Like Gauley, this park is managed by New River Gorge and is best visited by going through a state park. Pipestem Resort State Park has a aerial tram which runs on weekends and more often in summer, and—even though it runs on gas—I recommend it as the best way to get down to the river 3,600’ below. (Look for the old moonshine cave on the way back up). Then you can hike along the beautiful river trail (see above) for as long as you like. West Virginia is wild and wonderful, and this particular river is simply stunning.
Upstream is the large Summersville Lake, which is drained each fall, creating a spectacular world class 25 mile whitewater kayak run for a few weekends through these woods and around the Pillow Rock Rapids bend above. The rest of the year, the West Virginia park belongs to the wildlife, without any significant visitor facilities and few easy access points. Information on hiking trails is available at New River Gorge nearby.
Obviously the whitewater is above my skills even if I waited until September, so I just decided to admire the views and hike in the beautiful woods. The best place for that is not the park campground—which is just a parking lot and kayak launch at the base of the Summersville Dam.
The place to go is the Carnifex Ferry Battlefield State Park—which commemorates the Civil War Union victory that helped drive the Confederacy out of western Virginia eventually leading to the creation of West Virginia. This is where I took the photo above, and where I walked into the park on the old ferry ‘road’ or trail. The state park is day use only, but it has nice facilities, beautiful lawns and a monument.
[Sorry to hop around so much, but I want to wrap up a region]. Last year folks celebrated the 50th anniversary of the river’s designation, but somehow Arkansas allowed a concentrated 6,000 hog feeding operation on Big Creek to pollute the Buffalo River with runoff from tons of pig crap. The resulting increase in algae and e-coli bacteria was damaging water quality in the park significantly. After protests, the hog operation was halted (and paid off handsomely), but local politicians have not been willing to make the ban permanent.
I woke in Tyler Bend Campground all ready to paddle 10 miles of the middle section from Baker Ford to Gilbert (where someone from the General Store would leave my car), but a sudden line of thunderstorms dissuaded me. That storm system killed three people in Texas with tornadoes and brought lots of lightning to this river in Arkansas, so I was glad to hit the road early instead. Pollution from either industrial ranching or fossil fuel burning is taking the fun out of some of my best trips.
Despite rural development—like Branson—, the Ozarks are still very beautiful, and the river is 135 miles of free-flowing nature. Nearby there’s a 100 foot wide natural bridge, one of many alcoves and interesting geologic features in the area that likely caused the French trappers to describe the area as having arches or “aux arcs” (say it out loud).
Americans, being poor linguists and unaware of the remote arches and bridges upstream, have long been confused about the origin of the name “Ozarks”, speculating that the French were talking about natives with curved bows or some bend in the river. This is moronic, as all bows and rivers are curved, so the French explorers would have no reason to use such a useless description. Americans had similar problems in understanding the French name for the Canadian River, which obviously derived from the Spanish word cañada, as the river passes Texas’ Palo Duro, the second largest US canyon. Rather than try to understand foreign languages, Americans assumed the French explorers did not know how to Canada by river.
I figure I climbed Mt Katahdin in Maine over a dozen times as a kid, so I decided just to hike out here to Orin Falls (above), about 6 miles round trip. Surprisingly little has changed in the decades since I last visited. The logging roads are still long, unpaved, bouncy and largely unmarked, and they still have lean to’s for the Appalachian Trail that officially ends on the mountain. The Swift Brook Road one lane bridge is still spectacular, and there are still moose here, wandering out in the roads and ducking into the woods to avoid being photographed. (Definitely a “save this park for offline use” ahead of time if you’re using the NPS app, otherwise you could get lost. My watch kept asking me if I wanted to send an SOS.)
The counselors/ environmentalists who brought us here as summer campers to teach us about nature would be pleased that this is now a national monument, but they would see that not everything has remained unchanged. Man has dramatically altered our climate, so the species here are virtually all in decline. The environmentalists may have won a battle over the logging industry here, but we’re losing the war. On the tour road I stopped at Lynx Pond—one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen as a teenager—, but it was surrounded by dead trees and was much drier than I remember. The slow growing forests of Canada and the northern states are at risk of wildfire, if they’re not burning already. It is not enough to save places like this. We must also save the climate.
Well, Acadia, I’m back! My first National Park visit was here, on Cadillac Mountain at sunrise, some decades ago as a happy camper. We wanted to be the first in the US to see the sunrise, and—assuming nobody was awake on West Quoddy Head a bit further east—we were. This visit, I decided to get a photo before sunset, since I had already done the cold, dark and windy sunrise. Then I had an excellent meal at Geddy’s in Bar Harbor and slept until it was already light.
Acadia, in Maine, has excellent hiking on old carriage trails around ponds and lakes around Mt Desert Island—which refers to an area of bald rocky top mountains, not sandy deserts. Also, there’s kayaking, tide pooling, a pebbly “sandy” beach, bicycling, star gazing and more. The park dates back to 1929, and it’s popular enough that you need to buy a timed-entry ticket online to drive to the mountaintop above. I just pulled over at an overlook, ordered from recreation.gov and drove up. This park inspired me to visit as many national parks as I can, so I’m glad to be back, even if it took me a few decades.
This park needs some explanation. Behind over-developed Ocean and Atlantic Cities in New Jersey, there’s a large underdeveloped lowland pitch pine forest with rivers, creeks, swamps and bogs. The ground is sandy, so colonial farmers wrote off the whole area as the “pine barrens”. There were a few failed attempts at industry, including mills, glassworks and munitions, but the lack of elevation meant little hydro power. In the 1920’s Atlantic City boomed, but the swamps were mostly for bootleg gin and mosquitoes.
