Posthumous Journal Notes of
Barbara Wickersham
edited by Doris Gove
November 19, 1999
Photo Credit: Kemp Davis
Barbara Wickersham, club member in the 80s, died in
1995. She sent me hiking notes she wrote in 1993 to
give me flower lists and other useful trail
information when I was writing Smokies trail
narratives. I have taken the liberty to select and
edit (very slightly) portions of her notes. Doris
Gove
June 25, 1993 Andrews Bald
On the bald, we saw chestnut-sided warblers, juncos,
cedar waxwings, and heard the teasing "twink" of the
towhee, the beautiful sound of the winter wren, and
the solitary vireo. On the way back, the sky was
heavily overcast and we expected to be deluged any
minute, but we got only a slight huckleberry shower,
as Herb called it. If you have ever picked
huckleberries on a dew-ridden early morning, you know
what he meant. The threatening skies, however, were
probably responsible for the thrill of the day: the
unusual song of the veery. The veery normally sings a
bit early in the morning but most often at dusk. I
have heard it on that very trail hiking back into the
beautiful afterglow of a sunset... Perhaps it was
Herb's huckleberry shower, the cloudy skies, or the
fog that huddled the distant mountain peaks.
Whatever, the spiraling cascade of this secretive
little thrush stopped us in our tracks.
July 2, 1993 Maddron Bald Trail
A special treat we saw several times on old logs was
the shelf-like fungus that looks like it was cast in
plastic and then heavily lacquered, with the
impossible name of Ganoderma tsugae (no common name).
Thought at first that Frank might have bought it at
K-Mart. The star of the day, however, was a huge
buff-colored fungus about 18 inches wide which grew
at the base of a chestnut oak. Looking somewhat like
a disjointed birdbath, it had several overlapping
layers of thick, fleshy growth projecting from the
tree, one above the other, all quite large. This one
appears to have a name to match a size: Steccherinum
septentrionale, definitely not available at K-Mart.
July 9, 1993 Mouse Creek Falls
On the way up to the falls, Midnight Hole had
reflected the sky, fire-opal blue. Children played
there; screams of laughter fled the forest. On the
return, only the children had fled. Rain spattered
the water, now turned a lovely mellow green to match
the welcome cloudy skies. Lightning checked its
reflection in the pool as we settled in any nook or
cranny to lunch. Herb squirreled away under a rock
overhang on which a two-foot tall rhodo seemed to be
growing proudly rooted to nothing. Everyone seemed
quieter than usual as if the rain required a bit of
respite and reflection. It felt good.
August 6, 1993 Lynn Camp Prong
A good day for a hike. The sweltering heat of July
has surrendered its hold. Rain-freshened plants along
the dark morning trail are a richly robust green.
Tiny blossoms of white avens ask for attention among
the false nettle and hopseed, and cranefly orchids
stand serene, sublimely invisible in the shadows, not
requiring attention at all. Rattlesnake plantain is a
welcome thrust of color on the trailside, sometimes
in friendly community gatherings. Walking a mountain
trail is like experiencing different cultures,
different nationalities. We find monkey flower in one
area only, flourishing as if it owns the land; a few
hundred yards up the trail the tall blue bellflower
has staked its claim but is not to be found
elsewhere. Cardinal flower has its own territory and
tolerates only slight invasion from Joe Pye weed and
white wood aster. Bee balm occupies a world all its
own. These are private enterprises, publicly owned,
with doll's eyes acting as woods inspectors,
sometimes grouped like an audience at a tennis match,
their heads waving from side to side. Once in a
great while the weather forecasters are right. We
chalk one up for them this Friday. The rain begins
shortly after lunch and tries to make up for a dry
morning. We are not just wet, not just soaked, we are
saturated. Anyone who has a dry stitch left at the
end of the hike is somehow cheating. One smart person
has brought a change of clothes. As we all know, it's
maddening to be smart.