lot of time to urge me to use that love to my advantage.

She was a large lady, both in size and character and she loved to hike. She would often take us out of the classroom on warm spring days to go rambling along the back roads near the school, or to take us over to the the Carl Sandburg farm just across the road. She was friends with the Sandburgs and loved Carl’s poetry. I had some truly great teachers over the years, and I can’t imagine what my life would have been without their patient guidance and forbearance.

Speaking of Sandburg’s place, when we were kids, we would push and ride our bikes to the top of the mountain behind his home, sometimes camping at the tops of the cliffs on Glassy Mtn. The current trail isn’t the original one that he used — his was more of a meandering path that I think was much prettier and less prone to erosion. He had chairs setting at different places on the mountain where he would sit and write or just enjoy the beauty of his woods. That was before Mrs. Wells introduced us to his work, so we didn’t really appreciate his fame. He was just a friendly, quiet old fellow that enjoyed being out in the woods.

When I was about 14, my buddies and I were squirrel hunting up on Glassy Mountain one fall day. I’m not sure that Carl was still living there then, but his family still owned the property. I shot a squirrel on the hillside next to the little reflecting pond that is located part way up the first steep climb up the mountain. I was up on the opposite hillside about 100 feet away and took off running to pick up the squirrel before I lost sight of it in the leaves.

I didn’t know about the pool at the time and hit it at a hard run. It was covered in floating leaves, with just a trace of water showing through. I went in neck-deep in the chilly water — and never did find the squirrel. It’s hard to believe now how open the forests of the area were to hunting. I quit hunting early on, but as a kid, it was nearly always OK to hunt just about anywhere that wasn’t posted against it. It was a certainly a different world then — and not necessarily always a better one.

Carl Sandburg’s Connemara – Photo by Jeff Clark

[Meanderthals] You have studied grizzly bears in Yellowstone, the Tetons, and other areas of Wyoming for years. What have you learned, and what are some of your most amazing discoveries?

[Dave Landreth] I’ve been fascinated (some would say obsessed) with bears since I was a child. Mom used to tell me the first ‘sort-of’ sentence that I ever put together was one that I said while we were driving back from a visit to Virginia. “Bear in tree, duck on pond…” The bear in the tree is still there by the roadside, Hwy. 176 near Saluda, NC — a black metal sign marking the entrance to a mountain home. I’m not sure about the duck on a pond though.

Reading about the adventures of mountain men stoked my passion for grizzlies, and I read everything that I could get my hands on in preparation for the trip that I knew I was destined to make to grizzly country. I had no idea of how important those trips would be or how often I’d be going to the Northern Rockies.

Something I learned is that probably 95% of what I’d read about grizzlies was total BS. They were either portrayed as bloodthirsty beasts in a constant hunt for human prey or cuddly teddy bears with no capacity for violence or aggression. Grizzlies are studies in contradiction. They’re ferocious predators, but are capable of moments of surprising tenderness with their young.

The she-griz are great role models of parentage, ready to sacrifice their own safety in a heartbeat to protect their cubs. Most grizzlies have a mostly vegetarian diet, though some specialize in predation or scavenging carcasses. They’re remarkable opportunists, rarely passing up anything that might possibly provide a meal. They have a sense of smell that is much more powerful than the best bloodhound. If they have the choice, they’ll avoid human contact, but if a hiker or backpacker breaks the rules of bear country etiquette, they won’t hesitate to pound a bit of sense into the offender.

399 and her cubs – Photo by Dave Landreth
I’ve been watching this grizzly mama for quite some time now. Last year, I probably shot over 1500 photos of her and several hours of video. She’s one of the most prolific grizzlies in the Yellowstone ecosystem and now her daughter, #610, is carrying on the family tradition of large litters being raised to maturity. That’s something rare in a creature where normally over half of the cubs don’t survive their first year. Something that I want stressed about the pictures is that they were shot with a telephoto lens with 1200mm capability. A lot of the photos and video that I’ve shot were taken from over a quarter mile away. That is very important – far too many people try to photograph wildlife, especially grizzlies, with lenses that are inadequate for the distance that should be kept from the subject. I’ve seen grizzlies initiate a charge from 500 yards away, or more, when they felt that their cubs were in danger.

Regardless of how much I love the grizzly, they don’t love me or any other human in return. We’re tolerated, barely (bearly :), and if the human race disappeared from the earth tomorrow, the grizzly would hardly mourn our passing. What a grizzly does best is to simply be a grizzly — a great big, stinking, brawling, magnificent beast that makes wild country really and truly wild.

One of the most amazing things that I’ve learned about grizzly is their capacity for forming rough partnerships with wolves when hunting. It’s not a friendship, but the two animals will sometimes combine forces to score a meal and even share a kill side by side at times. Grizzly sows have also been observed watching calmly as their cubs play with wolf cubs, though the two species are more often bitter enemies that will kill one another if given the chance. Again, one of the traits of grizzly is their individuality.

I’ve had one really hairy encounter with a grizzly where I had to use pepper spray to turn its charge. It had mauled two hikers that passed through the area earlier, but I was unaware of that incident, having been out in the backcountry for several days. It charged from behind in dense timber, flowing over downed trees like smoke over water. It’s impossible to describe how fast they can be, even over rough, broken terrain.

