Christmas Isn’t Over Yet

Don’t bother double checking your calendar or regret throwing away that dried up tree you tossed out a few weeks ago. Just bear with me on this one…

Christmas 2013 is not over for two reasons. One is that we still have Christmas gifts to mail and thank you notes to send out. The second is that we still have our Christmas story to tell. I have not figured out how to connect this website directly to UPS but this blog will at least allow us to share our Christmas adventure with the world.

Christmas morning… the children come storming into Mom and Dad’s bedroom way too early for a couple of people who were up way too late drinking wine and wrapping presents from Santa. Their excitement overpowers any hopes of just a few more moments of precious sleep and we are forced out of our beds so we can shuffle into the living room and display all the surprise and astonishment that we can muster at the fact that the miracle of Christmas happened once again. Blurry eyed, we watch as hours of delicate present-wrapping is undone in a matter of moments and only hope that hundreds of hard earned dollars spent are at least somewhat appreciated.

Well, that is how it goes for us… every other year. On those off-years, Ivan shares that experience with his mom, which is the way things have to go for parents with separate households. This year was one of those off-years and we woke up to an empty nest with his arrival not scheduled until 3 pm.

Some years we enjoy these quiet Christmas mornings with a Screwdriver or a Blood Mary. Others we frantically wrap his Christmas presents because sometimes there is really no better way to feel truly alive than to experience the pressure of waiting until the last minute to get things done. This year, however, we started a new tradition.

One of the best things about living in Greenville is the climate and the proximity to the mountains. Therefore we elected to take advantage of these geographic qualities and spend Christmas morning doing something truly unique.

Christmas morning we went for a hike.

It was a chilly but sunny Christmas morning, we had half the day to spend to ourselves and we live less than ten minutes from Paris Mountains State Park. So we packed a bag of snacks and drinks, laced up our hiking boots and Chris donned a Santa hat for warmth and festive Christmas-trail cheer. Our only fear was that like everything else, the park would be closed and our Christmas fun would literally die at the gate. I suppose we could have called ahead but that really is not our style so we cruised on up the road and hoped for the best.

We received our first official Christmas present of the day when we discovered that not only was Paris Mountain State Park open but admission was FREE. I guess the state parks and recreation division was feeling the spirit of Christmas as well and they made a kind gesture to the handful of adventurers that shared our desire to spend the morning in the woods. By handful, I mean we saw less than five other cars in the entire park and even less people to show for them. The natural serenity of the parks trails was certainly amplified by the almost complete absence of human existence.

We started at the furthest end of Paris Mountain State Park and ventured out on a roughly six mile loop around North Lake (also known as Reservoir Three because it was actually part of the Greenville water supply way back when).  Just because we wanted to go for a hike does not mean we wanted to work too hard on Christmas so we picked out a relatively easy trails that resembled a casual walk more than a strenuous climb. We started on Brissy Ridge Trail, hopped on Pipsissewa and then did the North Lake Loop before returning the way we came in.

I should also admit that I spent most of our time on the Pipsissewa Trail just saying the word “Pipsissewa.”  I think it might be one of my favorite things to say and I now feel compelled to say it out loud a few times right now…

…Ok, now I have that out of my system. Anyway, the biggest surprise of the day came about a mile from our car at the end of the hike. While we were strolling around the lake, some jolly soul hiked into the trail and decorated a random pine tree in the woods.  Covered in red balls and gold tinsel, the tree also held a note to the forest ranger that promising that “the elves” would return to remove the decorations after Christmas. Furthermore, this note was signed by “Mrs. Claus.”

Naturally this gave us a pretty good laugh and we spent the last mile of our hike giggling about this random act of Christmas decorating with me still saying “Pipsissewa” from time to time. We got home just in time to take a couple showers, have a snack, snatch the kiddo, and head over to my parents’ house to watch them bicker.

Obviously it would have been my preference to wake up to an excited eight-year-old still enamored by the idea of Santa Claus. I have to think that we only have another Christmas or two (at best) to watch him cling to this innocent belief in the guy with the flying sleigh. Since that was not an option, however, we were delighted to spend a quiet Christmas morning together in the woods.

