11/01/24 1530: Green River Update.

 

Inconceivable. Unimaginable. Disheartening.

These are words I never thought I’d speak about a natural place once described by many (including myself) as a refuge, a sanctuary, a holy place thousands upon thousands of family and friends would go for exhilarating delight.  The Green River and specifically what’s known as the Green River Cove in Polk County North Carolina is one such place.

Whether it was fly-fishing, whitewater kayaking, tubing, hiking, or simply to have a picnic lunch by her waters, this place had a venerable tone. There were campgrounds and cabins and Summer cottages that lined the rivers edge.  Hallowed traditions were shaped here by families bringing their children to her waters to share in the joy of the bewitching experiences found there.

Today, I saw with my own eyes the destruction that Helene brought to the banks of this extraordinary Green River. What once appeared as a brawny and burly wilderness, rugged and sturdy now appears delicate and exposed.

From the lower section put-in named “Fishstop” which somewhere along the line morphed into being called “Fishtop” down stream to the take-out named “Big Rock” is approximately 6 miles. Along the river is a road called “Green River Cove Road.” Along this road were homes and cottages and cabins and campgrounds.

Without getting into the details as to the “lay of the land” and the “watershed” that feeds into Green River Cove the sequence of rain and rising waters and flood levels that began to flow down the Green river created a torrent, a deluge, a cataclysm of not just rising water, but also felled trees, boulders, river rock, and then when homes and cabins and cars began to wash away this debris added to the deluge. And then it began to pile up...and push...and shove.

These six miles of river now looks like a nuclear powered wind pushed and shoved and compressed and bulldozed everything within its grasp. And everything pushed from above was deposited below...in the Green River Cove. Where once everything was green and lush and essentially rainforested, it’s now covered with sand and debris and trash and trees ripped from their roots. Whole trees and roots of trees and then sand and then more trees and roots of trees. The image below used to clearly depict five buildings/structures/homes along this river bank of the Green River which are now simply, gone.

 

It’s hard to notice that the river still flows for how bewildering the insurmountable destruction that is scattered everywhere. But if you look beyond the rearranging, if you can see through the mud and piled up trees, there she is. There’s the Green, still flowing. Her channels are very different now. The rocks are moved into different resting places. But she still flows.

I’ve never seen such colossal change in nature. And what adds to this is that this destruction is not just limited to these six miles of Green River. An unfathomable amount of places like this throughout the entire Western North Carolina region have been rearranged.

I told myself that once I was able to see this beautiful river (that I’ve spent countless hours guiding whitewater kayaking trips and family and friends down its waterways) that I knew I would be one step closer to admitting to myself “what is” and then begin to be able to move forward and become familiar again with the now very new Green River Gorge and Green River Cove.

It’s only been five weeks since Helene came knocking...and already there’s been remarkable improvements to the road surface (much of which wasn’t known if it was still there because of the amount of sand and silt that covered the road...which has since been cleared off) and the two main bridges. Day-by-day there’s more access and debris clean-up and trash removed from the riverbed and its banks.

The Green Riverkeeper, Erica Shanks with Mountain True has been working tirelessly with Precision Grading (lead operator Jake) along with engineers and others to organize, plan and implement clean-up efforts. When all is said and done an environmentally friendly ticker-type parade needs to be held in honor of the Erica’s and the Jake’s in the world here. Who knew just how invaluable heavy equipment operators skills would become here...along with thousands of other sites like this in Western North Carolina.

I do know that in these five weeks a common theme has surfaced which is...everything is evolving and changing day-by-day. So what once seemed like a daunting, insurmountable task...begins to show signs of improvement because as you do one thing...the next appears that needs to be done...and so on...and before you know it...improvement arrives. And then when that improvement is built upon...another improvement arrives.

I don’t know what the next version of the tenacious Green River will ultimately look and feel like...but for now..she’s fragile and resting...but before long...she will persevere and regenerate.

And for those “bridge-builders” and visionaries (like Mountain True and Precision Grading and NC DOT) who are working towards restoration of the almighty Green and the infrastructure around her...a million thanks are due and a tremendous amount of gratitude!

