Lake James to Shortoff Hike

On Friday, I took Amaroq up to the mountains for the long weekend. We parked at the Wolf Pit Trailhead on the Fonta Flora Trail along Lake James and started out on the MST Connector. The path shadowed the road for a while before dropping down to the Linville River.

After about two miles, we turned onto Faulkner Flats Road and began climbing. The route eventually spits you out near the main Wolf Pit Trailhead for Linville Gorge, then follows the classic Shortoff Trail up the mountain - the way most people approach Shortoff. The switchbacks offer killer views of the Lake James, but the midday sun was brutal and washed everything out for photos. Soon we came to the top of Shortoff and amazing views.

We pushed on to the campsite perched high atop Shortoff and the gorge - a spot I’ve come to call Alexander Point because he loved this climb so much. The wind was howling and the cold bit hard, so we didn’t linger.

A guy who’d camped there the night before was already packing up, muttering that it was too frigid to stay another night. On the descent, we took the Mountains-to-Sea Trail instead. It’s noticeably steeper than Shortoff, with almost no switchbacks - just a relentless drop. We followed it all the way to the Linville River ford but didn’t cross.

The water looked shallow and manageable, though I have no doubt it was ice-cold. That section where the gorge suddenly widens is stunning.

We turned around there, retraced our steps on the MST Connector back to the car, then made the obligatory stop at Fonta Flora Brewery for wood-fired pizza and a couple of beers.

From there it was a short drive to Lake James State Park to claim our campsite. 

Once the tent was up, we knocked out a quick out-and-back on the Overmountain Victory Trail that links the park to the brewery - perfect timing to get back just before the sun dipped.

I built a massive fire to fight off the chill; it was one of those bone-cold mountain nights. Fortunately, Amaroq is an excellent tent-sized space heater.

Dix Park Trolls

On Sunday, we took Harper and Amaroq to Dorothea Dix Park to hunt for Thomas Dambo’s giant trolls, all crafted from recycled materials like old whiskey barrels.

We parked at the sunflower field, hiked past the cemetery, and entered the woods where the first troll, Dix, stood sentinel at the edge.

A shady trail led deeper to Mother Strong Tail - my favorite.

Harper scrambled happily along her sweeping tail.

Heading back, we passed the dog park to find Dax, then continued across the big field to Dux.

A short stroll down Umstead Drive brought us to a grove and the final troll, Daddy Bird Eyes, lounging against a tree.

There was a vibrant art installation right here.

Then a short hike back along the road.

With time to spare, we drove to Lake Johnson for a relaxed walk along the greenway. We stuck to the paved east loop, perfect for the stroller.  Along the ways, the small waterfall trickled modestly.

Near the dam, a great blue heron waded gracefully in the shallows.

We  finished up back at the dam.

After completing the loop, Amaroq and I squeezed in one more adventure at Lake Raleigh Woods. Starting from the Alumni Center lot, we followed Lakeview Trail for sweeping lake views.

The mile-long path ends at a rocky outcrop above Walnut Creek.

On the return, we linked Ridge Trail to Fern Trail, a fun biking loop through fern-covered slopes.

Valley Trail as a short connector between Fern Trail and Lakeview Trail.

We took a short detouronto the mile-long Tulip Poplar Trail, another mountain biking trail.

Finally, we closed with Pine Trail, hiking every trail in the forest.

We emerged near our starting point just as the sun broke through, warming the air.

Occoneechee Panhandle Hike

On Sunday, we stirred before dawn, broke camp in the half-light, and slipped into the Tupelo Birding Trailhead just beyond the campground gate in Occoneechee State Park.

The path ducked past the splash of the spray park, crossed Panhandle Road, and spilled onto the park’s main artery. A quick hop across carried us to the Mossy Creek Nature Trail, where a clear tributary tumbled over velvet-green rocks.

From there, Warrior’s Path Nature Trail guided us down to the boat-ramp lot.