I didn’t have a chance to get my hands on the spray at first (should have had it in my hand and ready to use, since I’d been seeing scat on the trail for some time.) I threw my hands up in the air above my head and yelled at it like I would a charging dog. It plowed to a stop only a few inches from me and started circling, growling louder than I ever dreamed any animal could growl.

I mentioned to one of the bear managers later that it ‘roared’ and he told me that bears don’t roar. I beg to differ — when a growl is that loud and that deep, it’s a roar. It sounded like it was coming from inside a 55 gallon drum.

After a standoff that might have lasted 30 or 45 seconds, I was able to ease a hand down to my belt where the spray was and blast the bear at point blank range. It backed off a couple of feet and then growled again. Then I gave it a long blast and it started retreating, with me still yelling and trying to stand as tall as possible.

I want to point out that what I did isn’t what is advised in a charge, and it isn’t necessarily what I’d advise myself. It just seemed to be the only option at the time and it worked. The bear continued to stay close for a minute or so, giving me time to snap a blurred photo from the camera hanging around my neck. It’s my most-prized photo of all time!

I learned later that it had put two hikers in the hospital earlier after they panicked as it charged them. One ran and even though they both had spray, they had it stashed in their packs and grizzlies don’t do time-outs. It ran past the hiker that stood his ground and knocked the runner to the ground and started to maul him. Then the other hiker drew its attention and it turned to him, mauling him while giving the first guy time to get the spray out of his pack. Once sprayed, the griz immediately retreated without further injury to them.

Spray works and it’s by far the most effective defense that you can carry in grizzly country, despite what the gun fetishists claim. There is no way that I could have made an accurate shot under the circumstances of the charge, and I would have probably been badly mauled or even killed if I’d tried to use a gun. The spray worked great, just like it’s supposed to and more importantly, both the grizzly and I walked away.

[Meanderthals] Your nickname is Griztrax. How did that come about?

[Dave Landreth] I found the tracks of a 700+ lb. grizzly near Togwotee Pass in Wyoming, perfectly preserved in a muddy trail leading into the Mount Leidy Highlands region. I didn’t have any casting material with me, something that I still regret. It was by far the most detailed and huge track that I’ve found in all of my years of rambling through grizzly country.

I’ve started carrying plaster with me on all of my trips to the Yellowstone/Teton region, and over the years I’ve cast hundreds of grizzly and wolf tracks. Most have been given away, but I’ve saved a few that I really like. One has a grizzly, a wolf, a coyote and a raven in a single cast. I got it near a worn-out bison carcass by the Lamar River in Yellowstone after the scavengers had moved on. I have favorite locations with good mud that I return to over and over when I’m in the Yellowstone and Teton region, hoping to find another track like the one at Togwotee Pass. My nickname came from the hobby.

Combo Trax – Photo by Dave Landreth
The cast on the left is one of my favorites. It has a grizzly, a coyote and a wolf in one cast. That one was a beast to carry out of the backcountry, but it was well worth the effort. The cast on the right is from a large female member of the Druid Peak pack of wolves in Yellowstone.

[Meanderthals] You are significantly involved in conservation matters. What are some of your pet projects and greatest successes. Particularly in Western North Carolina, what are the conservation issues still needing the most attention?

[Dave Landreth] Something that I was really passionate about in the early 90s was a drive to do away with grazing on Forest Service land near Grand Teton National Park. The area, known as the Blackrock/Spread Creek region, had some of the best potential grizzly habitat in the Yellowstone ecosystem. However, the grazing of thousands of cattle on the allotment meant that it was treated like a giant subsidized feed lot.

A lot of grizzly died there after getting into conflicts with the grazing interests. One giant bear in particular, #209, was trapped and killed after getting two strikes because of his taste for prime rib. I think that #209 was the grizzly that left the huge track that I found near Togwotee Pass. After being trapped for killing a beef in the Spread Creek region, he was moved to northern Yellowstone in hopes of keeping him out of trouble. He was moved to the south side of Specimen Ridge, my favorite Yellowstone backcountry destination. It only took him a few days to work his way back to Spread Creek and the easy prey that was grazing there. For that sin, he was again trapped and euthanized.

A movement was started to end the grazing in the region and a lot of us worked to publicize the problems that grazing was causing in Blackrock and Spread Creek. The cattle were finally removed. Now the land is one of the prettiest and most wildlife rich regions anywhere in the Northern Rockies; with elk, bison, grizzly, black bear, cougar, wolverine, lynx and many other species roaming over its vast wild lands. I’m really proud of the efforts we made to get the cattle off the land. I spent a lot of time up there last fall. It’s amazing how quickly the land recovered once the trampling and fencing was out of the picture.

Locally in WNC, we had a battle royal when we were fighting to protect the North Shore of Lake Jocassee, the North Shore of Fontana Lake and what is now the DuPont State Forest. Publicizing opportunities for conservation like that is the best way to protect them. If they remain secret, being visited by only a handful of people that know of their existence, they’re as good as lost.

