Fall escapes to the North Carolina Mountains

by Gadling Staff on

Fall is almost here and with it come crisp, blue skies and leaves of yellow and red. Enjoy the season with a quick, inexpensive getaway to the North Carolina mountains. The hard part is deciding which getaway to choose.

Kings Mountain State Park: If you like the great outdoors, camping at Kings Mountain State Park is a low-cost option. Whether you have an RV or prefer to pitch a tent on one of the 115 campsites, there’s a place here for you. Campsites consist of packed gravel and have electrical and water hookups. In addition to camping, the 6885 acre park has picnic tables and shelters, boating, a general store, hiking and nature trails, equestrian facilities, fishing lakes and a Living History Farm. The park is adjacent to Kings Mountain National Military Park.

Chimney Rock Park: Situated in the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina, Chimney Rock Park is home to The Chimney, an elevation of 2,280 feet that provides a 75-mile view. There is also a walking trail and Hickory Nut Falls, a waterfall of 404 feet. There are gift shops and diners, or carry a picnic lunch to eat by the stream running through the community.Chimney Rock has provided a backdrop for scenes in various movies, including The Last of the Mohicans, Firestarter, and A Breed Apart. Just minutes down the road is Lake Lure where Dirty Dancing, the 1987 movie starring Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey was filmed.

Little Switzerland: Get to this destination early in the fall because some of the businesses close during the winter and re-open in April. The Big Lynn Lodge and Little Switzerland Christmas Tree Farm stay open year round, so cozy up in a room with a view or camp out in the Bear Den Campground. There are many things to do in Little Switzerland, including hiking, shopping and dining. Try Hearthside Handmades, Simple Pleasures or check out The Switzerland General Store. If you’re a booklover, lose yourself in Little Switzerland Bookstore that’s full of books, nooks and crannies.Asheville Biltmore House and Gardens: A mansion awaits you in Ashville, NC. Specifically, the Biltmore House, situated on 8,000 acres of rolling hills. George Vanderbilt’s 250 room French Chateau was finished in 1895 and gives a glimpse into the past to show how people worked and lived in America’s largest home. Admission includes a self-guided tour of Biltmore, all-day access to the gardens and Antler Hill Village, complimentary wine tasting at the Winery, dining and shopping opportunities and free parking.

Boone, NC: Travel up to the High Country to visit the mountain town of Boone, NC, home to Appalachian State University. Spend the day fishing at the well-stocked Grandfather Trout Farm or try your luck at the Magic Mountain Mini Golf and Gem Mine. Still not tired? Try out the Rock Dimensions Climbing Tower where rock climbing guides and instructors are there to give a hand. Take the youngest ones to the Children’s Playhouse, a non-profit museum, art center and play space, or visit Apple Hill Farm or Moretz’s Mountain Orchard.

Tweetsie Railroad: All aboard! Time to go to Tweetsie Railroad in Blowing Rock, NC. Play cowboys and Indians by taking a ride on Steam Engine #12, a train so famous it’s listed on the National Registry of Historic Places. There’s also a Country Fair, Miner’s Mountain for panning for gold, the Arcade and Shooting Gallery and Deer Park, home to deer, goats, miniature horses and pot-bellied pigs. If you’re planning for Halloween, the attraction is open Friday and Saturday nights from October 1 through October 30 for the 2010 Ghost Train Halloween Festival.

Mount Airy, North Carolina: Visit the Andy Griffith Museum in Mount Airy, North Carolina, Andy Griffith’s hometown. The museum is home to Andy Griffith and Matlock memorabilia donated by Andy Griffith himself. Betty Lynn, who played Barney Fife’s girlfriend, Thelma Lou, is a resident of the town, and there are upcoming opportunities to meet her.Take a tour guided by Emmett Forrest, who grew up with Andy Griffith and is a lifelong friend of the actor. Actor George Lindsay, who played Goober, will donate some of the wardrobe he wore during the filming of the show to the museum. Additionally, the 21st Annual Mayberry Days Festival will take place September 23-26 2010.

Great Smoky Mountains Railroad: Want to really relax and let go? Then book a ride on a train with the Great Smoky Railroad. Depart from Bryson City, NC in a First Class Coach for a 4 1/2 hour, 44 mile round trip ride along the Tuckasegee River into the Nantahala River Gorge with a one hour stop at the Nantahala Outdoor Center. First Class includes lunch, a souvenir tumbler with all you can drink coffee or soda, and a GSRD totebag.