Mossy Creek surrendered to the Old Plantation Trail beside a lone brick chimney—the last sentinel of the Occoneechee Plantation.

The loop circled the vanished estate passing an old cemetery.

Only terraced gardens remain, stepping down the hillside like green staircases, each level littered with knobby Osage oranges glowing chartreuse against the leaves.

We closed the circle on the Big Oak Nature Trail and rolled back to the car, stomachs growling.

A short drive into town yielded hot coffee and biscuits, then we returned to the Panhandle Trailhead for the park’s grand finale. Seven miles long, the Panhandle Trail shadows the paved road to the equestrian campground, then slips behind a gate onto a forgotten lane that ribbons down a narrow peninsula.

Open meadows flashed by, but mostly we walked beneath a tunnel of hickory and oak, the fallen leaves a rust-red carpet underfoot. No grand overlook waited at the tip - only a quiet cove.

We picked our way down the bank, boots sliding on pine needles, until Buggs Island Lake opened wide and blue before us. A heron lifted off the water, slow wings beating the morning still. We turned, seven miles back the way we came, legs warm, the peninsula now ours alone.

Munford Trail Hike

On Saturday, I loaded Amaroq into the car and pointed north toward Virginia for a weekend of hiking and camping. Our first stop was Greenwood Wildlife Management Area on Kerr Lake.

We picked up the Robert Munford Trail and followed gravel roads for the opening mile until a right turn aimed us at the old Munford Cemetery tucked in the pines.

Past here, the path shrank to singletrack - faint, rooty, and half-swallowed by leaves. It spat us out beside a weathered cabin, then hugged the lakeshore, trading forest shade for sudden flashes of water.

We ducked under powerlines a few times before the trail spilled onto Eagle Point, seven honest miles behind us.

Rather than retrace every step, we cut back on the cemetery loop, boots lighter with the lake still glittering in our eyes. 

At the trailhead I jogged down to the water’s edge for a couple last shots.

From here, we rolled into Clarksville. Lunch was burgers and cold pints on the dog-friendly patio at Buggs Island Brewing - lake breeze, bridge views, tail wags all around. By early afternoon we reached Occoneechee State Park and claimed a campsite under the oaks. With daylight to burn, we parked at the Beaver Pond Trail and set off.

A hundred yards in, a clearing full of turkey vultures stared down like silent gargoyles.

The path looped another mile through hardwoods, breaking open twice for postcard views of the lake shimmering below.

Back at camp we stacked firewood, struck a match, and let the flames push the chill away as the sun slipped behind the trees and the stars took over the sky.

DuPont Fawn Lake Hike

On Monday we checked out of the hotel and drove to the Fawn Lake Access in DuPont State Forest. After parking, we followed the wide, leafy ribbon of Conservation Road into the woods. Half a mile in or so, we crossed over a chattering tributary of Reasonover Creek. Just off the trail, hidden in a tangle of rhododendron, Jenn’s Falls spilled down mossy rock.

It was a short bushwhack, so we took turns slipping through the undergrowth while Harper and Amaroq waited on the path.

Back together, we rolled on past the old Airstrip Trail, then eased downhill on a carpet of bronze oak leaves.

A quick left onto Bridal Veil Falls Road delivered us, in about half a mile, to the wide, sunlit base of Bridal Veil Falls.

Water roared over the lip and shattered into mist; we clambered across slick boulders, cameras clicking, but kept Harper on flat ground - no climbing to the veil today. Satisfied, we turned for home, choosing Fawn Lake Road to stitch a perfect loop.

The lake appeared like a jewel box: mirror-still water ringed by sugar maples blazing red and gold.

We lingered on the shore, breathing in the crisp, sweet air, then followed the trail’s gentle arc back to the car. Doors slammed, packs tossed in the trunk, and with the forest fading in the rearview mirror, we pointed the car toward home.