"If you had only one day in the mountains, what would you do, what would be your perfect day?"
Kelly Redford posed this question on the forum over at GoSmokies.com and received a tremendous response:


"Spend it in the surrounding area securing employment and housing so I never had to leave home again!" Rachel
They're all great responses, but my personal favorite is this:
"If I only had one day in the Smokies, I'd sit down and cry." The Juggler
Inspired by Kelly's question, I'm asking you--If you had only one day in the mountains--the Smokies, the Blue Ridge, anywhere in the Appalachian South--what would you do,what would be your perfect day?

Up above 6000 feet, the oxygen can get mighty thin, but that hasn't stopped more than 160 people from completing the South Beyond 6000 challenge. Conceived in 1968, SB6K challenges serious hikers (i.e. not me) to climb 40 peaks that exceed 6000 feet in the Southern Appalachians.
These are daunting hikes. Fifteen of them are unmarked and untrailed. On many, hikers must bushwhack their way to the top. Carolina Mountain Club, the challenge's lead sponsor, writes, "The peakbagger confronts a thick and difficult vegetation to struggle through to obscure and often almost invisible summits, only guessing where the true summit lies. Knowledge of map and compass, long sleeve shirts and long pants, and gloves are a must."
Among the hikers who have braved the peaks is a remarkable team of women from the Asheville area. All athletes ranging in age from 35 to 42, they upped the SB2K ante last year and attempted to climb 40 mountains in just seven days. Friends and significant others helped them blog about the adventure. In one post, they wrote:
[caption id="attachment_1815" align="alignright" width="194"] One hiker's wound[/caption]
"Spoke with Rebekah a couple of minutes ago and to say she is tired would be an understatement. They spent a large portion of the day today on a nasty trail along a ridge. The rocks were really bad. One portion had to be repelled down. Permanent ropes are in place so they did not have to haul in equipment. Anne apparently had a nasty fall and is bruised pretty bad. Rebekah’s knees and shins are hurting pretty bad especially on the downhill at the end."
In spite of the physical abuse and unforgiving terrain, the ladies averaged 42 miles of up and downhill climbs each day. They finished all forty peaks in 6 days, 13 hours, and 31 minutes.
In an interview about the experience, one of the hikers Jenny Anderson said, "We learned a tremendous amount about our own physical and mental capabilities but, most importantly, we learned about being patient with ourselves, with each other and working as a team. The views, the sights, the rains, the heat, the crew, the wildflowers, the mountains, the bushwhacking, each and every one of the forty peaks, the trails, the laughs will be forever engrained in my memory."
Have you climbed any of the SB2K peaks? Is it crazy to try all forty in seven days or inspiring? Post a comment and let us know what you think.
[caption id="attachment_1820" align="aligncenter" width="354"] Women of SB6K at the finish[/caption]

