Lumpkin County Georgia RM72.7 T0953 Stop @ Hardees. Cold, Cold, Cold. Dep 1016 RM73.2 T1019 Stop in Dahlonega Square Side note: TOTAL MILES ON BEAGLE 100,034.7 over 100,000
RM76.0 T1102 Left on CR187 Wahsega Rd toward Camp Frank D. Merrill RM81.9 T1113 Left on CR166 Berry Miles Road. RM88.3 T1123 Arrive JCT CR72 Hightower Church Rd @ Etowah Headwaters Crossing. DEP 1129. The Cream Colored Carolina Vetch is out. Tosses freshly in the wind. Shivering as if from the cold. Robbins Plantain resists stiffly. Right on CR72 RM83.9 T1137 Stop for Crested Iris
0945 RM(road mile) 75.1 Lake Rock Eagle, Putnam County Oconee National Forest
Canada Geese photo by Roy Burke
A sizeable flight of Canadian Geese arrived at the SW Gate. Landed smack dab in the middle of the Lake. No fools them water Geese. I counted about 5 dozen. Heads erect, necks long and straight. Black, from the tip of top down their necks to the shoulder near the water line. Maybe 100 yards away. Not the same few who honked last night. They’re still across the water near the 4-H Camp Complex. Honking occasionally. These new arrivals announced themselves well in advance. A foretaste. I heard this uproar, a clamorous honking, and thought the 4-H geese had stepped on a snake or some thing. But the clamour rose, volume increased, signaling a major happening about to happen. “They must be in the water, across the Lake by the far shore, ” I thought to myself naively. As I strolled down slope to the water’s edge, for a better look.(Now I wish I had brought my binoculars. “Naw, I won’t need them,” says me, to myself, yesterday.)
I looked across the water and could not see any floating geese, certainly not enough to sponsor the swelling racket. Closer, louder, and more rancorous with each step I took. “Maybe they’re scrunched down in the marsh fringe.” “Smart beggars to hide like that, while raisin’ such a fuss.” I love the call of Canada Geese. A honking that I cannot describe, but know to hear. If I could be re in carnate I would choose to return as a Canada Goose. To be able to make that wonderful forlorn sound. That sound that triggers in me a sense of wilderness and splendid isolation. A sound that seems to echo madly even when there are no available surfaces to return an echo. Then when 60 geese honk and echo excitedly, mixing together their bleating calls, the result reminds me of a giant marquee filled with small bulbs. Each blinking randomly. A reverberating twitter, hypnotic…Well, to make a long story short, do you know how big a 747 is? If you stand in front of one, looked at it from about a 30 degree angle to the left of it’s center line, do you recall how big a 747 would look, The entire span, from its right wing tip on your left, foward to its nose, then receding to its left wingtip on your right. Do you sense how big that wedge would look from wing tip, forward to nose, then back to wing tip. I’m talking your basic big. Well, as I drew closer to the Lake fringe on my side, searching for the sneaky geese hiding in the marsh fringe on the other side, the loud flittering rancor growing more rancorous, almost hurting, this huge humongous 747 rose majestically from behind the horizon and aimed itself directly at me. The wonderful fuss was, of course, not a band of sneaky geese surreptitiously skulking in the fringe. But, a mighty flight approaching Lake Rock Eagle from the SW. Chattering amongst themselves. Escalating their messages as they approached the landing. Coordinating their landing instructions. Forming a smoother wedge for turbulence reduction. Looking for trouble. Assessing landing possibilities. Lookouts posted. Strong members to the outside. Weaker to the inside. Polling each other for important data. Fixing on The flight leader at the point of the wedge. Sensing wind. Adjusting altitudes, of each member, and of the entire Vee. Rising to clear a patch of trees then sloping gradually, down the invisible incline. Wings moving them forward, Wings slowing. Still slowing. Down the incline. Toward the geometric center of the lake. Effortlessly, unerringly. In perfect formation. In wonderful harmony. Unison. Gliding the last 50 yards. Easing downward. Wings braking. Heads up. Tails down. Chests out. Feet extended. Then, puff. I really mean “puff”, 60 Canadian geese touched down with a collective “puff.” Each gliding forward several feet to dissolve his momentum into the water surface. Sixty small wakes. A huge cheer. High fives all around, like a championship locker room. Congratulations and exhilarations. A mighty celebration. Flapping, preening, stretching, coasting into a tight huddle. I want to be a Canada Goose.
