THE RAISINETTES

So, it turns out that raisins are highly toxic to dogs.

A few weeks ago we started fostering a female Weimaraner named Rainey. She’s probably 4 or 5 years old, and is about 2/3 the size of Boone. She’s had a rough life. She was a true stray before the Tarheel Weimaraner Rescue Agency picked her up. She’s definitely a survivor, too. The scars on her face suggest she’s been in more than a few fights over the years.

Rainey is a very sweet dog, but she’s also a mischievous little devil. We kept her in a crate for the first week or so, until she found a way to break out. I have no doubt that Boone helped her. A couple of days later she figured out how to open one of the kitchen cabinets. It was the same cabinet where, coincidentally, we store a giant bag of dog treats. Or used to store them. Boone and Rainey had themselves quite a party that afternoon. I was out of town and missed the whole event. It’s a shame that I wasn’t able to participate in the hourly trips all that night to take the dogs out.

A couple of days later Rainey found her way into another cabinet. This one just happened to have a 12oz bag of raisins in it. Rainey and Boone finished them off while Christy was at school. When she got back she found the empty, shredded bag. After making a couple of phone calls, she took them to the emergency animal hospital, where they induced vomiting.

Things were pretty tense for awhile. Every dog reacts differently to the toxicity of grapes and raisins. Some dogs aren’t affected at all. Others die. Fortunately ours pulled through. Rainey and Boone ended up staying in the animal hospital for 48 hours. I don’t even want to talk about how much that cost. We finally brought them home on Friday evening. They were both wound up from being confined for a couple of days. With the vet’s blessing, we decided to take the Raisinettes, as we now call them, hiking on Saturday.

We’d never taken Rainey hiking before, and Christy is still recovering from a knee injury. With those factors in mind, I planned out several short hikes, with scenic driving in between. I planned our hikes with the goal of catching some fall foliage while getting the dogs some exercise.

We had plans for Saturday night, so we headed out fairly early that morning. We drove up through Morganton and on up highway 181 to Jonas Ridge. The fall color here was breathtaking, and I knew I’d chosen my hikes wisely.

First, we headed down into the Wilson Creek area. Our first stop was a short hike to a long-abandoned apple orchard. One year we timed our visit perfectly and walked away with a whole bag of sweet mountain apples. This visit didn’t go as well. There were some apples on the ground, but most were already rotting. The apples still hanging were too high to get to. That didn’t stop me from trying. I climbed up into one tree, until the limb I was standing on broke. I didn’t fall far, but a sharp branch jabbed me in the stomach as I dropped, leaving a long, ugly scratch up my abdomen. Six days later it’s still tender. I guess I should’ve stopped climbing around in trees years ago.

Next up was a short, relatively easy hike up to Little Lost Cove Cliffs. The cliffs provide one of the best views in northwest North Carolina. From the top the vista extends out across Lost Cove to the rugged peaks of Grandfather Mountain. On our visit the fall color on the ridges above Lost Cove was at its peak. It was fading fast up on Grandfather, and the valleys were still mostly green, but everything in between was beautiful.

We returned to the car and headed towards the next event. Originally I’d planned on visiting Linville Falls, but I had second thoughts on the way there. That place would be a madhouse. I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with crowds, and going there would’ve required leashing the dogs. At the last minute I spontaneously changed direction and headed towards Gingercake Mountain on the northeast end of Linville Gorge.

It was easily the best decision I made all day. Well, it was at least a better decision than trying to climb that apple tree.

There were exactly zero (0) cars at the northern trailhead for the Jonas Ridge Trail. We parked and continued up the old roadbed, towards the crest of Gingercake Mountain. The dogs ran wild as colorful leaves fell all around us. Rainey and Boone took off several times, and on each occasion Boone would return without her. This worried us every time, but she always found her way back to us after a minute or two.

The hiking on the crest of Gingercake Mountain was easy, which the wife approved of. The trail was quite busy, as we passed several groups of hikers, a few dogs, and even three mountain bikers. We continued out to the south end of Gingercake Mountain, which is sometimes called Sitting Bear Mountain. I’ve always found this to be a little confusing, since the actual Sitting Bear rock formation is south of and well below the summit.