Those of you who follow The Revivalist on Facebook know that we recently made a last minute camping decision. After soliciting your feedback on the best campground, my partner Ryan and I packed the car, drove 50 miles, stopped to pick peaches, drove another 40 miles, and consumed two bags of fast food.
Sitting within sight of George Washington National Forest, we still didn't know where we were going. We were done with our burgers and nibbling on the last of the fries. One campsite was north of us; the other was south. We had to pick.
I wish I could say that our decision was scientific. We considered reasonable measures, like access to clean water and toilets, but in the end Hone Quarry, the southerly site, won because...
A) Quarries sound dangerous. Doesn't it seem like people are always busting their heads on hidden rocks or finding bodies in them?
B) You can call it Hon Quarry, which I did all weekend in my best Baltimore accent, irritating Ryan and confusing our dog.
We may have been indecisive with the location, but we made up for it with preparation. The day before we left I spent several hours perfecting my camping list. It accounted for every contingency. If it was a cool night, I had jackets. If the campsite was buggy, I had Off. If we got splinters, I had a first aid kit. If I dropped the eggs, they were in a hard-sided carrier that cushions each one with little plastic tips.
We were driving down I-81 confident in our readiness and bolting out bluegrass when the first rain drops hit. The singing stopped, and I turned to Ryan, raising an eyebrow.
[caption id="attachment_1670" align="alignright" width="200"] Rain Gear[/caption]
He is a professional meteorologist. All week he'd been checking fancy radar Websites. In their projections, little colored rain blobs formed over the Blue Ridge Mountains on Sunday afternoon, but the sky was supposed to be clear until then.
The first splish-splash didn't alarm me. The first thirty minutes of showers didn't alarm me. The first sight of our muddy campsite didn't alarm me. I maintained faith in the radar maps, and said, "C'mon, lets give it a try."
There are only ten sites at Hone Quarry. They are nestled in a thick stand of pines, and most are far enough apart to feel private. Ours was quiet and well equipped with a tent pad, a picnic table, a fire ring, and a handy swing-arm grill that adjusts to the height of your fire.
It was a good campsite. As I was setting up the tent, I kept saying, "Imagine this without the rain." We had even recently bought a Budget Trail Camera just for our trips as we wanted to capture every moment of our outing.
Ryan grunted. The dog paced uncomfortably, reluctant to sit in the mud. To keep my brood dry, I backed the Jeep next to the campfire and used its flip-up rear window for shelter. I poured two bourbon and Cokes and began cooking brats.
I figured that we weren't doing so badly and settled into a folding chair under the Jeep's window. As I sat watching the sausages sizzle, the dog spotted a comparatively dry spot for his rump. Jumping from inch-thick mud, he landed right on the middle of my thighs.
I tried to push him off, but his legs went wild. Like a spastic painter, he covered me with muddy streaks. I looked like abstract art, a study in brown. When I wiped at it, the mud just smeared. It left an indelible film across my shirt, shorts, arms and legs, and it coated my optimism.
I couldn't delude myself. There was rain, lots of rain. In fact, I suddenly couldn't imagine any place without rain. Standing there, dabbing at the mud with baby wipes, I began to wonder whether those slow rolling clouds stopped. Maybe they extended into West Virginia and beyond, coating state after state in the same grimy paste that I was trying to get off my body.
The rest of the night was nearly silent. We talked little and went to bed early after holding the dog aloft to wipe each paw, his belly and backside before placing him inside the tent.
As soon as we woke the next morning, we began packing our wet belongings. We would forego my homemade campfire scramble and instead settle for McMuffins.
This was not what I had planned. I'd envisioned myself reclining at the picnic table, gulping my morning tea, the sizzle of bacon a few feet away, dew glimmering on fresh pine needles overhead.
Instead, I was shaking enough water from my tent to irrigate a field. The tent, the towels, the sleeping bag, the dog, us, everything would need to be washed when we got home.
I was silent and scowling as the first sun rays broke through. I didn't even look up. I thought it was a fluke.
Ryan walked to the road to see the sky. He came back smiling and said, "It's ending."
I kept packing until he stepped up behind me and removed two bags of groceries from the car. "Let's eat."
I turned to face the campsite. It was already drying. Standing water had seeped into the ground. Ryan sat a paper bag on the picnic table, and it hadn't soaked through. Even the mud was thickening; it looked like fresh chocolate candy, hardening in giant sheets.
I crossed to the table and lifted a potato from the bag. With the dog laying by my feet and the sound of firewood igniting behind me, I began chopping vegetables. Light dappled through the trees. It covered the campground in an amber wash. Warm and dry, I hummed, grateful for the morning.

***

A muddy night is bad, but I'm sure that someone has had it worse. Tell us all about your bad camping experiences. Also, check out The Photo Album for additional pictures from the trip.

Vote now! Vote often! In partnership with National Park Foundation, Coca-Cola is giving away $100,000 to the park that garners the most votes.
Plenty of Appalachian parks are on the list. Shenandoah got my vote today. Maybe I'll mix it up tomorrow.
Which is your favorite?