Note addendum on adjoining journal logpage: Spellbound. Fifty yards across, for sure. Appearing suddenly, Monstrous. Covered the entire expanse of Lake across from me. My eyes pop. My jaw drops. My knees knock. I feel naive and stupid for looking at the marsh fringe. I feel priviledge and wonder-struck. The total surprise, far beyond any humble expectations.
RM 75.1 T 1140 Depart Lake Rock Eagle. Warm, pleasant, slight breeze. Hazy. Go back the way I came in. Look for rest rooms. CR2 NW
WOODTHRUSH. Even tho’ this camping setup is dominated by trout fishermen(Cooper Creek, too), and even tho’ fishing and hunting campsites usually get all beat up and trashed up, my site still grows a number of nice flowers. Especially Rose Trillium. Abundant moisture really brings out the flowers. Even in well-worn spots. Arranged and re-packed the truck. My rhythms need revitalizing, and parts of my gear, too. Batteries run down. Items missing. Odds-and-ends pulled out of my total “road kit” during the house move. Oil can. For several months I have suffered tears and heartbreak at an ever-intensifying rattle and clatter in the Beagle’s back tailgate and/or flip windows. Hopefully, this morning I have found the problem. The main lynch pins in the two hinges in the tail gate had worked their way loose. The left one had slipped about 3/4″ to the right(out of its socket). The left had worked, maybe, 2 1/2″ left out of its ratched, and completely out of its right hand anchor. With my hatchet, a hammer and channel locks, as driver, I knocked them back into place. A drop-or-two of oil would’ve helped. Let’s hope that my back door rattle blues will now abate for a while.
RM118.6 T1029 Engine on. Gear stowed. RM118.6 T1033 Head back North, the way I came last night, on FS4/CR228. That’s Mulky Road and Mulky Gap from old Lotus Blossom Days. This time, however, branch east from Mulky Road onto FS39/CR109. Thence up to the crest of Duncan Ridge–headwaters of the Tennessee and —-. East back to Sosebee. RM118.6 T036 Depart FS4
RM119.3 T1041 Stream side campsite. RM119.6 T1044 Arrive FS39/CR109 at Mill Shoals Creek. There’s a creek side pulloff @ Mill Shoals Creek.
RM121.4 T1106 Arrive Crest. Could be Shape Gap. Yes. Creekside camping @ Shape Gap at Pretty Branch.
There could not be a mountain back roads run with Doctor Flowers without a fair amount of Toots And The Maytals to play as part of the soundtrack along the way. Frederick Nathaniel Toots Hibbert was a ska and reggae originator that both of us preferred to Bob Marley at the head of our Reggae Pantheon. Doc had most records Toots had released, and several more that were probably released without Toots’ permission, culled from record stores and thrift-shops. Collecting music was hard work in those days, pre-internet. Toots Hibbert enjoyed a long and durable career as singer, songwriter, and force of nature. We played his music at Doc’s Memorial Service. Toots released his final record, Got To Be Tough on August 28, 2020. He died of COVID-19 on September 11. The unspeakable tragedy of his loss is made sharper by the fact that Got To Be Tough kicks ass and is as relevant musically and lyrically as anything he put out, in over a nearly 60 years of recording. However you might listen to music, go search for it and play it all the way through. It will be better time spent than watching the news or liking a funny meme. I listen to it and think of better times for all of us. I know Doc would’ve loved it, and we would’ve mourned Toots’ passing together, either at Ground Zero with a UT Women’s game silently playing out on the TV in the background or riding slowly along some county road in North Georgia, winding through the early morning gloaming, Doc beating rhythm on the steering wheel of the ‘Ho, saying “damn, Toots”. Time is growing short for us all. I just wish Doc and Toots had gotten a little more of it. Doesn’t seem like much to ask, looking back.
