NC Year of the Trail: May 2023
May 2023 Days 121-151 Pictures
What May Taught…
May NC Year of the Trail 2023
May has been about unexpected and (usually) welcome surprises. There is nothing better than being in the woods with a dear friend who loves discovering its hidden treasures as much as you. So when my friend Mandi joined me at Deep Creek on May 1st for Day 121, I knew this month was off to a great start! We silenced phones (including skipping a conference call - shhhh - ) and she looked for newts (Mandi owns the Read Spotted Newt Bookstore in Hazard, KY). When we are together, we often find ourselves comparing our home landscapes. While both Appalachian, she is from eastern Kentucky It's incredible how different, similar landscapes can be. Still, it became apparent as we chatted and hiked that trails transform us both. No matter where they are, they are home and we are home and we are true selves on them.
For Day 122, I drove over to meet the ladies of Cane Creek Components and speak to their employees about my experiences as a #ridingwriter. Afterward, they took me for my very first ride at Pisgah. Both Jenna and Dorene are great instructors and from a short ride, I took away a complete change to my downhill form. The difference? I was following a woman on the downhill. As they explained, women’s bodies move differently. We spend too much time trying to learn from men whose bodies are little like ours, especially in how we move. We advance when we appreciate the unique ways women navigate worlds. It is not better or worse, just different. There is freedom in learning to stop adapting and learn to embrace our authentic forms.
I returned to Fire Mountain on Day 123, but was not feeling up for much of a challenge. The green was emerging from the ashes of the most recent fire and that was enough to remind me that growth takes time. I was tired from the day before (something I would learn more about soon enough). However, Day 124 began to show dividends. While in Asheville, I decided to check out the NC Arboretum between appointments. I was so enamored with the beauty of their spring blooms and richness of diverse trail experiences that I signed on for an annual pass. School groups spread out across fields like clover and it brought me sheer joy to hear children laughing and playing with nothing but soft grass and blue sky as their toys. So on Day 125 (May 5), it was no surprise that I had a fantastic ride, finding a rare blue feather and earning a Queen of the Mountain Strava title. These are the lessons of spring—emergence, patience, and dapples of energy. It’s a particular kind of emerging that speckles and sprouts and before we know it, fully immerses us in the new life.
On Day 126, we traveled down state for Ross to compete at an invitational track meet. I have learned during this year that all schools have some sort of trail and so I did not stress over finding one. This school (Porter Ridge) did not disappoint. In fact, it provided a completely unexpected surprise. As I walked toward a nearby recreation park from the adjacent school trail, I came across several men playing cricket. This is a game I have never seen played in person and the players were quite welcoming, allowing me to stand outside the fence and take photos. I was transported for a moment by sport—and not the one I had paid admission to see. Play is such an elemental aspect of these trails. It is not always an organized sport such as this, but play always requires an interaction and a positivity of spirit. Play is our connection to youth, before the structures and limitations and expectations. Trails take us back to that before time.
Days 127-131 was a return to familiar home trails (Oconaluftee River, Cullowhee WCU, home, Fire Mountain and Deep Creek). Evan had minor surgery this week, so I stuck close by. I was joined by Melissa for the first time riding together at WCU and Ross and Waffles joined me on the Oconaluftee trail; but in general, these were low key trail experiences and reminders that this goal has fully become my normal. When I have not gotten in a trail for the day, my body remembers. It reminds me. I feel something is missing. And because my body remembers, I know my body has changed. The ride at WCU, though always a struggle for me, was somewhat more doable for me this time with Melissa. The climb out, less was torturous. The landscape is more part of my muscle memory and less of some sort of alien shock to the system.
On May 12 (Day 132), I finally had a good excuse to check out a trail in Franklin I had been intending to visit. The Little Tennessee Greenway is a perfect community mixed-use space. I only wished I had more time to spend walking along the river. I find myself longing to be one of the people who use these trails for a pause—to sit on a bench and pet a dog or listen to bird song or simply feel the changing breezes roiling from the river. Spring is ripe with emergent energy, but that cannot be felt without taking respite to feel the shifts.
On Day 133, I returned to Tsali for a much needed leg stretch of a ride. The lake bobbed with flotsam, a reminder that summer and its crowds are threatening. I hate what we do to these beautiful spaces. We can’t seem to find the balance between immersion in the natural world and destruction of these spaces. Our sense of responsibility has yet to match our sense of entitlement to the best of this world—the very places we had no role in creating.
Day 134 was Mother’s Day. Since the passing of my own mother, I pretty much despise this day. I find little happiness even in celebration of my own motherhood. However, this year I chose to seek gratitude in my trail selection. I rode a sacred seven miles at the mothertown of Kituwah and the following day, on Day 135, I even found bright spots on my home trail in the most unlikely places. After the rain, a fresh cow patty shone like a mystical pool. Yes, that sounds dramatic. Mother nature is dramatic. And a bit ridiculous when she wants to be. All mothers are.
