Green Moss and crazy memories

 All of the pictures are from Mt. Collins to Mt. LeConte, when I hiked with two of my kids.

Today the walking I have done measures a year long total of 203.72 miles. If I was on the AT I would be staying at the Mt. Collins shelter, which is down a side trail not far from Clingman’s Dome. My parents and I hiked there in the 1970”s, and my main memory of that camping area was the deep green moss growing on fallen tree trunks. It felt very Middle Earth, almost jungle like and drippy with water. As a matter of fact it rained the entire day, and the day before, and drizzled on us while we sat around at the site. Dad always carried more than his share of weight in his backpack, and he was worn out, then the cold rain lowered his resistance. He began shivering even though it wasn’t that cold to me. I remember sitting on a damp mossy log and watching mom boil water to try and warm him up. He drank some soup for calories and warmth, but that didn’t help. It was summer, and we didn’t have hot chocolate with us.  Mom heated up water and mixed it with lemonade, and we all sipped on the sweet hot drink. At the time I thought it was the most creative and tasty warm drink ever. Dad slipped into his sleeping bag and finally stopped shivering, as he warmed up and rested. We had been planning on a week of hiking. 

Mom cooked some pancakes, and I ate them sitting on that wet log, and sipped my hot lemonade. In the morning mom and dad decided it was best to hike out, to go on home. The only problem was our car was in Deep Creek campground, on the other side of Cherokee. We were nearer to Gatlinburg, and would have to find some kind of ride to our car. I wanted to keep hiking, but that wasn’t possible with dad having suffered from hypothermia and all our blisters and wet socks. So, we packed up, and hiked down towards the Newfound Gap parking area. I think we arrived around lunch time, and dad set out trying to find someone to give us a ride. Mom and I rested beside our packs. Two Hari Krishna men in robes were selling books in the parking lot and I watched a man buy one, look it over and then demand his money back. While this was going on dad returned with the news, we had a ride. We walked over to a pick up truck, with an older couple in the front seat. We tossed our packs in the back and climbed in with them, and sat, backs against the cab of the truck. 

The man in the truck drove along the curvy mountain road, faster and faster, slinging us around in the back. Maybe he was a retired race car driver. I heard mom, over the wind, say, “At least we have identification with us if…” and dad looked at me. Mom tried to see our speed, but the man’s arm was in the way of her view. To me, a young teenager, the ride was fun. As soon as we reached the town of Cherokee dad banged on the truck, he stopped and we hopped out. We still had to cross through the town, walking on asphalt beside the road, but my parents felt safer walking beside the road full of tourists. As the truck roared off, we began walking, passing restaurants, tourist shops and gas stations.  One of the gas stations had a caged bear for people to look at. and maybe feed.  I was outraged and began yelling, “Let that bear go!”  “Cruel and unusual treatment!”  My parents told me to be quiet, the station owner was giving us angry looks. I walked on, stomping my indignation. Not long after that a van stopped, offering us a ride. We climbed in, and found seats in the carpeted and fringed decorated back of the van. The driver, a Cherokee, chatted with us and played really cool music. He ended up driving us all the way to our car, and wished us a wonderful day.

Many years later my two youngest kids and I went backpacking, and the second or third night was spent at Mt. Collins. I told them my strongest memory was how green the area was, and we all were happy to see it was still true. The camping area looked like giant trees from years ago had all fallen down, and moss had settled on the trunks, the ground, the roof of the camping lean to, and if we sat still too long, the moss would begin to settle on us. My daughter Anna celebrated her (I think) 27th birthday at that shelter. We sang happy birthday, and another camper heard us singing and brought over a cookie for her. It was a happy evening, and the next day we hiked up to Clingman’s Dome, leaving our packs at the shelter. 

This part of the trail has some of my happiest memories. I am so glad my parents took us backpacking, and I am glad my kids want to go with me. 

