NC Year of the Trail: April 2023
April 2023 Days 91-120 Pictures
What April Taught…
April NC Year of the Trail 2023
April brings a reminder to appreciate all four seasons because in western North Carolina, it's bringing all four to you all on the same day! Some days, such as Day 91 (April 1st), were spent preparing for the warm weather before the snakes emerge. That’s truly my main concern as the weather warms. My husband and I went to our home trail and selected large rocks we could use to frame our flower gardens.
On Day 92, journalist Jody DiPerna stopped by for a visit. We took a trip to Kituwah. I love playing tour guide to visitors and the trails are the best way to not only immerse special guests in our natural landscape but also find the space to discuss the things that are the most important to understanding this place—our values and history of connection to this land.
Spring weather brought in some pretty damaging storms, fires, and winds, so Day 93 went from a planned ride at FMT in preparation for the Inferno race to cleaning up debris as much as I could by myself. I carried my hand saw and went to work on the limbs that didn’t require a chainsaw. I knew Ed Sutton’s crew was already on the mountain doing the hard work, so I did my best to clear away the annoying branches that would slow their progress. I like this work. It’s cathartic for me. In some ways, it is an honor to be able to care for a space that has given me so much. And I am tremendously grateful to those who do the major work, the hard labor to keep us all safe on the trails. By the next day’s ride, I had hoped I would get some cleaner runs in since I knew Ed’s crew had been working all day. A mourning dove greeted me fairly early on in my ride as a reminder to slow down—perhaps, seek the peace of this space. It was in no hurry to move and so I waited. The dried leaves, eaten by bugs showed me shapes like 7’s and hearts and I enjoyed a full day on the mountain, even running into Ed’s crew. There was still more clearing to do, but the mountain was recovering—even from the fire that had recently scarred the lower part.
On day 95 (April 5th), I headed to Middle Georgia State University for an event. This was one of those great examples of how this 365 day challenge has changed my perspective. I immediately sought out a nearby trail system and came across Amerson Park. This is a fairly extensive public park, but it was immediately obvious that it also experiences flooding and OFTEN. Judging from the mud and closures, flood waters had very recently receded. I was quickly returned to eastern Kentucky in my mind and the reminders of how devastating flooding can be. Just as the trails at home were rebounding from fire and wind, the places that felt flood devastation had so much longer to go to recover, all the while the people of these places knowing that the waters were likely to return soon.
Back home for Day 96, I drove up toward the Road to Nowhere before I had to pick up Ross from track practice. I knew there was a trail, whose name I can still not remember, that dives down to the level of Fontana Lake. It is a steep descent and ascent on foot, but I was pleasantly surprised how much easier it was to climb out than the last time I hiked it. I sat for quite awhile on one of the trail’s wooden bridges and thought about how all the people we surround ourselves with or are surrounded by only make up a tiny percentage of our potential lived experience. How lucky I am to be surrounded by this ancient landscape that keeps on thriving and changing and giving despite the years. As I sat, a small butterfly landed on my shoe. My friend, Mandi, tells me it is an Appalachian Azure and that feels pretty perfect for the day. I’ve been thinking a lot about aging lately. About wrinkles and all that stuff that makes me feel I’m on the wrong side of a bell curve. Like I’m growing more and more lonely and undesirable (though that’s not exactly the word). But on this day, I realize I don’t love this place because it's placid and smooth and unchanging. I love the rapids of the river and mountain ridges. I love that it’s always changing. I love how weathered these boards and trails are beneath my feet like we're surrounded by history and all the people who passed through. I love how spring flowers are fresh and beautiful and welcome, but so are the ancient trees and moss covered rocks and all the truly good stuff has taken a long time to get this way.
It poured on Day 97. Luckily, my son Ross is super supportive of my goals and offered to join me on a quick trip back to Mingus Mill to take in the real power of water. And the rain just kept coming through Day 98 when both boys took in Kituwah for a ride, run, and walk in near freezing temperatures. I love watching Charlie splash through the puddles on his bike as if he has found his own adventure park.
Easter Sunday, Day 99, brought gorgeous weather worthy of the holiday. I returned to Fire Mountain and was once again reminded of the ever-changing moments. Those things like rain can make us feel as if weight is accumulating, only growing heavier with each day. But a sunrise can evaporate those feelings instantly. And it doesn’t matter how many times we witness the phenomenon, it still feels surprising. I am left to reflect, then, on how those floods linger enough to weigh heavy and yet maybe this promise of sun is what truly keeps those communities committed to phenomenon.
On Day 100, I turned my attention to my home trail for a little post-storm cleanup, accidental goat scaring, and Inferno practice. I had little time, but just being on the bike for a brief moment helps me stay connected in a way that is confidence-building for racing. Fortunately, Day 101 brought the sun and what felt like spring (again). The boys and I went to the Oconaluftee River Trail so that Ross could run and Charlie and I could ride. I thought I had taught Charlie to skip rocks long ago, but he reminded me I had not. So that became the goal of the day. It truly is an essential life skill.
