Where tired bats hang their hats, unusual beauty awaits you

With the switch back to standard time and the forward march into a gray and drizzly November, it seems like fall is already gone - or close to it - and winter stares us in the face.

Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that I was enjoying the warm weather of the autumnal equinox weekend? Oops...a check of the calendar tells me it was actually closer to two months ago.

At the time and in the place I spent two days visiting - northeastern Alabama - the leaves had not even started to turn colour, yet. 

To the batcave!

No matter. I spent a good portion of the first day in a place where no leaves could be seen.

I went down into the bowels of the earth, at Cathedral Cavern State Park.

And as we followed our guide into the huge maw of the cave entrance (you can only enter as part of a guided tour), I completely forgot to say, "To the Batcave, Robin!"

That's okay. Adam West and Burt Ward probably would have been intimidated going into this cave. And I don't recall Christian Bale ever repeating that three-word phrase.

The cave is huge.

And it's full of all kinds of chambers, an underground river running far below the walkway, indications of previous use by both Native Americans and white settlers - and a plethora of cool rock formations. Stalactites. Stalagmites. Waterfalls flowing down rock faces. Rocks that look like an evil monkey head - or Marlon Brando's head in the movie Apocalypse, Now!

Wandering along the parks-built (very safe) pathway through the cavern reminded me of images I'd seen in the original album jacket of Rick Wakeman's Journey to the Centre of the Earth. 

The variety was endless. And every time you'd look back at a formation you'd seen a minute ago, it seemed to change...one minute it would remind you of the inside of some horrible demonic monster's maw - the next, some alien planet's landscape. But as grotesque and odd as they may look, there are also incredibly, uniquely beautiful.

Your call: evil monkey skull -
or Marlon Brando head?

I certainly understood why the park's haunted cave tours are so popular in late October.

While walking the mile or so back into the cave, we could see where a former owner of the cave, Jay Gurley had built paths along ledges to access the cave. He owned it and ran it as a tourist attraction from 1959 until 1974. The state eventually bought it in 1987 and turned into a safer natural wonder for visitors to enjoy by redoing the man-made infrastructure.

We also spotted a cave salamander, although he was so tiny, it was difficult to get a good shot of him in less-than-ideal light conditions.

Shortly after that, my ears picked up a squeaking sound up toward the ceiling high above us - and sure enough, there was a bat. (No robin, though).

I could have wandered around looking at the formations all day, looking for more bats (we spotted a few more on our way back to the entrance), but other attractions beckoned. 

At least, that's our story...it has nothing to with the symbol featuring a certain flying quadruped of the order Chiroptera that blazed across the sky as we emerged from the cave...

A brief view of the cavern and its formations.

For more cave photos, visit my Facebook album, "Caverns, Cascades and Canyons"

Shooting the clays, shooting the rapids in Laurel Highlands

The title probably makes this sound kind of like an "earth-water" sort of thing, and I guess it is that. But you wouldn't get mud by mixing water with the types of clays I refer to here.

By "shooting clays," I'm referring to the popular activity of "sporting clays."

I had the opportunity to do both in Pennsylvania's Laurel Highlands earlier this week, while a guest of the Seven Springs Mountain Resort.

For those unfamiliar with "sporting clays," try to imagine what it would be like if you combined trap/skeet shooting with golf.

Jamie Ross takes aim under the watchful eye of
NSCA instructor Paul Ankney.

Sporting clays involves using a shotgun to shoot clay "birds" (discs) launched from various locations, at various angles.

What makes this a bit different from skeet or trap shooting is the fact that participants move around from station to station on a set course, via a golf cart, and record how many birds they hit each round. The total gives you your score. (You can find a more detailed explanation of skeet-vs.-trap shooting here.)

I've fired a shotgun only a few times in my life, back when I tried a bit of skeet shooting at a buddy's farm when I was still in high school. I've fired a rifle a few times, even gone hunting occasionally, and I've fired pistols on a target range. Most of my shooting experience is actually in archery, as I was a member of the New Totem Archery Club for a few years when I lived in Fort St. John, B.C.

Bows and arrows are much different from shotguns, though.

Our group of four got some quick instruction from Paul Ankney, an NSCA Level II shooting instructor, then off we went.

After finishing the course, I can tell you I'm glad I don't have to hunt for my dinner every day. There might be a few days when I go hungry.

I was surprised I was actually able to hit one. In my only other previous attempt mentioned above, I'd hit the first one then missed everything else. This time, in our first round of six (two birds launched three times), I hit one of them. Then I hit two the next time. However, I was inconsistent, sometimes hitting only one, other times two, but never more than two out of six birds.

While I certainly didn't shame myself, I didn't get a really high score, either. In fact, I hit less than 50 per cent of the targets offered. But it was a really nice day to spend in the outdoors, I enjoyed some good camaraderie and I had a lot of fun trying a new sport.

TRADING EARTH FOR WATER

Guide Brett Lesnick readies our raft.

The following day, I was more in my element, as I was shooting rapids - something I've done many times - in a whitewater rafting excursion in Ohiopyle State Park with Laurel Highlands River Tours.

We would spend about three hours playing among the class III and IV rapids of the Lower Youghiogheny River.

It was the first time I'd faced whitewater since undergoing shoulder surgery for a labral tear last summer. I'd paddled a few hours on flat water, but this would be a more telling test.

The shoulder did fine. And I had a real blast.

Our guide, Brett Lesnick, made some funny quips (as all good rafting guides do) and made sure we had fun, but with a mind to safety first.

We blasted through several rapids, getting very wet - but if you're not getting wet on a rafting trip, you're just trying hard enough.

We didn't spend the entire time paddling through whitewater; we made a side trip off the river to take a short hike to Cucumber Falls, a smaller version of the 20-foot high Ohiopyle Falls that we put-in just below, to start our day.

When we not hiking or running rapids, we learned about the cultural and natural history of the area and spotted several species of birds - including numerous mergansers, a pair of kingfishers, a pie-billed grebe and a turkey vulture that I'm sure would loved to have seen us pile up on some rocks. Sorry Mr. Vulture - you'll have to eat somewhere else!

Cucumber Falls: a side trips along the way.

After we got off the Yough, a hot lunch awaited us in the park, followed by a quick tour of some of the other highlights of the Ohiopyle, and then a final farewell to the river.

The experiences were very different - but either way, land or water, they were both a good day's shooting.