All my actual walks have been near my home, either in the neighborhood and park nearby, or along a trail along the Tennessee River. My walking buddy has mostly been my dog, and sometimes my oldest kid. It has been a rainy month, and we have walked through mud puddles and pond run off, but at the end of the day we go home, take off our wet shoes and settle down with a book and hot tea. I have discovered that hot lemonade is one of those treats that only tastes good on the trail.

Happy walking!

Joy is Resistance or Why I love NPR

 

                                                    Joy is Resistance

It has been about two weeks since I wrote last. I have been walking, some, and reading a lot and watching hiking YouTube. My favorite mother daughter hiking pair had an interesting video yesterday in which the mom talked about hiking gatekeeping. Just like in every group there are some people that judge other members, and she had run into that. If you don’t hike the trail the right way, or if you only do parts, or if you do only day hikes, you can’t call yourself a trail hiker. She talked about not paying attention to those types, to how these judgements usually are just on social media and not in person, and finally she said, “It’s not that deep. Just hike. You do you. Enjoy”  

I was substitute teaching one day and I saw a sign on the wall of the classroom. It said, “How to be a math person. Be a person. Do math.”  So, how are we a hiking person. Same advice, be a person and hike. If you like to read, read what you like. If you like to, fill in the blank, do the thing. Worrying about what other people think, or letting them steal your joy is a mistake. We are in this life, this one life, to find our own way. We don’t need permission from others to exist, and we don’t need the gatekeeping of others to determine our way. I just finished a garden class. I am not one of those people with neat tidy lawns, straight borders and long lasting blooming plants in my yard. I worried about saying I am now a Master Gardener because my yard is a little wild. But, I wanted to learn more about gardening, especially native plants, plants for pollinators and growing food. Working in the dirt makes me happy. I will do it my way.

                                                

Joy is resistance. I got very down watching the news yesterday, and then after watching the hiking video and going for a nice walk, I realized my joy in life is my resistance. I want to share something that brings me joy.  I love Public Radio. NPR is always on my car radio and I have heard the most interesting stories, great music and local public service announcements. Where else can you listen to a show called Philosophy Talks, followed by Moth Radio hour and then the history of Jazz. NPR makes me late to places I am going. I pulled into the tennis parking lot as an interviewer was asking children what they think about rules. I sat in my carport finishing a Moth radio hour talk about a man that had been in jail, and then found meaning in life. Last night I heard an interview with a poet, a Vietnamese American first generation man who described how he discovered that being a poet was a thing one could do. He went from reading the lines of a 16th century poet and asking which band he wrote for, to studying English in University, once he realized it wasn’t a degree for people wanting to learn to speak the language. The interview ended with him singing an old Appalachian folk tune that sent shivers up my spine because it was so beautiful. Where else would an interview like that exist, but for NPR?

No where else can I turn on a radio and listen to classical music. No where else can I turn on a radio and listen to Beethoven, Mozart, Hayden, and on and on. If I came from a family that only listened to pop music, or country and rock, what are the chances I might get exposed to such variety, to flutes and violins and explanations about the music and musicians? yesterday an NPR segment brought me to tears. I listened to Fresh Air with Terry Gross. She talked about the passing of her husband, a Jazz critic and writer. She interspersed the remembrances with actual music, quotes from his writing and stories of their life together. I have been listening to Fresh Air for years, it is one of my favorite programs, but this episode was special. I take Joy in NPR. I take Joy in PBS. I take joy in my public libraries. My first act whenever we move to a new town is to get my library card. The second is to find my local NPR station. 

These last weeks have been busy with the garden class and the volunteer hours that are part of earning the certificate, so walking has been slow.  In two weeks I walked 20.13 miles, some of them just walking back and forth at the plant sales I worked. This puts me at 189.44 miles, or at the Derrick Knob shelter. I have been there, in high school. The shelter before that one, Spence Fields, is where I saw skunks meandering through the campsite. During the night a skunk got into the shelter, and sat on me, on my sleeping bag. My parents were afraid to wake me up, because if I jumped or screamed the skunk might have sprayed us. Luckily he just sniffed around some and then ran off. I was glad I slept through it. Derrick Knob is a pretty section, so I am glad to (pretend to) be there. Happy hiking, happy reading, happy listening! Joy is Resistance!

