My earliest memory took place in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It’s a vivid scene of a pebbly wall zipping past me, interspersed with brief moments of stillness where the wall became better imprinted into my mind’s eye.
It wasn’t until years later when I was looking at photographic slides in my parent’s house that I realized where I was: Clingman’s Dome. I was probably about 3 years old, riding in a stroller, my body at eye level to the ramp’s wall leading to the top of the observation tower.
I didn’t visit the park again until I was in veterinary school at Auburn University in the 90’s. Some of my besties and I crammed into my friend’s Jeep on a Friday afternoon to drive up and backpack what is still one of my favorite loops in the Cosby area. We arrived after dark and hiked a few miles into our campsite, the enthusiasm of youth and exploration fueling our feet as we tripped, slipped, and laughed over the rocky, root-laden trail.
My first backpacking trip in the Smokies with some of my best friends from vet school.
That backpacking trip was the first of many in the Smokies, and it was the catalyst for me pursuing a job in Waynesville when I graduated. I could hardly believe my luck when I was fortunate enough to start my adult life here. It’s been home ever since.
Now, 25 years later I’ve “redlined” the Smokies, which means I’ve hiked all the open trails in the park (803 miles of trail, but many more than that of actual hiking miles). In the most basic terms, hiking in the Smokies is a physical activity and nothing more. But those of us who walk these trails, especially all of them, know that these walks are far more meaningful than that.
I’ve found myself reflecting quite a bit since my last hike on Labor Day weekend, looking through old photo albums and reminiscing about the treasure trove of memories in my heart and head on the these trails. In the process of chipping away at all these miles….
I walked through history….
The steel bridge spanning Bradley Fork.
…..while making my own history.
The day I finished my map!
I walked with old friends….
My bachelorette weekend before my wedding included a hike in Cataloochee with my bridesmaids.
…..while making plenty of new ones.
Some of these folks are my nearest and dearest friends on trails.
I walked off baby weight….
….while teaching my babies to walk on their own.
I walked with my siblings…
My two sisters on a backpacking trip to Mt. Le Conte in the late 90’s.
…giving them a glimpse of my big sister heart in its best and least bossy state of mind. 😉
I walked most of the miles solo….
….but I was never really alone.
It wasn’t until my last few hikes that I finally saw 2 timber rattlesnakes in the park.
I backpacked some of the miles…
…once having the company of people I admire and respect beyond measure.
I walked on trail…
….and off, rising higher than anyone else in the park on some of its tallest summits.
Mt. Guyot’s summit with great friends.
I walked with my touchstone, my beautiful Mama….
My mom and sister taking a break just off the Cataloochee Divide Trail
…whose gentle spirit is now my constant companion on every hike.
My mom’s favorite wildflower, thyme-leaved bluets…I know she’s with me every time I see them.
I walked alongside my grief, crying enough tears to fill every stream….
….comforted by the normalcy of life and death, intertwined in every square inch of the landscape surrounding me.
I walked with my kids…
….showing them that the great big world is the most engaging classroom they’ll ever visit.
I walked to find myself….
….and sometimes to find others.
The late Susan Clements (with her children), a lost hiker in the Smokies my SAR team helped looked for in 2018.
I walked through my insecurities and fears…
The water crossing just before campsite 30 intimidated me for years.
…discovering that I’m braver and more confident than I gave myself credit for.
A silly selfie I took after being bluff charged by a bear!
I walked into a world of knowledge at Tremont…
The naturalist certification courses at Tremont are outstanding
….realizing that anything I learn about the natural world is only scratching the surface of what it can teach me.
I walked with a lighthearted goal in mind…
….determined to prove that an underdog team with four young kids could win Tremont’s popular scavenger hunt!
And we DID win it in 2015!
I walked past my perceived physical limitations….
Based on other trail reports, I was fairly intimidated by hiking Jenkins Ridge, so I saved it for my last trip.
Little ol’ Jenkins Ridge didn’t get the best of me though!
….realizing there’s an inner beast in all of us, and that our handicaps should never stand in the way of our success.
I walked with my love…
…always grateful for his undying love and support of my complicated heart and ambitious dreams.
Mom and dad only backpacking trips are so nice.
I walked past society’s ideals of femininity and beauty….
….realizing that when I look (and smell) my worst on trails is when I feel the most beautiful.
Ultimately, I walked into a better understanding of myself what it really means to call a place home. It’s a journey I’ll treasure for the rest of my days.
I didn’t quite feel the sense of closure that I thought I would when I walked the last mile. While elated to have finally filled in all the dashed lines on the “$1 map” with my purple Sharpie, it was bittersweet. These trails have watched my entire adult life unfold to date, and they’ve positioned themselves equally as counselor and friend. That’s not a relationship you let go of when you’re lucky enough to find it.
Maybe I’ll hike all the trails again one day, and maybe I’ll even do it faster than my first lap. But what will remain constant, no matter the pace, is that these ancient hills still have plenty to teach me.
Happy trails,
Nancy (Seal Mom)
Reluctance
by Robert Frost
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question ‘Whither?’
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
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Great story of a great personal adventure . Your accomplishment is my dream that I never will be able to finish but I have hiked over 500 miles in the Smokies. Thanks for sharing your story .
My apologies for the loooong day responding to this comment, Dan! I really appreciate you taking the time to comment and your 500 miles in the Smokies is certainly a huge accomplishment in and of itself! Happy trails and best wishes to you. 🙂