The Great Rhododendron Adventure: One Trail, Two Dreamers, and a Hundred-Year-Old Forest
So, my wife, Lark, had this brilliant idea while we were brainstorming our Tuxedo Falls glamping project: “Let’s build hiking trails through the hundred-year-old rhododendron forest that lines the two beautiful mountain creeks on our property!”
I, of course, nodded enthusiastically because as any married person knows, once the words “I have an idea” are uttered, resistance is futile. Plus, I figured we could save a few bucks, and hey, get a couple of days’ worth of exercise. Win-win, right? Besides, how hard could it be to carve paths through a jungle of tangled branches, moss-covered rocks, and gullies the size of mini-vans? Spoiler alert: very hard.
Day 1: The Enthusiastic Beginning
We decided to start our epic adventure up Cabin Creek, armed with one gas-powered chainsaw and a battery-powered hedge trimmer. Lark was in full trailblazer mode, talking about creating a “peaceful mountain experience” where guests could wander hand-in-hand like they were living in a Hallmark movie. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how rhododendrons had developed such an intricate system of roots that rivaled underground cities. I swear I could feel them reaching out and grabbing my ankles, ready to drag me into their leafy abyss as a sacrifice to the Rhodo Gods!
Lark, of course, was optimistic. “Isn’t this fun?” she called over her shoulder as she trimmed a particularly rebellious branch. Fun? I was tangled in a web of vines, looking less like a middle-aged trailblazing pioneer and more like an over-the-hill hiker who’d stumbled into a poorly-scripted episode of Survivor.
Day 3: The Rhododendrons Fight Back
By the third day, it became painfully clear that the rhododendrons had been plotting their defense for the better part of a century. I swear I could hear them whispering to each other. Every time I chopped one branch, two more sprang up like some kind of floral Hydra. Lark, still in high spirits, dubbed this section “The Enchanted Grove.” I, on the other hand, was leaning toward something more like “The Trail of Tears.”
But I pressed on, because if marriage has taught me one thing, it’s that the quicker you finish the task, the quicker you can sit down with a cold beer.
Day 5: Nature Strikes Again
After days of wrestling with rhododendrons that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me, we finally started to see some progress. We were making real trails! Winding, scenic pathways! But then we hit The Boulder.
This wasn’t just any boulder. No, this was a prehistoric rock that had apparently been sitting there since the dawn of time, just waiting to mock our trail-building dreams. “We’ll just move it,” Lark said, her eyes sparkling with delusional optimism. Sure, hon. Let me just throw my shoulder into this mountain and move it wherever you like.
Needless to say, The Boulder stayed put, and now the trail dramatically curves around it—something we’re pretending was intentional for added “character.” We’ve even taken to calling it our “Rock Garden.” It sounds so peaceful, doesn’t it?
Day 7: Lost in the Thicket
As we hacked through the jungle-like growth, the rhododendron became so thick in some spots that Lark and I would lose sight of each, yet we were only 10 feet apart. I’d push ahead, scouting for the best route, and shake the bushes so she could find me. My main concern was making sure she didn’t mistake my head for an overly ambitious shrub and go full Edward Scissorhands with that hedge trimmer. At one point, I considered shaking a branch near the car so we could call it a day—my energy reserves were running dangerously low.
Day 10: The Grand Reward
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime but was probably only ten days, we completed our first trail. We stood at the entrance, sweaty, scratched, and mildly delirious, gazing out over what we had created. I had to admit, it was kind of magical. The towering rhododendrons cast dappled light on the forest floor, birds were chirping, and for a moment, it truly felt like we’d built our own little Appalachian paradise.
Then Lark, with that familiar sparkle in her eyes, said, “So… ready to start on the next one? On to Joe Creek!”
And that’s when I knew the rhododendrons weren’t the only ones plotting. Several cold beers were definitely in my near future!
So, if you ever visit Tuxedo Falls and find yourself wandering down a winding, slightly chaotic trail through a hundred-year-old rhododendron forest, just know that it was forged by two slightly crazy people—one with a dream and the other with a chainsaw.