Fresh off my waterfall adventure, I decided to tackle a longer hike. Pink Beds was right up the road, and looked to be about a five-mile circuit. Perfect!

The majority of the hike is fairly flat, as opposed to the rest of the trails, which meant I could make much better time. It also passes through a wetland area, which should be neat and bring out different birds and plants. Fantastic! I rounded the trailhead and was immediately treated to a sign.

Oh. Right. Bears. I should think about bears. The last time I saw a bear it was in Sequoia National Park, it was an adolescent and I learned something important about myself. I learned that when under duress, my first instinct was to hide behind the martial artist friend I was hiking with in case he had to Kung Fu fight the bear. Since I was without a fighter this time, the bard was going to have to go it alone and hopefully not get herself eaten.

First thing I found was these little mushrooms who had been sadly knocked over. I moved them out of the slats, though I am not sure if fungus can grow new attachment points. Something else to look up.  The trail here is very different from the earlier ones in Moore’s Cove. The trees are different, much more pine trees, and much straighter. And oh, the roots. So many roots. I had no idea at this point what I was in store for.

I’m absolutely entranced, as you know, with stumps and tree hollows. This one looks a lot like a faerie amphitheater! This is probably where they go to have little concerts. Maybe an acoustic set with one little brownie on a guitar. It was cooler when it was a hole in an upright tree, but you probably didn’t know about it then.

There is a clear creek that runs through much of the hike, and you can hear it constantly. All along the edges there are these amazing treefalls with the root balls still intact. This one was part of a whole block of trees that came down at one point. Again, note the root density. They are there, under the path, constantly.

Another stump, this one resplendent in moss and lichen. I think it’s gorgeous. The sun was still hidden inside banks of clouds, which make all the greens that much more luminous. It’s great lighting! I wish I was a better photographer to take advantage of it.

About a mile into the route, the creek comes close enough to the path to really get a good look at it. Look at this! This doesn’t look real to me – it’s so clear and well defined it reminds me of something Disney would build in a park. The water was super cold, and I didn’t drink any, but seeing it so clear and moving so fast was a treat. You can see how straight and tall all the trees are here – much different from elsewhere in the park.

My first clue that we were approaching the wetlands was the sudden appearance of fiddlehead ferns and the sound of many, many more birds. The path winds around a bit, through dense trees, then opens up into the marshlands. There is luckily an intact wood bridge that goes over the top, so you can walk right over the thickest parts of it. And also not get bitten by snakes, which I appreciate.

This is the older of the foot bridges. The newest one bypasses it but lets you look over at it while you cross. Kinda creepy and awesome at the same time. I have to be honest, at this point in the hike, I was getting a little weirded out, but I couldn’t tell you why. I noticed it when I realized that I was hurrying a lot more than I normally was. Maybe it was the threat of bears, or the openness of the area, I don’t know. What I do know is that for some reason I was moving a lot faster than normal.

This is looking back at the new walkway. I was still feeling anxious, so I moved on. I’ve learned to listen to that feeling no matter, and not judge myself too harshly for it. I’ll try this area again next time with a friend along. I’m sure it was nothing, but I moved on regardless.

One of the things I love about hiking, and people in general, is their propensity to stack rocks. Here’s the first one I found in Pisgah. No matter where I go, and how far off the trail I wander, there’s always rock stacking.

After passing over the marsh, we go back into a flat, winding section of trail with the stream going back and forth over it. It’s also the first of a series of climbing adventures. This one, as you can see, consists of a plank nailed to a fallen tree. Luckily it has a handrail, but truly? I love this stuff. I’m in desperate need of a trip to Fall Creek Falls in Tennessee. Apparently there are rope bridges!

And here is the first of the treefalls. Because I’m trying to not get Lyme Disease, I crawled over this one. Normally, I’d go under them, but I’m really attempting to be an adult and not spend too much time crawling around on the ground. At least not on this trip.

Not a half mile down the pathway (now becoming more rooty – I wish I’d taken pictures of the tree roots), we get to the bigger tree. This one I absolutely had to climb over. I was laughing to myself the entire time, because these are exactly the kinds of obstacles I used to put in the way of parties when I ran low-level AD&D campaigns. So far, I’d made my dex check and my climbing check. Go me!

