Tag: BEAUTY
The Twelve Hikes of Christmas

The Twelve Hikes of Christmas

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A while ago, I thought how fun it would be to hike every day I’m off over the winter break. You know…like The Twelve Days of Christmas, but hikes.

I’ve just finished Day 6 and feel like I might just complete it. Of course, there is rain in the forecast; but, luckily I have rain gear. And there is no rule that states I have to hike a long distance or a minimum elevation or so many hours. I simply want to make the effort to go outside everyday I’m not working and hike in Nature. Not a walk down my gravel driveway with the dogs, actual boots-on-trails hikes.

Elk along the Oconaluftee River Trail

I’m not sure why I set the goal. Probably to shake up my life a bit and dedicate myself to something different and fun. Perhaps there’s a deeper reason.

The first three days were a bit disappointing in that the main road through the national park was closed due to snow and ice. I had to choose trails on the North Carolina side of the park. We have them, but my vision had been higher elevations and trails I don’t usually do as often. Regardless, I managed to have nice hikes near my home to start off the twelve days.

The Lonesome Pine Overlook…but it isn’t a pine 🙂

On the Solstice, I walked the easy Oconaluftee Trail, a 3.25 mile hike along the river and shared the trail with several elk. December 22, I did an easy loop at Deep Creek with 3.5 miles. December 23rd was a tough hike on Lonesome Pine Trail—3.5 miles steep uphill climb and 3.5 steep downhill…not a favorite but the view is amazing. Christmas Eve I hiked Ramsey Cascades and found it a delightful trail that is a new favorite. It was 4 miles up but not as hard as Lonesome Pine. The entire trail scenery was lovely and the ice and snow made it a very wintry wonderland. Christmas Day I intended to hike Alum Cave to the Bluff but the parking lot was full; so, I drove back to Newfound Gap and hiked up the AT to The Jump Off. This was a crazy-icy trail and microspikes made it doable with ease. It’s a challenging hike in places and I had a total of 6.5 miles. Then today, I did an easy hike again for 3.25 miles. My legs needed an easy day. Over the past six days I’ve hiked 31.5 miles. In those miles, I have hiked an elevation gain of 6700 feet.  

The most elevation gain was Lonesome Pine with 2454 feet @ 7 miles (3.5 up, 3.5 down). This trail hurts me. Second highest elevation gain was Ramsey Cascades with 2323 feet in 8 miles (4 up, 4 down). The Jump Off gave a climb of 1588 feet in 6.5 miles (3.25 in, 3.25 out).

One of the old growth trees along Ramsey Cascades Trail

I didn’t intend to write this as a trail review or mileage-log; but, thought a few details might make it more fun. 

Ramsey Cascades
Ramsey Cascades
Ramsey Cascades tree guardians and me
Tom Branch Falls at Deep Creek
Heavily iced AT from Newfound Gap
Trail on way to Jump Off
Oconaluftee River
Oconaluftee River

I haven’t set too many goals in the last several years. I’ve turned into a go-with-the-flow kind of gal; however, I think the discipline involved in goal-setting is right for me at this time. There are other plans I am contemplating and doing a short-term project like The Twelve Hikes of Christmas is a great foundation for building more of the life I want to create.

Hiking on the icy AT

One reason I’m writing and sharing about this idea is to hold myself accountable. When the rain starts, I don’t want to too easily blow off a hike. I mean…somebody might actually be paying attention.

Day seven takes me to the other side of the park, to a favorite river area. It’s supposed to rain, so there will be rain gear involved. And a smaller pack since it’s not a difficult trail. Saturday and Sunday look really wet so those days might be local areas of the park within a 3 to 5 mile distance. 

Wish me luck, please! Not just for this project, but for other juicy things on the horizon. 
Rockin’ Your Place in the World

Rockin’ Your Place in the World

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At mile five of a seven mile hike from the start of *Kuwohi Road, I came upon a cliff face completely transformed. Over the usual craggy rocks was a massive display of icicles. Icicles….that doesn’t even begin to describe the immense columns of frozen water dripped and twisted into temporary stalactite formations. It seemed to stretch into forever.

I stood in awe at the pillars of frozen artistry and heard myself saying out loud: I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You are amazing! You are rockin’ your place in this world.

