For the next 9 miles or so, you’ll drive by several interesting historic sites. Take note of Toccoa Valley Campground, where you must return in Summer for sensational tubing action – it was also the beginning of the Dial Community, originally settled in 1834.
5 Favorite Fall Stops Along the Mountains and Countryside Driving Tour
Crisp air and turning leaves – there is no better time of the year to head to Blue Ridge than in the Fall.
The Mountains and Countryside Driving Tour is the ideal way to see some of our favorite outdoor stops, while taking in the gems of Autumn. Download the map, print our notes below, grab your favorite hoodie and take a daytrip adventure to celebrate the season.
BEGIN YOUR JOURNEY
You’ll begin your drive right off Hwy 515, taking a few small turns to reach Aska Road, which you’ll follow for the first half of the journey.
If you’re starting really early or you won’t be hiking today, detour off Weaver Creek Rd or Snake Nation Road (named by the Cherokee Indians well before the Trail of Tears) for views of pastoral valleys, old churches, farms and more…otherwise make a note to visit them on your next Blue Ridge weekend.
Download Our Self Guided Tour #1 Mountains & Countryside Driving Tour
VIEW MAP
TAKE A SHORT FOREST HIKE
About 4 miles into your drive you’ll come to the Deep Gap Aska Trail area. Pull over to marvel from the 2200 ft of elevation that offers a view of Springer Mountain, where the Appalachian Trail begins.
Our first stop is a great hiking opportunity to add to your day trip. Head about .4 miles down from Deep Gap, then take a left onto Shady Falls Road. Here you can hike the Long Branch Loop Trail, a 2.1 mile easy loop, ideal for a bit of forest bathing. (Find more hikes here.)
Press Herald
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By RACHEL LOVEJOY
From the Urban Wilderness
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It was one of those rare moments when no sound intruded upon the stillness, save that of a few crickets and a woodpecker hammering away in the distance. The pond reflected a mirror image of a white-striped blue sky, with a myriad of small eddying ripples caused by fish or insects breaking its otherwise placid surface. Along what shoreline was visible from where I stood, trees displayed their autumn attire, and the sun dipped behind them early this October day, setting them aglow.
A few leaves drifted down here and there, paving the way for what is to come within the next week or so when they will fall to the Earth en masse, severing forever their relationships with the trees on which they grew, their service to us ended. What starts surreptitiously in early to mid-September escalates and then seems to be over in the blink of an eye. And so I must not allow my attention or my gaze to wander too far from the process, lest I miss its more spectacular moments.
In that spirit, I took my own little leaf-peeper drive recently through Lyman, Dayton and Hollis. Not completely trusting instincts that were seriously under the spell of all that rapturous color, I drove slowly, pulling off the road every so often to allow impatient tailgaters to pass. I admit that I shook my head a few times at them, not so much from annoyance at having to let them go their merry way as much as sadness that all those drivers were missing all the splendor. I drove along entertaining the hope that they at least managed to absorb some of the magnificence subliminally if not consciously.
The rich, vibrant color flashed whenever I picked up speed and then enveloped me when I slowed back down to a crawl. And it was then that I heard again the language of trees, marveling anew at their wordless way of communicating with each other and with us that has endured for millions of years. Trees tell us what season it is and when it’s going to rain. They tell us which direction the wind is blowing, when the sap is flowing in the spring and when something is not right in their environment. And in the fall, it’s almost as if they sing in a spectrum of color, each note a different shade, not only to celebrate the culmination of their own rich and multi-faceted lives but to alert us to the impending arrival of a more challenging time.
There is a decidedly different smell in the air in autumn as the process of decomposition begins, during which all that went into the making of those leaves returns to the soil to be refashioned and repurposed. But first must come rest, or at least its semblance. For there is no such thing as rest in the world of tree roots and soil, where, once the show is over, it’s right back to the drawing board to plan next year’s grand production.
— Rachel Lovejoy, a freelance writer living in Lyman, who enjoys exploring the woods of southern Maine, can be reached via email at [email protected].