We found a campsite near the end of the mountain, and followed a path out to a fine view of Grandfather Mountain and the Steel Creek drainage below. There was some nice fall color down there, but the best was yet to come. We followed another path from the far side of the campsite, which led out to a cliff with a dramatic view down the length of the gorge. Hawksbill, Table Rock, the Chimneys, the Amphitheatre, and Shortoff marched away from us, their rugged cliffs towering over the raging river far below. The fall foliage was spectacular from here. The best color was on the slopes of Hawksbill and directly below us. There was more fine color on the far side of the gorge, along the west rim, as well. We had lunch out there on the cliff and enjoyed the view and the perfect October weather.

After eating I decided to explore. I followed the line of cliffs we were on down deeper into the gorge. After a few minutes I passed under a boulder and arrived at another viewpoint. This one wasn’t nearly as good though, and I was about to head back when the faintest of paths caught my eye. It continued down to the west, and it looked like it might lead to a vantage point looking up the canyon. I pressed on, despite profuse briars, and reached another rock outcrop. This one was overgrown enough to limit the view, but just beyond I found a better vantage. Here I had a great view of Devil’s Cliff draped in its fall finest. I’m glad I forced my way down there, as it provided a view of the gorge that isn’t often seen.

I rejoined Christy and took some more photos before we headed back. The return hike was uneventful, and we got back to the car around 2pm. At that point, I made my worst decision of the day (including the apple tree). I decided that we’d drive the Blue Ridge Parkway to Blowing Rock and maybe do a short hike or two along the way before heading home.

We didn’t have much trouble getting on the Parkway. Unfortunately, on this day the Parkway resembled the Hotel California – you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. Most of the overlooks were overflowing with cars. Originally I’d planned to take the short walk up to Beacon Heights, but I didn’t see any place to park. Once I’d passed it, I realized that turning around would be a monumental undertaking. The fall foliage was almost gone here anyway, so I kept driving. I was hoping that the fall color would still be holding on at the lower elevations around Price Park and Cone Park, but it was not to be. Price Lake was pretty uninspiring. Still, we decided to do one final short hike before we headed home.

We stumbled upon an empty parking spot at Sims Pond and claimed it. From the pond we hiked the Green Knob Trail upstream along Sims Creek. This was a busy trail, so we kept the dogs leashed most of the time. That was ok though, as they were pretty worn out from our earlier hikes, not to mention their recent ordeal at the animal hospital.

The hiking started out pretty easy, though a few of the creek crossings were a little tricky, particularly for Christy, who had worn running shoes. Eventually we left the stream behind and passed through a cow pasture. The dogs and the cows stared at each other as we hiked through as quickly as possible. I made sure to say “Hola” or “Que Pasa” to each cow we passed, but I didn’t get much of a reaction from any of them.

Eventually we left the cows, and the cow patties, behind. We crossed wooded Green Knob before enduring an awful, steep descent on a rocky, eroded trail. This is exactly the sort of trail that aggravates Christy’s knee. I knew she was cussing me under her breath, and I was cussing myself, too. Unfortunately it had been 10 years or so since I’d last hiked this trail, and I hadn’t remembered all of the details. Of course, 10 years ago that kind of trail probably wouldn’t have fazed us.

I think I’ll wait at least another 10 years before I even consider hiking this trail again. Honestly, it doesn’t really have many redeeming qualities. The stream is nice, but hardly spectacular. Several stretches of the trail are wet and muddy, and others are littered with cow pies. There are some views of Grandfather Mountain near the end of the hike, but otherwise it’s just not very exciting.

We finally made it back to the car. The drive home was awful. I considered driving 221 into Blowing Rock, but was terrified of the prospect of driving through downtown. We continued on to 321, which was backed up from Blowing Rock for miles. It took forever just to get on 321, and then we moved at a crawl through town. Eventually we escaped, but it seemed like an eternity. I’d never been so happy to see Lenoir!

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