How green is Greenland?

by Andrew Evans on

Is Greenland Green? The question and oft-given answer are cliché–even you’ve heard it before: that Iceland is really green whereas Greenland is covered with ice and snow.

Well, I’m about to set the record straight, right here, right now, because after spending more than a week in Greenland, I can tell you that Greenland is in fact, very, very GREEN.

Yes, it’s true that a Europe-sized piece of mile-thick ice covers a good 85% of the country. However, the peripheral parts of Greenland are quite open and even lush, especially in the long sun of late summer. Imposing mountains and immense sloping valleys bleed with bright green, a stunning color that is made even brighter by the dry air and utter lack of pollution.

Viking explorer and cunning marketer Eric the Red named Grønland (“green land”) in 982 AD because it was in fact green but also because he was trying to lull colonists from the warmer shores of Iceland. It worked back then, and a thousand years later, the colorful name of earth’s least-known country still provokes a strange wonderment.

The following photo essay shows the true green of Greenland, unedited and unplugged. Whether or not it’s intentional, the country shows a constant theme of the color for which it is named.%Gallery-101755%

Climb Kilimanjaro with Polarmax’s ultimate adventure sweepstakes

by Kraig Becker on

Standing 19,340-feet in height, Mt. Kilimanjaro is the tallest mountain in Africa, and a popular destination for adventure travelers. The climb to the summit is a non-technical, but still challenging, affair that will take your breath away as much for the spectacular views of the Serengeti below, as for the thin air at the top. For many, a Kili climb is a once in a lifetime adventure, and now, thanks to Polarmax, you could make the journey yourself.

The company has joined forces with Backpacker Magazine, Cotton Incorporated, and Zara Tours to bring us the Kilimanjaro Ultimate Adventure Sweepstakes which will send one lucky winner, and their guest, to Tanzania in January of 2011 to attempt to climb the mountain. The grand prize includes round trip airfare to Africa, ground transportation while there, four nights stay in a hotel, and a six day Kilimanjaro climb guided by Kili expert Macon Dunnagan. The sweepstakes winner will also be outfitted with plenty of Polarmax gear to keep them comfortable and warm while on the trek, and a custom video of the expedition will be shot for the Polarmax website as well.

To enter the contest, simply go to this page and fill out the entry form. Entries are being accepted through October 11, with travel scheduled to take place January 7-17, 2011. This is a great opportunity to experience one of the best adventure travel options on the planet, and entering the contest couldn’t be any easier.

For an idea of what to expect on this adventure, check out the video below.

The East Highland Way day three: exploring Scotland’s lochs

by Sean McLachlan on


The best part of long-distance hikes is seeing the world get bigger.

We spend so much time in cars, planes, and trains that the miles go by in the blink of an eye. Subtle changes in topography and flora aren’t noticed, and little corners of beauty are passed by undiscovered. Walk, and you see the world as it really is.

It’s my third day on the East Highland Way and I’m deep in the Scottish countryside now. The town of Ft. William is far behind (although still only an hour’s drive) and the rare villages now have barely more than a dozen houses. For hours I don’t see a soul.

Heading out from Tulloch I enter a forest. This, like so many woods in Scotland, is managed for logging. Rows of slim fir trees alternate with cut areas where tiny saplings have been planted to make the next crop. It’s a slow process, and not once does the roar of a chainsaw or the crash of a falling tree disturb my peace. After a few miles I come to Loch Laggan, the first sizable loch I’ve come across at seven miles long. The glassy water, unrippled by a single boat, reflects the hills beyond. All is quiet. I sit down to have lunch and enjoy the view.

There the peace ends, courtesy of an army of midges. These little insects are as annoying as they are persistent. They’re like miniature mosquitoes with more intelligence. First one flies around my head. While I swat it away, another sucks blood from my neck. The signal goes out, and within a minute there’s a hundred all around me. I wipe off my arms, neck, and face and my hands become smeared with mashed midges. Time to move. The strange thing about midges is that if you’re moving they have a hard time keeping up, but woe betide the hiker who gets caught while sitting peacefully by a loch. I finish my lunch on the go.

