Tales & Trails of a Traveling Wiseguy

Georgia Travelog #17
Back in Dawsonville - Friday, 11 Apr 2025, 9pm

We've just gotten back to Dawsonville, our home base in northern Georgia for two days. Today was a full day of going out an about, driving around the southern Appalachian Mountains to visit waterfalls. We saw a number of waterfalls today... and had a lot of water fall on us— as rain.

If you're reading these blogs in chronological order of me posting them, you'll see that I've skipped over several. That's because I want not to fall too far behind on blogging about this trip. I figure I'll post at least 3 detailed blogs with photos of places we visited today. For now here's a wrap-up.

We started the day by driving to Cane Creek Falls outside Dahlonega, GA. Well, actually, we started the day by getting a bit of breakfast at the gas station convenience store across the highway from our hotel. Then we drove out to Dahlonega.

We didn't know it in advance but Dahlonega is called Gold City. "Gold rush" in the US is often associated with California (1849) or maybe Alaska (1896), but the first gold rush in the US happened in 1828 when gold was discovered here. Settlers and the government used it mostly as an excuse to push out the Cherokee people who lived here. 😒

Cane Creek Falls was an easy 1/4 mile walk each way. It's on the grounds of a religious retreat center. We wisely called ahead to make sure it's open to the public today. It is/was... but only until 3pm. So it's good we called because our initial plan was to hike this last during the day.

Next we drove out to the Three Forks trailhead. It was a long drive on Forest Service roads. I think we did 12 miles on dirt and gravel roads just to get there... and it started to drizzle as we did. I was glad we had a crossover with AWD as our rental car (though I've done worse terrain with a front-drive sedan).

At Three Forks we hoisted on our packs for a 1 mile trek each eay to Long Creek Falls. Moments after we started hiking it began pouring rain. We were prepared for it with our rain jackets as it had been drizzling already. At the falls we chatted with members of a church youth group on an overnight backpacking trip. Last night while we watched thunder, lighting, hail, and rain from the comfort of our hotel room they were huddled together in a shelter atop Hawk Mountain!

Back at the car after a wet hike we draped our jackets over the backs of our seats to help them dry and drove back toward civilization. "Civilization" was, in this case, anywhere with a paved road.

Our plan for what next had been Desoto Falls but it was still pouring rain when we got there. We decided instead to go on to our next stop and try back at Desoto afterward. That brought us to the town of Helen, where Hawk wanted to visit a rock shop. Helen turns out to be a German/Swiss themed little town in foothill country. Some would say "charming"; I say tourist trap.

After a fruitless foray in Helen we drove back to Desoto Falls. The rain had abated! And, thanks to the day's mostly shitty weather, the falls were almost deserted. And Desoto was a two-fer; there were two sets of falls in opposite directions on the trail. We visited both.

The rain was still holding off as we rolled back into town near sunset. On the drive back we debated where to eat dinner. I wanted something meaty, Hawk didn't, and we both wanted fast. We landed on a locally run burgers-and-shakes restaurant named, appropriately enough, Burgers and Shakes. I got a burger, Hawk got a veggie sandwich, and nobody got a shake. Instead we went to Culver's for ice cream. Yes, Culver's is a slice of Wisconsin down here in Georgia!

Now we're back at the room, 160 miles after we left. I've showered to help wind down for the night, and maybe we'll get to bed by 10pm. Tomorrow will be another day of driving and waterfalls— and hopefully no rain!

Panama Travelog #13
El Valle, Panama - Tue, 24 Dec 2024. 12:30pm.

After the one hike we were able to do this morning, at Chorro Macho falls, we came back through town to get lunch. I was still fuming about the two hikes we were not able to do but tried not to let my frustration drag me down too much. After all, there are still other worthy things to do here in Anton's Valley. We used lunchtime as downtime to review our plans and see what we could pull forward.

It helped that the sun starting poking out from behind the clouds. It was the first time in almost 24 hours we'd seen it! I'd been fretting, among other things, that we were doomed to have nothing but gloom and rain for our 9 days here in Panama.

"Let's hike La Dormida," I suggested.

"We could do that tomorrow, and get an early start. It might be too late today—" Hawk responded.