A big coalition of people came together to protect and save the DuPont State Forest — hikers, photographers, mountain bikers, hunters and horsemen — without which it would now be lost forever to a chock-a-block maze of roads and trophy homes. It was a textbook example of groups with different interests working together to achieve a common goal for the benefit of us all. For my part, I’m not much of a mover and shaker in those efforts — I just take photos and do everything that I can to make people aware of how important saving places like that can be for our future.

Triple Falls at DuPont State Forest – Photo by Jeff Clark

Today, the work of groups like the Carolina Mountain Land Conservancy is invaluable because of their goal of helping landowners build a legacy of public access that celebrates the love of their land. Some of the most important successes in conservation in Western North Carolina have come through the efforts of partnerships between landowners and conservation organizations like CMLC.

We still have a lot of battles ahead. Funding for any sort of public lands is always the first to be removed when the paper shufflers go to work. Access to what has always been legally protected streams and rivers is under attack by wingnut property rights advocates.

One of the best examples of that is the situation on the upper Horsepasture River where a wealthy owner of a rock quarry has succeeded in seizing control of the river in the area of Turtle Falls, blocking off access of the stream to paddlers, hikers and swimmers. That flies in the face of the ‘navigatible waters’ laws that have traditionally allowed public access to streams and rivers below the high water line.

The sweetheart deals between Duke Power Company and the administration of North Carolina Governor Pat McCrory have resulted in tremendous damage to the quality of our rivers and streams. Take for example the Dan River coal ash spill. The potential for catastrophic failures of other coal ash ponds is overwhelming. In spite of the recent failures, McCrory is still insisting that the best course of action is to remove all of the restrictions and regulations that now protect our water, even though that protection is poor at best. That, to me, is one of the most important environmental issues that we face in this state at present.

I try to balance my enjoyment of a good fight with my need for time in the backcountry, but it’s frustrating that people are so gullible, and that they’re incapable of recognizing the importance of clean water and clean air to our future.

[Meanderthals] If you don’t mind sharing, can you tell us the story about Grace?

[Dave Landreth] I found Grace while heading in on a backpack trip in Pisgah National Forest. She was lying at the trailhead when I first spotted her, in a pitifully emaciated condition. As I headed in, she followed. I shared some of my food with her and figured that she would head back eventually.

My guess was she had been lost by hunters, who will often leave a coat or something at a trailhead for their hounds to return to so that they can go back in a few days to retrieve them. She had no ID though, which is very unusual for a hunting dog. She had also had pups recently, but they were nowhere to be found.

She disappeared as I hiked in and I supposed she’d headed on back to the trailhead. I found her later that evening, lying in the trail too weak to walk. I cancelled any plans that I had for camping and carried her back out in my sleeping bag. Again, I was afraid that somebody would come back to look for her, so I drove to town to get her some more food and took it back to her. I left her there and headed home, thinking that surely somebody would be back to get her.

It’s been a while now and I’ve forgotten the exact timeline, but I think that I continued to drive up there with food for two days and then decided that I’d take her to the shelter in Brevard if nobody claimed her by the next morning. It got really cold that evening and started pouring down a cold rain. Somewhere around midnight, my conscience got the best of me and I drove back once more. That time I put her in the van and fed her. We spent the night there just in case somebody showed up, but by the next morning I concluded that whoever had left her to her fate didn’t deserve her.

I still didn’t intend to keep her, but I did take her to the vet to get all of her shots and to have her wormed. After a couple of days, she was family. She’s a bundle of energy now, but still the quietest dog that I’ve ever seen. She loves to hike, to eat and to sleep – in that order.

Grace before & after – Photos by Dave Landreth
The top shot is one of Grace on the day that I first saw her in a very emaciated condition, barely able to walk and in great pain. The bottom shot was taken a few weeks ago – she’s in incredible condition now.

I often told my hiking friends and neighbors that I never wanted to own another dog. My last dog was a boxer named Joker and though a really affectionate prankster, he was so high-maintenance that I felt I’d never have the patience to own another pet of any kind. I travel too much, spend so much time in National Parks where dogs aren’t permitted on trails, etc. etc. etc. My neighbor had a cocker/poodle mix that would stop by to let me pet her and to me, that was the perfect setup — a dog that I really liked but had no responsibility for. Then Grace came along and adopted me.

I think at some point in her life that she had been treated very well. She’s just too well behaved not to have had a lot of prior training. She’s perfectly house-broken, never barks or howls, never shows an ounce of aggression, never meets a stranger, doesn’t climb on furniture, behaves great on a leash (which I never let her off of outside unless we’re in a fenced in area) and is simply some of the best company that I’ve ever had around.

Despite that, when I first found her, she showed signs of having been abused. She would scurry away at any loud sound, and cower if you picked up a stick or raised your hand. She was incredibly malnourished and on the verge of death when she adopted me.

The reason that I named her Grace is that the vet told me there was a pretty good chance that she’d be unable to save her and wanted to know if I’d perhaps prefer to have her euthanized. I told the vet to do whatever it took — I’ve never had an animal grab hold of my heart the way she did. I still hadn’t given her a name but when it became evident that she would pull through, I named her Grace, as in the Amazing Grace, because of her miraculous recovery.