%Gallery-100127%Continuing along the southern shore of Loch Laggan I spot the spires of a Disney-style castle poking above the greenery. I’ve come to Ardverikie House, a stately home built in 1870 that recently gained fame as the setting for the BBC series Monarch of the Glen. I don’t own a TV, so I’d never even heard of this hugely popular show until I came to this part of the country. Now I sometimes feel like I hear of nothing else. The estate has become a pilgrimage site for fans, and locals tell me that people even peer through the windows and knock on the door. I can understand why there are Private Property signs everywhere.

Sadly, this means I can’t see the wonder of Loch Laggan, the ruins of a castle on a tiny island. The wooded, rough shores block the view from everywhere except the estate. Luckily there will be no shortage of castles on this hike.

I have another problem. The lone accommodation in this area, a B&B in the village of Feagour, has recently shut down. It’s 17 miles from Tulloch to Feagour, and the next place to stay is in Laggan, another five miles. I can walk 22 miles, but somewhere between 17 and 22 miles it stops being fun. So I’ve arranged for the folks at The Rumblie B&B in Laggan to pick me up at Feagour. Lazy? Sort of, but I don’t have anything to prove to anybody.

They’re meeting me at a waterfall on the River Pattack near Feagour. I arrive early (having, ahem, walked 17 miles in an hour less than I thought I would) so I have plenty of time to admire the falls. The fast-flowing river has cut a narrow gorge through the rock. The water, brown from the peat upstream, rushes down it. I scramble up the rocks to get a better view and to my surprise discover a wooden platform and railing, plus a path down to a parking lot on the other side. This rugged view of nature has been made safe for those who want to appreciate nature without actually being in it. Nothing can spoil the beauty of the falls, however.

Right on time a car pulls up and I’m whisked off to Laggan, a booming metropolis with two shops, a school, a public telephone, and some houses. I arrive at The Rumblie to a hero’s welcome. A Spanish couple is staying there who don’t speak any English. Their poor 14 year-old daughter has been doing all the translation on their vacation, using her high school English to book hotels and rent cars from people with heavy Scottish accents. The owner of the B&B knows I live in Spain and told the family that help is on the way. As soon as I get there the kid heaves a sigh of relief, all English stops, and I become translator for the evening to give her a well-deserved break. You never know when a foreign language will come in handy!

Next to The Rumblie is the Laggan community center, and I hear there’s a céilidth on tonight. A céilidth (pronounced “Kay-Lee”) is a traditional gathering to perform folk dances and sing songs. I’m exhausted from a long hike and two beers, but I can’t pass this up. I find the céilidth in full swing. Locals of all ages are gathered around tables in a long hall with a stage at one end. Old photos and children’s drawings about farm safety adorn the walls. A slim young woman is dancing to the accompaniment of a fiddle. I grab a beer and sit down. Everyone seems to know everyone else and the common greeting is, “What are you performing tonight?”. Not “are you performing” but “what are you performing”. Singers perform a series of Gaelic songs before a man with an accordion gets everyone out on the dance floor. I know nothing about the history of dance, but I think I’ve discovered where square dancing comes from. Scottish dances involves the whole crowd dancing together, making lines and circles and moving with each other in complicated patterns.

Then comes the next surprise. A crowd of Spanish and German teenagers come in, volunteers from a local farm where they do manual labor in exchange for learning English. Ironically the Spanish press reported a couple of weeks ago that farmers in Spain can’t find Spaniards to help out in the fields, despite a good wage and an unemployment rate of 20 percent. Instead the farmers have to hire Africans on temporary work visas. Good deal for the Africans, because they need and deserve the money more, but it’s weird to see these Spanish kids working for free in the Highlands when they could be making 1,000 euros ($1,271) a month back home.

Hey, if they stayed home they wouldn’t be seeing this! Every one of them seems to have acquired a local boyfriend or girlfriend and soon they’re doing the dances like they were born here.

It’s getting late and my eyes are getting heavy. As an old woman mounts the stage I stumble to my bed next door. I fall asleep to the lilting sound of her clear, strong voice singing in Gaelic.

Don’t forget to read the rest of my series on the East Highland Way.

Coming up next: Prehistoric forts and empty wilderness!

Climbing Ben Nevis, the UK’s tallest mountain

by Sean McLachlan on


I just turned 41, so it’s time for my annual long-distance hike in order to prove I’m not as old as the numbers say. Last year I spent six days walking the 84-mile Hadrian’s Wall Path. This year I’m in Scotland to tackle the region’s newest trail, the East Highland Way, stretching from Ft. William on the west coast 76 miles inland past lochs, mountains, and castles to Aviemore.