In the 1970’s developers and environmentalists faced off to decide the fate of the remaining forest. By then, cranberry and blueberry farmers had begun commercial farming, roads crisscrossed the area, and there was a diverse mix of increasing rural and residential growth. Development is the primary cause of unnatural fire suppression, which changes the ecosystem over time. The pine land was becoming valuable and the forest at risk.
Environmentalists argued that the unique pine forest was home to several rare species—including Pygmy pine, a tree frog, an orchid and many birds—, and, by adapting to historic wildfires, the hot-burning pitch pine trees became dominant by regrowing faster than hardwoods. They also pointed out that underneath the entire sandy swamp was a huge pristine freshwater underground aquifer that supplied places like Atlantic City. Develop the forest, and you create big problems in the future. The battle is still ongoing, but much of the forest is now protected. UNESCO has recognized the Pinelands as an International Biosphere Reserve.
The park service only protects the main river—just the water—, and much of the land alongside the river is maintained piecemeal by different county’s parks. The largest undeveloped pine forest area is managed by the state, and there are four state forests in the Pinelands, along with many wildlife reserves and other parks. The Pinelands National Reserve is affiliated with but not run by the National Park Service. Since I’m visiting official national park units, my challenge was finding the river amid the forest.
I stayed at one of the county campgrounds near Mays Landing, Lake Lenape West in Atlantic County, where it’s easy to put a kayak in the water and paddle around. Lake Lenape itself is like a neighborhood recreation area, with a ridiculous little lighthouse, but if you paddle up to the top, there are nesting bald eagles where the river enters. There is at least one campground upstream, Winding River, that rents equipment, but be advised that there are likely obstructions from low hanging trees potentially blocking progress near that section of the river. Estell Manor Park downstream has a nature center with extremely knowledgeable park partners who patiently explained all this to me and directed me to the side channel in the river above, where there’s an artesian well and the overgrown ruins of an old business. It’s a fascinating area in an underrated state that just requires a bit of extra effort to figure out and explore.
This sleepy foal was waiting by the roadside while his Mom grazed. The wild horses on the Maryland shore have adapted since escaping Spanish shipwrecks maybe 400 years ago. Their fur is thicker, legs short & stocky, and they have large bellies to help process the extra water needed to eliminate all the salt on their fodder. Colonists also kept horses on the island to evade livestock taxes, so the gene pool is healthy. The park service has an innovative birth control program to limit the mares to one foal, which involves firing (and retrieving) darts, and that keeps the population under control. While they’re not a native species, the environment would likely have had some ungulates (hooved animals), so the park service supports this popular wild population that run free on the entire island.
The park is in the Delmarva area—meaning Delaware, Maryland and Virginia all share the peninsula—, and the island runs around 40 miles along Maryland’s Atlantic coast. The Chincoteague Bay side is more scenic with more birds, but the beach side gets more visitors. There are a couple easy boardwalk hikes at the north end, along with a state beach section and access to the long roadless midsection. The Marsh Nature Trail was the prettiest when I visited, but check conditions at the visitor center before crossing the bridge to the island. The Virginia end of the island supports a different, less wild herd which is managed by ‘saltwater cowboys’, mostly firefighters, who sell the excess foals.
The park is in Virginia and connects to Great Smoky via the Blue Ridge Parkway: hundreds of miles of winding wild beauty. The skyline drive is wondrous and many of the outlooks are magnificent, but you really should stop and go for a hike. The ultimate hike would be the Appalachian Trail, but there are many shorter ones of varying difficulty. I saw folks biking, but most looked unhappy. The park ranges from 1400’ to over 4000’ with lots of ups and downs for over 100 miles in between.
Many folks stop in the middle at Big Meadows (milepost 50) which has a Visitor Center, big campground and lodge with restaurant and taproom. I was less interested in the meadow than the forest, so I stopped at Skyland (milepost 40 from the north). They don’t have a visitor center or campground, but they have a lodge, similar dining, horseback riding and free EV charging (J1772 & Tesla Destination).
From there I hiked west past the old Massanutten Lodge and out to Miller’s Head, where a family told me about the Whiteoak Canyon trail on the east side. So I added another 5 round trip miles to get to the waterfall above, where another nice family helpfully provide scale by standing near the top. It’s easy to spot a dozen types of wildflowers, birds, and larger wildlife. About a dozen deer crossed the road ahead of me, so drive carefully!
Everyone may already know this, but neither the Shenandoah River, Valley nor Mountains are within the park. Those are all to the west, and the best place to see the river is from the Shenandoah Valley Overlook near the north entrance.
In July of 1929 the police raided the Blue Blazes Stills here and a deputy was killed. The original operation was destroyed, but bootleggers produced thousands of gallons of ‘whiskey’ in 18 huge vats. When FDR was elected to deal with the Great Depression, he decided to clean up the eastern end of the Blue Ridge Mountains in northern Maryland, regrow the forest and employ people to create campgrounds, trails, rustic lodges and the bootleg still exhibit above. Camp David is in the immediate vicinity, and since I wasn’t invited there, I stayed here in one of the historic lodges at Camp Misty Mountain in my sleeping bag, a short walk to parking and restrooms, for $50. The sites are open from May to October, tent sites cost $30, larger facilities are available for groups, and there’s even an accessible pool, which FDR would appreciate.
These are the Quantico Falls, within this massive 16,000 acre Virginia park with CCC campgrounds. There are remnants of natives, freed slaves and farmers ‘displaced’—evicted by the government—during the Depression. In WWII Wild Bill Donovan took over the park to train his OSS spies in the forest. You’ve probably heard of the nearby Marine & FBI bases. Now, the park is popular for camping, hiking, biking and orienteering.
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