She’s gained 20 lbs now and is a real bundle of muscle. We rarely hike less than 50 miles a week and often hike much more. So, she’s been really good for me and has earned her keep many times over. I sometimes feel that she would be better off in a home with kids — she loves children — but she seems to thrive on the hiking life that she shares with me. She loves to travel and has assumed the role of co-pilot when we’re on the road. She has no interest at all in an open window, but instead, watches my every move as I drive, often with her nose about 2 inches from my right ear. She is, in my humble and very biased opinion, the perfect dog.

Continue to Part 2 of Meanderthals’ interview with Dave Landreth

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Producer and Director of Photography

Tell it on the Mountain – Tales from the Pacific Crest Trail follows a handful of diverse characters that go on a life-changing journey. This film features several legends of the trail, including Scott Williamson (former record holder for fastest thru-hike, and the only hiker to ever “yo-yo” the PCT), Billygoat (a John Muir look-alike who’s been hiking the PCT every season for the past 20 years), a retired and renowned “trail angel” out for her first section hike, and other lovable characters. Armed with cameras to record daily video journals, they give us an insider’s view into what it takes to spend half a year living in the wild. Meanderthals reviewed the film a few months back.

Tell it on the Mountain is part adventure film, part documentary, and part video journal. It follows a diverse cast of characters as they undertake a life-changing journey along the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), a string of trails running from the US-Mexico border, through the heart of California, Oregon and Washington, and ending 7 miles into Canada.

Putting this all together as Producer and Director of Photography was Shaun Carrigan, the subject of this next Meanderthals interview with notable people in the hiking community. Shaun has spent the last decade helping revolutionize the way sports are broadcast. With five National Emmy Awards to his name, you’ve seen his work on the Summer and Winter Olympics, the World Series, the Daytona 500, and nearly every baseball broadcast on television. He’s hiked 1,400 miles of the PCT and considers the High Sierra his favorite place in the world. Tell it on the Mountain is his first feature film.

Shaun Carrigan Interview

[Meanderthals] Thank you very much Shaun, and welcome. So, let’s get started:

After watching Tell It on the Mountain, I could tell it was quite the undertaking. How long did the entire project take from start to finish? Were you ever overwhelmed during the planning phase by the daunting amount of work?

[Shaun Carrigan] Believe it or not, the very beginning of this project probably started as far back as 2002. I hiked my first 160 mile section of the PCT with a college buddy. We carried a video camera, captured the experience, interviewed each other and generally just had a really great time. After the trip, we had this incredible record of our journey. More importantly, we realized that if we were attractive, funny or interesting, we’d have something pretty awesome. The next summer (2003) I graduated from Chico State and spent the next 3 months hiking 1,000 miles along the PCT. The hike changed my life. It made me realize what was possible in the universe with a little blood, sweat and passion. I knew I wanted to share this incredible experience with others, but I still didn’t have the film in mind.

In 2004 I was spending time with an ex-coworker and we were having lunch talking about films we’d love to make. Lisa Diener, the Director looked up from her meal as I described the film and just said “OK”. We were off and running. Lisa as an outsider had a completely different take on the PCT and the film than I did. By bringing both visions together, we were able to create “Tell it on the Mountain”.

In 2005 we shot a fund raising trailer and in 2006 we shot the bulk of the film. In 2007, I did pickup shots, time lapse beauty shots and we logged hundreds of hours of footage. To be honest, editing this film was a complete and absolute bear. Our first “string out” or “really, really, really rough cut” was 20 hours long. Going from 20 hours to 2 hours took years of compromise, careful selection and getting rid of pieces we never wanted to lose. Both Lisa (Apple) and I (Sportvision) have very time-demanding positions which added even more delay to the process.

After we got the film edited down to the length and stories we wanted, we spent several years perfecting the music and graphics. Because of our careers we just couldn’t settle for good enough.

We’re incredibly proud of the final result.

Did You Know?

[Meanderthals] Hauling all your equipment into the extreme remote wilderness had to be tricky. What were some of the most intimidating logistical challenges you faced? Were there times that Mother Nature made your job nearly impossible? The photography pros may also be interested in what hardware you used.

[Shaun Carrigan] The two hardest places to shoot were/are also the two hardest spots to hike. Both the High Sierra and the Cascades proved to be quite a challenge. Carrying all of our normal backpacking gear to survive in the Sierra and then additionally carrying 15+ lbs of camera gear was far from easy. I was lucky enough to have a Production Manager (college buddy who agreed to be a mule) for the Sierra. Without him and his positive attitude on long days, I’m not sure I could have pulled it off. The physical demands of shooting all day, hiking the PCT and trying to keep a positive and proactive attitude was probably the biggest overall challenge.

Catching up in the Cascades actually came down to lots of detective work and lots and lots of luck. As with much of the production, serendipity played a huge part for magical moments to come together. I caught up with Jackalope and Eagle Eye in the Cascades on one of their very last nights on the trail by hiking straight up a spur trail for 3 hours. My calves have never been so sore. However, the shots were worth it. One of the best shoots I had all summer. Things happen for a reason.