Before heading out into the countryside I want to defeat Ft. William’s greatest challenge–a grueling climb up Ben Nevis, the UK’s tallest mountain at 4,409 ft. (1,344 meters). While there’s a trail all the way up, it’s faint in places and there are sheer drops that have claimed more than a few lives. With the summit usually shrouded in mist and the trail fading to near invisibility at the top, I’ve come prepared with a map and compass as well as wet-weather clothing, a sweater, food, plenty of water, and all the usual emergency gear.

I walk the three miles from my B&B to the trailhead, where a youth hostel and information center are covered in posters warning hikers to be prepared. Ben Nevis and other peaks loom over the valley. It’s sunny at the moment, but I can’t see the summit of Ben Nevis because it’s blocked by its lower slopes. The start of the Pony Trail, the most popular way up, is almost at sea level, so we’re going to earn every one of those 4,409 feet. The first thing I see is a search and rescue helicopter coming down off the summit. Propitious!

The trail is hard right from the beginning. Uneven stone steps lead up a steep slope on long, winding switchbacks. The sun is strong and my t-shirt is soaked in sweat. The whole of western Scotland seems to be at my feet. Ft. William is visible in the distance, on the shores of Loch Linnhe. Several other lochs and rivers makes deep cuts into the surrounding hills. Water and land are a patchwork of blue, green, and gray smudged by shadows from the scattered clouds. Further up I come across a small mountain loch nestled in a little valley and fed by the numerous little streams that trickle down the slopes. I’m tempted to take a drink–I do this all the time in the Sierra de Guadarrama near Madrid–but the piles of sheep dung make me think twice.

There are plenty of others on this trail, either huffing and puffing their way up like me, or staggering their way down with wasted expressions on their faces. As I continue upwards, the short grass gives way to bare rock splotched with green and yellow lichen. The sky darkens and thin wisps of cloud descend over the slope. Soon visibility is down to fifty yards. The crowd thins out too, and at times I am alone in a weird, colorless landscape of pale broken rock and thickening mist. Cairns positioned at regular intervals mark the trail. I can faintly see other cairns on either side. Some of these mark where search and rescue found dead climbers. Others have been built for seemingly no reason, although they could easily mislead the unwary, leading to the creation of more memorials. It’s cold now and I’ve put on my sweater and raincoat. Freezing rain needles my face.

%Gallery-99558%The summit appears as a surprise. One moment I’m walking alone up a gentle grade, the next moment the land flattens out and I see a summit marker and emergency hut with several silhouettes cavorting around it. I’ve made it!

The ruins of a weather observatory built in 1883 sit to one side. Even back then Ben Nevis was a popular climb, and the scientists were often bothered by exhausted hikers begging for food. The observatory posted suggestions about climbing the mountain, advising healthy men to neither rest nor drink water while climbing, but to bring a lemon and some biscuits or sandwiches. They also advised that, “The fair sex, the broken-winded, and the rheumatic must do their own sweet will on Ben Nevis.” While I’m not a woman, broken-winded, or rheumatic, I have to admit that I drank water and rested on my way up, and you should too. I wonder what other bad exercise advice was popular in Victorian times.

While I’ve made it up, coming down is where most climbers get lost, hurt, or killed. I’ve taken compass bearings and the line of cairns is visible enough to confirm my reading. It’s vital not to stray off the path as this surreal terrain all looks the same. In several places funnels of slick grass and rock lead to sheer drops.

A part of me wishes some of my fellow hikers would fall down them. Litter is scattered everywhere. Why would someone take the trouble to slog up the tallest mountain in the British Isles only to leave behind a plastic bottle? I pick some of them up, but I’d need a thirty-man crew with garbage bags to get it all. Ben Nevis is the perfect example of a scenic location that’s become too popular for its own good. I head back down with mixed feelings.

I navigate through the mist with no trouble and as I get on the clearer part of the trail the diaphanous curtain of clouds lifts to reveal the surrounding countryside. It’s only a trick, however, and soon a bitterly cold rain pelts down. More people are struggling up, including one bedraggled guy wearing only a long-sleeved shirt and carrying only a small bottle of water. I’m tempted to tell him to turn back but he’s already proven he won’t listen to reason. The descent is a long. slow slog down innumerable switchbacks that seem to last forever, but eventually I make it to the bottom and spot what should be at the end of every difficult hike–a pub. I go get a pint. I’ve earned it.

Next time: Starting on the East Highland Way!