"Let's hike while sun is shining!" I interrupted.

Okay, so what is La Dormida? It's kind of a Romeo and Juliet story... if Romeo and Juliet also involved a mountain.

The Legend of La India Dormida

A legend from the time of the Spanish conquest in Panama tells of La Dormida, or The Sleeping (Native) Girl. Luba, a young woman, the younger daughter of the local chief, fell madly in love with one of the Spanish soldiers subjugating her people. But a young man, Yaravi, a brave warrior of her own people, was madly in love with her. Yaravi was so distraught over what he saw as Luba's betrayal (to himself and to their people) that he took his own life. When Luba learned of this she reconsidered her actions and was filled with regret. She renounced her love for the Spanish soldier and ran off into the woods. Exhausted, she lay on the ground, then died. The mountains took the form of her body.



The legend is explained on a sign at the trailhead on the edge of town. Along with it are these two pictures. Above is a view of the mountain from (I think) down here in the valley. You can kind of see the supine human form in it: head to the right, neck in the middle, chest and abdomen to the left.

In case that's not obvious enough the sign also includes a pencil sketch illustrating the resemblance:



So, what's the point of hiking La Dormida? It's not to have the joy of proclaiming, "I stood on her nose!" 🤣 It's to have a view of the valley from the top of the ridge, to see several waterfalls along the way, and to see some native rock art, too.

New Zealand Travelog #36
Hamilton, NZ - Fri, 19 Apr 2024, 5pm

We're back to our cozy apartment in Hamilton atfer another day of adventure. Today's adventure was a stitching together of a few paid tours plus a few completely self-guided things:

• We visited the Ruakuri Cave (vendor link) with a guided tour. On the trip we heard about a few of the features in limestone caverns, the history of the Maori people, and glowworms. The cave features part was the least interesting (to me) as those features are the same around the world, this was hardly our first cave tour, and this cave/guide wasn't the best for highlighting features. I mean, anyone can tell you what stalactites and stalagmites are. I think I learned that in 4th grade science class.... But learning about Maori history was really interesting. Our guide was Maori and descended from the chief of the tribe that settled this area 750 years ago. He really personalized what it meant to him. Plus, we were among a small group that was all adults, so we asked lots of questions about Maori language, culture, and history.


• Next we visited the Waitomo Glowworm Caves (vendor link) nearby. This one focused more on the glowworms, though we'd already learned the basics at the other cave: The "worms" are the larval stage of a species of insect— so technically they're glow-maggots, not glowworms. They grow up to a 3cm long. They glow through bioluminescence, which they use to attract other insects for food. They drop sticky lines, sticky similar to how a spider web is sticky, to catch those insects. Again, this info was all a repeat from the previous tour. That's a risk with cave tours: once you've done one you've done most of all of them. The standouts on this tour, though, were that a) there were a lot more glowworms-maggots and b) we toured part of it on a boat through an underground river. I've never done an underground boat tour before!

After these tours we were on our own and visited 3 short hiking trails in the area.

• The first of these was Mangapohue Natural Bridge. A short trail led into a beautiful stream canyon to a large overhead arch. We had the area mostly to ourselves. That's always nice when outdoors, and was doubly nice after a morning spent on paid-for tours where buses pulled up to disgorge tourists by the dozens.


• Next we hiked to Piripiri Cave. A short but steep trail leads up to the entrance to a large, single-room cave. How large? I estimate it's 80' deep and 50' across. And, yes, 80' deep because you enter it near the top. Wooden stairs descend to the bottom.


• Finally we hiked to Marakopa Falls. The weather had been crummy all day but wasn't really a factor up to this point. I mean, it almost doesn't matter if it's cloudy and drizzling outside when you're in a cave. And cloudy-and-drizzling helped with the atmospherics at the natural bridge. But here at these falls it started to be a real minus. Marakopa Falls is large, which is a big plus, but the last part of the trail to it has been washed out due to floods, and with today's rains what was left of it was too slick to traverse safely... even for experienced hikers. (And by "safely" I mean "without getting covered in mud from slipping a few times".) So we viewed the falls from across the canyon.

