Climbing King's Peak (13,527): High Uinta Wilderness

Somehow this story starts in a Books-a-million in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I was perusing around the aisles of the nature section for something to read while on our church beach retreat. I came across "The New Age of Adventure", a collection of short stories from ten years of National Geographic Magazine. The book was full of wonderful tales of travels in the middle east, sailing raging waters, climbing Everest in search of the body of a long lost climber, and getting lost in the Rockies of Colorado. This little beach read ended up sparking a light in my mind, and I knew I had some friends out West who would be in for a little adventure.

I sent out some texts, made some calls, and got the word out that I was considering a visit and was interested in climbing King's Peak. As the time drew nearer I found my dreams might actually be a reality (courtesy of some help from an awesome friend and travel agent- shout out to John Haisley!) I was also fortunate to have a friend in Utah who had family that had done this hike before and wanted to lead the trip (Thanks Wesley and family!). Another good friend (Thanks Rono!) hosted me for a few days in Salt Lake. And all of the sudden I was being picked up at the airport by yet another awesome friend (Thanks Monica!) and driven straight to the Uintas on July the 31st, 2014. Who needs to acclimate right?

Until a few weeks ago the highest this South Carolinian had ever hiked was around 11,700 feet in New Mexico, back when I was 16 with the Boy Scouts. But I felt confident as I, along with six friends, set out for the hike at Henry's Fork entrance to the High Uinta Wilderness. We met in Fort Bridger Wyoming, and drove for about an hour, most of which was on a dirt road, across the plains and into the mountains. I'm suffering from jet lag at this point and sleep through most of the ride, but I'm sure it looked great! After parking the cars and doing one final gear check, we hit the trail. The plan was to hike about 8 miles up a steady climb into a large valley near the base of King's Peak and the surrounding ridges. Our hike took us along the river and through dense forests of douglas fir trees, many of which are dying due to the douglas fir beetle outbreak. This is cause for concern should there be a wildfire.

Entering the first valley opening after about 6 miles of hiking in the forest up Henry's Fork.

After six or so miles (who's counting anyway) you reach a large valley/marsh and the canopy opens up. You can see for miles, and are surrounded on all sides by massive ridges with steep, rocky slopes that top 12,000 or more feet. Another few miles and we arrived at a small wooded area near Dollar Lake that we decided would be a good place to set up base camp. I was starting to feel the altitude via bouts of nausea and a headache. A nice warm fire, and a lucky break in weather, made for a great sleep.

The next morning we hit the trail and headed along the Eastern Edge of the range, towards Gunsight pass. Gunsight pass brings you up to about 11,700 feet, where you get a great view of the valley you just crossed. Climbing the boulder field that builds the pass we saw chukars, rock chucks, and pikas. At the pass we were then faced with two options, hike down into the next valley and lose precious elevation or cut across a boulder strewn ridge to maintain our current elevation. 

Taking the option to cross the boulders and a small cliff to maintain elevation.

We elected the more difficult pass across the ridge, climbing a small cliff and then making a speedy walk across an alpine meadow until we reached the boulder field. Here we spent a little over an hour hopping from boulder to boulder, ranging in size from basketballs to small buses. Another steep climb and we're up on top of Andrews pass, looking up towards the false summit, knowing King's Peak is just behind it. First we have to ramble over boulders and a steep, slippery slope to get there.

Looking up to the false summit from just below Anderson Pass.

Around 1300 hours we finally reach the summit, and I lay out on a rock with my legs dangling over a cliff overlooking a drop several thousand feet to the next valley below. It's humbling, it makes you feel awake, and a little dizzy (or was that the altitude?). The view is incredible and worth every dollar, every bead of sweat, and every aching muscle. My head hurts from the altitude and my water bottles are empty, but we made it. We made all 13,527 feet (or 4123 meters for my friends overseas). There is a chilly breeze in the air, and it just smells clean up here. Everything below is green from the rain earlier this week. Below me I see for what I feel like is hundreds of miles (but I know it's not). I can see vast forests, large marsh/grass lands, and dozens of cerulean blue lakes dotting the landscape. Each lake seems to have it's own unique hue of blue. There is not a road or building in sight. This is true wilderness. This is what people like John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt fought to protect. This is what draws us to these places and makes us into something new, something better. We are blessed that our forefathers had the insight to protect sacred places like this, and I rest easy knowing this place, and others like it, will remain as such for my children to experience.

