Six Degrees of Separation on Leconte

August 29, 2010

It was a very unusual weekend for the SouthernHighlanders on their return trip to Leconte.  It began as a birthday hike for Jerky Mike, he was turning 80.  (give or take a year).  You know how hard it is to talk me and Sally Dumplin into climbing back up the hill.  That's exactly what we did.

As a result, we forced him to take the position of honor in the Leconte shelter, commonly known as the floor.  We explained that in the olden days, when the fireplace was operable, this was indeed the best spot.  Mike scratched his head (or something) saying,  "I don't see any darn fire."

Skid and Jack, who apparently needs his mouth washed out with soap, descend Alum much lighter in the pack.  Jack works for the govt now and cannot be taking the Lord's name in vain anymore.

Skid explains that his granpappy, Buford Skidmore wouldn't have appreciated the cacophonous rendering of expletives.  Have you seen Granpappy Buford?

He really wears that badge proudly on his sleeve.

We had some interesting experiences on this trip.  First off, see that big fellow in orange?  That's Frank from Nashville.  Grady and I were ascending Alum Cave Trail when we ran up on him blocking our ascent.  "I know you guys,"  He proclaims.  "I've been waiting to run into you."  Oh crap, Grady and I thought.  It was time to fight.  It was that darned spotted woods tattler.  Frank shook his finger ominously at us.  "You are those SouthernHighlanders,"   Guiltily we responded to the affirmative.  I asked his name,  "Frank"  not Jeff.  Frank related that he had been following our exploits from the web.  What a relief.  Both Grady and myself didn't have much room to maneuver off that slender trail and Frank is a pretty good sized feller.  Glad he has an equally good disposition.  He and the the other Nashville boys got a good dose of Highlandery as we shared the shelter.  The preacher from Ohio, however, might have a different view of the evening's events and conversations.

It's always hard to pass on a Leconte trip, so we don't.  Yes, we haven't been out as much as we like this summer due to the heat.  The high country is our only refuge.  Just look how clear it was from the lodge this morning.

I even managed to make it to Myrtle Point for the sunrise. (or within ten minutes.  I was brewing up some java and missed the church service)

As we dropped back down through the haze, I ran into a fellow on the trail, or should I say, a friend of mine ran into a fellow.  It goes like this.  Whilst on the cliff tops for the sunset, I saw an old climbing friend, Beth McDonald.  Haven't' seen her in twenty years.  Also ran into two folks from my church.  Small world.  Anyway, they were all at the lodge, we are shelter bums, cheapskates, wild oats, whatever.  As we descended Sunday morning, Beth, who had leapfrogged with me several times came upon someone she knew that was ascending the trail with a friend.  Long story short, guess the name of her friend's friend.  Are you ready.

This is a picture of John Quillin and John Quillen.  No kidding.  Even better, John's middle name is Clark, my Father's name and Grandmother's maiden name.  How much more coincidental could the weekend become?  Then I saw Kevin Bacon.

Well, Happy birthday to Jerky Mike.  Great to meet the Nashville boys, our apologies to the Ohio clergy and no bears in the shelter.  I'd call that a success, especially for Mike's first trip up the hill.  We did have a grand time.  Great weather, star filled evening.  Good shelter mates and Sally Dumplin playing the reveille bugle in the morning.

Below you find an un narrarated montage from the clifftops and random scenes on the mountain.  I will let your imaginations wrap around our rationale for being in this beautiful place unfettered by dialogue.