Summer’s not the best time to get a feel for any piece of these mountains. So much is hidden behind a wall of green. Even so, I carried the camcorder with me on our walk a bit farther up Nameless Creek gorge than we usually go, and brought back several short clips of some of the ledges and small falls that are visible below from the trail along the “New Road.”
The New Road, so called by some of the old-time locals because in the 1920s it was new, built by hand, as a postal road connecting the much more active than now community along * Goose Creek with the community of Simpsons, now also mostly an intersection of King’s Store and Daniel’s Run (supposedly named after a certain Mr. Boone.) You can still see the stacked slatey-black rock in places ten feet or more high, that holds up the old road, now a walking path for not very many feet.
Hurricane Hugo came along in 1989 and blew down numerous large trees across Nameless Creek. (I have no idea if anyone else has ever named this creek, and finding no record of such, I have called it Nameless Creek since I started writing about and from along side it.) So it’s not an easy walk. New blowdown since our last visit was barely possible to crawl under.
Photographically, there are not many clear shots of the water itself, for limbs and branches leaning into the view. These foreground objects play heck with the autofocus on the camera. But it is what it is.
* Goose Creek was the name given by the early settlers to the coast of Virginia to what is now known as the Roanoke River. Settlements sprung up near the mouth of that stream where it met the ocean. Our Goose Creek represents the western-most tributary of the Atlantic coastal river. We live less than two miles from its source. Three miles downstream, Goose joins Bottom Creek to form the South Fork of the Roanoke River, and our water merges with the sea a few days after it burbles and chuckles past our front porch.