Reading and resting

                                               Reading and resting more than walking

                                        My favorite reading spot - under the magnolia

This week the weather has been beautiful, but I haven’t had as much energy for walking. I have worked in the garden, but also, I have enjoyed sitting in the shade of my giant magnolia tree reading, and I wanted to share some thoughts from my book. I’m reading a book called Joseph Anton, which is the cover name for the writer Salman Rushdie. Rushdie wrote the book Satanic Verses years ago, and the book so angered the Iranian leaders that they issued a fatwa against him, a death sentence for blaspheming their religion.  I tried to read Satanic Verses, but it wasn’t my style of writing. I also couldn’t see what was so offensive, but then I didn’t finish, and I’m not Muslim. The book I am reading describes the life Rushdie had to live, in hiding and with British protection around the clock. He tried to have a normal life, but for many years he was forced to live as if he was in house arrest. He believes deeply in the freedom of expression, the freedom to write what you want to write. No one is required to read a book, we all have different interests. Not wanting to read a book or not wanting to give money to a book we disagree with, that is all within our rights. What we don’t have the right to do is to control others. We don’t have the right to tell others what they can read, or to tell stores what they can sell, or to tell libraries what they can carry. We certainly don’t have the right to tell people what to think, nor to wish death on someone for saying words or ideas we don’t agree with. At one point Rushdie wrote the following in a letter to the newspaper:

“We have the freedoms we fight for, and we lose the freedoms we don’t defend.” This goes for any freedom, but in this letter, and in his book, he was talking about free speech. It would be easy to give in, to say I’m sorry my book/article/story offended you, I’ll withdraw it. Or to say, I don’t want to make someone angry, I won’t write how I really feel about the government or the church, but when we make that choice, we are giving in on defending our rights of free speech. Every time we give in, a tiny death nail is struck in the coffin of the free speech, and every death nail becomes harder to pull out. (Can you tell I’ve been reading a lot?)

          Letters that tell a story, the illustration of the magazine used in the story

I’m also reading and really enjoying a series of letters that tell a story. My sister in law Heather gave me a Christmas gift of a year of letters that arrive in the mail, and through these letters I learn about the adventures of a lady traveling in the Amazon Jungle in Brazil. In the story the letters tell the main character is writing articles to a Ladies Magazine, and she is also researching the mystery of her parents disappearance. It’s such fun, I look forward to receiving the mail again. I wish I was as good and thoughtful in giving gifts. Anyway, in the last package I read something I wanted to share. In the letters, one of the pages was a copy of the article our main character had written for the Ladies Journal. On the same page was an article about eugenics. This story takes place in 1910, and eugenics was a popular concept at that time. In a type of Dear Abby style article, a person had written a question about eugenics; was it moral and how should she approach the idea? The author answered her question by giving a bit of the history of the concept, and the supposed reasons people liked it, then she ended with this quote, which I think could guide us today, in our lives in the 2020”s.

“I will close now by leaving you with a piece of advice. Heed the lessons of history and you will rarely go wrong. Strive to build a future founded on principles of equality, justice and respect for all. Simply put, follow the Golden Rule. is this not the tried and true answer to every ailment that now or ever will plague society?”

                   Just because it's pretty, fiddlehead from the greenhouse

This week I walked 11 miles, one mile at a time. The total for the year is 169.31.  Even though it’s not that far, I am walking more than I did last year, and that is good. Today I was just going to sit down and read, or scroll (doom scroll) as they call it, but then I remembered I needed some miles to make this article look better. I went out and walked through two neighborhoods, looked at azaleas and roses, and wildflowers and had a great afternoon. Walking always makes me feel better, but sometimes I need a push to get out. 

