Tag: Simone Lipscomb Photography
Pack for What You Want

Pack for What You Want

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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.
On Being Real

On Being Real

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I recently made a comment about personal appearance after hiking with other women. I said it was nice to hike with women who didn’t care about their appearance. Obviously, what I meant to say was, It’s nice to be outdoors with women who are not freaking out because their make-up got smeared, their colors don’t match, or their stomach isn’t as flat as it used to be. Or something like that. Perhaps I should have said, I don’t care about my appearance when hiking, I just want to be comfortable.

For my entire life, I have never been overly concerned about caking on make-up or wearing the proper colors or styles.  I want to be clean and comfortable. I figured if people don’t like what I wear or what I look like, they shouldn’t hang out with me. I refuse to be overly concerned about things that used to drive me to unhealthy behaviors. The greatest compliment I can offer someone is to be 100% myself with them, without pretense, without caring that the age spots on my face look more scary every day. Or my mid-section is fuller than it was when I was starving myself. As Popeye the Sailor said, I yam who I yam. 

In a time when everyone seems so addicted to being offended about everything, I’m relieved to find people who understand that not everything is about them. Not every comment is a criticism. I’m just happy I can put on my shorts, shirt, sports bra, wool socks, boots, and pack or fly fishing gear and enjoy the woods without worrying whether the fashion police will be ticketing women who aren’t perfect in shape, weight, hair, and makeup. 

I am more concerned about what’s happening in my heart, my friend’s heart’s, than what any of us wear or what we look like. Haven’t women evolved past that? I sure hope so. 
Realigning

Realigning

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Last week, I explored my angst about not getting enough time in Nature; during five days off, I made an effort to change that. Every day, I went into the woods and came out happier, more at peace, and more aligned with myself.

Over the past two decades, when I’ve asked what I’m supposed to do with my life, I’ve heard to deepen my connection with Nature. It all comes down to that bit of inner guidance. Not, ‘Save the world,’ or ‘Do something huge.’ It’s been clear and simple…’Create a deeper, personal relationship with Nature.’

It’s taken a while to understand that I didn’t have to become an expert guide or teacher to lead others to their own connection with Nature, to their own inner healing journey. For many years, I thought that was what I was supposed to do. After some recent soul-searching, I’ve come to understand that living with a deeper awareness of the inner connection, the Oneness, can create positive change around me, just from being rooted, anchored in a reverent and reciprocal relationship with Nature. 

I’m most joyful when I’m with Nature, listening to flowers, water, trees, rocks…I mean being still and listening with my heart. Perhaps my contribution to the world is simply going out and practicing this. If we change ourselves, we create ripples of energy that move out into the world. In essence, by being exactly who we are, we create positive change in the world. Not by forcing or even inviting. Just by being who we are in our most genuine expression of soul.

The act of intentionally connecting with Nature changes me and it changes Nature. I’ve felt the shift many times as I consciously connect with various aspects of Nature. And it’s an outcome that isn’t coerced or pushed; it is a natural, organic way of being. 

I love to reflect on experiences I have outdoors and express them through creative processes. That’s all very natural for me, like breathing. Writing, photography, composing music…all arise from releasing myself to the creative flow that comes by being in sync with the the energy of Nature…Oneness…Source.

Many times people have viewed my photographs, read my essays and books, and commented that they can never do what I do but enjoy experiencing it through my sharing. I’m finally understanding my ‘work’  is to simply go out into Nature with an open heart, with a conscious desire to listen, connect, learn. 

Last Thursday, my teacher was a trout lily in full bloom. I sat on the narrow trail beside the lily and listened. In the stillness, I felt intimacy with the flower, mountains, birds, the creek far below. I felt my soul filling my body. I felt harmony within myself and everything around me. But, there wasn’t me and everything else….it was simply everything expressing the energy of Life in different forms. 

Friday, I hiked over 12 miles on a trail filled with beautiful wildflowers with friends and fly fished in the most beautiful water I’ve ever seen. Saturday I visited a unique geological area with a friend and saw bluebells and shooting stars. Sunday I waded a section of local water and danced with beautiful rainbow and brown trout. Monday, yesterday, I waded with pouty trout that kept missing the fly. All of it opened me to Nature, to myself, to all Life.

From now on, instead of trying to figure out how to help people connect with Nature, I’m going to listen to decades of guidance…Deepen your connection with Nature…and take it to heart. I’ll connect deeper with Nature and allow It to teach me, heal me, fill me with joy. I’ll allow the creative process to move within that relationship and witness the unfolding. I trust this to be my Path of true service to the world.
The Green

The Green

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Intense green seemed to ooze from every expression of Nature. Grass growing in the creek, trees gracefully arching over moving water, trees with newly unfurled buds—all of these elements joined together to create a glowing green realm that quite honestly seemed otherworldly, as if I had wandered into the faery realm.

It was a rainy day that started with heavy, gray clouds. Being prepared with the right gear made the rain a non-issue. Fish tend to like the rain. Or perhaps fly fishers like the rain because the trout aren’t quite as able to discern hand-made flies from naturally occurring insects hatching. It wasn’t a disappointing day wading, casting a line, and generally enjoying what I think of as a typical Smoky Mountains perfect day—cool, rainy, foggy, and beautiful.

Generally, I fish alone and enjoy it immensely; however, I fished with guide David Knapp, owner of Trout Zone Anglers, and was able to explore and wade places I wouldn’t generally go by myself. We went off the trail and made our way upstream using the creek and rhododendron thickets and moss-covered banks to navigate. The only other indication that others used the area was fresh elk droppings. The road wasn’t far away, but it felt as if we were immersed in a magical ecosystem of cold water, rocks, moss, trees…and trout. Lots of trout.

In past writing, I’ve said it’s not about the trout. But it is about the trout—and everything else, too. I occasionally fish another river, outside of the national park, and it’s pretty and there are many stocked trout, but it’s not magical like these remote areas that require extra effort to traverse, extra miles driven down bumpy gravel roads, and a capacity to enjoy beauty that stretches one’s ability to take it all in.

I won’t go into detail about what I learned about fly fishing, which was a lot. I’ll simply state what a pleasure it was to fish with someone who enjoys the whole experience of fly fishing, not just counting trout that are landed. Wading, stalking, casting, listening to birds, noting insects, watching trout rise to flies—these elements and more absorbed, appreciated and celebrated. 

April 29th of last year, I started fly fishing. Almost a year to the day, I was able to feel the confidence I’ve gained and skills that have improved as I’ve enjoyed over 65 fly fishing experiences, most of them in the national park and most of them solo. I’ve come to appreciate the intricate innerworkings of these cold, mountain creek ecosystems and am so grateful they have received me into their beauty.