I shot the film with a Sony Z1U and Nikon D200 for most of the time lapses. The Joby GorillaPod and a cheap, but capable Slik tripod held them up. Sony lavaliers and a Sennheiser shotgun mic captured all the sounds. It’s funny to write this all out as the gear I would use now is so very, very different.

[Meanderthals] Scott Williamson is quite the amazing athlete, holding numerous records for long-distance and speed hiking. What was it like trying to keep up with him, or did you just hand him a portable camera with instructions to document the best he could?

[Shaun Carrigan] Scott was a special case. I could keep up with most of our hikers, but Scott was a very different story. I was wary of slowing him down and he was so generous with his time and attention to the film. He was kind enough to carry a camcorder and record his experience as were many of the hikers, but it was specifically important for us to have Scott do such a wonderful job capturing his experience.

One of the benefits of giving cameras to the hikers was to capture these incredibly intimate moments that would have been impossible in any other situation. The beauty was that the camera became their friend in the middle of the wilderness. The camera became someone they could open up to and chat with. It was a key element to making TIOTM what it is.

Believe it or not, I didn’t give Scott much direction or training at all, he watched me when we first started shooting and he just made it happen. He’s so passionate about the trail, the experience and the people that I think he knew that he was being an ambassador for the trail through this film. With that in mind, he took so much extra effort to capture his journey.

We couldn’t have done this project properly without him.

[Meanderthals] I found myself relating the most with Billygoat, as he is nearest my own age. Do you have a favorite anecdote you’d be willing to share?

[Shaun Carrigan] It’s interesting that you connected best with Billygoat. We really think the strength of the film is that everyone finds someone they can relate to. If we did our job correctly, you relate to multiple characters and stories throughout the film. There’s a part of me that connects with nearly everyone, but depending on my mood, I actually identify with different hikers every time I see the film.

I spent several days meeting up with Billygoat in different places, but my very first day was near a place called Scissors Crossing. I met him at dawn, interviewed him in his sleeping bag and then we began to hike downhill for about a mile or so. My camera battery all of a sudden gave out. I stopped Billygoat and dropped one of my backup batteries in. Also dead. I grab the last battery and it was dead too.

I embarrassingly explained the situation to Billygoat and apologized profusely and asked him to hike slowly and I’ll do my best to catch up. He was incredibly understanding and offered to wait for me. I told him I’d be right back and I ran back up the mountain for more batteries.

I arrived back a half hour later with three fully charged batteries and BG had setup camp again. Sleeping bag, ground cloth and all. The best part was I was able to shoot him breaking down his camp for the second time that morning. BG was understanding and very giving with his time. I felt ridiculous for grabbing the wrong set of batteries, but BG just rolled with it like a pro. He’s one of my favorite people on the planet.

[Meanderthals] Do you have a favorite place, or favorite remembrance from the Pacific Crest Trail?

[Shaun Carrigan] I hate to be so cliche, but there really are so many. I did 160 miles in 2002 and then 1,000 miles in 2003 and then shot parts of the film in 2005, 2006 and 2007. So my memories and moments of the trail have these incredibly epic times in my life attached to them.

In 2002, a college buddy and I walked from Mount Lassen to Mount Shasta and during that trip I had the worst blisters of my life. To this day I have parts of my toes that have no feeling because I walked for so long on them in a near torturous experience. Those days are seared into my mind, not because of the pain of the blisters, but because they were this new and incredible life affirming experience. As Iñaki says in the film, “You can go as far as you want, you only need time.” Doing it yourself and moving inches on a state map is a unique and incredible experience.

In 2003, I took to the High Sierra all alone. The self confidence and self reliance from this trip was beyond life changing. It reset the bar for what was capable in life.

A favorite place is hard to choose, as anyone who knows, the breadth of experience and landscape of the trail is pretty unbelievable. I’ll say that I’m partial to the Sierra and specifically Forrester Pass, Lyell Canyon and the view of Banner Peak from Thousand Island Lake. Just jaw dropping awesome!

Forrester Pass

[Meanderthals] When you get some time off, where do you like to do your own hiking and backpacking?

[Shaun Carrigan] Since I live in the SF Bay Area, I’m only hours from the PCT and do my best to get to the Sierra whenever possible. Truth be told, I don’t get there nearly enough, but this summer I’m planning an attempt on the Sierra High Route. It’s one of those adventures and challenges in life that truly scares me. Just the thought of it as I type this gets my blood pumping.

I also love the Lost Coast, the Marble Mountains and the Trinity Alps in Northern California. Bits of the Trinities and the Marbles are along the PCT, but I’ve enjoyed exploring the non-PCT parts as well.

[Meanderthals] Will you be in Sochi for the 2014 Winter Olympics? What is your involvement in the production?

[Shaun Carrigan] I’m the Senior Coordinating Producer with Sportvision, the premiere broadcast sports enhancement provider. We work with nearly every large and small television network in the country.