At 169 miles I have reached the Fontana Dam, and the Fontana Visitor Center. The first time my parents went backpacking they started at the Fontana Visitor Center. My grandparents dropped  them off, and with my brother and I we vacationed there. I remember thinking my parents would love to have a token to remember us by, so we added two toy cars secretly to their backpacks. I’m sure they appreciated the thought and didn’t mind the extra weight.  Backpackers will spend enormous energy cutting down every extra ounce.  

Walking in Circles

 Wild flowers in the yard, wild flowers out hiking!

I’m still walking, but this week the walks have been in smaller increments. One day we walked in a circle around the city park, surrounded by hundreds of other people. We carried signs and voiced our feelings, reminding ourselves that “dissent is patriotic” and free speech is a bedrock of our society.  I was glad to share and voice my opinion, but walking in a crowd isn’t fun, isn’t relaxing and isn’t nature.  I have walked circles around our neighborhood, and a neighborhood across the street, and the local park. In other words, the same places I always walk.  My dog and I have watched spring begin, flowers blooming, trees growing their leaves, and many birds singing and building nests. This is the time of year for new ideas, new growth, new babies or eggs, and new buds on plants. My little tomato seedlings are growing, but not as fast as the ones I help tend in a greenhouse. I’m training to be a master gardener, and this is the season for plant sales. Yesterday I spent the entire day indoors, surrounded by houseplants, seedlings, native plants, and so much more. My work station was near a rolled up door, and I could see outside and feel the fresh air.  My favorite times of the day were when heavy rain poured and fresh chilly air entered the building.  I found it interesting that the first section of plants to be almost sold out was the native plants.  I think, despite what might be expected, people do care about the environment, and they do care about the insects and butterflies. I grabbed one of the last pots of milkweed.  Monarch butterflies should find lots of happy host plants in the section of Alabama, according to the sales yesterday.  I am thankful.

                                                          Plant sale

                            Trees down and cleared on a section of the AT

I am following a mother and daughter hiking the AT on YouTube. This week they have been in Erwin TN, and showing the extreme destruction from the hurricane Helene. So many trees were down along the trail, nothing looked familiar. Luckily for the hikers, groups of trail maintainers had been along cutting and working through the fallen trees, and the trail is able to be hiked. This backpacker mom and daughter are making a point to stop at hostels and to eat at the restaurants in the towns along the way, trying to be part of the economic growth. She is showing the videos of the area, the loss of land, the sand buildups, the work on destroyed buildings and washed out bridges. In Erwin they used a rubber dingy to cross the river where a bridge used to stand. It is going to take years for the area to recover.  

                        A bridge wiped out in Erwin TN, due to hurricane Helene

On my pretend hike I am one mile out from the Cable Gap shelter, a log structure built by the Civilian Conservation Corp in 1939. The CCC allowed men to have jobs, to get paid a bit and to have dignity during the great depression, and many of their projects are still benefiting people today. I find the CCC to be a project we can be proud of, a bright section of history during a dark time. Like the native plants and the care for nature that is out there, like the people protesting against job cuts, ending of government programs and lack of due process for our must vulnerable people, the CCC of the past is a sign that people will always care. Someone wants to see more butterflies, someone wants to protect our pollinators, someone wants to stop government overreach and someone wants to protect our basic rights of due process and free speech. Whether we agree on everything, or anything, we should be able and willing to listen, to speak up and to care. 

These two weeks were short in miles, and this blog is shorter of words. Next week I hope to get out and walk on trails, in woods and maybe on our smaller mountains. I can’t wait to fake hike in places I have already been, so I can share some bear stories and adventures from my days of actual backpacking.  Enjoy, protect and love each other! Get outside and explore!

april 12 - 158.41 miles total

Walking in Ireland

                                  The Rugged Coast of Ireland

I am back on facebook, as this is the only way I know to share this blog, and keep up with some of my family. 

