NC Year of the Trail: October
NC Year of the Trail: October 2023
October 2023 Days 274-304 Pictures
What October Taught…
October NC Year of the Trail 2023
This is the month of transition for the Smokies. Peak leaf season means the easily accessible trails are packed with tourists and locals retreat to the lesser-known spots, out before or after the brunch crowd can lace up their boots. And this month, I have also been a bit of a tourist, both at home and away. This time of year makes narrowing down the trail experiences and feature photos extra difficult. The beauty of autumn is unmatched and these mountains transition many times over in the course of a few weeks. This month also marked NC’s Great Trails State Day, so even though I was far more organized this month with tracking information, it has still taking me far too long to blog.
Day 274 (October 1st) seemed like the perfect time to take in a good hard ride at Fire Mountain. The line from a song, “Empire of dirt,” seemed like an appropriate title for this ride after weeks of little to no rain. I was worried that the lack of rainfall would lead to a lackluster fall, but I sure was wrong.
On Day 275 I had to head out of town, so I was sure to grab some time at Kituwah in the morning, but word of my trail goal already spread, so Gardner-Webb University hosts had preemptively scouted a trail (Broad River Trail) for me, making this a double-dip day. I love that these trails have become so integrated into my travels and they allow for hosts to show me what is special about their home and often provide a little local history.
Day 276 was a pretty epic ride at Tsali for me, tackling both Right and Left loops for right around 19 miles. I am starting to feel far more fit and can’t imagine having done this route a year ago at the pace I did. I think the mix between hiking and biking has been helpful (along with some nutritional changes I have made). I wouldn’t be in town long, though, before I had to head off again, so Day 277 was an easy, quick hike with Charlie up to Juney Whank Falls in Deep Creek. Charlie was not happy that the park service was doing repairs near the falls and we had to take a slight detour, but he made up for it by giving me a heart attack near ledges and dangling from trees.
On Day 278, I drove straight from Cherokee to Perry County Park in Hazard, KY. On this trip, I would be named an official Duchess of Hazard (laughter is appropriate here) and so this trail system is quickly becoming a sort of (2nd) home trail. Kenny Dunn and “Big” John met me at the trail and we headed up, my legs still travel-weary. John’s story is both a remarkable one and one with which I deeply identify. When John was let go from a job, he began hiking. Then rucking. And now, working with Ben Braman, he has begun mountain biking. His approach to the job loss not only led directly to a new job with Ben, but also helped him to lose a significant amount of weight. I did not write down how much he told me, but I believe it was around 100 lbs. Whatever the number, it was staggering to hear and a case study in the healing power of nature. He could have laid on the couch and surfed the internet for answers. Many of us do. But he bettered himself and sought out answers in the only place that has been providing answers since the beginning of time. Later that weekend, he also won the beer stein holding contest at Oktoberfest. Balance. It is all about balance.
I was in Hazard for the Big Ideas Festival, which is very much like a reunion for me. Short on time, but goal-oriented, my friend Mandi made sure I got Day 279 checked off on October 6th. We took a little stroll on the Hazard RiverWalk before the evening’s events. The next day was a first—well, at least since middle school. Mandi and I met Betsy to make the short hike up the mountain at Perry County Park to meet Jenny, Desi, John, Ben, and Chris to rock climb. This was definitely the first rockface trail I would be adding (and maybe the only one this year). I began to wonder if climbing taught lessons my other trails had not. For sure, the one lesson I learned was to wear pants instead of shorts (no more “Hollywood” shots,” but I think more metaphorically, I began to think about digging in—pushing into the rock means finding the leverage one needs to take the next step up.
By Day 281, I was back home and took in the incredible colors at Fire Mountain while on a short hike. I found a man’s ID (that I turned in to the post office), but often worried if maybe he just wanted to get lost in the woods like a lot of us do. I had a few days at home and always love the space that Kituwah provides for locals. On Day 282, I walked while Ross had XC practice. There were other walkers there, but also runners, cyclists, land cultivators, and those who use the space for ceremonies. Kituway is very much a community and its trails facilitate this community building. We don’t all go the same direction nor have the same experience, but paths always lead to each other. Lessons from Hazard and home carried over to Fire Mountain again the next day. A friend and I were discussing how I have found a way to escape the negative energy of spaces by just simply walking outside. It is like a neutralizer because I often have the tendency to take on someone else’s mood. My friend told me, “Nature’s energy doesn’t have malice. It’s always trying to find balance.” And that’s it. No room for anything but seeking balance. The next foggy morning (Day 284) at Kituwah further embedded this notion and a lone hawk balancing on a pole almost seemed as though he was sent for confirmation.
While I was excited about the trip, Day 285 did land me back inside and so I had to get creative. I chose the Atlanta airport’s moving walking for my trail. They have done a nice job creating a historical trail of sorts so that you can stand and read the history of both Atlanta and the country, dating back to indigenous peoples of the region. I had just had a discussion with a lovely group that included French trail enthusiasts about the metaphorical conception of trails. They happened to be meeting in Atlanta and so this experience really seemed fitting. A key element to trail design is accessibility. In some form or fashion, that is their purpose. Whether it is accessing a plane before it lifts off or the sunrise before dawn breaks or history’s timeline, trails are our very human way of trying to connect each other with something that, at first, may feel out of reach.