Another fairy house – this one right as the trail splits off. The Barnett Branch cuts off a huge loop of the Pink Beds, and since I was a little limited on time, I decided to take that spur. Much like the previous section, it’s flat, near the creek, and extremely rooty. I was at this point paying close attention to the path itself, since it was getting a little more treacherous to my ankles.

I think the squiggly line is a little misleading, it’s not THAT difficult. But it was a lot tougher than the Pink Beds. Because of the tree roots and my rising hunger, I moved through this section much faster and took fewer pictures. I apologize for that – it really was lovely. Again, next time there will be more pictures from the spur.

The creek returned in full babbling beauty here. I mean, look at this. It was a welcome soundtrack to the hike as I cut through the woods and headed to the loop.

I’m not sure if all these trees are bent from flash flooding or what, but don’t they look neat? I love how they’re all curled to the sides. I’d love to set up a camp under there. This whole area smelled of fallen pine, and it was amazing. I was now hurrying, as much as it’s possible for me to move in a steadfast manner, because I was starving. The trail was becoming increasingly a series of tree roots with some dirt between them and a zillion invisible spiderwebs, and the sense of vague unease was back. I hadn’t seen anyone else on the trail at all, and in retrospect, that might be where my nervousness was coming from. Despite my bravado, sometimes I’m reminded that I’m a woman alone. Who hides from bears.

I’ve never seen a ladyslipper in the wild before! I found this just as I turned onto the road to get back to my car. I’d gone a five-mile loop on Pink Beds, and I feel like I didn’t do them justice. I will most definitely be back to really get a good look at them. With bear spray. Or a martial artist – whichever is available at the time.

After eating everything I could find in my car, I took another look at my map. I had about two hours to kill, so I decided to look for something else to explore. Closer to the entrance to the park I came through there was a parking lot for Art Loeb Trail – a very long path that winds its way all the way across the park. I thought I might hike on that for a little bit then turn around. The trailhead for that is next to a river, with lots of people fishing for trout, so again I was treated to the sound of running water and lots of dogs playing.

However, after about three-quarters of a mile, the trail takes a dog-leg and goes to cross the river. It’s also right next to the road. Across the road there was a tiny trail marker for a windy path up into the trees called Sycamore Cove. I’m terrible at making decisions and sticking to them sometimes, so I crossed the road and climbed onto the new trail. I’m SO glad I did.

I haven’t talked about it here, but I’m most assuredly a forest creature. I left Los Angeles in part because I couldn’t handle how brown it was most of the year. It’s a desert with an artificial city on top of it, no matter how you slice it, and the whole area works only because of the Mulholland Aquifer. Get just a little outside of the city and it reverts back to desert. I can’t live in that. I love seeing it, and visiting, but not to live in.

But this…this is my blood.

This is what is in my heart when I think about woods and forests. Deep, deep greens, pathways, ferns, all of it. I maybe stood a little bit and cried.

At this point in the path, I could no longer hear the road, nor any water. It was absolutely silent except for forest noises. Have you ever seen something so green? My family spent generations in these actual spaces, and it was at this point that I realized I felt like I belonged somewhere.

The path wound its way through the valley, no steep grades yet, but there was a fun creek crossing! I made my acrobatics check for this one, and moved on. I could feel time ticking away, and I was silently grumpy that I hadn’t come here first. But, if I had, would it have been as meaningful?

We continued up the winding side of the mountain, clambering up rockfalls and eroded streampaths to stay on the trail. The trails are clearly marked with blazes, and this one, appropriately was blue. Next time maybe I’ll make a day of following blue blazes everywhere.

Even the trees are making art with their own bodies! You’ll notice, as the day got long, that the sun finally came out. As the sunlight started to finally come through the trees, I got my last big surprise. The predominant rock in the area has a very high mica content. How is that a surprise? Well, when it erodes away to make the dirt on the trails, the mica chips stay with it. The trails actually sparkle in the sunlight!

This is the intersection with the Black Mountain and Grassy Road trails. I was running out of time, so this seemed like the best place to turn around and head back. I will definitely be back, Sycamore Cove. I think I found my place.