Today I measured my steps since the last blog post, and my total since that date is 54.5 miles, one of my busiest and best walking sections yet. What made the difference? Vacation. My daughter and I traveled to Ireland, and we walked all over that beautiful green country. We walked around Dublin on Saint Patrick’s day, surrounded by tourists and music and lights. We walked along the bay in Galway, enjoying swans, colorful houses along the water and light breezes. We walked along the stunning Cliffs of Moher, battling stronger winds and watching a sunset. We walked along a peninsula near the Ring of Kerry, alone completely on the trail except for a few shy sheep, battling the strongest winds yet. We struggled to stay upright on the bare rock and grass turf, water roaring against the cliffs on every side. We walked on a beach, walked down to see tetrapod footprint fossils, and we walked back and forth, over and over, in airports. This was the ultimate walking vacation, we could explore on our own time, wherever we wanted, but we could sleep indoors each night. Back in our BnB’s we would share notes on our favorite places while untangling our wind swept hair. The weather was cold, but not unpleasant, and we enjoyed wearing sweaters and scarves. 

                            Stunning hike with only sheep for company

In the Burrens, an area where topsoil has washed off and bare rock covers the land

From my diary while in Ireland I wrote:

” Today was my favorite. We drove out of Galway, and stopped at beautiful scenic spots. One was a stone cairn gravesite from 4000 BC. It was in a stunning beautiful barren location in The Burrens. Ireland was once covered in trees. Then Vikings began to farm. They cut down trees, burned and such to clear. Top soil eroded and now this area is all limestone and bare rock. …..We drove along the coastline and stopped at a rocky beach, and walked around stepping in the water and hopping on rocks. We stopped at an old cemetery, modern and Celtic/Christian. We stopped at a cliff over the water and then…We drove up to the Cliff’s of Moher, stunning. They are 1000 feet down to the ocean. The water was blue and the cliffs rugged. The water and sky were silky.We walked around and watched the sunset, and froze. Birds flew around, ospreys and various sea gulls. ……Friday we drove to Valencia Island, another beautiful place. The drive was interesting as we saw lots of homes and regular life small towns. We saw some old castle ruins, pretty waterways, narrow roads and views of bays and mountains. We followed a long winding road to the sea, to rocks along the shore with ancient tetrapod footsteps fossilized in the stone. It was rugged and isolated, and honestly I’ve run out of superlatives. Walking around it feels like Shining Rock,( NC), or Grandfather Mountain, on the sea with wild crashing waves. What a lonely place rural Ireland must’ve been. Old cemeteries with Celtic crosses, moss on the stones, walls covered with so much grass it’s hard to find the rock wall underneath……Today was the best, the Ring of Kerry. We hiked up a steep bald mountain in such extreme wind we could barely stand. The mountain was a peninsula out to sea with cliffs and birds and crashing waves and cheery blue-green water.”

4000   BC Dolen, gravesite.

More bare rocks

We took a walking tour in Dublin based on Saint Patrick. I knew very little about him, just that I must wear green on his day to avoid being pinched, and that he chased snakes out of Ireland. Our guide started the tour speaking in Irish. He said Americans like to call the language Gaelic.  We walked around the city, enjoyed old buildings and cathedrals and saw where Saint Patrick was to have first baptized the people of Ireland. His cathedral was stunning.  It turns out the idea of chasing snakes out of Ireland is probably a myth, due to the importance of snakes to Druidic worship. Patrick started life in England as a son of a bishop, and at the age of 15 he was captured by Irish raiders, where he began his life in slavery.  Dublin was a huge slave port, and shackles are a part of the artwork found in the city. Patrick spent several years hungry and suffering as a sheep herder. He finally walked across the entire country, found a ship home and returned to his family.  In a vision he discovered God wanted him to return and bring Christianity back. He studied, became a bishop and he did return. One of the focuses of his work was to end slavery, both in Ireland and England. He was the original abolitionist. I was proud to walk along his footsteps. Reading a book later, I found in him the perfect mix of strength, compassion and empathy, everything a leader trying to convert wild peoples should be.