After our treks at Susan Creek Falls and Fall Creek Falls Monday morning, plus over 100 miles of driving, it was getting to be time for lunch. We found a little gas station convenience store perfectly located in Steamboat, about a dozen miles before Toketee Falls, our next hiking spot. While there I learned that I was pronouncing Toketee wrong. It's not "toe-KEE-tee" but "TOKE-uh-tee". It's a Chinook word meaning pretty or graceful.

So, do the falls live up to the name? It was a short hike, less than 0.5 mile each way, to find out.



Pretty? Hell yeah. But graceful? More like thunderous. There is a lot of water coming over these falls. And this is only, like, half the flow (see below).

The falls feature a 30' drop in two steps in the upper part of the gorge then a drop of 80' into the wide pool at the bottom. The water cuts through a chasm in columnar basalt rock. We saw some of that over at Fall Creek Canyon, too.

I mentioned that this is only half the flow. Where's the other half? Would you believe... an unintentional carwash?



At the trailhead parking area there is a huge diversion pipe. It's 12' diameter (in my voice-over narration I estimated 10') and made of wood. It's got a lot of leaks going. People were taking turns driving through the sprays as a free carwash.

This pipe is a penstock, diverting water from Toketee Lake just upstream to a hydroelectric power plant further downstream. Only a 1,500' length of the wooden pipe, built in 1949, remains. The rest has been replaced with a concrete tube.

5 Days in the Desert travelog #14
Cima, CA - Sun, 25 Dec 2022, 4pm

This past Sunday afternoon— Christmas Day, for those still keeping track amid this prolific series of blog posts about our "5 Days in the Desert" trip— we visited the lava tubes in Mojave National Preserve. This was our third adventure of the day, after hiking the 650' tall sand dunes at Kelso Dunes in the morning and visiting historic Kelso Depot (aka 🎵 Welcome to the Depot California 🎵) after lunch. Actually it was both our third and fourth adventure of the day, as just the drive there (and back) constituted its own adventure.

Ordinarily the lava tubes would be about a 3.5 mile drive on Aiken Mine Road, a well graded dirt road off paved Kelbaker Road in Mojave National Preserve. Right now, though, a few roads in the park are closed due to washouts in the last monsoon season. Kelbaker is one of them. The next shortest way to get there is via the Mojave Road, adding 16 miles of dirt road driving.


The Mojave Road is a legendary unpaved route. It stretches 150 miles west from the Colorado River. It follows a trading route long used by natives to connect desert dwelling tribes to those in coastal areas. Spanish missionaries learned about it in 1776. American settlers began using it in 1826, and the US military used it as a wagon route from 1859 until a railroad was built across the Mojave Desert in 1883. (Hmm, seems like we were just at that railroad at Kelso Station.)

Driving the Mojave Road was easy in our 4x4 with high clearance, though we were limited to 10-15mph much of the time because of the whoop-de-doos in the soft dirt (see video). A medium clearance sedan or wagon like a Subaru could navigate this stretch of road, though it would probably need to go even slower. Once we got to Aiken Mine Road mine road the trail conditions were easier. Until the last 300 meters or so.



The trail descriptions said to park in a primitive parking area then follow the trail 300 meters over volcanic rock to a small spur trail. Well, the first 300 meters of trail were a two-track... as in, vehicle two track. But they were over fist-sized lava rock. We decided F--- it, Subarus can park in the lot while the big dogs drive all the way. We parked just steps away from the ladder down into the lava tube.

This is where the adventure switches from driving to hiking.



A steel ladder leads down about 10' into a collapsed portion of a lava tube. From that point one can scramble down rocks on either side, into the tube itself. The picture above shows the less forbidding direction.

"Enh," I thought, "I'm not sure I want to do this."

But then I considered the considerable time and effort it took to get to this spot— including over an hour driving on bouncy dirt roads just to get here. I wasn't going to let that time and effort go to waste just because I didn't want to crouch down a bit to navigate over sharp rocks and climb into the bowels of the earth!

To be continued....

Update: Into the Lava Tubes & Back!