Day 136 brought personal medical information that spoke directly to so many experiences I have had on the trail. After a review of blood work with a nutritionist, I learned that I am anemic, my thyroid is underactive, and several other hormonal indicators are off. This was actually wonderful news. These things can be fixed and I can enjoy my outdoor adventures more. This discovery was matched with a discovery of a trail that partially runs beneath a highway I drive multiple times every month. I was actually on my way to a trail I have used before when I noticed a dirt path off the side of the road. This goal has taught me to follow these paths and I will rarely be disappointed. This was no different. I have passed this trail hundreds of times and never knew it existed until I was open to the surprises in old spaces. We think we know something so well, but it quite often needs a new lens to understand its full complexity.
While I certainly had more trail company in May, Day 137 at Tsali and Day 138 at the FMT disc golf sanctuary gave me the opportunity to enjoy the solace of solitude. Spider webs in the face and both eagles and hawks overhead, leaves one feeling less alone, but the company is far from intrusive. When alone, I can take my time. Sit. Watch for more. Listen to something that doesn’t speak my language.
When I left for Greensboro on Day 139, I did my research and was proud that I had found a trail for the day. What I did not know was that I was about to discover one of my new favorite places in North Carolina. The Tanger Family Bicentennial and Bog Gardens were absolutely stunning. The juxtaposition of the winding, dark bog trail and the cultivated Tanger gardens tempted me to skip the event I was in town for and wander about. I even came across a “Bird Place” sign and water powered grist mill, which made this feel like both a special and personal place. Greensboro continued to offer what seemed like shared secrets when I went for a walk in a downtown park the next morning and saw a bunny rabbit—my mother’s sign for me. Such an unexpected animal in the middle of a city. That day had promised to be challenging and this message brought courage. It stripped away the grit of the city and replaced it with tie to home simply by stepping on a dirt path for a moment.
Courage continued to be the theme when I returned to FMT on Day 141 and had the epiphany I had longed for. I had been stuck on a major plot gap for the novel I am working on. I was on a trail that I have ridden hundreds of times and nothing seemed special about the day. As I pushed myself to push over a rooty uphill section, the solution to my plot problem became clear as if it had always been there and just needed a little clearing away. These moments vanish self-doubt and come so unexpectedly that they feel like magic. Day 142, Charlie and I went back to Deep Creek to once again look for otters. Turns out, the good stuff only comes when you aren’t looking for it and we left without a sighting. On Day 143, I returned to FMT to spin out the previous experience’s details and found myself spending most of my time clearing a large tree that a storm brought down. I love this work. I love using my silky hand saw to clear a path for others I know will be on the same trails. And while that sounds like a metaphor for arrogance, it's the work itself that I enjoy. It brings me closer to the space, like balancing the gift-giving of these spaces. And in turn, mother nature gives me the less than lovely gift of seasonal allergies, which about killed me this month.
I was glad I could clear the way on the FMT trail, because on Day 144 bike industry folks arrived. While I walked the trail along Acquoni Rd on that day to check out the major road project, I would be back on Fire Mountain to ride with Dorene of Cane Creek on Day 145. We care for our home trails so that our visitors can love our homes as well. It’s similar to how we clean our homes when relatives come around. And it was a real treat to be riding differently this time with Dorene than when we were at Pisgah. Within just a few rides, I had taken her advice and adjusted my form to become a stronger downhiller. It was fun to show her the progress on my home turf. We discussed how we are both introverts and that sometimes the outdoors community, especially womens mountain biking celebrates extrovertness. It can feel like a schism, misaligned with what we crave from nature. To know I am not alone in this feeling has affirmed that this path, these paths, are leading in the right direction for me. These paths are uncrowded. As much as we want others to love our home trails, our chosen paths, we don’t always need them to walk them with us.
Day 146 was an experience I will not soon forget. Author Kelli Jo Ford and her family were in town while she taught at the first ever Confluence: An Indigenous Writers’ Workshop Series. Kelli is Cherokee Nation, so Dakota from the Museum of the Cherokee Indian joined us at Kituwah to welcome Kelli and her daughter home. I learned even more stories of this special place and witnessed the power of it on a new Cherokee heart. We went to water and I can’t imagine a better way to begin this very special passion project of the writers’ workshop series. To be able to connect trails to this project is an unexpected and absolutely appropriate gift.
Day 147-151 was the most reflective period of the month. I walked my home trail, took the boys on a quick Mark Watson Park trail in Sylva, returned to Deep Creek with Evan as he heals from his surgery and is able to exercise more, checked out Chestnut Mountain on foot (a ride I can’t wait to do), and rounded out the month at Fire Mountain analyzing animal tracks in the mud. These weren’t extraordinary trail experiences for me, but each brought a sense of peace that I am finally finding balance. I am finding my place both alone and with companions that enable and support this peace—or as Cherokees say, To-Hi. This To-Hi is of history and family and forever friends who happily silence the world for you when you need it most.