Grannie is wiping down her folding tables and counting the days until the Hillsville Flea Market. She and her partner Jim are known for what they call "junking"--finding and selling furniture, antique tools, old guns, and oddities like a handmade knife I once bought from them. Made of jagged metal and bone, it looks like it was used to carve fresh-killed mammoth.
[caption id="attachment_1587" align="alignleft" width="180"] Granny and Jim[/caption]
They trade their quirky wares from a booth at Chic's Antiques in Floyd, Virginia and from two wood-sided sheds that abut their house. Granny and Jim are the go-to source for interesting finds and fair deals. Their business stays brisk all year long, but nothing tops Hillsville Flea Market weekend. Which is remarkable because they don't even go.
The event is some forty-five miles away from their house on Route 221, but they don't bother to pack, load or haul a thing. They sit up a few signs and from the comfort of their yard, pick up sales from the 500,000+ eager shoppers that stream towards Hillsville over Labor Day weekend.
In the course of four days, the event attracts as many people as ten sold-out Virginia Tech football games. It's a huge boon to the region's economy. Hotels and restaurants rely on the spike in customers. Local "junk" dealers like Grannie and Jim piggyback on the event. Residents even sell parking spaces in their yards and rent out guest bedrooms, but no one benefits like the local VFW.
"Honor the dead by helping the living." In the below clip, one member says that's the mission of the VFW and that's what's happening with the flea market. Since the 1960s, all of the proceeds from the ever-expanding event have benefited the local veteran's group. According to the market's website, "Money realized from the show keep the Post in operation for the entire year, and a lot of the money that is taken in is returned to the Community in the form of donations to many civic groups and individuals in need."
Where else can you help the needy while loading up on every imaginable knick-knack and doo-dad known to human kind?
That's exactly what you'll find in Hillsville, according to Mary who blogs at SimplyForties. She attended last year's event and describes the selection this way...
"I saw pitch men hawking the ShamWow chamois, knives, vegetable choppers and various cleaning products. I saw purses and shoes, socks and bird houses, t-shirts and feather boas, confederate flags, cds, leather goods, key chains, wind chimes and decorative license plates. I saw funnel cakes and hot dogs, ice creams and apple cider. I saw Chinese food, Italian food, German and Greek food. There were beautiful antiques including furniture, glassware, crockery, cast iron, stoneware and cutlery. Everything you could imagine was for sale in Hillsville that weekend."
It's all happening again this Labor Day weekend. Drive on over and check it out for yourself. If you pass through Copper Hill on the way, watch for yard sale signs. Granny and Jim won't charge you to park, and you might just find that mammoth carving knife you've been needing.
[youtube]MxuglIwlhVQ[/youtube]
(Related: Call Southern Rubbish Junk Removal of Roswell GA to get rid of all the junk on your property)

Remember that post about iPhone apps for National Parks?

OneTravel.com's blog picked it up as a guest post. If you click over today, you'll find it as the latest post, alongside other interesting stories from bloggers all over the world.
Also, if you're planning a summer adventure, you might check out the regular OneTravel.com site where you can pick up cheap tickets and other travel deals.

Want to shed a couple pounds from your pack? Ditch the guidebook and try one of the digital versions now available for the iPhone. Apps are popping up left and right for the two national parks in the Appalachians. Here are two of my favorites:
 
Great Smoky Mountains National Park
The folks at Nomad Mobile Guides have mastered their trade. They're guide to the Great Smoky Mountains is user friendly, chock full of handy info, and most importantly, available without a mobile signal. Developed in partnership with the Great Smoky Mountains Association, it covers a lot--restrooms, hiking trails, camping spots, historic structures, horseback riding, even family-friendly activities like carriage rides.
[caption id="attachment_1206" align="alignleft" width="170"] Nomad App for Great Smoky Mountains[/caption]
What's more, you can win a $200 REI gift card or a Ken Burns DVD collection by reviewing the app. The contest is only open to the first 250 reviewers so tap on over to the App Store and get yours today.
Shenandoah National Park
For all you armchair naturalists and historians out there, there's the Shenandoah National Park App from NaturePods.
Authored by renowned nature photographers, Ann and Rob Simpson whose work has appeared in National Geographic and other leading publications, the app provides wonderful detail on the natural and cultural history of the park. Learn about 29 wildflower species, eight of the park's most notable mammals, tribes native to the park's land and the geologic origins of these world famous mountains.
Ann and Rob taught me that white tailed deer were nearly extinct within Virginia. (Hard to imagine now, isn't it?) Check out the below clip from the app for more deer facts.
After you take these digital guides for a spin, leave a comment here letting us all know what you think.
[youtube]bPOUWC9GZnI&feature[/youtube]

Tennessee residents may be able to show their Appalachian Trail pride with a special license plate. It seems that an all-important 1000 applicant threshold has been met and the final decision is now up to the state Department of Revenue.
[caption id="attachment_1183" align="alignleft" width="210"] Design by Matt Montgomery and subject to approval from TN DMV[/caption]
The plates could be available as soon as early November, but if you live in Tennessee, you can apply for yours now and support the Appalachian Trail Conservancy.
The Conservancy will receive $15.56 annually for each AT plate purchased or renewed. They're also offering a free, one-time annual membership for each plate.
This is a sure-fire fundraising model for a great organization, but does anyone else think it's odd to show your hiking enthusiasm by driving? Isn't it kind of like "Love Your Mother Earth" bumper stickers?