The hike reminded us that we live in a pretty awesome part of the world where we can go from downtown to a hiking trail in under ten minutes and, even better, not be miserable hiking through the woods in December. As a bonus it was a pleasure to see the Christmas spirit of the folks who elected to open the park for free and the mystery person (or people) who snuck into the woods to decorate a Christmas tree just for a laugh. After weeks of watching people attempt to trample each other to death or mow strangers down in traffic just so they can get the perfect pieces of plastic crap to put under their trees, it was a pleasure to enjoy the serenity of the woods with a few subtle hints of the true spirit of Christmas.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this might turn into an every-other-year tradition. Merry almost-a-month-after-Christmas folks! Now we just have to mail some presents…

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Wood Pussy (And Other Musings)

I swear this is nowhere near as dirty as it sounds.

Last week we were enjoying a family game night with a round of Junior Scrabble. Since anything worth playing is worth winning, we had to get out the dictionary because Chris was challenging a word that I had played. I could have used the online dictionary to prove to see if the word that I had made up was going to pass muster, but I have a thing for old school Miriam-Webster edition that I have had since middle school.  I just like scanning the pages and seeing what other new and interesting words I stumble across on the wandering path that may or may not lead to my intended destination. 

That is when I saw the heading on page 1,361. That is the magical page that begins with “womanlike” and ends with “wood pussy”. Naturally I had to read the definition so I can immediately begin to insert this into my daily vernacular.

wood pussy n (circa 1899): SKUNK

Quickly forgetting that my son is only eight years old, I read the definition out loud. Naturally, Chris and I laughed as if we were the grade school aged members of the room but Ivan did not even bat an eye. I had barely finished reading the definition before Ivan inquired “So, wait… we’re actually going to the Albino Wood Pussy Music Festival next weekend?”

I have a couple of thoughts on this…

First and foremost, will my Father of the Year trophy be mailed to me or will someone hand deliver it?

Secondly, where in the world did this name come from? If skunks actually bore any resemblance to cats then, maybe it would work? Also, did you know that “polecat” is another feline-related nickname of the skunk? Did you have any idea that skunks were once classified as part of the weasel family before genetic research earned them classification as their own unique group? How about the fact that I am obviously such a nerd that casually stumbling across the word “wood pussy” during a game of Junior Scrabble leads me to research skunks on the Interwebs?

Finally, and most importantly, let us return to the significance of Ivan’s question. Yes, we most definitely are going to the Albino Skunk, Wood Pussy, and Polecat Music Festival this weekend.  At this point, it is as celebrated a date in our household as Thanksgiving, Christmas and our wedding anniversary. 

A quick search of this blog brought to my attention that this will be the fifth Skunk Fest in a row that I have used this forum to tell you about the best music festival in our area. So, after telling you to go see “LiveHumans Making Music”, getting all sorts of excited about “Spring Skunk 2.0” and even offering a “Quick Note From A Cripple” when I was incapacitated from shoulder surgery and pain pills, what more could I possibly tell you about The Albino Skunk Music Festival?

Well, since Zeigler is always adding, building and making Skunk Fest bigger, there are a few things, actually.

For starters, this fall’s Skunk Fest will not just feature The Community Tap serving delicious craft beer from under one little tent. Instead, they are going all out with a full-blown beer garden. Seven breweries will share their love of craft beer under one tent and keep your taste buds entertained for the duration of the three-day performance.

How about a bike ride? This year Zeigler brings you Tour De Skunk. Provided you do not spend too much time at the beer garden Friday night, you might feel good enough to go on one of two Skunk bike rides on Saturday morning. The “short” ride is a 13 miler to Campbell’s covered bridge and the real athletes among you can take the 34 mile trip to the 1820 Poinsett Bridge. Proceeds go to Brown Bird’s Dave Lamb who is battling leukemia. 

I will no doubt contribute to the fundraiser but I will do so from the comfort and safety of the beer garden. Take lots of pictures, folks. We will keep an eye on the kegs.

