NC Year of the Trail: August 2023
NC Year of the Trail: August 2023
August 2023 Days 213-243 Pictures
What August Taught…
August NC Year of the Trail 2023
July’s heat turned into August’s muggy weather. The air practically paralleled my own internal physical health. I came into the month just off a second iron infusion. So, Day 213, a gravel ride at the NC Arboretum, was a bit slow and labored. However, there were so many smiling faces on the trail and so many thankful voices for this space. Locals and visitors share the space with an appreciation that is perhaps formalized by an entrance fee. I wonder how much this makes a difference and am constantly thinking about the odd reality of land ownership and access and how this defines a community.
On Days 214-219, I began to feel better each day, but had such a busy schedule and humidity lingered so heavy, I found myself opting for short trail experiences including entertaining discoveries like a potential Bigfoot print (no proof that it wasn’t one) at Deep Creek, finding humor in misspelled graffiti, joining friends for a short trek to a private lake, learning that our cows will chase a person right off the trail, and practically treading water on a short MTB ride at Fire Mountain. These truly were the dog days of summer.
Regardless of the heat and humidity, I was excited to join podcaster Matt Sawyer for a new trail hike in Macon Co. (William’s Pulpit) to prep for our conversation at the Mississippi Book Festival. This fairly steep climb set the stage for a heartening discussion about building community—the drive to “make your community bigger.” I think this set the tone for the remainder of August. It also proved that trails are incredible spaces for learning about people. It set the standard for future interviews I would do as well, so that I could learn more about the interviewer and they about me. Poor Matt even got to learn how much I can sweat! The combination of my new medication and the intense humidity left me soaked head to toe, but the conversation left me feeling mentally refreshed.
Though I was feeling physically better, time was still limited for Days 221-224. Ross needed to run at Kituwah, so I got in several miles on my bike and had the welcomed company of several baby bunnies and elk. Wildlife is the first part of our community in these spaces. We are visitors, and so when they choose to share their space, we experience a wordless grace. The next day, I embraced the ups and downs of life and health and took to a short trail at Swain County Rec. that is nothing but ups and downs. Acceptance of what we have has been an important understanding during this process. And though I was short on time during these days, I was also reminded that I was not short on support—short on community. My friend, Mandi, joined me from Kentucky on Day 223 so we could go to a Jason Isbell concert in Asheville. As eager as we were to get out of town, she was willing to take a moment and check off a brief trail experience with me (even though we were already “concert-ready”) because she supports me in this pursuit. My husband stepped up the next day and made sure that the cows didn’t chase me again when I was limited to walking on our home trail. He brought crackers, so it worked out fine.
By Day 225, I was eager to get a good, long ride in. Unfortunately, my bike didn’t quite agree and I got a flat tire at Tsali. But the trail spoke up before I got hurt or damaged my bike beyond repair. I knew my tire was flat only because the mud caused serious sliding that I had never experienced before. At this moment, I realized that trails have trained my body to read landscapes in new ways. My body reacts to the ebbs and flows and this engages our minds with place in a way stagnation does not allow for. I missed my community desperately in this moment of need. If I had been with a typical riding buddy, they likely would have made sure I fixed the tire properly (I botched the CO2). I reached out to a friend by phone, but it just was not the same.
Days 226-229 were made for this trail goal. I taught at John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, NC. This campus requires trail use to access housing, classroom studios, and the main buildings for dining and other facilities. It provides for a beautiful commute to work (so-to-speak) and even branches out to maintained trails leading into the woods and around the river. A significant storm made my hike on Day 227 a bit of an obstacle course, but that in itself brought a new appreciation of access. Day 228 almost denied access when I scouted a nearby trail and GPS led me to someone’s driveway, instructing me to “walk to the trailhead from here.” I had forgotten that navigation in the mountains is not always as simple as it looks. This trail was close as the crow flies, but definitely not as the car drives and to access it, I would have to drive around the mountain. Instead, I relied on an old reliable and hit Jackrabbit trail system for an evening ride. I felt great! This lakeside system doesn’t present much elevation, so it's a great opportunity to just stretch out and enjoy the flow. This set the mindset for a riverside trail “so-long” the next day as I went to water and set intentions going forward as I left John C. Campbell. I know these places because of my community, because people have introduced me to the places in the past. While exploring new trails alone presents certain gifts, I am grateful to be able to rely on what I have learned about these places from others.