Saint Patrick, from the parade

                 Spot where St. Patrick is said to have baptized first converts

In our pretend walk along the AT I have reached North Carolina, and am between Sassafras Gap Shelter and Brown fork shelter. These spots are blind areas for me, I have never been there. Fontana and the Smokeys are ahead of me. The family I am watching has made it into the Smokeys, but eventually ran into bad enough weather to choose to hop forward, and return later. I can understand that. I think the best time in the Smokeys is later, more near late April or June, when the wildflowers are blooming and the weather is warmer.  In the video I watched today, the family got a ride along some of the roadway affected by Hurricane Helene, and it was something to see. The interstate is still down to two lanes, one each way, in the area that had been destroyed. The mom in the group was deeply affected by the storm damage, and she cried some before filming, sharing with us her feelings. She had been involved in relief efforts after the storm passed over, and now she was back, seeing how much had been done, and yet how much remains to be done. It is hard to see a beloved place suffering, the people and the landscape.  Even so, the joy of being on the trail, hiking in natural beauty, and the adventure come through in the videos this family is producing. I hope they make it to the end of the trail and I get to follow them the entire way. 

March 31 - 146.12

No social media, I am off facebook!

 

Last week I was kicked off Facebook. The night before that happened, I had written in my diary how tired of social media I was, how doom scrolling was starting to overtake my life. For the first time ever, I was letting political posts truly upset me, to the point I would get off the social media app in a bad mood. I would share some political post and people would argue with me, mostly by saying the person mentioned is not a person worth listening to. Or, I would be told I don’t understand the bigger picture. One person said I should pray to see the actual truth, and not to trust “mainstream” media. When a person discredits actual information by calling the presenter “mainstream media” I don’t really know how to respond. We can’t trust them to tell us what is actually happening because they are professionals and their job is to report the news? It’s a version of “never trust the experts” that people who don’t vaccinate, or don’t trust science research like to use. It worries me and I am at a loss to know how to respond. The thing about experts is they can be verified. 

Anyway, in my diary, on the same page, I wrote how I was beginning to hate facebook, I was tired of the control it had on my life.  The next day I wrote the following:

“Last night I got on facebook and saw my account had been blocked. Someone else had tried to log in. I don’t know my password and my email address has changed since I joined facebook years ago. So, I went outside with my coffee and the dog. It was chilly, 38 degrees and beautiful. The early sunshine lit up the lawn and the pine trees behind our yard. The dog is so happy she ran in circles, faster and faster. She ran with a long stick, dropped it, and ran even faster. It was beautiful and fun. Maybe I won’t fix facebook, it has ruled my life too long.”

Earlier I watched the President’s speech to Congress, but I couldn’t take, both his blustering “look how good I am” and how rotten the world is after the evil Biden and radical dems destruction of our “very beautiful country.”  When he started demonizing teachers for their radial agendas I had to walk out of the room. I remembered my dad mentioning the Wildflower hiking group, which is a mother and daughter hiking the AT. The joy they reflected, the exhaustion and the cold, as well as the love of nature and of each other, all these things warmed my heart and improved my mood. The daughter kept trying to make snow balls out of the dry Georgia snow. She tossed one at the camera, and I laughed with them. I can focus on the things that upset me, or I can enjoy nature, hiking and family fun in my own life. The videos reminded me of the enjoyment my kids and I have for simple adventures. 

My walking was very slow this week. My husband had shoulder surgery, and most of my time has been involved with taking care of him and things around the house. I walked around the neighborhood, and totaled 9 1/2 miles in one week. This is the same amount of miles an actual AT hiker would  do on a slow day on the trail. It looks like I would be close to Standing Indian Shelter, another place I have day hiked when I lived in GA. 

