NC Year of the Trail: December
NC Year of the Trail: December 2023
December 2023 Days 335 - 365 Pictures
What December Taught…
December NC Year of the Trail 2023
The final month of this 365 day challenge came rolling in with its own set of obstacles. The holiday season can be all-consuming and colder weather is not the best motivator. However, I was super excited to finish out the year and had great recommendations from friends to ensure I was able to make my trails even when traveling.
Recently, someone mentioned in a public forum that there was nothing for visitors to do in our area during the winter months. That made me shake my head. My December 1st (Day 335) hike is a prime example. I hiked at Fire Mountain and it was a great way to get into the holiday spirit. The bright greens and reds absolutely pop this time of year. The briskness, which is still quite bearable, makes you feel alive and more intune to the ironic freshness of winter. This juxtaposition awakens the spirit. Fully ready to embrace the holidays, I took an unusual trail on Day 336 and walked the trail of The Big Crafty in Asheville. This large craft fair weaves through the exhibit hall and makes for a new kind of indoor adventure. Though not a traditional trail, it offers many of the same facets–it’s a showcase of the environment and how a community interacts with that environment to find meaning. Everyone takes away something very different and it changes every time.
Inspired by locally made crafts, I took to my home trail on Day 337 to harvest Christmas decorations. Armed with my handy dandy gardening shears and little red wagon, I was pleasantly surprised to find all manner of gorgeous decorations (including magnolia). However, the goats saw my haul as more of a moving buffet and I finished the trail in a full-on sprint, pulling the wagon and periodically stopping to pry holly from the goats’ teeth–which is not a pleasant experience, albeit humorous.
December 4th was the first MTB ride of the month and I returned to Fire Mountain. I am always grateful for the trail clearers making sure the leaf collections are minimal, but trails are not overworked so they can rest and repair naturally. This was a joyous ride, reminding me that returning to the old habits can be just as rewarding as new challenges. They are time to mark progress if nothing else. To reset if need be.
Eager to get back on the bike the next day (Day 339), I went to Tsali and got a little more crafty. A hornet's nest was on the edge of the trail. Cherokees often make Booger Masks from these nests and so I made my own; hopefully, keeping away malevolent trail spirits in the process.
As much as I love the celebrations of the holiday season, December is also an incredibly difficult month for me. December marks my mother’s birthday, anniversary, the birth of my eldest son who was named for my mom and it also marks the anniversary of her passing. My experience, a war between holiday joy and commemoration of loss, is not uncommon. Most adults I know struggle with the same. I think that is another reason why this goal has been so helpful. On the hard days, it has forced me outside, into fresh air; and more importantly, it has asked me to notice the gifts waiting all around—the gifts of a changing landscape and of discovery and understanding. For this reason, several of my trails this month are a grasp for perspective and calm. Day 340 was a return to Kituwah for just such respite. The next day (Day 341), I was spending time at our family’s cabin (a place that is filled with the memory of my mother) in preparation for an event I was hosting. I took the trail just outside, one fraught with downed trees and briars. It is an eerie trail and one made all the more disturbing by the discovery of a plastic owl head, one eye missing, tucked beneath leaves. Owls, in the Cherokee belief system, are harbingers of death, so this discovery stopped me in my tracks and sent me right back out the way I had come.
This time of year also feels like a bit of a sprint and so many of my trails were quick hits. I went to Deep Creek on December 8th (Day 342) for a very short walk. This was also the anniversary of my Mother’s passing. I hate this day more than any other. The walk was not life changing. It was a checkbox, but in the days that followed, I would come to appreciate it more. It kept me both literally moving and metaphorically engaged in life. We all need time to rest and check-out from reality, but on the hardest days, I think taking the steps I promised myself I would make the day not feel like such a loss.