Several months ago I started watching a new streaming series, Reservation Dogs. It's a slice-of-life comedy/drama about Native American teens living in, and trying to leave, a tribal town in rural Oklahoma. The name of the show is a play on the name of Quentin Tarrantino's bloody debut movie, Reservoir Dogs.



The series is unusual in that it's not just about Native Americans but by Native Americans. The creators, the writers, and most of the cast are Native people. Beyond simply giving opportunity to underrepresented people in show business— which matters— this is great because it empowers the show to portray accurately Native life and culture. Online sites I've read are full of positive reviews from people who identify as native, praising the show for getting so many things right. That makes it fascinating to me, a white American descendant of European immigrants, because it's one show that's free of the standard tropes the media commonly fall into, portraying native people and native life as either all poverty and misery, or noble savages.

So what's the show about? Like I said in the first paragraph, it's nominally about four teens living in a small, rural tribal town. They're tired of the lack of opportunity where they live and aspire to escape to magical, semi-mythical California. Season 1 starts with them committing some crimes to gain money to travel. This criminal start is part of the play on Reservoir Dogs... though the rather than become hardened, career criminals like in Tarrantino's violent thriller, the teens of Reservation Dogs discover they suck at crime and decide not to try it again. Mostly. (Two characters commit an assault, albeit under duress, and then a theft early in Season 2.)



The show's a little hard to like, IMO. One naturally sympathizes with the teens in their yearning for a better life than the limited, dull, and somewhat grim existence around them. They make some poor choices, though, in trying to find something better.

On the one hand, the kids remain sympathetic despite their bad choices because it's hard to fault them. The adults in their lives set so few examples of making good choices. The kids are having to learn by trial and error. The best guidance a few of them get comes in the form of a comic-relief spirit, who both embodies Native American media stereotypes while simultaneously poking fun at them.

On the other hand, the crummy adult role models the kids are stuck with are a big part of what makes the show hard to like. So many times I'm left wondering, "Is there anyone here who isn't a fool or hasn't just given up?"

Ultimately that's part of what makes the show appealing, in a bittersweet way. The teens yearn to leave because they want more from life than the limited options their town offers. People in their parents' generation who yearned for the same... well, they're already gone. The town's a sad place because everyone with aspirations either left already or gave up hope.

Sedona Travelog #12
Mescal Mountain, Sedona, AZ - Mon, 30 May 2022, 10:30am

After visiting the Birthing Cave (previous blog in this series) we discussed where to go next. Despite our epic 9-mile, almost 2,000' ascent hike yesterday we were feeling somewhat spry this morning. Like, not 100%, but also not, "Enh, let's sit around the pool deck all day," wrecked.

Looking down from the cave toward the route we came in on we figured, "Let's see if that trail goes up over the flank of Mescal Mountain." It looked like only a few hundred feet more ascent, an amount we could handle today.

It took a bit of route-finding to actually find the trail in a few places— which is a good sign, because it means the trail is lightly traveled & we'd have the area to ourselves. Soon we were scrambling up layers of rocks, even having to climb a tree at one point to help ourselves up the mountain.



Near the top the trail brushed past this area used by ancient cliff dwellers. As I've noted before, caves this size were probably not dwellings but storage areas for food. Deep under the rock layers the air stays cooler, even in the blisteringly hot summer. In the early spring, ice from the winter lasts longer. BTW, the tree branching in on the right side of the photo is the one we climbed to get here.



The path continues up from this level. There were no more trees we needed to climb but there were a few steep spots where we needed to use our hands for balance as we scrambled up the rock.



At the top the payoff was exactly what I was hoping for: amazing long-distance views in all directions.

In the photo above we're looking across Deadman Canyon to the mountains beyond. Just beyond those mountains, starting to the left, is Boynton Canyon, where we hiked yesterday.



From this saddle point the trail branched left and right. It didn't go straight forward because that was straight down! The knob to the right (shown in the photo above) looked like a fairly easy climb, so I climbed it. Hawk was flagging so she stayed down here. The views from atop the knob were great... but not quite as great as just below. It's that thing again about summitting a mountain.... The views from the top are always missing something: the mountain you can't see because it's beneath your feet!