Also worthy of note is that in lieu of the ever-so-famous Green River Race being canceled this year due to the impact of the flood, a festival and a fundraiser was held instead! Collaborating along with Mountain True, the Green River Race team is also highlighting fundraising efforts to be directed towards The Green Race Conservation Project. The main focus in and around the Green River currently is trash and debris removal from the water and its banks.

To learn more about the Green River Race 2024 Festival that was held on November 2nd, click here.

If you wish to learn more about the Green Race Conservation Project or to donate towards the clean-up and recovery process in the Green River please click here.  

Photo Credit (top): https://greenrace.us/

Photo Credit (middle): https://ca.news.yahoo.com/helene-hit-nc-green-river-140810661.html

10/29/24 1700: Fix-it-Yourself.

 

Something unexpected happened to me the first time I observed a flowing mountain stream after Helene came through Western North Carolina. I was riding a bike towards downtown Brevard, NC on my way to a fundraiser for hurricane Helene disaster relief when I crossed a bridge over King Creek. I did a double-take, because normally mountain river water has an immediate calming effect. But for the first time in my life, it caused me to pause. Like record-screech pause.

You know that feeling that hits you in those moments that are mixed with fear, exhilaration, adrenaline, and uncertainty? Maybe I can explain this feeling better by telling a story within this story.

One of the river guides I worked with this past Summer began to stretch his whitewater kayaking wings by using a hard-shelled boat on our trips down the Green River with guests (we had the choice to guide using an inflatable or a hard-shell kayak, I opted for an inflatable...mostly because I wasn’t willing to stretch into the risks). Something I noticed was that while whitewater kayaking in a hard-shell boat is an exhilarating experience, it also requires a critical proficiency in what’s called the Eskimo roll. The Eskimo Roll is a kayaking maneuver that allows you to right yourself after capsizing, without the need to exit the kayak.

The long and short of this story is that my friend got a little ahead of himself one day while guiding in a hard-shell and capsized in a “wrong place, wrong time” sorta way. He ended up, upside down while going through a rapid called “Devil’s Elbow” on the Upper section of the Green. The result was he clobbered his face on a rock while upside down and underwater and quite frankly, this experience spooked him. It took him a couple weeks to get back into a hard-shell boat. And very tentatively at that...because a new respect for the balance between composure, skill level and technicality reigned.

Nature and wilderness settings like this have an inherent risk due to varying levels of unpredictability. Unpredictability, in ourselves and also from within nature herself. But the funny thing is...there’s always a human progression towards mastering ones surroundings. And intrinsic to this process is simply not knowing the extremes that are possible. Like Appalachian trail hikers that set out to hike the AT in the Spring and get caught in a potentially life-threatening snowstorm unawares. Yet it’s through these very experiences as outdoor adventurers that we learn and this learning becomes a part of our fabric.

So now let’s come back to my double-take over King Creek. I now had within my fabric the knowing that mountain rivers and streams can rage. And from within this raging fury can come wreckage and death and a complete rearranging of the landscape. Entire towns can be erased and roads and bridges washed away. Everything you once knew, will forever be changed. So from within this “new knowing” I now held within me almost an indignation for this flowing water below me. It was a strange feeling. I’d never felt disturbed by the sight or sound of a mountain creek before. But now I held this within me like a wound that was raw and painful and bleeding.

I kept on riding that day...knowing that soon I’d have to address the full magnitude of this newly discovered uneasiness within me that emerged around what had previously been my complete admiration for the rivers, streams and creeks. I had stumbled into an emotional yin/yang effect. Before Helene, none of us knew the potential destructive powers that these “water roadways” might bring to our doors. Not in this way.

Yet...and yet...I also know deep within my being that these “water roadways” were simply doing their job...of providing a path for the water to run its course back down to the sea. Herein lies the dichotomy. Rivers and creeks and streams are just like anything in nature...there’s a spectrum of safe and unsafe, harm and no-harm, gentleness and harshness. Extreme highs and extreme lows. Herein lies the challenge of holding these truths with ourselves. That both things can exist at the same time. Extremely high and dangerous peaks, yet so glamorously gorgeous to look at. Lush waterfalls and bubbling creek beds, yet at high water can become tree-destroying, rock-moving, bridge-wrecking, unstoppable torrents.

