ENVIRONMENT Archives -

The Twelve Hikes of Christmas

By Simone Lipscomb | December 27, 2024

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.

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 23^rd 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.

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.

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.

The Elk

By Simone Lipscomb | June 15, 2024

The headlights illuminated a doe, heavy with her unborn baby; her white tail a flag as she bounded into the woods from the driveway. So alive, so vital.

At nearly that exact moment, ten miles away, the beautiful elk mother, heavy with her unborn baby, was struck by a car.

As I drove into the national park, the thick, red slick on the road lead to her crumpled body.

I stopped and rolled down the window to say words, to say thank you…for your beauty, your life.

White ribs stood out against the deep, red gash…that image is burned into my mind…and her head, looking back over her shoulder at an odd angle.

The bulge in her belly, now still as the mother–both traveling the spirit world. Free of pain and suffering, leaving us behind to mourn more loss of beauty, of wildness.

Our tears mix with her blood. Together they flow into the river.

Sisterhood of Lady Slippers in the Cathedral of Light

By Simone Lipscomb | April 22, 2024

Do I kneel in the mud and allow tears of joy to merge with raindrops on the tender petals of the lady slipper?

Do I sing hymns of praise for wildflowers?

The thought arises to place my hands in the cool mud and paint my face in solidarity with Earth and all growing things.

Maybe I should photograph her ladyship, to show the voluptuous curves of her pink belly.

Perhaps I can create a song to sing to my granddaughter to tell of all the flowers in the woodland.

How do I endure beauty so overwhelming? I feel I’m about to erupt from my skin, like an explosion of light from a star?

Sing?

Weep?

Shout with joy?

Dance…no, no dancing because I am surrounded by tender beauties that must be protected so I must be still.

It is difficult to know what to do in the presence of profound beauty. How can I take it in? Dare I even attempt it?

How can I receive the beauty, the unexpected beauty, that simply shows up? The surprise of beauty. How do I take that in?

I want to do something to express the awe I feel, when all I really need to do is be there, be present. Be open. Breathe in.

A couple years ago I had a very clear message from Nature as I was walking in the woods. The message was, When Nature gives me a gift, I have to learn to receive it. My first reaction is often to capture it with photography. It’s harder for us to fully receive the gift of that beauty when we interrupt the receptive moment of awe to ‘do’ something other than be in the present moment breathing. We can simply pause and breathe with the flower or tree, the river or hawk, and let go of words, drop deeper into stillness with the beauty. The frustration can then fade as we open even more fully to receiving.

Breathing in…thank you, I see you, I feel you. Breathing out….this is me, here’s my open heart. This is who I am. This is me. Breathing in, I take in the beauty, the essence of the flower; breathing out, I have the courage to show the flower who I am. This is my heart. This is me. You and I are one. Absolutely, we are one.

—

An expanse of lady slippers was unveiled due to a blown-down where trees obliterated the trail and a detour was necessary. In wandering around the massive pile of trees and attempting to find our way forward, we discovered a secret wooded area of lady slippers. We would never have seen these precious flowers had we not had to find an alternate path. It felt as if we were invited into a secret initiation of the Sisterhood of Lady Slippers in a Cathedral of Light. And we said….Oh! YES! And THANK YOU!

Little Miracles in the Stream

By Simone Lipscomb | April 17, 2024

Not long ago I wrote an essay celebrating mayflies. (Read here). Last Saturday I took a very deep dive into the early lives of mayflies and other aquatic macroinvertebrates. Learning more about them was so mind-blowing, I’m still seeing images of hundreds of tiny…or not so tiny…creepy-looking critters that came out of our kick net sampling and went into small water-filled cubes as we sorted them. It’s so overwhelmingly cool, I can hardly find words to express it.

In the Southeast, there are 9 families and 294 species of stoneflies. There are 21 families and 300 species of mayflies in the Southeast. Caddisflies have 663 species and 21 families in the same region. Does anyone else find that amazing?

For those so inclined to know more, here’s a bit of information. During the first year or two of their lives, they are all found underwater, living on the bottom, under rocks and leaves, on underwater branches. They all look like buggy creatures but there are ways to tell them apart. For instance, stoneflies have two tails, two claws, no abdominal gills (yes…these critters have gills!!), and two pair of wing pads. Mayflies usually have three tails (sometimes two), one claw and abdominal gills. Caddisflies are more like wormy creatures with legs and curl into a C shape. They also have anal hooks.

That’s the majority of the critters we find in our benthic realm. But there are also dragonfly nymphs, beetles, hellgrammites, flies, midges, sowbugs, damselflies…and the snails, crayfish, leeches, scuds, worms, and muscles and clams. There is an amazing amount of life along the bottom of our streams and rivers.

Let me clarify the ‘amazing amount of life’ statement. In good water quality, we see more species. We also learned, from EQI instructors, that all of these creatures have different tolerances of pollution and sediment levels. By collecting biological samples, then sorting and counting, scientists can get a good idea of the water quality. The years of data EQI has collected gives a wonderful health check for various watersheds and bodies of water within those watersheds.

For now, I don’t want to dive deeper into the scientific data part. That’s vitally important; however, what touched me so deeply was the profound diversity of life we have in our area. The web of life gets more and more precious to me as I learn more about it, as I understand the interconnectedness of all life. It’s miraculous….at least that’s my word of explanation.