The summit of King's Peak overlooking the valley below.

The climb down proved to be my favorite part of the whole hike. We scrambled down the peak fast onto Anderson Pass. I managed to get pretty far ahead of my comrades and rested at the bottom. But like I said, I have no water and I'm dying of thirst. Altitude and open sun take the liquids right out of you. I find a small puddle from a headwater stream that I noticed on the way up, and fill up my half liter bottle three times, chugging all of the water each time in about 30 seconds. I have no purification handy as it's in Rono's bag and the filter pump is in Monica's, but I felt at this stream I'll be OK to drink it anyway. I figured if not it'd just be another experience to talk about, right?

Once the party reunited we traveled down to the chute, a large rockslide that drops at a steep angle down into the valley where base camp is. We must descend in a line across the slope to avoid hitting each other with boulders that we dislodge on the way down. No joke, this stuff will kill you, you don't mess around in rock slides. About 1/3 of the way down another party starts to descend above us, sending boulders down carelessly. We yell at them and get them to move over to another area on the chute, but not until after a large boulder the size of a beach ball is sent hurtling towards our party. I jump behind a rock ledge for cover but two of the others are exposed and in the boulders path. Fortunately it stopped rolling after about 100 yards. We get down the rest of the chute alright, and hit the marsh land.

At the top of the chute.

Once in the marsh we navigate to higher ground on a grassy knoll and use this vantage point to select our route through the marsh, being sure to stay dry. After a few miles of this we reach the main trail and head steadily back to the camp. We hike out the next day, throw the tomahawk around for fun, and drive back to Salt Lake City. Excellent Trip with Excellent People.

The climb, although physically challenging both in altitude and steepness, was not anywhere near perilous enough to qualify for what many would consider adventure (although I would disagree). So here I am, challenged but not defeated. I can't help but wonder, what's the next summit goal for this east coast small mountain guy? Where is the next adventure? Where can I buy a climbing pick? I want to be beaten by a mountain again like Haleakala, it's a strange, but humbling and invigorating experience. It's not about beating a mountain and getting that summit photo. To me it seems, something deeper. It's the push and pull between man and nature, learning to understand and respect nature. Nature can give us what we are seeking, but as quickly as it can give us wisdom, it can take away life. And that's why it keeps drawing many of us back to it's wild places.

There are Sallies in These Hills: My First Field Season as a Masters Student working in the Southern Appalachians

One month ago today I began my first field season for my masters degree at Clemson University. I had a general idea of what to expect and I felt fairly well prepared, but I've learned in just a short month how many unexpected curve balls and situations a first field season can throw at you. I have been happy for these experiences and I've really felt myself going through a steep learning curve towards becoming a better field biologist.

Myself, along with my wonderful wildlife technicians, relaxing after a days work.

Getting started:

During our first week in the field we experienced everything from smashed side view mirrors on the truck, getting stuck in the truck(and the only tow Clemson could authorize was 80 minutes away), losing power at the field station during an incredible thunderstorm, getting rain almost every day, losing and having to locate new field sites, and trekking down several near cliffs to reach streams.

Snakes (hopefully we will see a bear soon!):

One afternoon while going for a jog next to the Little Pigeon River in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (GO VISIT IT'S AWESOME) I came across a rattlesnake that had just crossed the road and scared some people. Several wanted to kill the snake (within a national park) but after saying "I'm a biologist" the mood totally changed and I managed to get the crowd to leave the snake at a safe distance and come one at a time to take pictures. Several stayed to ask questions about the snake, and one women stayed and talked to me for about 30 minutes about wildlife encounters within the park she had had. All in all it was an amazing experience that I thank Clemson and my professors/former employers for helping me know how to handle it. I think we all left that situation in a positive mood.

