Sunday, June 29, 2008


I hooked up the Gheenoe and headed for my favorite lake; Chilhowee Lake. More specific, Abrams Creek. I had heard there were Bald Eagles nesting there and I had to go have a see. I didn't take Douglas this run because I would be on the boat for extended periods of time and he likes to get onto the islands and run. I will pick him up on the way home and he and I will go out together. Today I was looking for wildlife. I floated up to what appeared to be frog eggs clustered around fallen snags under water. These clusters are enormous. I will ask some TWRA friends and experts about these masses. I hope one can get an idea of the enormity of these clusters from the photo's. Wow! Going to be a lot of frogs around here. A floating leaf with damsel flies. What are they doing? Breeding? I'm not sure. Their needle like abdomens appear to be skured into the leaf; and into each other for that matter. Each one appears to be a slender little natural stick pin. They are nature's jewelry. They are floating on a natural raft leading to nowhere. Then the payoff. Around a bend and high in a tree sits a Bald Eagle. An adult. An old adult. The quiet motor on the slender Green boat did not awaken it. The eagle's head was turned down and the beak was nestled behind the shoulder of its wing. I clicked off pictures as fast as I could focus, which was no small task on a rocking boat. My little boat drifted ever slowly closer and closer to the tree the eagle was perched in. I was ready to capture it's wings outspread when it would finally fly away. I was set. I was ready. The camera was refocused. Any split second now and I would have the photo's of a life time. My heart was beating harder. Just then a loud roaring engine sound came up behind me. A jet ski. A damn jet ski. For beloved Christ's sake. A damn jet ski. I stood and waved my hands for the abomination to stay put and stop the engine. The idiot came strait towards me, at least slower than when he appeared. The rectal tissue brained idiot came right up beside my boat. The eagle was gone. I caught a view of it as it unfolded it's wings after dropping down from the perch in preparation for the first or second wing beats that would carry it up to the limitless sky's..I took a snap shot as it approached. The moment was ruined. I looked at the moron who now knew what he had caused. "Lot's more hawks around to take pictures of man." I mentioned nothing accept "back away from my boat please." I Started my engine and slowly pulled away. I was without words. He couldn't even leave gracefully. He turned his contraption around and gunned it. I got a picture of the smoke from his departure. Crude idiot!!! These jet ski; these obnoxious, noisy, nuisances are a plague to the wilderness experience. They are the crotch rockets on the water. They are a totally useless water craft. Noise, high wakes, bad manners, kids driving them with kid's mentality. I hate them. And why would anyone want to blast a jet ski into this pristine place? The whole damn lake and he has to bring his crappy, noise maker with his loud header system and all his blue two stroke smoke clear up here to the mouth of Abrams Creek. Those people build mansions on the main lake but they don't want to drive their boats there. Too busy on the water. So they come out here. Should be a law to keep the damn jet ski's in certain portions of the lake. Put em all together in one big fenced in spot. Maybe they'd all----------oh well. My attitude toward jet ski's is a learned one. I wasn't born with it. I have never once seen a jet ski operated in a responsible fashion. Not once. All I remember is noise, irresponsible behavior and lack of respect for anyone Else's space. Sorry. Not over generalizing here. Not once I said. So anyway. I got some fair shot's of the eagle. Not great. But pretty good. don't forget to click the image to enlarge Here is a link that will explain what I call "space brains" really are:

Saturday, June 21, 2008


My friend, Bob, and I rode the motorcycles over the Great Smoky Mountain National Park road and onto the Blue Ridge Parkway on Saturday and overnight to Sunday. I can only describe this ride as wonderful. I left Greenback just before sun up in order to miss the masses of tourists that cruise the park each day. I met Bob at the visitors center on the Gatlinburg side of the park. Even at that early hour we still had to deal with tourists. The weekend is not the best time to drive in the mountains of East Tennessee. Tourists! They literally jamb the roads everywhere. As we gained altitude on the Blue Ridge we began to see rhododendron. The mountainsides were carpeted with them. The Blue Ridge Parkway is the most magnificent motor road in this country, in my estimation. When nature decides to paint her canvas with flowers, she selects the most prime areas. And the parkway is one of them. After driving higher and higher we came finally to the Brevard exit. A short run down that road brought us to our destination; The Blue Ridge Campground. It is motorcycles only and the best I have ever stayed at. They offer miniature cabins as well as tent sites. The place is wonderful. Early Sunday morning was spent winding down a snaky road through the Pisgah National Forest and on to Cherokee and over the park road to home. It was a fantastic weekend. Click pics for enlargement..... Mama Gotta Hurry! Come on Ma. Hurry!