Finally, the festival is about music. Lake Street Dive and Seven Handle Circus have absolutely owned the Skunk Stage in years past and I am stoked that they will both make their Skunk appearances on Saturday night. That alone makes Saturday the can’t-miss night of the festival. Actually, from the time Tonight’s Noise opens up at 3:15 on Thursday, on through Sons of Bill, Frank Solivan & Dirty Kitchen, Darby Wilcox, The Ragbirds and Lonesome River Band Friday night, the whole festival is just three can’t-miss nights in a row.

I guess this is why we go to Skunk Fest every year. 

Make this weekend about albino skunks, wood pussies, polecats or whatever weird double entendre gets your motor running. As long as that motor runs out to Greer for the “greatest show on dirt”, you will be a happy camper. 

Now for a brief moment of shameless self promotion… hey Anderson, folks – this week’s issue of The Upstate Be will contain an article on Skunk Fest written by yours truly. For more Skunk news and less juvenile skunk nicknames, pick it up and get the whole story of Skunk Fest. 

Can I get a “FEST-A-VUUULLLLL!!!!!!”?

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Boy Climbs Mountain; Parents Rejoice

King Of The Mountain

A couple of Sundays ago my son Ivan became the youngest person in the history of people to hike to the summit of Table Rock Mountain. “Hike” is actually an understatement because in reality he ran, no, sprinted all the way up the trail carrying a 50 pound backpack. He also fought off a bear and three mountain lions on his way up to the summit.

In other news, the previous paragraph is almost entirely BS.

The one truth is that he really did hike to the top of Table Rock and Chris and I are insanely proud of the little guy.  I am not sure, however, if we are as proud of him as he is of himself. We talked about this trip for a couple of years but for a variety of reasons we waited until now to stop talking and start hiking. We knew it would be a tough day for a slightly apprehensive seven year old but the reward far exceeded all of our expectations.

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Spring Skunk In Pictures...

I am far too tired from Skunk Fest to write about Skunk Fest. So here's some pictures of another amazing weekend at the Skunk Farm. Many thanks to Zeigler and everybody that chips in to help bring this festival to life. Well done guys!

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Decisions, Decisions… Spring Skunk and More

Did you ever wish you could be three places at once? This has been a growing problem for me as there just seems like there is too much to do and just not enough, well, me. In a city with Greenville’s entertainment scene we often have to choose between Option A and Option B (and usually do so with relative ease) but this weekend presents some unusually frustrating options.

Option A – The 2013 Spring Skunk Music Fest, Friday & Saturday, April 12 & 13

I have been going to Skunk Fests on and off for at least six years now and I do not think Chris and I have missed a single one since we got married.  Loyalty and tradition aside, Glynn Zeigler has once again assembled a can’t-miss lineup of artists at the increasingly-famous Skunk Farm.  Skunk Fest continues to evolve from a traditional bluegrass festival into an eclectic mix of bluegrass, folk, jazz and jam bands and every single festival just keeps getting better and better.

This year features veteran Skunk alumni Sol Driven Train and our awesome friend and neighbor Darby Wilcox.  This year Darby kicks things off on Friday with her full band, the Peep Show, and is sure to set an unforgettable tone for the weekend. Not to be one to look forward to the end of things, I am ecstatic about seeing Col. Bruce Hampton on stage Saturday night.  Every band in between is just as enticing as we cannot wait to hear what Lake Street Dive, Hooray for the Riff Raff, and all the rest have to offer.

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Paris Mountain: From State Park to Potential Eyesore

This Looks Like A Great Idea!

Anybody that read our opinion of the food truck debate might have picked up some clues that I am a rabid capitalist. I firmly believe that America became a great nation through innovation, hard work, and entrepreneurial spirit. In general I am a solid supporter of the “let’s build it bigger” mentality that our country has always embraced.

The caveat here is that I also feel that development and certain advancements should have some natural boundaries. I like to think of these boundaries as simple things like “common sense”, “human decency”, and “respect for your neighbors”. This is why I feel that one Greenville resident’s proposal to build a five story condominium project near the top of Paris Mountain is completely absurd. 

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June 11, 2010: A Retrospective

The Lodge

A couple weekends ago Chris, Ivan, a kidnapped child, and I went on an adventure.  We hiked at Jones Gap State Park and listened to bluegrass at The Lodge at Table Rock State Park.  We have shared plenty of our feelings regarding Table Rock State Park here, here, and here but today I would like to go back almost two years and talk about a bigger event (at least for us).  