Back home on Day 230, I went to Fire Mountain for a solid ride. I listened to a book and one quote by Patrick Dewitt (a novelist I would join on a panel in Mississippi) struck me as poignant. He writes, “The passage of time bends us, it folds us, and eventually it tucks us right into the ground.” The fallen trees from the storm illustrated this wisdom, a reminder that we are in this life together, bound by time. I headed out that afternoon for Mississippi, eager to grow my community.
And that was quite easy to do with such a wonderful collection of readers and writers at the Mississippi Book Festival. At breakfast, I met another writer with experience in Indian Country, so we identified our own trail to the Book Festival to start a long, EXTREMELY hot day of everything book. Before flying out the next day (Day 232), I was reluctant to step into the Jackson, Mississippi heat, but luckily the Art Museum was across the street from my hotel and provided a sweet Art Trail. The moss-made couch was truly inspirational. I think it would be a great feature at Fire Mountain when I need a rest!
Because I was determined to build community and feeling so detached from any riding community, I had reached out to friends prior to my Mississippi trip. They did not disappoint. The day after my return, Josh Haigler and I went on a lovely road ride. But because that does not count as a trail, he indulged me by choosing a route that includes a short gravel segment adjacent to the GSMNP. From this road is a trail access point and I was able to check off Day 233. This camaraderie continued on Day 234 when another friend joined me on a quality MTB ride on Left Loop at Tsali and then I joined a host of writers for Zoom/leg stretch taken on a trail in Canton the next day.
While Day 236 was a solo ride on Fire Mountain, the yellowjackets decided to keep me company. I guess expanding community has its pros and cons. The mushrooms are dying as well, which smells like roadkill. But it reminds me that I learned this only last year when I was complaining about a pungent smell. Someone saw a post I made about it and explained this cycle to me. That is the other benefit of community, the knowledge that comes with it.
After such a muggy day, Kituwah’s dirt on Day 237 was surprisingly dry, yet still just as hot. I think August is a dirt road. The smell, the heat, the bareness of life struggling toward harvest.
On Day 238, the whole family went to Hendersonville to support Ross in his first high school XC meet at Jackson Park. I took the opportunity to infiltrate the race and get in my own trail—at a much slower pace. The next day led to the next night quickly and I, for the first time during this pursuit, almost forgot to get in a trail. At 9pm, I shot up in bed and may have said a few choice words. My husband immediately got up without a word and we both put on our tennis shoes. He was not about to let me brave the cows alone on our home trail in the dark. While it was an incredibly short trail experience, it made me realize how badly I’d like to do a night hike and how I love and miss night rides with friends. It also reminded me of the truly wonderful support system I have in place.
On Day 240, I was desperate for rain and so were the waterfowl along the Tuckasegee River running adjacent to the Cullowhee greenway. Luckily, the rain did come, signaling a refresh in the air. Something feels new in the face of a season marked by decay. This is likely why, on day 241, I was excited to prep for a MTB lesson I would be giving to other Cherokee women later in the week by pre-walking the Oconaluftee River Trail. This is a multi use trail that makes instruction accessible. This would be a way I could expand my MTB community locally. On day 242, I lingered a bit too long chatting with friends over lunch and had to squeeze in a short walk at the FMT Disc Golf sanctuary. But it's so nice to have this as an option.
Unfortunately, my trainees had to reschedule and I decided to ride solo at FMT on Day 243. That didn’t last long as friends texted from the parking lot after recognizing my vehicle and I expanded my ride to include my dear friend, Amelia, who is recently back on the bike after having her first child. Sometimes the community expands and contracts (no motherhood pun intended). In that way, it is a living, breathing, culture. No loss has to be a forever loss unless we need it to be. And sometimes we do need losses to find our real communities.
These are the thoughts that rounded out August. We can’t always control how our community grows or shrinks, just as we cannot control whether wildlife welcomes us into their homes or not. But we can travel these trails with intention and consistency. Community will reveal itself just as the woodland creatures will if we are open and still and welcome interaction with respect. Headed into September, I feel the healthiest I have in memory. I am physically balanced and that makes for a mental and spiritual balance as well. I look forward to the season of harvest that September promises.