The Mountain State, Part II (Or Why Flat Tires in Remote Places Are Highly Overrated)

As I mentioned in part one of this brief series of entries, the first few days (Oct. 2-4) in the Canaan Valley area of West Virginia were spent dealing with temperatures peaking–peaking, mind you–at 40 degrees (F) and nearly constant precipitation:  snow, light rain or mist and fog.  At some point during the afternoon of  Tuesday, October 4, the rain stopped.  It remained overcast throughout the day but the forecast–I always make it a point to keep a close eye on impending weather–was for a dramatic warm-up and clear skies by morning.  That was, in fact, the forecast for the remainder of the week in the area.

Have you ever come back from a clear-blue-sky photo trip and had someone ask you how it went?  Ever reply with something along the lines of “well, it was non-stop sun” and have them respond, “oh, you lucky dog!”  They just don’t get it, but then, neither did I until I became serious about photography many years ago.  The fact is, particularly when I’m photographing in forested locations and/or along creeks and streams, overcast skies are just what the doctor ordered.  Cloudy skies, of course, mean soft, even light.  No heavy contrast to deal with.  No hot spots caused by sunlight filtering through the trees.  Add in some fog and it’s just about perfect.  So, as unpleasant as I made the first few days in West Virginia sound, they were actually very nice from a photographic standpoint.  Yes, keeping equipment–and myself–dry was a pain in the rump, but the even light and sometimes foggy conditions were much appreciated by this photographer.

The only real casualty to the weather I had to deal with through Tuesday afternoon was a complete absence of sunrises and sunsets.  But I could see that this was coming to an end as of Wednesday morning, so I got up 2 1/2 hours before sunrise on October 5 and made the drive from Canaan Valley to Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia, to shoot sunrise from an east overlook on the way up to the summit.  I ordinarily don’t like to shoot dawn/sunrise shots when the sky is cloudless, but given the added altitude (above 4000 feet) of my perch a remarkable gradient was visible in a clear eastern sky beginning with civil twilight–roughly 30 minutes before sunrise.

Spruce Knob Dawn, Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

After the sun began to crest the mountain ridges to the east, wonderful views of the slopes and valleys below filled me with near sensory overload.

Spruce Knob Sunrise, Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

A trip to the summit–I had the place entirely to myself–led me to the Whistling Spruce trail, which provides the the hiker with 360 degree views of the area.  Now that the sun was up, I concentrated my attention to westward overlooks.  Valley fog–very common in this area at this time of the year–was in abundance to the west, which produced some truly unique vistas.

Islands in the Fog, Whistling Spruce Trail, Spruce Knob-Seneca Rocks National Recreation Area, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

It had been a productive morning, well worth the absurd wake up time.  The sun ultimately burned off the fog and I lost the light by mid-morning.  The rest of the morning and first half of the afternoon was spent scouting other shooting areas and undertaking some close-up shooting of diffused subjects.

Fallen Maple Leaves Close-up, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

The day culminated with a sunset shoot of Blackwater Canyon from Lindy Point in Blackwater Falls State Park.

Blackwater Canyon at Sunset from Lindy Point, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

The following day (October 6) I awoke even earlier and made my way up to Bear Rocks, in the Dolly Sods wilderness.  This was the spot where I endured 40 MPH-plus winds the previous year.  I had trekked up there–over some very iffy forest roads, I might add, not incidentally (take this as a bit of foreshadowing)–for no particularly good reason, in the gloom on Tuesday morning.  On my first foray to the spot this year I was greeted with socked in fog, high (roughly 30 MPH) winds and light rain.  It wasn’t a total loss as I simply sashayed down the road a mile or so to the Blackbird Knob trail head and hiked into the back country, where the wind was far less of a problem.  But on Thursday, to my astonishment, when I arrived at my destination, it was dead calm at Bear Rocks.  (I couldn’t believe it; I’m still having a hard time believing it now, to be honest.)  It was also foggy, so while there would be no sunrise vista this morning, I would be able to shoot the beautiful heaths in foggy conditions without having to deal with high winds.  I was thrilled.

Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

While shooting, I saw a “fog bow” for the first time.  I’ve heard about them, but this was the first time I had the opportunity to see one with my own eyes.  It was a bit of a scramble to set up to photograph this phenomenon, and it’s more of a documentary shot than anything else, but it was a fascinating sight.

Fog Bow, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

The appearance of the fog bow told me that the mist was thinning and that the sun would burn through presently–which would essentially end the photo session.  But I tried to make the best of it before the fog lifted completely.

Fog & Sun, Bear Rocks Preserve, Dolly Sods Wilderness, Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia

More than satisfied with the morning’s experience, I packed up my things, returned to my car and began the trip back down the same miserable, steep unpaved forest roads towards Canaan Valley that I had ascended a few hours earlier.  About three miles into the return trip I heard–and felt–a telltale “thump thump” sound from outside the car.  Fearing the worst I got out of the car and, sure enough, the right front tire was flat as a pancake.  Here I was in the middle of nowhere, driving a compact car–that means no true spare tire, just a [expletive deleted] donut temporary spare–on a steep road with a rotten little jack that warns that it should “only be used on a flat, paved surface.”  Perhaps I should pick the car up, I recall thinking, and carry it the eight-odd miles to the nearest flat, paved surface.  Jacking the car up, removing the flat and putting on the spare was a very difficult ordeal because I was on a steep, rocky surface.  The car nearly pitched off the jack at least a half a dozen times before I finally completed the process…and then I faced a long trip on the same road that produced the flat in the first place on a donut spare.

Long story comparatively short, I made it down in one piece, ultimately found a garage in the tiny town of Mt. Storm, had the tire patched for $6 (fortunately the hole was in the tread, not the sidewall), called myself damned lucky to have escaped with a few scrapes and only a few lost hours, and made my way back to Canaan.

So, for those of you wondering whether flat tires–particularly flat tires on cars unequipped with adequate spares or jacks–are a good idea, my considered response is:  no.  No, they are not.  I had already determined this the last time I had a flat tire while driving a compact car in the middle of nowhere (roughly 10 miles east of Florence, Oregon–a real horror story which I will not relate here in the interest of relative brevity and my own mental health) a couple of years ago, but my West Virginia experience reinforced my belief that flat tires are not recommended.

Blackwater Canyon from Pendleton Point, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

The only photography I undertook the rest of the day was to shoot Blackwater Canyon from Pendleton Point at sunset.

Blackwater Canyon Sunset, Pendleton Point, Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

I had two more full days and a third morning left on the ground in West Virginia and I was determined to make the most of it.  As insane as it sounds in light of my Thursday morning experience, this was to include one more trip up to Bear Rocks.  It’s not as crazy as it sounds, really.  (Seriously.)  I’ll provide the story, and a few more images, in the third and final installment of this series.