I need to keep my mouth shut sometimes. Monday the 2nd of June I say, "Weird, we haven't seen any snakes in the field other than that northern ring-neck during the first week". Tuesday June 3rd, we encounter a milk snake (awwww) and one of my techs comes closer than she would have liked to two copperheads (both within the stream itself). Each copperhead was a juvenile, with a bright yellow-green tail. What an awesome experience though, these guys are so pretty when they're young. The colors are very right and well defined. Also, I'm so glad my tech. was not harmed!

Citizen Science:

We've also had the opportunity to bring volunteers into the field thanks to our friends at the Great Smoky Mountains Institute at Tremont. They broadcast an announcement of my their citizen science list serv. and several volunteers came out and helped us in the field on two days. Volunteers ranged from a 10 year old to an 8th grade science teacher! It's always awesome to have an opportunity to show the public what I do, and to engage students of all ages in the wonder of the great outdoors and in field biology. Citizen science is a great opportunity for anyone to have hands on involvement within a research project. The data I collected with these people is real data and will be used in my thesis. It is much more than public outreach or education, it is involvement, and that is going to be what gets people to care about preserving our natural world.

Things to see:

So, so much to see. Get out to the Smokies and flip over some logs and rocks. See what you find but watch for snakes! Walk down a quiet walkway and just listen, listen for the birds, the water rolling of the rocks, and the wind blowing in the trees. Take some time to sit still, even in a place without a view, and just look. Look for the small millipedes in the leaf litter that smell of cherries when picked up (arsenic secretion don't eat). Notice the little stuff. Become absorbed in what you see and realize that you are and have always been a part of this. No matter how hard you may try, you cannot be separated from this, even though it may seem so when you are buried in the concrete of the city. In just a month we've seen all kinds of snakes, about 14 different species of salamander, countless birds, synchronous fireflies, coyotes, waterfalls, several peaks over 6000 feet, and Tourons (tourist morons getting too close to wildlife). In this area I'd recommend you make it out to Cades Cove, Clingmans Dome, Alum Cave Bluffs, Mt. Leconte, and Ramsey Falls for starters. All are great highlights in the Smokies. And if you make it out to Highlands, NC, be sure to hit up Buck's Coffee and the Ugly Dog Tavern.

Ramsey Cascades, Great Smoky Mountains National Park

General Thoughts, and advice to my younger colleagues interested in obtaining graduate degrees:

In general to future biologists I would like to say a few things based on what I have experienced in my first few weeks of the field season. First, if you think you've planned and done enough to be ready for your first field season, you're wrong. Keep planning, keep preparing for the unexpected. Have a back up for all equipment (if affordable) and have a back up back up plan in case something goes wrong. Be sure to figure out logistical stuff like payment plans, access to sites, emergency plans, etc. well before the field season.

Don't be afraid to adapt, you will have to if you're doing field biology. We don't work in controlled environments. We work in harsh environments where nothing is the same, weather changes, droughts happen, land owners change their minds about letting you on their land, and who knows what else. Don't expect everything to be perfect, but do your best to make it that way. If you try to find sites that are all exactly the same (slope, aspect, size of stream, canopy cover, etc) you're going to go insane. That's why we get enough field sites to reach statistical significance, to rule out outliers and variation between sites.

All in all this first month has been a blessing and one of the most exciting months of my life. I look forward to what else this project has in store for me and to seeing what conclusions the data point to.

"Climb the Mountains and get their good tidings." -John Muir
"In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks." -John Muir

 (Looking out at angels landing, Zion NP).

This fella was on to something, I believe. Furthermore, he witnessed the changing landscape and felt a need to do something to preserve what he and many others see as a holy place.

"The gross heathenism of civilization has generally destroyed nature, and poetry, and all that is spiritual."

-John Muir

Although the above quote is a bit more abrupt and accusatory than I would usually put things, it pulls at a place in my heart. The world's forests and wild lands are changing drastically for the "good" of man, and have been for quite some time. John Muir was a preservationist, meaning he believed that there were places man should just stay out of. While I agree with him in some regard, I do believe that man is a part of the ecosystem in which we live, and has been for a very, very long time. For example, fire has been a part of the southeastern USA landscape for over 10,000 years, primarily through the controlled burns of natives.  These fires provided opened tree canopy, increased food and habitat for wildlife, and increased productivity of the land. Private land owners and federal agencies are now resuming this practice in many areas. We can live in harmony with nature, using the knowledge we gain from local land owners and scientific exploration.