Cheer returned along with two friends from Kentucky, Ben and Desi. The way they love this place and the outdoors was just the spark I needed to get me through the last of the 365 days. The weather had been raining and cold, but we agreed we absolutely had to make time to do the trail of Christmas lights at Darnell Farms. Fortunately or unfortunately, by the time we got there, they were technically closed. While this meant we had to navigate electric fences and deep mud holes with little light, it also meant we had the property virtually to ourselves (save a welcome from Nate Darnell who agreed not to lock us in). The lights on the river were absolutely gorgeous. Ben and Desi discovered a hollow tree and climbed nearly to the top. The cabin overlooks Darnell Farms, so now every time I look off the porch, I can remember this joy, this child-like exploration with friends that helps bring healing.
Since my friends were leaving, I was alone again at Deep Creek on Day 344. The rain had finally filled the creek and its flow struck me. Flow has such positive connotations, but it is essentially an “unsticking,” a forceful push. And that can be jarring. It seems obvious, but 365 days on a trail is all about movement–the movement we create and the movement nature creates for us. Sometimes we resist each other, but when we give in to Nature’s movement, the flow is far less jarring. We might just become unstuck.
Day 345 was a wild experience. I was excited to check off a goal and actually complete a hike to a cemetery in Deep Creek. In November, I attempted it, but was in a rush and wearing funeral attire. I had plenty of time on this day, and even though the trail was still a little soggy, the climb was beautiful. I certainly didn’t expect to find that the three graves at the terminus would be decorated with hiker offerings. In truth, it was a bit bizarre. When I think of offerings to honor the deceased, I envision them as gifts. The items on these graves were trash, with few exceptions. It makes me wonder why humans think anything that comes from us is a gift to the permanence of our environments. Why would someone feel good about leaving their used tube of chapstick on the marker for someone else’s loved one? I think we are incapable of thinking beyond our own immediacy. However, one benefit to this discovery was that after posting a picture of these items, a Park Ranger messaged me. Apparently, one item on a grave was the remote key for his vehicle he had lost on an offshoot trail awhile back. Turns out a hiker found it and decided it should adorn a grave for eternity. In this case however, we interrupted the eternal sacrifice of truck keys.
Day 346 and Day 347 had me back in a rush, so I walked at Kituwah and on our home trail. But the following couple of days brought a sweetness to the rush. I found out that a former participant in one of my writing workshops, Raven, had passed away. Raven was one of those very special souls that change who you are the moment you meet them. She was battling cancer, but had one of the most optimistic, humble personalities I had ever met. She had an early life of extreme racing and adventure. It had made her who she was. You could see it embedded in her eyes, her smile, the way she carried herself. An active outdoor lifestyle doesn’t guarantee long life or even health. But I think it might guarantee us perspective. I took a hike at Fire Mountain, my favorite place, to say a silent good-bye and, more importantly, give gratitude for her presence in my life. The following day, I returned to FMT for a ride and met the adorable Valentino the dog and his human, Janet. These bookends of emotions are what make Fire Mountain so special. It is a place of contemplation and catharsis, but also one of the energy of friendly faces (human and otherwise).
Day 35o was a windy day at Kituwah, which sounds like a benign observation. But windy days invite eyes toward the skies and watching flocks of birds navigate winter winds is much like the observations of water over this past year. Flows and resistance, all of which are neither good nor bad. They are just movement. So after a day of Christmas lights at the Island Park on Day 351 with Evan, I was struck by how the river currents by the greenway in Franklin mimic mountain ranges. Mirrors. That’s what we seek, afterall. Mirrors showing us who we are in these landscapes.
Days 353-356, I was in a full-on rush in holiday preparation and had Charle in tow for some of it. Deep Creek, Mark Watson Park (reminiscing about my youth ballgame days), Kituwah, and a mimosa-enabled amble by the cabin.
Day 357 was what I affectionately refer to as the breakfast casseROLL. I joined a couple of in-law cousins after my mother-in-law's annual Christmas breakfast for a post-meal MTB ride at Tsali. Christmas Eve was a peaceful hike at Fire Mountain and Christmas Day was adamant in reminding me it was still a trail day. The gate to our home trail had blown open across the main drive as if to direct on to dirt. A much appreciated Christmas present. I wore my pretty new Christmas coat and felt so fortunate to just stay in place during this season.