This is the first Olympics since 2006 I will not be actively participating in. I have to admit that while it’s a tad disappointing, I’m overwhelmingly happy to spend an Olympics on the couch. In the past I’ve produced special effects for multiple venues and formats. During the Summer Olympics I would manage a small team of Associate Producers creating content for both NBCOlympics.com and the NBC broadcasts. During the Winter Olympics I produced special effects for Alpine Skiing and a few other events.

I’ve been truly blessed to work with the networks and production teams that I have over the years. However, as I said, I’m quite excited and content to spend an Olympics at home. While they are an incredible experience, it’s a month of grueling non-stop hours.

Shaun Carrigan Filming at Bighorn

[Meanderthals] After the great success that Tell It on the Mountain is enjoying, certainly it has whet your appetite for more. What is next for you Shaun? Do you have any other projects percolating?

[Shaun Carrigan] We’re incredibly proud of what “Tell it on the Mountain” has achieved, but we would still love to get a broadcast on air. We plan to release on iTunes, BluRay and hope to start showing up in stores across the country. We’d love for REI, EMS and other retail stores (HINT, HINT) to call us up and order copies.

For now, it’s really about getting TIOTM out into the world as much as possible. We’re so proud of the film that we believe it deserves a chance to be a part of the public’s consciousness.

Non-outdoors documentary ideas are definitely brewing. I’m in the very earliest stages of developing a concept.

[Meanderthals] Thanks so much Shaun. It’s nice to get an insider’s perspective.

As I indicated in my review of the film, I thoroughly enjoyed the characters, the scenery, and the PCT. You can get your own copy of Tell It on the Mountain – Tales from the Pacific Crest Trail directly from the film’s website or from Amazon.com. If you are as passionate about hiking and wilderness adventure as I am, I know you will have fun watching. And who knows? You might even be enticed to try some of the Pacific Crest Trail yourself.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.

Founder of the Pacific Northwest Trail, author, conservationist

Early in the 1970s, Ron Strickland — a young, novice hiker with an audacious idea — launched a campaign to link Glacier National Park’s alpine meadows with the Pacific Ocean via a new, 1,200-mile footpath across three national parks and seven national forests. In 1983 Strickland and his fellow explorer Ted Hitzroth thru-hiked the proposed trail’s full length east to west to publish its innovative guidebook. He — along with countless other volunteers — lobbied landowners, raised money, and dug dirt until, in 2009, the U.S. Congress added the Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail to America’s National Trails System.

Ron Strickland is the author of nine books about hiking or oral history. The former includes guidebooks, a memoir, and a literary anthology. The five oral history books showcase the culture and twentieth century history of America’s disparate regions.

In Pathfinder — Blazing a New Wilderness Trail in Modern America, Strickland describes the process of untangling brush and bureaucracy to establish one of the world’s most beautiful trails. He intersperses colorful portraits of memorable trail characters, insider tips about favorite hikes, and news about the coming renaissance of hiking. Strickland says, “The adventure is just beginning.”

In addition to being founder of the trail, Strickland is also past executive director of the Pacific Northwest Trail Association, and of Scenic Trails Research, an organization dedicated to developing new long distance hiking resources. He is the recipient of numerous conservation honors, including the 2010 L.L. Bean Outdoor Heroes Award.

A few weeks ago, Meanderthals spoke with Ron about helping us introduce a new Interviews section to the hiking blog and he graciously agreed. The process was a remarkable education for me personally. I learned of Ron’s tremendous passion and drive, and the wit that has kept him sane despite all the red tape he had to endure through the decades.

Ron Strickland Interview

[Meanderthals] Thank you very much Ron, and welcome. So, let’s get started:

In Pathfinder: Blazing a New Wilderness Trail in Modern America you wrote that “A man on foot has a lot of time to ponder those who have gone before him, but what he is really doing is creating his own narrative that he can reflect upon and enjoy later.” When you were a young man, what was the enticement of hiking for you, and of the Pacific Northwest? Now that you have dedicated your life to trails and hiking, what has it meant to you?

[Ron Strickland] My intent until about the age of thirty was to pursue a career in government service, preferably in international affairs. That dictated my choice of Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service for my undergraduate degree. But by the time I completed my Political Science doctorate (also at Georgetown) I had become obsessed with wilderness preservation, the subject of my dissertation.

At the age of twenty-five, I flew from DC to Seattle, knowing no one, and hiked the Cascade Crest Trail from Snoqualmie Pass north to the Canadian border. After that walk I was addicted to the freedom and adventure of backcountry wandering. In retrospect, 1968-1978, the period of my most fervid wilderness focus, was also the Counterculture era. Though I had a de rigeur beard, I was too studious to be a hippy, and, having grown up in the country, I had no desire to become a back-to-the-lander.

Instead I self-consciously declared three goals for myself, and I stuck to them. They were: earn a doctorate; publish a book (River Pigs and Cayuses); and create a long distance trail modeled on the Appalachian Trail. Those goals led to others, and today I focus on: cherishing my wife Christine Hartmann; publishing a novel; developing the transcontinental Sea-To-Sea Route; and remembering my mentors by passing along their spirit.