I believe as a whole human kind is well meaning, but that the private interests of relatively few land owners have had negative effects on nature that will outlast both the lives of you and myself. People want to live in nature, people want to be comfortable, and the developers of mountain resort communities are filling a demand for vacation and retirement homes with great views. The development happens fast, the homes are large, the forests are overcut (for the view), and there is limited regulation to control runoff. along with homes comes the golf courses (pesticides and fertilizers), Ripley's Aquarium, Dollywood, steak houses, strip malls, Tanger outlets, casinos, and massive amounts of impervious surface. Our mountain home is changing, and people are benefiting from this change economically. That's great, but is it costing us more in the long term than we are gaining in the short term, and who really is profiting most from the economic benefit?

The cost of this development, and urbanization in general, is immediate and long-term in regard to biodiversity, ecosystem health, and water quality. People want to live in Nature, but at some point, when is it no longer nature? Can we not move to the mountains, and expect that because we live in remote areas we just don't get strip malls and excessive amounts of shopping? Why must we cut the forests and destroy the streams we came to enjoy, so that we can buy and do things we could do at any major city? Do the resort homes need to be so large even when people are only in them part of the year? I believe people mean well, and want to enjoy nature, but just don't know about the issues that come with exurban development.

(Exurban neighborhood development outside Highlands, NC.) 

(Pigeon Forge, TN. Photo courtesy of Smoky Mountain Mall. Development primarily associated with exurban housing, condos, and tourism. This type of mountain development is less dense and more sprawling, exhibiting similar habitat and water degradation to larger, more dense cities. This type of development is also in steep areas with much rainfall that experience a significant level or erosion and pollutant runoff after urbanization has occurred.)

The drivers of how and where development happen are very complex,too complex for this post. Take a drive through Pigeon Forge, TN and try telling me that's what that extremely productive and picturesque valley was supposed to look like. Can we work as people to go to the mountains for just that, the mountains and what they have to offer us? Our friend John Muir and many like minded people realized the value of the mountains, and the wisdom they offer. I'm not arguing to cease growth or jobs in the area, I'm just trying to show with my research that we need to plan development around how to preserve these ecosystems we are drawn to in the long-term. We need to think about who is really profiting, is it the locals? Is it outside investors? Is it big real estate agencies? That way our kids get to keep going there and enjoying the same wild areas like we did!

I leave you with one final quote. Take a walk in the wilderness, find yourself, find a connection, and find something you want to hold on to in this changing world. Do we want our grand children to ask why we were so short sighted? We look at our ancestors and wonder how they just dumped toxins into the Cuyahoga River. Will our children ask us why we thought a carnival ground was more fun than a healthy stream full of trout and good tubing opportunity, or why a mansion was better than a cabin in the woods? Why the strip mall where you can buy an air brushed shirt that says "best friends" was better than a great hunting spot you could share with your best friend?

"Take a course in good water and air; and in the eternal youth of Nature you may renew your own. Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you." -John Muir

Last week the Clemson Wildlife Society had the privilege of hosting the annual Southeastern Wildlife Conclave. We brought in about 500 students and faculty from 22 schools ranging from Maryland to Louisiana. The wildlife conclave is a spirited competition between the wildlife programs of different schools to claim the top spot each year. Students compete in events like orienteering, radio telemetry, fly casting, shotgun shooting, obstacle course (muddy, disgusting, cold), archery, dendrology, quiz bowl (wildlife knowledge double elimination team competition), and much more. Our friends at the University of Georgia took Gold. Go dawgs?

After the conclave students had the opportunity to go on field trips in the Clemson area. I personally had the opportunity to lead a group of students out to Yellow Branch falls to search for salamanders and learn about the topography, flora, and fauna of upstate South Carolina.