I came across a book I had in a box the other day compiled by the “Reader’s Digest” called, “Fix-it-Yourself-Manual.” When I saw it I was reminded that some things can’t be fixed by myself. Some things like the over-night-appearance of a deeply emotional dichotomy cannot be fixed at all. But rather we’re called to lean in and learn from it. For myself, when I walk in the forest now along the creeks and streams I have to be gentle. Because a tenderness surrounds my heart. I have to allow myself to listen deeply and let her be who she is...truly just a messenger. She (these beautiful mountain rivers) just delivered a message that night when Helene arrived. It’s up to me to listen and learn what that message is and what to do with it.

Meanwhile I’m getting reacquainted with loving the flowing mountain water again. This experience is once again reminding me of the true power that resides within affording compassion because of all the layers at play in any one given story. Compassion for myself, compassion for nature, compassion for the in-betweens.

Nature is still my greatest teacher.

 

10/25/24 1100: Bridges...and why they matter.

 

I was stunned to learn a captivating piece of history this morning while doing some research around the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge (which connects a section of I-26 in the Green River Gorge area of WNC). I’m not really sure why this bridge has captured my attention in such an extraordinary way..and yet even as I write this...I’ll acknowledge much of the reason has to do with the fact that I’ve kayaked under it dozens and dozens of times while guiding inflatable whitewater kayaking trips down the Upper section of the Green River.

If you will, let me explain the significance of this bridge. Originally called the Green River Bridge, I’ve found conflicting statements regarding when its construction was completed. From what I’ve read it appears to have taken five years to build. (1967-1972) This bridge connects both sides of I-26 as it crosses over the Green River between Saluda and East Flat Rock, NC. (Note here, that the construction of I-26 and all the parts...like this bridge was a VERY big deal for transportation, economic impact and so many other things.)

It’s also significant to note that this is the exact location that Peter Guice built the first wooden bridge across the Green around 1820. His son and then grandson took up the task of maintaining the bridge. (In the spirit of “why is this a big deal?” as I’ve said to myself too… “so what...it’s a bridge” it’s important to note that the way of travel back then was Indian footpaths and trails and this one was called “Howard’s Gap.” And this path crossed the Green in this particular spot because this was the “way across.” This was the ford used to get across the river until Guice built a toll bridge there.

So here’s where it got interesting for me today. Get ready!

According to an article written by Terry Ruscin and published in the Gaston Gazette dated September 8th, 2019, Peter Guice’s grandson Joseph “Joe” Ripley Guice replaced the bridge that was destroyed in the 1916 flood.

Let me say that again, the bridge that connected the banks over the Green River maintained by the Guice family was WASHED AWAY in the flood of 1916!

Here’s why this is significant to today. The damage and destruction created by Tropical Storm Helene in Western North Carolina almost exactly one month ago (Sept 26th, 2024) has been compared over and over to the great flood of 1916.

Except. it’s worthy to note this VERY significant difference. The bridge that crossed the Green River in 1916 washed away. The bridge that crossed the Green River is 1924 did not. And thank GOD!

The Peter Guice Memorial bridge is the tallest bridge in the State of North Carolina standing 225 feet high. I don’t know if I can paint a real picture as to the significance and value of this bridge brings to this region.

On the days and weeks following the disaster that Helene brought to our doorstep, the connection between Greenville, SC and areas in and around Asheville, NC was traversed here using I-26 and the critical infrastructure such as the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge to gather and distribute much needed supplies such as food, fuel and water to name a few.

While thankfully this bridge wasn’t one of the hundreds of bridges in Western North Carolina that were compromised as a result of Helene flooding, the realization as to why bridges matter has been hit home to me over and over again.

A bridge creates short-cuts and in some cases, access at all. What likely took maybe one hour or two hours to traverse around, the bridge shortened travel times or created the one way in and one way out access. So now if a bridge is suddenly impassable or gone altogether well...you see where this is going.

Bridges matter! And maybe this was in fact why I would gaze up at the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge every time I went under it while kayaking on the Green River.