Before heading out of town for the New Year and final push of the trail goal, I looked for otters at Deep Creek (still no luck) on Day 360 and had a lovely MTB lap at FMT (Day 361) while listening to Madeline Miller’s CIRCE. A quote struck me: “Of course my flesh reaches for the earth. That it is where it belongs.” And that’s it, right? That’s what aging into experience means. We are becoming more grounded in this earth. We are stretching in all the ways that we resist superficially, but should embrace. I think that helped me appreciate Day 362, which was a walk with my Dad on the Oconaluftee River Trail. Dad and I have a great, though sometimes trying relationship. He is a micro manager and often comes across as critical of pretty much everything I do. However, I also know he is proud of me. So, as I take over half of his business properties in 2024, our relationship can be a bit more stressful. After a day of going over business details, we both realized we were leaving to get walks in. It made sense that we would go together. The trail set an agenda that didn’t allow for business, for stress, for conflict. We made fun of tourists (Dad quoting Yogi Berra) and truly enjoyed the fresh air together. Change the scene. Change the story.
Day 363 kicked off our end-of-the-year trip to South Carolina, which is admittedly an odd place to round out the NC Year of the Trail goal. But I think it’s about expansion. It’s about remembering that humans created all these borders because we like to leave our temporal impact on ancient environments. We forget humility in these moments. It’s what, unfortunately, makes us human. I never considered this a solely NC goal and I imagine neither did the folks at Great Trails NC. Sure, we like to brag about our fabulous trails, but trails connect us–and should connect us across state (and other) lines. Ross and I stopped at Furman and walked around the lake near the Swamp Rabbit trail. This is a time of crossing borders for him as well as he prepares to apply to college in the next few years. He’s focused on his future and where his next path may lead.
In the Charleston area, I was fortunate to get a few recommendations from friends to finish out the year. On Day 364, Evan and I went to the Seewee Shell Ring and took in the story of indigenous people who lived in the area. It was remarkable to see that their impact on their environment was not destructive—that signs of their time there are not at odds with the natural landscape. They didn’t leave scars. I don’t know their full history and most certainly, it includes tragic loss as it does for all indigenous cultures in this country. But I couldn’t help but think back to the Deep Creek memorials and how the “trash” at the shell ring was a return to nature unlike the hikers in the Smokies who were doing quite the opposite.
The final trail of 2023 was a pretty darn perfect summary of the year. I did feel a little pressure to find a special trail for the last day and was worried that a greenway (West Ashley) may not cut it. However, I loaded up my road bike that can handle a little dirt and gravel and headed out. I never know what I will find from a trail, even those I have been on dozens of times. But West Ashley was chocked full of reminders from the year. The trail transitions from pavement where neighborhoods have built small bridges from each home over drainage ditches so families can access the greenway to gravel and packed dirt flanking waterways. Beautiful seabirds, puppy dogs, art installations, unique flora, fishermen, and families dotted the path. There were even a few obstacles reminiscent of MTB to navigate. So when I met little Bryce (and his family) on the bridge, I was pretty sure this trail was meant to be. I asked a member of his family if they wouldn’t mind taking a picture for me to show off my Year of the Trail shirt. The family was from SC and Alabama, and so excited to hear about NC’s designation. When I pulled up on my bike, Bryce, who I imagine is around four, yelled, “Yay!!” I asked him if he liked bikes and his family smiled. He said, “A LOT!!” He was so thrilled to see my bike and kept trying to get in the picture with me. I, of course, would have welcomed him, but I do feel cautious about taking pictures of children, so he just made it into the corner of one. His enthusiasm was what it’s all about. Multi-generational. Freedom to explore. Fascination with movement (human and nature’s). Utter trail happiness.
This year changed my life. That is, of course, an understatement and cliche. But also, why wouldn’t it? I moved every single day in 2023. Nothing stays the same on a trail and neither do we. I will spend more time reflecting on this year as a collective, so for now I just want to state the gratitude of rounding out what can be a tough month of December with joy and renewal. I want to go into 2024 like Bryce because I sure do like bikes and trails A LOT!