This short 3 mile round trip hike takes you to a 50 foot waterfall that is an excellent location to find salamanders big and small from many species. On sunny days it usually gets a nice rainbow (see above photo). It's a great example of what happens when you have an area that gets so much rainfall, mixed with the topographic feature that is the Blue Ridge Escarpment. The Blue Ridge Escarpment is a steep ridge that drops directly to the Piedmont along the upstate of SC. Because of the plethora of streams and the steep terrain, we are fortunate in having a multitude of outstanding waterfalls in the upstate of SC. We even have one that tops 400 feet in height called lower whitewater falls.

Salamanders are always a great way to get people motivated about the outdoors and wildlife in general. I think they have the capability of being a strong charismatic megafauna (mega in my opinion) much like the polar bear or the elephant. They're a very likable animal and are a bottomless pit of scientific experience and exploration for students of all ages. They're durable, easy to find, and for the most part harmless. All this being said salamanders, as well as many other amphibians, are in a state of rapid population and diversity decline. We are losing amphibians around the world quickly and with very little knowledge as to how to stop this loss. Lots of work, and stronger regulations are needed to protect these critters. They may be small, but because of their huge population densities and nutrient absorbing capabilities they play an important role in overall watershed health and processes.They are also the dominant predator in small streams and many wetlands, controlling the dynamics of nutrient flux between aquatic and terrestrial habitats, as well population dynamics of macro invertebrates (stream bugs). So, they may be small (like this guy) but they carry their weight and then some when it comes to maintaining healthy streams.

Finding Field Sites and Comparing Two Development Patterns

Hello again everyone! I suppose it is time to discuss more about what I am studying. My current work is to determine the long-term (20+ years) effect of exurban neighborhood development on stream morphology, stream health, and salamander occupancy/diversity. I'm selecting small streams where salamanders are the dominant predator of the ecosystem (1st/2nd order, no fish). The goals of this project are to see if in the long-term a stream that is disturbed for exurban development returns to pre-disturbance conditions, or remains permanently degraded.

It has been found that streams and their associated salamanders recover after timber harvest. Exurban neighborhoods also involve large vegetation loss for development, and are also allowed to grow said vegetation back, like in a timber plantation. There are obviously many difference between forests and low density neighborhoods though, so we need studies to show us if these areas recover. If you have questions about the specifics of this work leave me a question in the comments, I don't want to bore my readers with all the technical jargon and heavy background information.

This week I'll be traveling to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, TN to locate my field sites on the Tennessee side of the mountains. While looking at the mapping software I've come across an interesting observation. It appears that we are in fact seeing two distinct patterns of the development. A typical Gatlinburg area community looks like this (note the condo/house density and the amount of vegetation removed).

Our typical NC neighborhood looks more like the following image (far less dense, but much larger houses and often associated golf courses):

I am currently trying to decide how to incorporate this variation into the study. I'm wondering whether I should try to find TN sites similar to the NC ones for the sake of consistency, even if they are not representative of the majority of the neighborhoods I've seen on the TN side, or if I should select this dense neighborhoods in TN. It might be cool to capture the two ranges of development, but I also worry that adding more variables will reduce the statistical significance of whatever findings I may have.

Creative Inquiry Experience: Spring 2014

Hello Everyone, thanks for finding your way through the bowels of the internet to my blog! Here I'll be discussing my field work and other wildlife related activities while I try to save the world one little stream at a time. This is my first post and the structure of the site is still a work in progress.

While at Clemson this semester I am leading a team of 8 undergraduates through a program called Creative Inquiry (CI). CI offers undergraduates the opportunity to become actively engaged with a professor or graduate students research projects. They help me in the field, but do much more than that. This program is special because students are expected to design their own research questions relevant to my work and use my data along with supplementary data geared towards their work to answer these research questions. Below is a picture most of my class. Aren't they just adorable and intelligent looking?

These students are attempting to answer questions ranging from everything to salamander habitat preference, macroinvertebrate prey items, stream flow, and effects of vegetation. My research project is geared towards assessing the long term effects of exurbanization, but I will go more in depth with this in later posts.

CI is an awesome opportunity that really helps develop our next generation of scientists. I strongly advise any undergraduate in Wildlife or a similar to field to consider a CI course to augment their educational experience.

Thanks again for checking out my page, I'll be sure to post more in the coming weeks!