Days 286 and 287 were spent in Hot Springs, Arkansas. This is the site of a, albeit small, National Park and, of course, mineral hot springs. I took both in and really enjoyed the way minerals shift across the country. My driver from the airport told me that the water that is coming out of the springs today has been in the ground for 10,000 years (I believe that is correct. Me and numbers don’t jive). We forget the age of this earth, of this universe sometimes. I think a lot of our fears and troubles stem from this. That we think our lifetime is far too special.
Back home on Day 288, Mandi and her son Tripp were in for a visit. We hit up waterfalls at Deep Creek and the next day (Day 289), we climbed the stairs to Mingo Falls in Big Cove. Charlie’s precarious maneuvers reminded me how fortunate we are to raise our sons in this area. He is so comfortable (probably too comfortable) on wet rocks and fallen logs. These woods are a playground and I am grateful for that. They are very much a playground for me as well and sometimes even the “work ground.” On Day 290, I headed back for another quick lap at Fire Mountain, unable to get my fill of the fall colors. Then I stood amidst the golds of Kituwah on Day 291 as I received a phone call confirming that Cherokeee/Shawnee ancestors (remains) had safely made the journey after being discovered in closed building by friends to the University of Kentucky where they are in the process of being prepared for repatriation. It seemed like the perfect setting for such a call. Day 292 and Day 293 rounded out short local trail visits to Tsali (where I spent more time talking in the parking lot than actually riding) and to the Bryson City Island Park after a rare rain with Evan and Charlie.
But Day 294 was the day! Finally it was officially GREAT TRAILS STATE DAY and I wanted to do something special. So, I began with a goal to ride every trail (at least a portion) at Fire Mountain. I probably spent just as much time figuring out my route as I did riding, but I wanted to show my appreciation to my favorite trail system on this day. That evening, I joined my entire family (including my brother’s family and my father) for the Haunted Farm trail in Hendersonville, NC. I thought this would be another fun twist on trails and it did not disappoint. It was great to share it with my family. I later learned that a writer friend of mine has a family connection to the land, with its own hauntings. Land remembers. Land haunts.
Eager to stay in the woods this time of year, I hit up the disappearing paths of Cullowhee on Day 295 and Tsali (Mouse and Thompson) on Day 296. I simply sipped hot coffee (Kawi) at Kituwah the morning of Day 297. The light this time of year seems almost counter to what one would think autumn would bring. It doesn’t feel so much like death as it does patina—encasing the year’s yield with one final metallic shine.
By Day 299 I was off again, this time headed to Tremont in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park for a true treasure of a writing workshop. I stopped along the way at one of the many paths deemed “A Quiet Walkway,” having passed it multiple times over the years and always curious where it led. As has been typical of my experiences during this goal-seeking, it led to sheer happiness. The trail was a bright yellow with fallen leaves and led to a serene river bed with huge boulders. Turkeys greeted me on my way out and showed to an old graveyard, signs of former settlers. While in Tennessee, I had planned to ride at Vee Hollow and was super excited. But the universe had other plans because while in the parking lot, I discovered that I did not have the keys to my bike rack (still haven’t found them) and so I chose to hike Chestnut Top Trail on Day 299. In all honesty, I was hiking off anger. That was until on my return down the trail I heard another creature who also sounded a bit unnerved. I know the sound of a bear scream, though scream is not quite the right word. I have written it into scenes. Off the side of the ridge was most certainly a bear. The remainder of my visit confirmed this with locals agreeing it was likely on that trail and even getting to see three other bears over the course of the next couple of days. Having learned my lesson about solo hikes this time of year, I joined a group and did a short trail tour around Tremont. The focus of the hike was to observe the small details. To notice in silence. To study the juxtaposition of the forest. And so on Day 301 and Day 302, still in Tennessee, I did just that. My whole time at Tremont was largely one giant trail walk (desperately trying to spot an otter) and everything had a story to share. On my way home, I stopped at The Sinks/Meigs Creek on Day 302, reminded of the time Evan and I joined his friend Josh there when we were in high school. Those days on trails as a teenager were likely what led me to fall for my husband. No other boys my age were taking girls on hiking dates. Later, Evan told me it was just because he was cheap, but I think I will hang on to the illusion.
As much as my time at Tremont was truly magical, I was happy to be back on a bike for a big ride at Chestnut Mountain on Day 303. I rode trails I had never been on, discovering a lovely swing on one. A literal playground this time, I suppose. This ride was heartening and really a culmination of what this year has been thus far. This was both a known trail system and trails that were new. I was performing better than I had been, a result of so many days being active. I was being challenged and rewarded. Something about this day felt like love. Like a love we seek that almost seems like magic. That shines like the gold of autumn even though we know it’s a passing season.
Day 304 was, of course, Halloween. I doubled up for this holiday and enjoyed the spookiness that Kituwah can provide this time of year. But I also ran into a former colleague and chatted until Ross reminded me he was done with XC and threatened to steal my car for an illegal joyride around the property. Later that evening, Evan and and I took Charlie for a sweet trail—trick-or-treating in Bryson City and Sylva. There are few places left that provide an unspoken trail for kids that is both safe and abundant. Neighborhoods have changed so much since I was a child and I am grateful that Charlie will have had this experience before it fades into only mass town carnival-style events. The walk itself adds something to Halloween. The trail leading to homes once again reminds us that trails are community connectors. And sometimes, they are ripe with harvest.