Up at o-dark-thirty, Janet, my wife, Primate and I, climbed into a cab for a ride to catch an early shuttle bus to LAX. Bad news late last night of the cancellation of our flight from Santa Barbara and that the next available flight would be tomorrow about noon, forced a hasty revision of plans.
Symptoms of my cold of several days seemed less severe, my disposition improved as a result, but an unnatural early morning beginning to our travel reminded me of the last minute change in our itinerary, and lodged in my mind like a splinter under a finger nail.
"A bad mark for American Airlines," I'd said to the airlines rep on the phone.
"I'll avoid them whenever possible in the future," I said to Janet after the call.
All the while Primate swore under his breath.
For me the airlines and TSA sucked all the fun out of air travel. Nowadays, I focus more on how to navigate the gauntlet.
"Black Mountain, last one, here we come," I said to Primate.
"Yea, Black Mountain, Black Mountain," he said.
Since the moment I considered finishing my highpoints in Kentucky, some eight months ago, I maintained a low profile, somewhat out of fear and superstition, I guess, that someone would beat me to that distinction.
Now, just several days away, I believe I may yet end up with that recognition, but I keep my fingers crossed. Nothing like the disappointment of someone cutting in line in front of me at the last possible second.
"Rain forecast for Saturday," Janet said, reminded me again that crappy weather might not make my finish so comfortable or pleasant.
"We'll see," I said. How bad could it get, I wondered?
10/19/13
Symptoms of my cold of several days seemed less severe, my disposition improved as a result, but an unnatural early morning beginning to our travel reminded me of the last minute change in our itinerary, and lodged in my mind like a splinter under a finger nail.
"A bad mark for American Airlines," I'd said to the airlines rep on the phone.
"I'll avoid them whenever possible in the future," I said to Janet after the call.
All the while Primate swore under his breath.
For me the airlines and TSA sucked all the fun out of air travel. Nowadays, I focus more on how to navigate the gauntlet.
"Black Mountain, last one, here we come," I said to Primate.
"Yea, Black Mountain, Black Mountain," he said.
Since the moment I considered finishing my highpoints in Kentucky, some eight months ago, I maintained a low profile, somewhat out of fear and superstition, I guess, that someone would beat me to that distinction.
Now, just several days away, I believe I may yet end up with that recognition, but I keep my fingers crossed. Nothing like the disappointment of someone cutting in line in front of me at the last possible second.
"Rain forecast for Saturday," Janet said, reminded me again that crappy weather might not make my finish so comfortable or pleasant.
"We'll see," I said. How bad could it get, I wondered?
10/19/13
An inauspicious start in the rain from Louisville, after my brother and his wife, Verlon and Theresa, cancelled on the trip, and then nephew and wife, Chris and Jodi bowed out, too. Janet, Primate and I headed east towards Lexington, on our way towards the eastern most part of Kentucky's southern border, where Virginia, Tennessee and Kentucky touch.
We escaped the rain, then the overcast thinned. Scattered trees showed the beginning signs of fall, where reds and yellows dotted the forested hills.
Closer to the highpoint, roads narrowed to two lanes. HARLAN COUNTY, the sign read.
"Do you feel Justified?" I said to Janet.
She chuckled, knew I referred to the TV program by that name and set in Harlan County.
Curled, brown leaves pushed by wind, scooted across the road, like rodents on their hurried way.
Two hundred fifty miles of steady driving got us to the curvy mountain grades leading to Black Mountain. Sunlight broke through the thinned cloud cover in random patches along the road.
My disposition improved. "Looking good," I said to Primate.
The last turnoff to Black Mountain looked better than I expected and rain seemed unlikely at that moment. The rental car handled the road with ease, remnants of pavement visible along the way. Fall colors, more intense in the higher elevation, and enhanced by beams of direct sunlight, encouraged us onward.
About a mile in, at a wide, level spot, a narrower graveled road off to the left, led up and towards a cluster of towers.