Johnny Hicks, my unofficial ride coach since childhood, gave me new MTB tires to try out and I headed to FMT for Day 102. Even though I completely forgot to check the PSI (something that I got scolded for later), I had a good ride on the mountain and felt like the real Inferno training had begun and felt satisfied before leaving for an event at ETSU with Ross in tow. While there, Ross begrudgingly indulged me in my impromptu trail discovery on Day 103. We found a medical center that had invested in outdoor therapy by building a short, but unique, trail just outside its doors. Ross did accuse me of “being crazy,” when we pulled into the parking lot beside the Emergency Room, but I think he’s starting to get it—to understand why I am doing this. I have to also mention that this trip included encountering the story of William Nealy. This outdoor adventurer, author and cartoonist was featured both in an exhibit at ETSU and in the new book by his brother-in-law Daniel Wallace. Nealy found life outside by defining death. But he understood his outdoor environment in such an intimate way that maybe what we thought was death-defying was actually more so giving way to the natural world, folding into it. Instead, it was the inside world that brought him tragedy. I have never understood this more in my own life. Inside feels so threatening these days. But outside, even amidst rain, wind, lightning, and even fire, is a place to lay down the armor.
Back home for day 104, was another rainy/home trail day and by Day 105, I was in Blue Ridge Georgia for another event. This was a complete trail fail. I had not done my research, banking on the fact that I knew there were trails nearby. But time hindered getting lost in the pursuit of trails, so I settled for town center trails that, like many towns, follow the railroad ties. It did make me consider how we lay trails and where and why. So on Day 106, I went out behind Dad’s garage to where he had ended a trail and considered the possibilities to tie in our home trails in the future. What is the natural path they should follow? Luckily the deer prints were there to give me hints.
While I enjoy when my family joins me on these trail days, I can often get quite lonely on rides since I rarely have folks to ride with. So when Rachel joined me on Day 107 , I was ecstatic. She is one of my favorite people to ride with and we just haven’t been able to coordinate our schedules. The ride was an instant therapy session that made me feel less crazy, less alone. I think you can chat with friends on the phone or in a coffee shop, but it is not the same as on a trail. Both the seclusion and room to breath offer up a space that feels natural and authentic. We discussed, “trusting the edges” both in regards to new tires and the risks of life. When I returned to FMT on Day 108 (keep in mind we are getting ever closer to race day), the mountain was starting to spark with the beautiful Flame Azalea. Fire Mountain is Fire Mountain for many reasons. When Cane Creek Components named me an ambassador and sent over some SWEET new bike components, I couldn’t help but get them installed immediately and head straight back to FMT for Day 109. They were smooth and a welcome upgrade. It’s like getting a new outfit and haircut and your nails done in one day… but WAY better because you get to get sweaty and dirty all at the same time.
With Inferno just a couple of days away, I needed to scale down activity. Yet another benefit of trails. They don’t require intensity and on days like Day 110, a visit to Kituwah for meandering reflection and renewal are just what is needed. My former students like Austin San Souci also renew my soul and so for my last race run-through, it was wonderful to spend some time chatting with him at the FMT trailhead on Day 111.
Days 112 and 113 were Fire Mountain Inferno Race days! And while much of these past several days were spent in preparation for this event, for the purposes of this blog, these were not eye-opening days except for one major affirmation—a trail’s energy changes and it changes tremendously depending on who is on your trail. I actively chose to ride with friends who have always been supportive and light-hearted and forgiving and caring. I chose energy that was real and authentic and still fully enlivened by our love of these trails. And that made all the difference. There were no wrecks or regrets or terrible runs. I finished mid-pack both days and though I know I could have gone faster and maybe placed higher, this race is growing. This community is changing. My role in both is not stagnate. I just need to find the right kind of people to grow with and that may mean I won’t ever finish first or fastest or yell my presence the loudest, but I also won’t lose the peace of this space in the process.
Post race days always feel so strange. It is like I don’t know what to do any more. My body usually craves rest, but is also still keyed up for more. I was thrilled that after two days of racing, over 25 mountainous miles, I actually felt great by Day 114. I took a casual walk at Deep Creek. Day 115, I took in the progress of our property’s vineyard as my Dad reminded me the importance of “pinching off the suckers.” Grape vines have tiny offshoots low down that do nothing but take energy from their real work—fruit bearing. We have these energy drains, too. And when the season is right, we have to remember to pluck them way before they harm our harvest. On Day 116, I kept my body moving and took a rainy walk on the Cullowhee greenway before returning focus to my writing. These trails serve many purposes for me, including a competitive athletic side. But their true inspiration is for my writing and I am so glad I can refocus on this now that the race, perhaps my final race, is over.
With rain continuing on Day 117, I stayed close to home and hung out with the goats on our trails. It continued on Day 118 and I used Ross’s track practice as a more conventional trail. Fortunately Day 119 brought the sun and all things shiny and I could get back on my bike without any pressure at FMT. Even the Flame Azalea looked brighter and lighter. I also got to sport my new endlessbikegirl raffle prize!
Day 120 was possibly the best way to round out the month of April. My dear friends Mandi and Amelia joined me for a Jason Isbell concert at the Bear Shadow Festival in Scaly Mountain. It was absolutely incredible to be outside, even in the wind, and have our feet on the earth while we listened to an incredible artist. These women keep me going. They simultaneously ground me and release my true spirit. Our walk to and from the venue (an unconventional trail of sorts) almost blew us away, but nothing could be as moving as listening to Isbell up close and being with people who truly care about you.