Sedona Travelog #3
Cottonwood, AZ - Sat, 28 May 2022, 11:30am

On our way to Sedona this morning we took a detour. As we were passing hrough the small town of Cottonwood we saw signs for Tuzigoot National Monument. Hawk quickly looked it up while I was driving and found it was 15 minutes off our route. As we didn't have strong feelings about what to do at the end of our route we decided the detour would be worth it— to a park we've never been to before!

The oddly named Tuzigoot is a small park where the ruins of an ancient Puebloan village were discovered 100 years ago. The ruins themselves date from circa 800 years ago. We actually don't know what the people who build this place called it. Tuzigoot is an Americanization of the Apache name Tü Zighoot , which means Crooked Water and refers to the prominent bend in the Verde River below the settlement.



The greenery around the river in the picture above is remarkable, BTW. As we drove up from Phoenix this morning we started in low desert— which frankly looks like a volcano, minus the cone peak. We then climbed into high desert... which looks like a volcano but with some scrub grass growing across it (because it gets a smidge more rain). The ruins of numerous villages have been found along this river valley. Together they paint a picture of a relatively prosperous people farming and trading across the area.

At its height there were 110 dwellings in this settlement. There is architectural evidence some dwellings were built to multiple storeys. But by c. 1400 CE the people who lived here started to leave. Around 1600 when European settlers arrived these rock dwellings were already abandoned, and the descendants of the Pueblo builders lived in tents and huts down on the plain.

Where did the people who built settlements like this go? The Hopi say that settlements like this were never meant to be permanent. Instead, it was a stop on a migration... but to where, and why, they don't/can't say. The Zuni say the able-bodied left; the sick and weak stayed behind. The Yavapai say their ancestors left behind these pueblos and the cultivated farming to return to a hunter-gatherer lifestyle.

Canyon, TX - Mon, 14 Mar 2022, 11am

"What's that imposing-looking building in this little town?" I wondered as I turned onto 4th Street in Canyon, TX, late at night on Saturday. We passed it again on Sunday afternoon, returning from our hike to Lighthouse Rock at Palo Duro Canyon. It's a museum. Specifically, the Panhandle-Plains Historical Society Museum. Our travel schedule left us with a few hours open on Monday morning. Using that time to visit the museum a half mile away was a perfect fit.



About the name.... The Texas Panhandle, the part of Texas that fits under the panhandle shape of Oklahoma, geographically is part of the Great Plains.

The museum's exhibits begin with seemingly obligatory displays of skeletons from the eras of dinosaurs and mammoths. The plaques labeling them seem to question, though, whether they're actually from millions of years ago. They're careful to point out "apparently" they're from 5 million years ago, as if they could also be from 4,000 years ago. Because, y'know, around here a lot of people believe the world is only 6000-some years old and evolution and the fossil record are liberal plots to make Christians feel bad about themselves.

Then there were the displays about the natives who lived in the area before European settlers arrived. This portion of the museum's collection was thin, with obligatory displays of tepees, moccasins, and a papoose, but limited insight into how the people lived. It's noted, in so many words, that earnest sociological study only began after the natives were... "confined to Oklahoma" was their phrase. I.e., not until after most of them had been killed at the hands of settlers and the government.

Where the museum really began to shine was in its presentation of the period from the 1880s through mid 20th century. Yes, it's disappointing that there wasn't more material about the natives of the area, but not every museum can cover everything. At some point it's necessary to appreciate what each one is. And what this one really is, is a history of the sociological impact of technology starting in the 1880s.

Up through the late 1800s little had changed about how people lived in the Texas Panhandle. Oh, the people had changed— from one native people, to another, to Spanish settlers (starting with Francisco Coronado 100 years before pilgrims landed in Massachusetts), to American settlers. And some elements of technology changed. For example, European settlers introduced horses, for transportation. Later American settlers introduced cattle for ranching. Guns replaced spears and bow and arrow for hunting. But even in the 1880s settlers were still dependent on what the local land could offer.

Change took off like a rocket starting with the arrival of the first railroad in the panhandle in 1888. Amarillo itself was only founded about 10 years before that. At the time, at least 3 other cities in the area were larger. But when the rail depot was built in Amarillo, those other cities folded up as all regional commerce moved to Amarillo. In the next 50 years more things changed than in the previous 800.