And that’s what I kept feeling as I wandered past the ice arrays…the icicles were completely being the highest expression of what an icicle can be. They allowed themselves to be molded into the perfection of what they could be. Gravity, wind, and low temperatures sculpted their development and in complete surrender to those forces, unimaginable beauty was the result.

I eventually hiked on two miles past the field of ice and then turned back towards the gate and my car. By the time I reached them again, it was mile nine of the hike with five more miles to go before rest. But I had to stop and stand in awe…again.

What would happen if we, as humans, surrendered so completely to our beauty, to our destiny? It’s easy to set a path forward and forget the things that cause our heart to stir, the dreams we had about our path and force our way to fit in some box created by society…schools, families, churches, communities….that we are expected to stay in to be ‘successful.’ What would those icicles look like if there was a transparent box catching the dripping water? They certainly would look different. 

So how can we get back to our soul’s promptings and surrender to them to become the highest expression of ourselves? We can start by reflecting on what we truly love to do and start practicing that, even in small moments. Drawing, painting, writing, singing, dancing, woodworking, hiking, photography…the list is endless. We can learn to listen to the small voice within that whispers and reminds us of what lights up our lives. We can ask, What makes my heart sing?

It’s never too late. What will you do to be the best expression of this beautiful life you have been gifted? 

*Formerly Clingman’s Dome Road. It was recently renamed Kuwohi, the Cherokee word for the mountain…which means, Mulberry Place.

Into the Forest

Into the Forest

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I finished the ‘out’ part of my hike and was headed back. As I hiked up the trail, the smell of balsam fir trees captured me completely. A favorite moss-covered tree beckoned me to sit and be still. After five miles over some rugged terrain, it felt good to pause and listen.

I was off the trail maybe 30 feet, just enough that nobody noticed me as they hiked past. There were waves of voices that came and went, but mostly there was just the sounds of the forest…and the smell of balsam fir…and the softness of the vibrant, green moss. 

As I sat there observing, I felt like a student of the trees. At one point I whispered to them, so this is what it’s like to sit and observe as people walk by without seeing you. There was something so peaceful about blending in with the trees and plants and not being noticed by anyone. 

Humans often seem to be in a hurry to go and do. The trees reminded me to sit and ‘be’ without any agenda. Not even the agenda to sit and be still. At some point it felt as if I melted into the forest. Thoughts stopped. Breathing slowed. I was part of the forest. 

Everything was vibrant, green, balanced. 

Gradually, thoughts crept back in and I realized I was really hungry. I thanked the forest.  After leaving a little offering of gratitude, I stepped out of cloak of the forest and onto the trail. 

Returning to people and traffic was challenging, but I sit here hours later remembering, reliving the beauty of going into the forest. 
Mountain Morning

Mountain Morning

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How many insects are singing? It’s a holy chorus of sacred song. Wren is the soloist, chirping and trilling her morning song. Mockingbird is the diva that claims arias all her own.

We are in the embrace of the clouds, held in white moisture that breaths us as we join the day.

Orange cat perches on the wood rack, awaiting breakfast. Black dog watches for squirrels; Hound gazes into foggy woods. All of us expectant of some mystical moment that signals the start to the next phase of our day.

But for now, we breathe clouds, enjoy music of the woods, and each other’s company and the presence of delightful beings with which we share this mountain.
Rattlesnake

Rattlesnake

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Image by Randy Ratliff, Hiking the Smokies FB group, not the snake I met.

A sharp, electrical buzz sounded, like a switch being flipped, about ten feet in front of my forward-moving boots. It stopped me like a stone wall. The unmistakable buzzzzzzzzz of a timber rattlesnake.

Besides fear, I could feel the power of the rattlesnake. It claimed the trail with unmistakable authority.  

Image by Randy Ratliff, from Hiking the Smokies FB group, not the snake I met.

The snake’s rattle repeatedly came to mind each time I practiced chanting and singing this past week. The voice is a way we claim our personal sovereignty with unmistakable authority, just like a rattlesnake uses its ‘voice.’ 

A week after the encounter with the powerful rattlesnake, I was hiking on another trail and discovered a rattlesnake that had been crushed. I stood over the lifeless body, deeply saddened by the silencing of the beautiful snake’s ‘voice.’ The contrast between the electrifying buzzzzzz and the silence was profound. 

Album cover art, Strumbellas 2019

Let us claim our voice and not be silenced.