[Meanderthals] As founder, planner, and builder of the Pacific Northwest Trail you spent a large portion of your early and middle adult life dedicated to your dream. You lived the trail … you lived the wilderness. What was the beacon that kept you going no matter the challenge?

[Ron Strickland] I loved the backpacking and the trekking with great passion. And I was very lucky that that segued into developing a route for the future Pacific Northwest Trail. The funny part was that after only a half dozen years I began to act as if the PNT already existed. It had volunteers (well, a few) and it filled the same niche in its region that the AT did back East.

I used my graduate school education (about the National Wilderness Preservation System) to advance the PNT cause. However, let’s face it, I often thought that I had a tiger by the tail. Though I believed fervently in the PNT, progress was painfully slow.

When eventually new people such as Jon Knechtel took over the PNTA’s management, I was finally able to – would you guess – leave the organizing and developing and lobbying in order at last to do some serious backpacking (completing the Pacific Crest Trail in 2004 after having begun in 1968.)

[Meanderthals] During the years when you and Max Eckenburg were surveying trail locations, charting terrain, then chopping and digging, you relied on a clinometer, a steel surveying tape, and your eyes to find the most beautiful features of the mountains. What was that back-breaking work like — the vision you had for transforming that ruthless wilderness into an actual walkable pathway?

[Ron Strickland] Because cross country exploration would be essential, I sought out the ready smile and crushing handshake of the aforementioned Max Eckenburg. In his black beret, red suspenders, logger boots, and thick woolens, he looked woodsy enough to grow moss.

In choosing the location for a new trail, the first thing to know is that every inch of ground, however wild looking, belongs to somebody. For our proposed route beside Samish Bay, that somebody was the Washington Department of Natural Resources. So I sought permission to build what DNR called a “scratch trail” (i.e. a glorified game trail).

After obtaining DNR’s permission, the next step was to locate a way down to Samish Bay from a North Cascades outlier range known as Chuckanut Mountains. “Steep as a cow’s face,” is how Max put it.

Only my relative youthfulness enabled me to keep up with the old-timer whenever he disappeared into the ferns, blackberries, and ocean spray. Following him I began to earn my degree in “bucking the brush.”

Over the next ten years, off and on, we located trail across steep, convoluted country from sea level at Samish Bay to about 4,000 feet on Mount Josephine, 64 miles to the east. The landscape was a crazy quilt of overgrown clearcuts, impassable swamps, briar-choked hellholes, and gigantic second-growth fir.

My job during each reconnaissance was to mark our passage with blue-and-white-striped surveyor’s tape. Pretty soon colorful ribbons laced our slopes until we knew every smile and dimple. The two tools I used most though, were Max’s clinometer (a slope measurement tool) and his 110-foot steel surveying tape. Our trail location bushwhacks sought the ideal combination of features, directions, and grade. A complication was the need to maintain a 10% or less average grade.

It was not enough to walk through once or twice and then start chopping and digging. No, first Max had to sit at his drafting table to manually redraw our surveys to scale of 12 inches to the mile. Then after innumerable reconnoitering trips, we measured the final route in 110-foot increments by slinking the tape through the ferns and rules. I recorded each of those segments’ azimuth and angle of rise or fall in a rainproof book. Later Max plotted the figures on his big chart.

Max used to say, “Ron, this trail will be so good that I could take my grandmother up in a wheelchair.” Today the Blanchard Hill section that he designed is his much-loved memorial.

[Meanderthals] When drumming up support for the ongoing work on the PNT, you conducted hundreds of interviews with legends of the backcountry. You traveled with a tape recorder as much as a backpack. You looked upon wilderness as more than an absence of humans. The stories of the land, told by the legends, added to the total potential. You must have derived great joy from bringing the storytellers into the fold. How did you hit upon the idea of using the value these old-timers presented in recruiting the communities that built the trail?

[Ron Strickland] In 1978, I began to interview old-timers along the route of the PNT. The previous year PNT thru-hikers Janet Garner and Rex Bakel had told me about Ralph Thayer who came into what is now Glacier National Park five years before the park was established. I wanted to hear what Ralph had to say about establishing trails for the Forest Service in the 1920’s. (My education at the School of Foreign Service had been heavy on history, always one of my favorite subjects.)

So I sought out the old forester, using directions from Janet and Rex. Ralph Thayer’s stories were so fascinating that they (and those of subsequent interviewees) persuaded me that I loved the backcountry not so much because of a myth of its never having been touched by human hands, but because of its totality of experience – including that of people on the land.

Then, the more alert I was to this local history angle the more I was able to recruit volunteers to develop the Pacific Northwest Trail. (Simultaneously I published five oral history books, and I began three additional, as yet incomplete, volumes.)

[Meanderthals] Your anecdotes in Pathfinder about your experiences with the backcountry legends are priceless. Would you share one of your favorite stories?

[Ron Strickland] I encourage people to read the stories that I included in Pathfinder. And more than that I urge my readers to meet today’s leaders of the trails community.

Trail clubs exist in every part of the country. Join one or more. Volunteer to help in any way that you can. That is what I did, beginning at the age of nineteen with the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club in Washington, DC. And I am currently a member of the Appalachian Mountain Club.