It’s two hundred and twenty feet high!! It’s HUGE! What a feet to build this impressive structure. What a feet. And thank god for bridges like this one...that withstood the pressure and stress of the ENORMOUS amount of water that raged down the Green River that day, just one month ago.


Photo Credit: https://www.historicsaluda.org/vintage-postcards/


If you’d like to learn more about the flood of 1916 check out:

https://saveculture.org/elder-wisdom-oral-history-archive/

(click on “Floods and Freshets”)


If you’d like to read the article published in the Gaston Gazette check out:

https://www.gastongazette.com/story/lifestyle/2019/09/08/beyond-banks-traversing-our-waterways/3465103007/

(scroll down to the section titled “Peter Guice Bridge’)

10/22/24 1030: When reliability isn’t reliable.

 

In the spirit of slowly arriving into the space of “new normal” here in Western North Carolina, yesterday I was reminded (and triggered) that we’re not there yet. Just about the time you think you can settle into “things being more reliable”...something happens to remind you that there not.

To get from Brevard to Hendersonville, NC, one of the most effective routes to take is along Kanuga road. However, it’s only been a week or so since the Kanuga route was accessible because of landslides and road damage. (And when I say road damage, what I mean is, the road literally fell off into the ravine below in one particular place and only one lane is even usable there.)

The way that road crews managed this particular spot was to put up signs in both directions that basically said, “please alternate.”

Follow along here as I describe the progression of events. First round...no signs at all. Everyone just automatically knew that to drive this road after Helene meant to be extremely cautious and patient. You slowed down from speeds you would have driven this road just 30 days ago and carried a general sense of “alert and aware” with you. So when you arrived at this location where the road was only one lane (because there is literally only one lane remaining there) you stopped and looked down the road around the curve to see if anyone was coming and then slowly drove through this spot...alternating.

Secondly came the “please alternate” signs at this location. Funny how once a sign shows up some of the human compassion and allowing for patience disappears a little.

Thirdly, when the temporary traffic lights showed up, (this felt a whole lot more normal as a way to experience this one-lane-road-spot) every driver knows how to conduct themselves using red or green as the guide, so things progressed much more smoothly at this location. UNTIL, the traffic lights failed.

This is what I experienced yesterday. The lights were working fine when I drove through there in the morning, but had failed by afternoon. When I arrived...cars were lining up in the lane I approached from. The light was blinking red, which I hadn’t seen here before (also something we’re predisposed to now...the way something was or how something worked before doesn’t necessarily mean it will stay that way). Note here, this is a mountain road which means it’s not straight so you can’t see much further past the few cars in front of you because of the gradient and curves. Since the lights showed up, it might take a minute or two to get through this spot. I now was stopped in this lineup of cars for a good 5 minutes...and then the horn honking started...and then a few folks decided to pull out around the lineup and drive in the opposing lane (to pull out into opposing traffic meant if you met an oncoming car there was no where to go...because the opposing traffic lane had a guardrail that was protecting the mountain drop off on the other side). Next thing I know here comes a car speeding so fast that stones were being kicked up and ...well...let’s just say things were getting a little outta hand at this point. Eventually common sense kicked in and an alternating traffic pattern began again. As I drove through and past the temporary traffic lights I could see that both were malfunctioning. On one side one was blinking red and the other side was just dark...no lights at all.

It was a little unsettling to experience this moment of confusion because it was an immediate reminder of all the chaos and unknowns from all the previous days and weeks. Especially when it leads to frustration and eventually bad human behavior.

I thought to myself, “This is what it feels like when what you come to rely upon becomes unreliable.” You have no other choice but to problem solve and adapt and overcome.

The best part of this...is when humans adapt so quickly and land in a state of collaboration and cooperation that it’s heartwarming.

It’s fascinating to consider the thousands upon thousands of things each and every day that we come to rely upon. Here in WNC, communities have been tested by being torn down even below basics level (power, running water, cell signal, internet, food, shelter, heat), not to mention everything gone in some cases.

This intense level of test creates a whole other level of frustration, loss of hope, dismay, anger, a short fuse and on and on. So when something simple like traffic flow management on a one lane section of mountain road is fixed...and then it’s not...all this flares right back up again.