I have been reading lots of books, and I recommend Louise Penny, Braiding Sweetgrass and Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer, and Read Dangerously by Azar Nafisi.  The last book shows how we can learn so much through reading. We can develop empathy for others, understanding how people reach decisions, why they feel and think the way they do, and how destructive thinking can lead us to some bad places. She lists so many books as worth reading, more than I will ever have time for. Some I have already read, like Fahrenheit 451, Between the World and Me, and others I want to read like works by James Baldwin,  and Toni Morrison. We were put on this earth to grow and learn, to help others and to make the world a better place. Books help us to learn and then do these things.  Have fun, walk, read and hope for a better world!

New Trail and New State in the pretend hike

 

Today is March1st, and what a beautiful warm day it is. The sky is blue, the temperature is around 60 degrees and the wind is low but steady, a perfect day to walk. These last weeks I have walked at the park where I recycle. This park only has ball fields and a playground, so I've actually been walking in the neighborhoods that surround the park, which is fine. I enjoy walking along looking at the yards and porches, seeing the plants chosen by the homeowners and imagining the views each house enjoys. Views are important. We have purchased and lived in 5 different homes, and each time we house hunt I check out the views and the yard before the kitchen, baths or anything else.

The last time I walked at that park I decided to explore the area by car. I drove down the road by the park, and came to a dead end of the paved road. The path continued on gravel, but I wasn’t sure I was allowed down the gravel road so I returned home. The very next day I was playing tennis and my partner asked if I had walked on the Priceville trail. I had no idea we had a trail. It turns out the gravel road I was afraid to drive on leads to a dirt road many people hike, drive, and bike on. It is part of the Wheeler Wildlife Sanctuary. Today my son and I drove the short 3 miles from our house, only one right turn, and parked on the gravel road. The dog joined us, off leash, and happily running ahead, coming back, sniffing the grass and running ahead again. The trail, or dirt road, passes along between corn fields, the dried stalks left behind over the winter. We walked, and were passed by a red truck, kicking up some dust. The path led down close to the Tennessee River and stopped, but before the river another road continued to the right. We walked in silence. Joseph is one of those people that isn’t bothered by silence, he doesn’t expect to be entertained with small talk. We chat when we have something interesting to say, and don’t when we want to just walk and think. He makes a good hiking partner.  A couple of more trucks drove by, down to the river and then back up to the right turn and on out of sight. We walked, and looked at the trees, the fields, the birds and the path. I love hearing my feet crunch on the rocks and gravel as we walk. We passed lots of privet, growing between the road and the fields. I had read that Privet is the most invasive plant species in Alabama, and on this walkway it was everywhere. A bicyclist passed us, then a dirt bike. We watched a red tail hawk fly along the trees, then land on a branch. Four men jogged by, each accompanied by a jogging dog. The four men and four dogs passed us by, and we continued. 

We came to a metal bridge over a stream.  Our dog refused to pass over. I’m not sure if it was being able to see through or the uncomfortable pattern of metal, but she wouldn’t cross. We turned back, and slowly made our way to the car.

I walked almost 18 miles during the last week, for a total this year of 82.12 miles. That places me on the AT in North Carolina, my home state! I am excited about that. Right now I am not in familiar territory, but soon I will be on sections of the trail I have walked before. If I were on the AT it would be extremely cold right now. Lots of hikers end up in Georgia, NC and TN during the coldest time of the year, and they miss the absolute beauty of the NC mountains. In late spring these trails are covered in trillium, may apples, blooming azalea, rhododendron, and so much more. I am still watching hikers that post their journey on YouTube, and right now the landscape is barren, wintery and cold. The bare trees allow a hiker to enjoy the mountain views, and winter birds are easier to see. Winter hiking is fun, There are no mosquitos, and no humidity and heat. The sections of the AT in NC and TN are high in elevation and can be extremely cold, and a hiker needs to be prepared with cold rated sleeping bags and warm clothing. I am glad I actually hiked these areas in warmer seasons.