Crows on power line Dade County GA 7/11/2004 photo by Roy Burke
Crows were one of Doc’s favorite creatures. They are one of the easiest birds to watch because they live almost everywhere, from downtown to the forest and most places in between. Their raucous calls(crows) to one another always seem to be delivered with the spirit of the back-row heckler or inveterate smart ass. A regular funny highlight of our back roads runs was the sight of a diligent crow or two(or three) patiently hopping out of the state route right of way as the cars passed, then heading right back for some tasty roadkill. “Must be something good there, Rob.” “I think so, Doc. Good as the Golden Corral to a crow.” At one point Doc purchased and learned to use a PS Olt crow call. I admired it so much that he bought one for me as a Christmas gift one year. But you have to be pretty savvy to try to call up/fool a crow. They are legendarily smart, shown able at various points to remember people, give gifts, and use tools. Your best bet is to lean flat against a large tree trunk and act inconspicuous as you blow the call. Most of the time the crow will spot you and call you out for the piss-poor crow imitator you are. Every now and then you can fool them into returning a companionable call, beginning an authentic crow call and response, but not often. Corvus brachyrhynchos is no fool.
Strangely enough in Doctor Flowers’ photo archives there aren’t too many pictures of crows. The one above is the only one on hand, although he kept a dozen or more archival pictures of crows from other photographers. Now-days when I spy a crow I think fondly of my friend and usually start up a conversation with the crow, an animal spirit stand-in for Doctor Flowers. “How’s it going today, Doc?” The crows seem to cut me some slack, not thinking me crazy. I’d like to think if there is a heaven, it is much like that Dade County, Georgia transmission tower shown above, my best friends and loved ones gathered on the cross beams, cackling and crowing to each other, no more care for the world below.
12/19/05 Crisp Co Georgia Railroad Tie Pile 02 Photo by Roy Burke
Sun was setting, the end of a long day touring back roads in South Georgia, headed for our overnight lodgings in Cordele. Doc was compelled to stop and shoot by hand this picture of a pile of railroad ties.
In 2005 on his annual Blue Ridge sojourn, Roy logged an amazing amount of things, including Dames Rocket(Hesperis matronalis) on Day 5 of his trip, in Smyth County Virginia on County Road 660 East. It was one of his favorite wildflowers, easily accessible, not exotic, reliably found along many of his favorite country roads.
May 22 2007 Mitchell Co NC Dames Rocket photo by Roy Burke
Doctor Flowers Road Rules: Avoid cliche, indulge whimsy. Always take the county two lane road over any alternative. Any alternative excepting the Blue Ridge Parkway. Always take the Blue Ridge Parkway. This road loomed large in Doc’s perspective throughout his years as a writer and photographer. Click here for the real stuff. He started a separate logbook specifically dealing with his travels on it. These shots of a storm passing over the mountains, taken from the Courthouse Valley Overlook on the ‘Parkway outside of Canton, North Carolina would be taken nearly a year to the day before his passing. We talked many times about this late stage of life over the years. Roy avidly followed the space program and NASA. During the space shuttle era he adapted their phrase ‘the final glidepath’ as a metaphor for the last of the years we are all given in this life. “But what about climate change,” I would rant. “F*ck it, someone else will have the solve that one. I’m on the final glidepath.” As are we all, sooner or later.
Blue Ridge Parkway, Courthouse Valley Overlook 6/19/14 Roy Burke- 1st in sequence
Blue Ridge Parkway, Courthouse Valley Overlook 6/19/14 Roy Burke- 2nd in sequence
Blue Ridge Parkway, Courthouse Valley Overlook 6/19/14 Roy Burke- 3rd in sequence
Blue Ridge Parkway, Courthouse Valley Overlook 6/19/14 Roy Burke- 4th in sequence
doctor flowers redux 