The more I learn, the more miraculous life seems. It all works together so beautifully, as long as we don’t interfere with pollution, sediment, agricultural run-off.

Here’s to the giant shredder stoneflies and the 2-tailed flattened scrapers. The spiny turtle mayflies, the gravel coffin case caddisflies…and all the amazing creatures that create such profound bio-diversity in Western North Carolina.

And to EQI for creating such a positive impact in our area. Click the link to learn more about this nonprofit laboratory. “We curate reliable and objective data, expand awareness about regional water quality, and provide technical support to nonprofits, local governments, educational institutions, and communities to drive environmental improvements.”

Builder of Dreams

By Simone Lipscomb | August 2, 2022

Bull elk…wapiti from last autumn at the Cherokee Mothertown

In the gray light, before sunrise yesterday, I drove past the Cherokee Mothertown. On the sacred mound were two bull elks, sleeping…dreaming their wild elk dreams. Even though I didn’t stop and walk there, the image of those magnificent beings stayed with me all day.

They remained with me as I walked along the nearby creek and as I worked on tasks and had a meeting online. The misty gray dream-like beings held me in their reality all day.

This photo is pretty ugh….but it was nearly dark, across the creek, with an iPhone.

This morning, as I walked along the creek in the dim light, I saw a large critter in the middle of the creek. It appeared to be a furry bulldozer. At first I thought it was an otter, but it was too big. Upon closer examination, a beautiful beaver emerged from the whitewater.

I’m like a kid when animals show up in my life, but even my excitement didn’t scare the steadfast beaver as it swam and waded and pushed its way upstream. It never wavered from the journey.

Another low-light, iPhone image that makes me cringe (quality)

How amazing to be so focused and sure of yourself to push on, no matter what.

Given the two mornings of amazing encounters, I decided to look up the spiritual meaning in my Ted Andrews book. My mouth fell open as I read both the beaver and elk passages.

Bull elk image I took last autumn during rut.

The elk remind me that I’m about to hit my stride and that at the beginning of a new project, to expect a period of growth of four to five years but I’ll have the strength for this new project. Then beaver, builder of dreams, reminds me to act on my dreams and make them a reality…it’s time for action.

Image by David Knapp, of Troutzone Anglers of Simone.

There’s no doubt…I needed to hear this. I’ve been playing with a new dream, one I want to build on for the next….yes, you got it… four or five years. I just spent a month off from my job…a forced layoff so the state university I work for doesn’t have to pay me benefits. I like the work and plan on staying there for the next five years. But it’s not a career or a vocation.

I’m pretty big into doing what you love and living your dreams. I’ve done that for many years. But now, as I’m in the pre-retirement years, I’m enjoying giving back to the Cherokee tribe through the grants I help administer. I have zero complaints about the work…but it’s not the end-all gift I wish to leave the world sort of work.

So, in this forced layoff, I spent time thinking about what I’d like to do when I’m ready to ‘retire.’ Of course I’ll work, but what do I want to do?

One of my favorite places to cast and wade

I reflected on the past year and three months…I’ve never grown so much and developed such trust in myself. Why? Fly fishing. Exploring. Wading. Going into the back country of the national park and connecting deeply with water, rocks, otters, trout, trees…it has changed my life. I’d love to share that with people…specifically with women who want to grow.

Another place that has filled me with wonder.

As Lynette Monterio Musten wrote, “Never in my life had I thought I was capable of this; of being alone, of feeling safe, with myself, of being quiet.” This reflects my experience perfectly and I want to offer this to other women who want to learn how to do this.

I connected with a couple of guide schools and found what they are offering isn’t what I’m wanting to do. I don’t want to be a guide for grip-and-grin tourists. I want to work with women who want to develop their enjoyment of life through interacting with Nature. Guide schools I’ve explored are linear in their approach and that’s what most people are wanting, but I am creating a holistic approach to fly fishing.

My profile photo on FaceBook for the past couple of months….elk are a definite power animal for me.

In my dream, I integrate yoga, wading, fishing, casting, education (about insects, trout and the environment) and self-care skills. Rather than mold my dreams to other people’s trainings, I am creating a program of training that will support my dream. There are guides that are willing to help me learn and develop as a fly fisher, with my specific intentions, so I’ll be working with them. I’m already a yoga instructor, have worked with people in Nature as a naturalist, ropes course facilitator, scuba instructor, and trip leader. It’s a matter of developing my fly fishing skills, working more with guides, and continuing to do what I love…fly fish in the back country.

Photo by David Knapp, Troutzone Anglers, of Simone…David is helping Simone design her way forward as a guide

These two wildlife encounters feel really supportive of my dream. The elk remind me to be in sacred space and feel the strength of the Ancestors as they walk with me and strengthen my dreams. The beaver reminds me to believe in my dreams and work on them, build them to make them a reality.

Nature has always been my best teacher and early mornings, like these past two, remind me why I get up early and go walk the trails before most people are stirring. The magic of dawn and of Elk and Beaver Medicine give me focus and strength to support my dreams by taking the steps necessary to make them a reality.

The guidance I keep receiving, when I journey inwards, is Step-by-Step is how this is accomplished. Gratitude fills me as I thank the Ancestors, the Elk and Beaver for bringing me this teaching. And now, I feel a bit of excitement as I take the beginning steps…of building my dream.