On June 11, 2010 I married the most amazing woman in the whole wide world at The Lodge at Table Rock State Park.  We were married in one of the most beautiful places in South Carolina in front of the best group of people on Earth.  I am not exaggerating when I say that not a day has passed since we said “I do” that we do not think of that day.   Revisiting the site a few weeks ago sparked a flow of emotions that we feel compelled to share on this website.  

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Kidnapping, Waterfall, and Bluegrass

Turn off the Amber Alert. The kidnapped child was safely returned home.

Ok, so it was not actually a kidnapping… we told Blue’s parents in advance that we wanted to steal her so technically we just “borrowed” her.  In any event, we took our friends’ five year old, picked up Ivan and headed up to the mountains for a relaxing Saturday adventure. 

As we headed north from downtown Greenville we asked the kids where they wanted to hike and what they wanted to see.  The democratic process was compromised when the children voted before the primary candidates were even presented – we were going to a waterfall.  About 30 minutes later the Hippie Hot Rod rolled into Jones Gap State Park and we bundled up for a quick hike to Jones Gap Falls.

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A Ten Mile Loop And A Near Death Experience

The Rim Is Aptly Named

Early last week Chris suggested that we plan a “big” hike for the coming weekend.  Since we did not have Ivan her criteria was that it be new-to-her, long, strenuous, and be followed by a “big freakin’ steak and a bottle of wine”.  This is a request that I will never say no to and the choice was an easy one.

On Sunday morning we ventured north to Jones Gap State Park.  With a network of over 50 miles of trails in the area, finding a route that would satisfy Chris’s request was a piece of cake.  I drew up a route that included parts of four separate trails before reaching the main event of The Rim of the Gap Trail.  

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Birthday In The Woods

As the father of a six-year-old I have hosted and attended more kids’ birthday parties than I ever thought possible.  I feel like I have been to every park and bounce house in The Upstate.  I have seen magicians and grown men in large furry costumes.  At these events I have eaten more cake, pizza and hot dogs than the Surgeon General would recommend in a lifetime. This is what kids expect at a birthday party and it is our duty as good parents to comply with their wishes on their most special day of the year. 

Yesterday this formula was completely thrown out the window and I am happy to say that I attended the coolest seven-year-old birthday party of my life.

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Lunch and A Shower In Hendersonville

Image via Wikipedia

I stole this pic from the Interweb

Okay, so technically this is North Carolina and not actually part of the South Carolina Upstate. Should I call it “Upstate Over Your Nose” for the day? Or can we just agree that if it is close enough to drive there from The Upstate without stopping to pee then it is close enough to write about for this blog?

I think we should move on before I being to ramble about the size of my bladder…  Last Monday one of my five part time jobs required me to drive to Hendersonville, NC to measure a shower for a frameless glass door.  It seemed silly to drive 45 minutes to work for only 10 so I decided to go all Lewis & Clark on a part of western North Carolina that I have somehow neglected all of my life. 

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Waterfalls, Rivers and Fish Above Walhalla

View from the front seat of the Hippie Hot Rod

This is the perfect weather for hiking. We finally have relief from the summer heat and the leaves are changing the mountain landscape from its standard level of beautiful to downright spectacular.  With that in mind, the family and I packed up the Subaru and headed for the mountains this past Sunday.  Our destination was just north of Walhalla to visit the fish hatchery, a couple of waterfalls along the Chattooga River and views that surpassed anything we could find watching football in our living room.

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Rainbow Falls

Beautiful Rainbow Falls

Temperatures are finally out of the nineties and football has officially kicked off.  In my world this signifies the official start of Hiking Season. 

At any given moment we are less than an hour away from a casual stroll through the woods, a strenuous climb to a view of three or more counties, or my favorite destination – water succumbing to the power of gravity. The Upstate features more waterfalls than most dedicated weekend warriors can visit in a year and I am proud to say that over the years I have visited most of them. I believe I am finally ready to pick my favorite.

