NC Year of the Trail: June 2023
June 2023 Days 152-181 Pictures
What June Taught…
June NC Year of the Trail 2023
June came and went in a sprint. I am behind in posting after retreating to the beach for the first real vacation I have had in about two years. One of the best parts of this 365 day trail goal is that I seek out trails when I travel. And I have found many. But that does not mean that any of these have been while on any sort of real vacation, so I look forward to lingering a bit more in July.
June 1st was the Primary Election for the EBCI, so I was buzzing a bit. I enjoy the energy of election days and chose to drive out to Mingus Mill so I could stay close and root into one of my favorite places in Cherokee. The next day (Day 153), Charlie asked to ride with me at Fire Mountain and we had an absolute blast! I love watching him fall in love with the trails. I love watching his self confidence grow after struggling. I think it is such an important lesson for me—to experience these well-known paths that I normally try to competitively conquer with someone who is just falling in love with them. It is a good reset against burnout. The same can be said for many aspects of our lives, especially writing. Hosting and teaching at workshops this month has refreshed my passion for writing in a way that often gets dulled by deadlines.
On Day 154, the family was in Cary for a professional soccer tournament. We hit the trails at Umstead so Ross (who is fully entrenched in summer XC training) could run a significant distance. Evan, Charlie, and I walked. I have never seen so many trail runners in my life! I wish I could do that, but my ankles would not appreciate it. Still it was good to see how so many people can find their niche in the woods and how freeing this type of movement can be. It is such a balance of power, acceptance, and flexibility. These athletes are clearly committed to hard work and yet still must conform to the stronghold of Mother Nature.
Days 155-158 were a bit of rule breaking, or as I like to call it—improvising. Charlie and I snuck into Pullen Park before it opened (not that we had to scale any gates or anything), I pulled over on the highways to cross the Swinging Bridge on Hwy 74 on my way to Sylva to meet a friend. I have always wanted to stop, but this challenge gave me the impetus. My week continued to be hectic, so Day 157 was checking on the hometrail berries and exploring the makeshift trail my brother made on his property (158) while I stopped by to feed his dogs when he was out of town. Trails say so much about their makers, about what is important to them in an experience. We are always making trails in one way or another and each is our desired perspective on the world around us. My brother’s had a zipline to nowhere in particular on his.
Days 159-162 were an absolute rollercoaster of emotional experiences. Trails have provided the landscapes for me to better understand and accept days like these. They give me consistency, something to do when my brain is overwhelmed by what to do next. They have become a haven for rest even though I am never physically resting on a trail. On June 8th I was staying at the Grove Park Inn as part of a speaking engagement. Even though I have been there before, this was the first time I sought out the Sunset Trail, which is on the property. This is such a sweet retreat from the opulence of the resort and absolutely saved me from retreating inside my head too much. It was an opportunity to be alone and regroup. When I stay in places with the people I will be addressing, there is an added pressure of being composed in the “off time,” never knowing who might approach you to talk about your work. This trail allowed me to breathe a bit. I thought about my novel’s characters maybe finding respite on such a trail. I lost the opal from my ring on this trail. I bought the ring for myself on my birthday. And while the loss makes me a bit sick, I am glad that it was lost on a trail, in a place special to me. I tried to regroup and stop by Chestnut Mountain/Berm Park on my way home on Day 159, but the anxiety of a new MTB challenge and personal let downs ended in a frustrating experience—one that would be upended later in the month (so not to worry). The next day, I thought a return to my home trail would provide much-needed comfort. It didn’t. I let external concerns completely overtake my physical body. And while turning the cranks actually decreased my heart rate and helped me find a rhythm, I never fully left my head to rest in my body.
Yet, on June 11th, Mother Nature stepped in again. It rained and it was also my anniversary, so I had little time. The lessons of trails don’t always need a lot of time or complication. Ross took me (yes, my oldest son was the one who focused me back on my goal) to the Oconaluftee trail so we could check the box. At the time I did not realize the importance of this experience since it was short and uneventful. But it was my grounding. My family’s consistency that I needed. Not an opulent resort. Not a new downhill ride experience. Not to be included in a big group ride. I needed a reminder to take small bites of big goals with people who have always and will always be there.
So when Day 163 rolled around, I was ready to return to my old self. Back at Fire Mountain on June 12th, I had a solid ride and took in the contrast of the mountain. Fire’s destruction was the rich canvas for emerging flora. Skies transitioned from gray to blue within moments and then back again. The balance was returning.
Days 164-166, lessons learned, I embraced the role of summertime Mom and centered my experiences around my boys. I took the boys (and my dog, Waffles) to Kituwah where I saw the beauty of the gardeners tending their rows. They were all older women patiently working. I took Charlie to FMT again where he reminded me, “I ain’t taking my time.” It’s not bad advice when it comes to fun. Why be so cautious about letting loose? The next day I walked a little bit up Noland Creek while Ross was at XC practice and realized that it was one of the easiest trails to access, but I had never taken it. I made plans to go farther later.
