I was a bit overzealous in piling the incense blend I made onto the glowing charcoal. My home filled with the sweet smoke, which is awesome. But I was concerned it would cause the smoke detectors to start blaring, which would make my dogs lose their minds…not so awesome.
It was 26 degrees outside, but the wood stove had us nice and toasty. I opened the back door to allow some of the smoke to escape.
Sunlight was streaming in at the exact right angle from the high window. The smoke turned into a living, breathing thing as it slowly drifted out the door, wafting towards the brisk air and open space.
I considered how our thoughts are like smoke. They go out into the world, creeping along, harming or healing.
What we think about and dwell on grows. Ponder wisely, the smoke said, as it meandered out the door. Sometimes it’s good to open the door of our mind and let thoughts go.
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 CascadesRamsey CascadesRamsey Cascades tree guardians and meTom Branch Falls at Deep CreekHeavily iced AT from Newfound GapTrail on way to Jump OffOconaluftee RiverOconaluftee 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.
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.
We had a weather system that brought snow a few days ago. Upper elevations in the national park received several inches. This meant the main road through the park was closed until the road could be plowed. They don’t use chemicals to melt the ice, so sometimes it takes a few days for the road to re-open after a snowfall.
I hadn’t hiked my favorite hike the entire month and the snowfall made me really want to make the trek; however, the road was still closed.
I woke up Sunday morning and throughout the morning, checked the park’s website. The road remained closed. I started filling my pack for another hike in the park, but then stopped. What if I prepared for the longer hike up Alum Cave and head to that entrance to the park. If the road was open, I could do the trail. If not, I could do a shorter one in a campground.
I left my home at 11am and when I got to the park, they had just opened the gate. Even though parking at Alum Cave is challenging, nobody else thought the road was open so I figured I had a good shot at a parking space. And I did. I’d never seen the parking lot so empty.
It was noon when I started hiking and I knew I had only 5 ½ hours of daylight to complete the 10+ mile hike. It is a hike with an elevation gain of 2671 feet and lots and lots of steps. By 3pm, I’d need to be heading down and gave myself that cut-off. If I had not reached the lodge by 3, I needed to turn back. A headlamp is fine and I’ve done early morning hikes with a headlamp, but temperatures would drop again and I wanted to be done by 5.30.
Little patches of snow were beautiful along the trail. It was very muddy from snow melt, but no snow or ice was on the trail until I got to a log bridge above Arch Rock, over two miles up. I started noticing more little slushy patches of snow, but didn’t have any long stretches of snow to navigate until I was above Alum Cave.
There was a definite temperature change as I gained elevation and the famous ledges began to have a bit of snow. I used microspikes as needed and found them really helpful, although the few other people I met were not using them.
About a mile and a half before the lodge, there were long stretches of snow and the wind began to pick up. It felt good actually, because I was working hard to make the lodge by 3pm.
When I reached Hallelujah Curve, the last half mile of relatively flat trail lay ahead. It was covered in packed snow that was slippery. The spikes helped me continue at a good pace and I arrived at the lodge precisely at 3pm. Considering I’d stopped to put on and take off the spikes several times, I was happy with my time; however, I didn’t have time to sit and rest and eat. I had to boogie back down the 5+ miles. I took a few photos, used the vault toilet, and started down the trail.
It was a wonderland of high-elevation fir and spruce forest. The balsam fir smell, which always intoxicates me, was strong. I felt a bit rushed to not be able to spend time wandering and connecting with the trees.
The hike down took 2 ½ hours. Alum Cave, in the late afternoon sun, was exquisite. The warm glow of light on the rock face was lovely. I’ve only seen in in the gray light of dawn and mid-day light.
I made it to the parking lot just as it was getting dark.
The day was a good reminder to prepare for what I really want in life, not just what appears to be possible. Had I packed for the shorter hike I assumed I’d have to do, I couldn’t have done the hike I really wanted to do.
Always be prepared for what you truly want in life. Expect that it is possible.
Often, when we experience trauma and high stress, we go into a self-created cocoon. We withdraw from distractions, interactions, conversations because it’s just too much. It’s our way of assisting our nervous system in processing the event/s.
After the late September flood to our area, I found myself withdrawing energetically. I checked on friends, volunteered to help, but energetically I was weaving around myself a safe space. The first hike I did to Kuwohi was so weird. There were many people there and I felt raw, too raw, to even make eye contact. When I entered the spruce and fir forest, I felt myself begin to open. In that gentle, yet powerful, energy of the upper-elevation forest, I could expand and breathe easier.
Only weeks after the flood did such devastating damage, the election here in the US re-traumatized so many of us. We were shocked that the state voted blue except for the office of president. How could that be? How could anyone vote for a convicted felon with an open agenda of hate and deconstruction of the government for the benefit of the super-wealthy?
I felt myself withdrawing again, creating a safe space energetically to regain balance and grounding. Most of the time, I work remotely so I could focus on quarterly reports that I compile and work without having to go into the university, although I’m guessing many of my co-workers were also struggling with shock and grief. Even in this extreme emotional upheaval, I felt Nature calling me.
My dogs are my best friends and I felt a push to walk with them on the half-mile gravel driveway where we live. I decided to make a promise to them and myself that I would commit to the walk every day. So, my two friends and I started walking together again.
I say again because I stopped walking them due to the steepness of the road. That doesn’t bother me as I hike steep trails; however, with a bulldozer of 75 pounds pulling and another squirrel-reactive 45-pound strong boy, it can get dicey on the steep, gravel road.
We’ve been walking and other than one day, when they almost pulled me off the side of the mountain due to an enticing smell, it’s been good for us. I’ve done a couple of late afternoon walks at the national park, and that’s helped me expand my energy again as I wander among the trees and creeks. Tomorrow I’m volunteering as a fly fishing guide for teenage girls from the Cherokee Schools.
Slowly, I’m finding my way back into interactions and conversations and larger places in which to connect with Nature. I’m excited to spend time with other women and girls tomorrow who love Nature. And maybe Sunday, I will find my way to one of my favorite trails to do a bigger hike. I’m making my way back, one step at a time.
Remember to practice good self-care when going through challenging times. Listen to your body, listen to your emotions. Take the time and create the space you need to heal. See if Nature might be a powerful ally for you in your process of coming back to balance.