The railroad changed transportation and commerce. Weeks-long cattle drives became things of the past. There was no longer a need to herd cattle off to some distant city when the depot in Amarillo was at worst few days' walk away. And the railroad helped deliver raw material and finished goods that previous had been luxuries available only to the wealthiest few.

The advent of the automobile changed the pandhandle, too. Except it wasn't just the availability of cars— kind of like a more personal, more flexible version of trains— but the entire oil economy that developed around the indispensability of the internal combustion engine. Oil was discovered in the panhandle in the late 1800s. It took off in the 1910s and 20s, when the number of wells in the region went from just a few to a few thousand. Oil is what put Texas on the map in the 20th century and beyond.

Northwest Return Travelog #12
Joseph, OR - Sat, 31 Jul 2021. 3:30pm.

On our way back to our hotel in Clarkston we stopped in Joseph, Oregon to see Chief Joseph Days... or at least what's left of it. "Chief Joseph Days" is a week long western fair "Always the last week of July" as signs in Joseph proclaim. Well, today's the last day of July, so yeah... we're seeing the tail end of it.

There was more going on this morning when we passed through town on our way to the Wallowa Lake Tram. Streets were blocked off, and people were assembling for a show. There had been a big parade earlier in the day or earlier in the week. That we could tell because... well, literally because of the sheer amount of horse shit on the main road. By this afternoon at least that mess had been cleaned up.

We chose not to stop for the fair this morning as we wanted to make sure we'd have enough time for our hike. We didn't want to be on the mountain past 2pm as the weather forecast warned of afternoon thunderstorms. Already thunderstorms are looking likely, so that was a good call. Though at 2:30 when we got back to town the show was already winding down. It looks like there had been a big street fair with lots of vendors. Now only a dozen or 15 are still here, and the proprietors look wrecked. We parked to tour what's left of the show for a while.

Chief Joseph

Chief Joseph was a leader of the Nez Perce people who once made this area, around Wallowa Lake, their home. He was the tribe's chief when it came into conflict with white settlers in the 1870s. Joseph negotiated a treaty with the US government for his people to remain on their land, but in 1877 the US reneged. The military came to escort them off, and war was declared.

The Nez Perce fought a war that became one for military history books. Though the band numbered fewer than 800 they waged a fighting retreat of over 1,000 miles as they sought refuge first in Montana and then in Canada. The US Army stopped them short of Canada. Joseph surrendered, negotiating terms for his people to move to a reservation in Idaho. The US government promptly reneged on that, too, and sent them to a military prison in Oklahoma where most died from disease.

Joseph survived and became a statesman, advocating for native peoples to Congress in Washington, DC. Military leaders respected him for his military prowess. Civilian leaders respected him for his intelligent philosophy. But they all continued making promises and then breaking them. Not the most shining chapter in US history.

Here in the town named for Chief Joseph there's not a heck of a lot about him. The statue in the picture has a few quotes from him on plaques at its base. Most of what I've written here is my distant knowledge from US history classes years ago bolstered by a quick visit to Wikipedia. The week long fair bears his name but aside from that seems to be an ordinary county fair, western US style. Little we saw at the fair was related to the Nez Perce or Chief Joseph except in name.

"Bro Country" Music

As for the street fair.... I think I was most impressed by the country-western singer working hard all afternoon in a long-sleeve shirt and denim jeans. It was hot! And at least while we were there he had pretty much zero audience. I didn't particularly like his songs— they were "bro country", like a song about all the ways a dog is better than a woman— though I admire his vocal talent. And his hard work in the summer heat.

I walked up to thank the musician as he and his crew were shutting down for the day. I know entertainers live for the audience; that's why I wanted to show my appreciation. He was grateful. He shook my hand enthusiastically as his manager came over and insisted I take a card.

I carefully didn't say that I liked his songs. I complimented him on his voice, his playing, and him busting his butt in the heat. He was playing for 2 or 3 semi-interested people at a time. I've seen less talented musicians perform for crowds of 22,000. But I'm not going to buy an album of songs about how a dog is better than a woman because it doesn't fuss if you put your boots on the table.