Rainbow Falls’ name was not picked out of a hat. If anything, its name falls short of doing this destination justice. Behind the 100 foot span of falling water is a rock face that looks like a thousand-layer-cake of colors and textures that are unlike anything I have ever seen. I have seen plenty of rainbows but I am certain that none of them have ever impressed me the way that Rainbow Falls has. 

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"See Live Humans Making Music"

If you have looked to the right at any time in the last few weeks, you have seen an ad for the Albino Skunk Music Festival.  Since I do not believe in ads for anything I do not believe in, I can assure you of this: The Albino Skunk Music Festival is something you need to check out. 

Music festivals are a beautiful thing. A good festival features a diverse musical selection, a laid back vacation-like atmosphere and a sense of community with total strangers you will rarely find anywhere else.  On the big stage Woodstock, Lollapalooza, and Bonaroo have made great headlines for music festivals over the years but are a little overblown for my tastes. I prefer to ignore pop culture and appreciate a music festival for what is should be: homegrown attractions centered around a true love for good music and the camaraderie amongst the people that appreciate it. 

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The Dismal Trail (The Name Should Have Been A Hint)

This trail is one of the best kept secrets I have found in my years of hiking the South Carolina Upstate. At the same time it is not I hike I would recommend to anyone I actually like in the event that their experience on the trail would destroy our friendship. If anyone actually did elect to experience the “pleasures” of The Dismal Trail, I would hope they would do so with the following story and disclaimers in mind.

We discovered The Dismal Trail on accident which was our first mistake. I am fairly disorganized in my daily life but am extremely anal retentive when it comes to planning a hike. I do not start a trail without knowing exactly how far I will hike, how long it will take, and what surprises or obstacles I need to prepare for. For reasons I can still not fathom, I threw my standard operating procedures out the window when we stepped foot on The Dismal Trail.

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Let's Recap...

I told you what I was going to do last Sunday and now I am going to tell you what you missed. I am not bragging but I had such a good Sunday that I want to share it with every one of my millions of readers.  (I know this site has a stats page, but I choose to ignore it and just assume that there are millions of you. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.)

Sunday morning started off by laying in bed reading for over an hour. That has nothing to do with my family, our adventures, or anything that is special or unique to The Upstate. Additionally, I doubt that any of you need the mental picture of me in my boxers sprawled across a king size bed with a book in my hand. However, I just need to say that it is something I have not done on a Sunday morning in years and it was glorious. I need to do that more often and will petition that The Powers That Be extend the weekend by one day to allow additional time for this simple and peaceful joy.  I digress…

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Sunday Is For The Soul

This post is a preview for a weekend that cannot come soon enough. 

Sunday will mark the first day in over two weeks that is not scheduled as a work day.  I am not moving, mowing, painting, tearing out or installing anything for anyone, even myself. My wife is off work and free from the evil pager that could potentially call her in at any moment, day or night.  We are free to relax with each other and the world’s best six-year-old on his last weekend before he officially becomes a first grader. I am so excited about our plans that I feel compelled to share them with you.

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Throwing Trash Off A Cliff

Ok, so maybe this is not a place I would recommend visiting on a carefree Sunday afternoon with the family. However, it is a place local to home that I just visited for the first time and I must say that it was an educational experience to say the least.

I am almost ashamed to admit this but three days ago, at 34 years of age, I just visited a landfill for the first time. Needless to say, it left images in my head that have resurfaced almost every time I have put anything in the garbage since I visited.  I am not sure I will be able to look at my trash can the same way.

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This Rock Is A Gem

There is no shortage of outdoor destinations in the South Carolina Upstate. Scenic rivers, waterfalls, and mountain top vistas cover the region and offer endless opportunities for adventure at any time of the year. As beautiful as the region is, a few destinations stand apart from the rest and Table Rock State Park is at the top of my list. 

First, I must admit that I have more than a few reasons for being slightly partial to Table Rock. It was a common destination with my parents as early as I can remember. I recall the repeated attempts to reach the summit of Table Rock until I was old enough and strong enough to survive the strenuous 3.5 mile climb to the top. I remember one failed attempt in particular when we almost reached the peak before I sat on a fire ant hill during a water break and enjoyed a swarm of ant bites on my 5 year old nether regions (ok, so maybe that is not one of my finer Table Rock memories). 

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