America is full of “backcountry legends”, and you can meet them and collect terrific stories. Better yet, you can become such a person yourself and inspire the next generation. Pass it on!

[Meanderthals] Your experience with Meadow Bloom, the autistic teenage girl afflicted with leukemia, is quite poignant. You recovered from the sadness of her passing by realizing that she was one of the best teachers you ever had. You have lived a life of charity. I suspect the International Glaucoma Association (IGA) is important to you. You said, “To be part of a loving community is the best trail magic of all.” How can we grow that community?

[Ron Strickland] My wife, Christine Hartmann, and I attend the annual meetings of the Glaucoma Research Foundation in San Francisco. She has glaucoma, and she is currently writing a book about patients’ experience with the disease.

Human beings are very social animals. And to participate in a cause – whether trailbuilding or disease fighting – is not only socially useful but also personally satisfying. All it takes is that first little step. Join a group that piques your interest. Meet some like-minded folks, and you will be surprised by the result.

[Meanderthals] I sense a greying of the hiking community. You’ve spoken of mentoring as a way of continuing the evolvement of our National Trails System. Before embarking on his now famous Sea-to-Sea trek, Andrew Skurka wrote to you seeking advice and logistical planning tactics. Do you get a sense of a new generation of young trail lovers coming on board to help protect the existing infrastructure?

[Ron Strickland] When I took up hiking in the early 1960’s, I was almost always the youngest person in any outing. Most active hikers and club types were at least in their fifties – many much older. Is today’s situation really any different than that? I am not sure.

All I can say is that Andrew Skurka was, and is, an exceptional person. And part of my deepest joy in life has been to meet such can-do twenty-somethings.

I confess right here that the hidden agenda behind my memoir Pathfinder was to plant seeds in receptive minds. After all, people have come to me every year, beginning in the 1970’s, for advice about hiking. I have almost always encouraged them, but they put the effort in and to them the credit is due. The results have often been very heartwarming.

[Meanderthals] You said, “The future of America’s trails depends on our many trail-maintaining organizations. The prosperity of those groups will rest upon the shoulders of day hikers. It is the people who actually do the work who make our trails possible, and it is from the ranks of day hikers that future volunteers will come.”

Is this more likely to have an effect on existing trail maintenance, or new trail planning and building? Can we still do both? Do you have faith that the grassroots local hikers will work together to assure existing trail infrastructure is maintained?

[Ron Strickland] Actually I am very worried about this. A new report indicates that only a quarter of the Forest Service’s trails meet the agency’s standards.

And, of course, there is the Richard Louv argument that kids lack early exposure to the outdoors. In the end I believe that the next generations will get the outdoor opportunities and the systems of trails that only they can create and preserve.

[Meanderthals] With so many miles on your boots, you are bound to have some cherished favorite places.

[Ron Strickland] I do and I have described some of them in Pathfinder, and there’s my Pacific Northwest Trail Guide. As a lover of guidebooks, it was inevitable that I would eventually write multiple versions of the PNT Guide, “a labor of truly obsessive love” that compressed 1,200 miles into 400 dense pages of technical writing.

After Andrew Skurka used it during several PNT thru-hikes, he called it a “treasure hunt” because it seemed to describe less a trail than a series of arcane clues. For me personally, however, the emotional significance of my several editions was that they contained less a set of directions than a collection of between-the-lines memories.

My overall feeling is simply one of gratitude that I have been able to live so many backcountry adventures and to know so many fabulous fellow enthusiasts. Where is my favorite place? That is like asking a parent to name his or her favorite child. I have 1,200 favorite miles that Congress stamped with its imprimatur: Pacific Northwest National Scenic Trail.

[Meanderthals] You have a few goals for the National Trails System: A) develop the transcontinental Sea-to-Sea Route, B) expand the number of major long distance trails, C) create a National Trails Center. What is the progress on these fronts?

[Ron Strickland] A) This year I published a guidebook to the North Country National Scenic Trail. My goal was actually to help to make the NCT more of a success. Despite having had “national scenic trail” status ever since 1980, the NCT is still very little known nationally. I am very eager for it to flourish not only for its own sake but also for the future of the Sea-to-Sea Route. The NCTA has accepted the notion that its 4600-mile trail should be expanded east to the Appalachian Trail and west to the Continental Divide Trail. As soon as that is accomplished the C2C will be a de facto reality. I encourage any hiker who lives in the Midwest to join in the fun.

B) New long trails always take many decades to take hold. The most likely candidate for completion now is the wonderful East Coast Greenway. But there are many, many local projects. Right now is a joyous time to be a trails person in every region of the United States.

C) Regrettably no progress on the National Trails Center. It needs an eager beaver who will take on that challenge …

[Meanderthals] I don’t envision you to be one to go gently into that good night. What’s next for you Ron?

Aside from hiking in the Pacific Northwest at the end of this month, my current goal is to complete and publish my tenth book, a picaresque novel called The Big One.

[Meanderthals] Thanks so much Ron. This has been a true delight.

You can get a personalized autographed copy here.

This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace.