NC Year of the Trail: February 2023
February 2023 Days 32-59 pictures
What February Taught
February NC Year of the Trail 2023
February 1st (Day 32) continued a creative streak of discovering trails, but as the month unfolded, I found these experiences to be a constant conversation between loneliness and anxiety, and reaching for something that would pull me out of these feelings. This was certainly inline with the first trail of the month considering it was at the Swain County Recreation Park, a trail I pass by quite often but had never been on. My youngest son, Charlie was with me and his discovery of a disc golf disc in the winter weeds was a reminder that there are always hidden treasures in plain sight, we sometimes just have to wait for the change of the season for them to be visible. And sometimes… we do have to just get into the weeds and sort things out.
Day 33 was a return to one of my favorite GSMNP trails, Kephart Prong. There are signs everywhere of a former CCC camp. I love coming across both the ruins and slightly terrifying foot bridges. Every time I walk this trail, I remember past days on it. It is as if history gets locked on trails—who we are with, what conversations we had, what stumbles we took. The historical features of this trail help to reinforce that idea and in this way we share history with generations.
The next few days included a road trip to Williamsburg, VA for a speaking engagement. My husband has fully embraced my trail goal and surprised me with scouting out Eno State Park on our ride up on Day 34. This was a wonderful experience as the trail section we did was gorgeous and it was such a welcome respite just off the highway. I couldn’t believe it was so close to an interstate and I am a bit mad at myself that I had never searched out these state parks in my travels before. As we began our walk, Evan said, “This is good for my soul.” He is right. It always is. I don’t see myself ever road tripping with such stops again.
In Williamsburg on Day 35, we hit the streets of Colonial Williamsburg just following my presentation. I was in heels… on cobblestone. A reminder that the history underfoot is almost always uncomfortable. There were multiple forms of trails to step onto as we explored the historical area. I attended graduate school at the College of William and Mary and now wish I had spent more time on these paths instead of rushing through to my next class.
Virginia tauts the impressive Capitol Trail; something of which I am highly envious. On Day 36, we took a short walk on a section that leaves from Spoke & Art and admired the work of beavers along the way. These guys are not distracted by the vastness of the forest around them. They identify one tree at a time and complete their work undaunted. It is a useful mentality that I wish I could tap into more often. Sometimes I get too concerned with all the work I need to do and that makes the immediate job in front of me almost crippling to tackle.
Because my husband is a historian, there was no avoiding a historical trail with him in charge on Day 37. And, in truth, I enjoy it. We stopped by Pegram’s trail in Petersburg on the way home. It was a remote area and felt incredibly haunted to me. There was no real sense that it would lead somewhere and because we wanted to get home, we did not pursue it to the end. It is hard to believe that such places were in the midst of heated battle and how seamlessly nature has reclaimed them from man. We are most certainly temporary features in this incredible world.
Day 38 was a remnant of a trail behind Swain High School. Through the years, there has been some talk about refreshing and expanding it for multiuse. For now, it is relatively grown over and rests just behind the track/football stadium. Because my oldest son had track practice, it allowed me to dip into the woods for a quick moment. It had been so long since I had been on it and remembered it as difficult on a bike. That was so many years ago, that I had to smile at how easy it would be for me today after six years on a bike. Though neglected, it was easy to see that the right attention could provide a beautiful trail for visitors. However, it was just as easy to appreciate its wildness, its restfulness in the wait.
Being home for Days 39-41 was honestly a bit of a grind. I visited Kituwah, my home trail and Tsali’s right loop/first alternate. While the views are always beautiful and being outside helps the winter blues, this was really the point that loneliness set it. Since I now work from home and have become disconnected somewhat from former riding partners, the need for human interaction translates to an anxiety that I have never dealt with before. However, though I was always alone on the trails, I was also reminded that each of those spaces were accessible to me because of so many stewards who value these spaces and dedicate time to their preservation. I, in fact, am never alone on a trail because, as I noted earlier, these trails hold the memories of the people who walked or rode them before.
On Day 42, my youngest son had an all-day basketball tournament. I spent the days prior searching for a trail, but in the end, all it took was walking behind the school and discovering a graveyard ringed by a well-worn path. The daffodils were popping all over, even as hail began to fall. The hail continued on Day 43 when I was back home on my trail—this time I opted for shorts, despite the weather. Discomfort is a good jumpstart to feeling alive again and with such dreary weather, I needed the jolt.
By Day 44, I was amongst dear friends again in Williamsburg, KY. I have truly enjoyed the pursuit of this trail goal and so upon arriving at my Airbnb, I immediately went exploring. I have learned to see the landscape in new ways. I can often predict where a trail might be in areas I have never been before. On this trip, I found the flood wall that flanked the Cumberland River. Its flattop pinnacle was perfect for a stroll. It reminded me of the walled city of Lucca, Italy and was such an unexpected pre-event treat.
Back home for Day 45 was a difficult day. I hiked Fire Mountain and found a place to sit and meditate. Luckily the trail was closed to riders (for the most part) so I knew I would have some privacy. And as I made my way down the trail, sunglasses on to hide weary eyes, I ran into one of my favorite former students. A high school senior who is pursuing professional mountain bike racing, this young man took the time to stop, talk, and even philosophize for a while. The outdoors facilitates such interactions that other places can’t. It levels the playing field. It gives us all space to be human together.
Day 46 at Western Carolina’s trail system was one of the worst rides of my life. This trail has an incredibly difficult climb, actually a couple, and it became a test of endurance on a tight timeline. I was running late. I could not catch my breath and I truly missed riding with supportive friends. This was one of the lowest points of the month. Going into the woods is sometimes not enough. These trails can’t be rushed. They can’t be seen as merely challenges or obstacles. They are there as the friends we need and we have to treat them as such.
The next day, I went back to Tsali for a bit of MTB redemption on Day 47. I pushed hard and realized that trails always give second chances even when people do not. I took my time on the climbs when needed and thoroughly enjoyed the downhill.
Day 48 was magical as Mingus Mill trail always is. Snow was blowing and I walked farther than I had before. I needed that magic. I turned the words of a good friend over and over in my mind. He had said to me, “The road never ends until it turns out to be a loop.” He was joking about a trip to Big Cove we had taken, but it is relevant in so many ways, especially those that had been causing my recent anxiety. These are places, literal and metaphorical, we have been before. We must take note when we are on a loop. We know what is to come. We have the map. We can handle the terrain.
Days 49-52 continued to be ridden with anxiety and I stayed on my home trail to session skills, Fire Mountain since it reopened, and Kituwah. At Kituwah signs of all four seasons peaked through. We often seek the spring, but life is all four seasons at once, I think. Most importantly, always changing. I began to have hope that my anxiety might wane just as each season does.
And just like that, Day 53 brought me an unexpected surprise. I returned to Fire Mountain to ride and in the parking lot were two ladies, Anne and Lori, whom I knew, had often spoken with, but had never ridden with. I knew they were better climbers than me, but they invited me to ride anyway and we had a great time together. It gave me hope that I could expand my network to find new company in the future.
I was physically tired on Day 54 when I returned to FMT, but often rest breaks yield the most interesting observations—like a tea bag hanging from a tree just off the trail. A simple, albeit littered, metaphor for how these trails have become my daily teatime. A treat. An invitation to slow down. A ritual.
Day 55 began hopeful on the Oconaluftee River Trail, but (right on cue) as it began to rain, I received a call from my medical provider. A mammogram my doctor had ordered after my latest check up and exam was not going to be covered by insurance. Something felt like a spring noir about this day. And while I am pursuing other avenues and so fortunate to have them, I am also reminded of trail health—how these places provide healing in their own ways and allow us to be more physically fit.They are medicine and don’t usually cost a dime.
Day 56 was awesome! I traveled to Kanuga Bike Park to take part in the MTB Skills Factory women’s cornering clinic. This was just what I needed. A new trail, new faces, and the opportunity to do something I love. The park was rather quiet due to morning rains and the instruction, as one could imagine, was all about how we connect our bodies to the earth beneath our feet—or rather pedals. To learn to flow with a trail adds such dimension to a trail experience.
On Day 57, my oldest son and I drove to Vonore, TN for an event at Sequoyah Birthplace Museum. We took the Tail of the Dragon Road and were almost killed when a driver crossed completely into our lane on a blind curve. These are not the trails I seek! Fortunately, the museum offers lovely grounds by the water and Ross and I were able to stretch our legs and discuss the history of the place. Ross has been researching aspects of Cherokee history for class and I have handed over part of my library to him, but trail walks like this create a much more impactful opportunity for him to freely ask questions and visualize. I think the vastness of the Cherokee territory itself was something he never realized until he could travel there.
For the final two days of February (Days 58 & 59), I was back at Fire Mountain working on skills. Both days I wrecked and my body is now screaming for a break. But as the sun shone and the air warmed to usher in March, the birds were singing and I thought about how high their nests were. How important these perches are that allow them to see the broader perspective. It literally keeps them safe.
This month has been largely about taking a step back. Waiting. Observing. I have grieved loss of connection many of these days. Still, these trails assured me time and time again that change is inevitable, both in myself and in the paths we walk.