Day 167 (June 16) was a special day at Judaculla Rock with Dakota, Andrea L. Rogers, her daughter, and Charlie. Dakota reminded us of the cultural notes on the rock, we explored a dead end trail, and discussed medicinal properties of plants. I ended up using that knowledge later in the month to treat poison oak. Though I know the significance and stories behind Judaculla, I am reminded how important it is to return to these “known” places with people who will ask new questions from a visitor’s perspective. They bring new meaning to very old places.
Short on time on Day 168, I hiked up Fire Tower for a bit and listened to the birds’ songs, picking up a feather one left behind. It was writing workshop weekend, so I was already at peace. However, by Day 169 I was ready to move. I went to Tsali trail system for an anticipated lengthy ride so I could stretch my legs. My bike had other plans. I was absolutely cruising along when I dropped a chain, but not in any normal way. Long story short, another rider stopped to help, Josh came by later and made a temporary fix, and two BCO Cherokee mechanics (Joe and Nick) worked on the bike. It is rideable, but not perfect even still. However, this community of folks ensured that I could take off the next morning for Kentucky and be able to ride while there. They all went out of their way to keep me on the trails.
By Day 170, I was in eastern Kentucky again. June 19th was readjusting the “Hindman Hills” of the campus where I would be working. Everything is a climb or hike—even getting to our rooms. So riding on Day 171 in Hazard at Perry County Park was not a surprising uphill battle. I had been there before with a new friend and trail manager, Ben Braham. On this day he was getting ready for their big weekend of racing, so I took a less than forgiving climbing path and kept my loop small. These are not the trails you want to make mistakes on. My bike was working, though I was not 100% confident in it and I had a short window of time to ride. But the thing about these trails is that Ben does such a great job listening to the mountain, building in a way that highlights its natural features and invites us to appreciate their engineering more than human engineering.
On Day 172, I once again had the eye-opening experience of discovering a trail that I should have known about years ago. Just off the campus of Hindman Settlement school is a wooded trail that Mandi and I decided to explore. There were markers, but many had fallen and the trails were not maintained. We acted like kids, posing for ridiculous photos and pretending we knew where the hell we were going. I am so happy to know I have a trail to return to each time I am at Hindman. The mess of trails is perfect for writers. It is how we operate. There are few sign posts and far more obstacles, far more shifts away from the original design. But with an optimistic attitude and a willingness to laugh along the way, we will find ourselves out of the woods eventually—sweaty and clear-headed.
On Day 173, I ventured off on my own to find a new trail. It is surprising how few marked trails this area has given its natural landscape. I found one called Sugar Branch but it was marked with more shotgun shells than signs and its lack of maintenance once again scared me too much. There was no cell service, so I made it a short walk. But as I hurried out, I rustled up a deer as if it was telling me that we all get scared by new things, but that shouldn’t keep us from respectfully exploring them.
I needed to stretch my legs on Day 174. Hindman, with its tightly packed hills, often leaves me feeling cramped. Mandi and I decided to take a walk on the edges of the campus and survey the flood damage almost a year after the devastation. We saw the high water mark and the abandoned home of a friend. Beehive comb slides (I don’t know the technical name) stuck up from the mud and across the now benign creek, two men were digging out a collapsed home. It had been so long and yet so much was frozen in time. Humans take so much time to even confront trauma, yet nature gets to work immediately in its repair and reclamation.
On the way home to NC, I wanted to push back against the fear a bit and tried to stop multiple times at places I suspected were trails. Each time, cars in the lot gave me an uneasy feeling, so I ended up taking a quick walk to Soco Falls close to home. Last time I was there, it was snow-covered, so this was a nice comparative experience and I felt more comfortable walking down to the water and closer to the falls.
Because my bike was only temporarily fixed before I left for Kentucky, on Day 176 (June 25th) I took it to FMT for a quick listen. I wanted to give the mechanics as much information as possible. I listened for the clicks and focused in on every sound. Training my ear provided a bit of a gift after the ride at the trailhead. As I ended my ride, I heard salsa music playing from a group of guys who were also finishing their ride. It was such a lighthearted moment of fun. The seriousness of diagnosing a problem led to tuning into something more important—positive energy. Afterall, these are the “trails that dance.”
I got to make good on a promise to myself on Day 177 and take a longer hike up Noland Creek in the morning light while Ross was at XC practice. The next day (178) sunrise at Kituwah bathed the landscape in such a way it looked as though there were many worlds within one. I have often remarked on how water and land change each time on a trail, but these days affirmed that even light changes these places.
On Days 179 and 180, I was excited to push myself, but my legs were absolutely shot and there was nothing I could do about it. However, even in the struggle there were gifts of achievement on the Cullowhee MTB trail and Rachel joined me on June 29th to truly explore Chestnut Mountain/Berm Park. We had a great time, even though it was hot and grueling climbing. It was so nice to ride with someone who is supportive and loves these adventures as much as you do. Rachel is one of my favorite people to ride with. No drama. No complaining. No ego. But always up for a challenge. This month I got to be with my people in all the places I love. And when that happens, the trails provide. So I rounded out June at Deep Creek as I waited on Ross. I took a short walk to a beautiful creek fall and then the thunder broke. Not a bad way to end the month—Mother Nature’s standing ovation and an invitation to close a chapter as I head into July.