"That must be it," I said. "Let's park here."
"Yea," Primate said.
The three of us walked the last hundred yards to the level top shared by several buildings and towers. A plaque off to one edge commemorated the development of this spot with communications equipment.
Under a steel tower about centered on the clearing which appeared to be the natural highpoint, I located a brass marker, somewhat hidden in tall grass.
We took pictures, returned to the plaque some seventy feet away.
A grouping of flat stones, creating a mound near the plaque, caught my attention.
"Better check that outcrop of rock," I said to Primate.
Another brass marker, centered amongst the stones, showed an elevation. I leaned in for a better look.
"This is it," I said to Primate. "This is the elevation marker," I said louder to Janet. "Four thousand, one hundred thirty nine, point two four seven feet."
We took several additional pictures.
The cold wind gusted.
"Ready?" Janet said. She started towards the car.
"Let's go," I said to Primate. We hurried along to catch up with Janet.
"That's what most of the highpoints are like," I said to Janet. "Drive hours to a highpoint, take a few photos, then drive a bunch of hours to the next one."
But this time, my quest completed with all fifty state highpoints achieved, and Washington D.C. thrown in for good measure, no others awaited me.
"Now we can start our vacation," Janet said. She meant she could participate in our travel plans at this point forward. I knew she felt glad to get this Kentucky highpoint thing done.
At Antietam Civil War Battlefield we watched a demonstration of cannon fire. Primate considered it a one-gun salute to our highpoint achievement.
We escaped the rain, then the overcast thinned. Scattered trees showed the beginning signs of fall, where reds and yellows dotted the forested hills.
Closer to the highpoint, roads narrowed to two lanes. HARLAN COUNTY, the sign read.
"Do you feel Justified?" I said to Janet.
She chuckled, knew I referred to the TV program by that name and set in Harlan County.
Curled, brown leaves pushed by wind, scooted across the road, like rodents on their hurried way.
Two hundred fifty miles of steady driving got us to the curvy mountain grades leading to Black Mountain. Sunlight broke through the thinned cloud cover in random patches along the road.
My disposition improved. "Looking good," I said to Primate.
The last turnoff to Black Mountain looked better than I expected and rain seemed unlikely at that moment. The rental car handled the road with ease, remnants of pavement visible along the way. Fall colors, more intense in the higher elevation, and enhanced by beams of direct sunlight, encouraged us onward.
About a mile in, at a wide, level spot, a narrower graveled road off to the left, led up and towards a cluster of towers.
"That must be it," I said. "Let's park here."
"Yea," Primate said.
The three of us walked the last hundred yards to the level top shared by several buildings and towers. A plaque off to one edge commemorated the development of this spot with communications equipment.
Under a steel tower about centered on the clearing which appeared to be the natural highpoint, I located a brass marker, somewhat hidden in tall grass.
 |
| Primate Celebrates, But At The Wrong Marker |
We took pictures, returned to the plaque some seventy feet away.
A grouping of flat stones, creating a mound near the plaque, caught my attention.
"Better check that outcrop of rock," I said to Primate.
Another brass marker, centered amongst the stones, showed an elevation. I leaned in for a better look.
 |
| Black Mountain Elevation Marker |
"This is it," I said to Primate. "This is the elevation marker," I said louder to Janet. "Four thousand, one hundred thirty nine, point two four seven feet."
We took several additional pictures.
 |
| Janet And Connard With Highpoint Marker In Background |
The cold wind gusted.
"Ready?" Janet said. She started towards the car.
"Let's go," I said to Primate. We hurried along to catch up with Janet.
But this time, my quest completed with all fifty state highpoints achieved, and Washington D.C. thrown in for good measure, no others awaited me.
"Now we can start our vacation," Janet said. She meant she could participate in our travel plans at this point forward. I knew she felt glad to get this Kentucky highpoint thing done.
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