The Lost River Valley is long and narrow, a peninsula of farmland flanked by steep mountains. It lies between George Washington National Forest and the lush, low range that ripples off to its West. There are cattle, old houses, and a meandering creek that locals call a river.
Driving down State Road 259 yesterday, I was struck that no one element dominates this scene. Even the rolling Allegheny ridges blend into it, balanced against the farm valley, which is symmetrically peppered with barns and chicken coops.  The proportions looked planned, as if they could appear on a Courier & Ives plate.
My partner Ryan and I came to Lost River for the holiday weekend. We were drawn by the promise of vast woods and cool creeks. Both are here, but to be honest, we've not experienced much of either. In the last two months, we have been caught in a vortex of house hunting, buying, and moving. This is our first weekend away in a long time. Though I had envisioned us tackling the great outdoors, hiking and kayaking, maybe riding horses up precariously steep inclines, we've mostly just been sitting.
[caption id="attachment_1144" align="alignleft" width="300"] Rose Cottage[/caption]
A while ago, I sat in the yard of the little house that we're renting, watching my dog pry at a root. Right now, I'm sitting on the porch, overlooking treetops to a cliff framed by full grown pines. We're staying at Rose Cottage, which is newer than the hundred year old cabins I usually seek out. This weekend, though, air conditioned convenience has its appeal.  The place has a spacious wrap around porch, a cozy loft, and an ice maker. Three different kinds of tea are provided. There's no complaining.
When we've had a enough of sitting here, we've gone to a nearby inn to do the same. The Guest House at Lost River has been providing gay friendly accommodations since the 1980s when it was a two story log cabin. Today, it has grown to four connected buildings and several stand alone cottages. They're all thoughtfully aligned to create a balance of intimate nooks, courtyards, and open spaces. The Guest House even boasts a full service restaurant, which attracted us the first night, and it hosts poolside get togethers, which brought us back the next day.
[caption id="attachment_1145" align="alignright" width="300"] The Guest House at Lost River[/caption]
Like the valley, everything at The Guest House is well balanced. The hosts, Bob Dillard and his partner David Mickow, are fun and attentive but not intrusive. Upbeat music is piped throughout the inn, but it's not too loud. The food isn't quite gourmet, but it is very, very good. Think tender, sweet pulled pork; country style mac and cheese; and moist cupcakes, chocolate and vanilla. Even the crowd was balanced. Most guests were gay, but there were enough straight couples (who seemed to be both locals and overnighters) to keep it from being a Fire Island parody.
While writing this, I've moved inside to the loft at Rose Cottage. The dog is curled up beside me snoozing. My feet are propped on a stool. Between pecks at the computer keys, I'm watching bluejays dart through tree limbs outside.
There's a lot of talk about West Virginia being "wild and wonderful." Maybe when you're rafting the New River Gorge or climbing Spruce Knob it is. Here in Lost River, though, there's no need for the superlatives. It's a good place to sit and read, sit and eat, or sit and stare blankly at the ridge line, appreciating it's beauty but not feeling any particular need to get up.

Remember Budget Travel's coolest small towns contest?
Good news! Brevard, North Carolina won the title for the Southeast and emerged as the third coolest town in the entire nation.
Your votes helped, and here's your chance to celebrate. The White Squirrel Festivalstarts this Saturday. For two days, the heart of Brevard will be small-town party-central complete with a box car derby and nearly twenty bands.
The lineup includes jazz guitarist Marc Yaxley, award winning singer-songwriter Tom Fisch, and Woody Pines, an Asheville quintet that has channeled early 20th century Mississippi Delta music right into my iTunes playlist.
In fact, why not get a jump on the festivities?
Grab a hot pretzel and crank up this sample:

Ever watch forest squirrels bounce from limb to limb and wonder what the world looks like from up there?
Starting next Saturday, you can find out. A company called Navitat is opening a new canopy tour in the Asheville area. Riding on zip lines, visitors traverse from one forest tree to another.
According to the screeching and whooping folks in the below video, it's thrilling. One guy can't stand still long enough to be unhooked from the line. He does a little jig in place, laughing uncontrollably while saying, "That was crazy. It was fast!"
Navitat's tagline is "where exhilaration meets contemplation." They slow things down enough for guests to take in the view and be immersed in their surroundings.
Located in Moody Cove, a biologically diverse area with century year old trees, Navitat engaged an environmentalist to develop its interpretive program. A recent guest said, "You see it in a different way when you're actually up in it, rather than just looking up at it."
If Asheville is too far flung for you,  check out this robust list of canopy tours. More than forty have sprung up all around the country.

navitat Canopy Adventures from kurt mann, americangreen.tv on Vimeo.

Haven't found them yet?
The below video tells you how. Watch it and you'll have a pleasant, rash-free restroom experience.
This clip is one in a twenty part series--How to Survive Hiking in the Appalachian Mountains. The other videos are full of helpful tid-bits like what to look for when you're seeking shelter in a cave, the best ways to deter bugs, and how to protect your feet while hiking.
Have a favorite hiking tip? Do share!
[youtube]v9OuQDXrKY8[/youtube]