I was also reminded from this traffic light experience that things around here are still very fragile. It’s going to be a while before we feel solid and stable again. This was a window into the “new normal” for now.

I am becoming aware each day that this won’t last forever...this unstableness. Things are improving day-by-day. Hope is in the air again. In spite of small set-backs like this one.

But I do yearn for the reliable to remain reliable. Patience grasshopper, patience.

 

Photo credit: from somewhere online

 

Rachel Dickson 2 minute video sharing about Re-Opening Day in Pisgah Forest, Oct 18, 2024

Wow. What a wonderful day here in Western North Carolina on Re-Opening Day (Oct 18, 2024) in Pisgah National Forest after being closed for 23 days due to Helene ravaging through the area. I was truly afraid of what I might see in the wake of this storm in the forest...but I'm delighted to report otherwise!

A very special thanks to all the people who worked tirelessly during these 23 days to clear landslides and tree debris from access roads!

I took 276 from the Brevard, NC side then turned left towards the fish hatchery to rd 455 to the trailhead of the Daniel Ridge Loop trail. While the changes to the landscape and riverbeds is clearly recognizable, the forest is rested and ready for your visit to admire her beauty once again!
Beyond thrilled to have been back in the sanctuary of nature once again!

Note: There are hazards in various places and some trails are storm-damaged so it's important you stay alert when visiting Pisgah.

Click here or on the image above to play the video.

 

 

 

10/18/24 2030: Re-opening day at Pisgah National Forest, Pisgah Ranger District, Western North Carolina!

 

The forest has literally been closed since Helene blew through the mountains of Western North Carolina. And for reasons that may not seem apparent. The land and trees and rivers did their best to hold strong to these destructive forces...but sadly there was damage done. Landslides blocked access, trees toppled and rivers swelled, raged and rearranged itself.

All that said, I had no idea what I would see visiting Pisgah National Forest today. The Forest service restricted access to the public beginning September the 25th and reopened the Pisgah Ranger District portion to the public today, October 18th.

Because of my not wanting to face the facts that this forest (that I’d grown to love so much more deeply over the past year) most likely would look very very different. I wasn’t really ready. So I stalled.

But...the anticipation to spend time with her got the better of me and off I went. It was around 11am.

I was truly surprised to not see piles and piles of downed trees like I’d seen in other places. Sure there was a tree down here and a tree down there (as evidenced by the remaining cut of said tree next to the roadway) and there was evidence of a rather significant landslide that covered the road nearer the turn toward the fish hatchery on 276. But overall, nothing was incredibly shocking to see on the drive into the forest.

I expected to see road 455 closed off as I got past the fish hatchery on my way to the Daniel Ridge Loop trail head. I thought the bridges would be washed out. To my surprise 455 was open all the way to the trail head. There already had been repairs done near the bridge right by the trail head. Clearly the creek had breached the road and the bridge and washed some of the road away...but it had already been repaired! Incredible.

 

 

I knew as soon as I looked up the creek bed from this bridge that the changes I suspected to see would begin here. I’d spent countless hours exploring the banks of this creek beginning at the trail head of the Daniel Ridge Loop trail all the way up to where it turns and goes up and over the mountain away from the creek. I had studied and learned and got acquainted with nearly every rocky cascade and rocky cluster along this creek because I had videoed these places in multiple seasons and uploaded them to my Youtube channel (RdicksonOutdoors). Not to mention all the meditative walks I’d taken while listening to the healing water sounds that can be endlessly found here. This was a sacred place. Which is why when the gates opened here today...I made a beeline for Davidson Creek.

I needed to know...if the magic was still there.

The parking area for this trail head is pretty close to the creek...and you can see and hear the creek through the trees just as you begin walking towards the steel bridge (which I also thought might be compromised, but it was still there too).

I stopped...and then was suddenly drawn down a side-trail that led to the waters edge. And then I cried.

I couldn’t believe how different she looked. I recognized very large identifiable rocks that were familiar to me but they were in different places and the water flowed in a distinctly different pattern.

It was strangely familiar...but completely different.

I knelt down and just looked...at how different this all was to me. My eyes swelled and I wiped away the tears. And then...it was as if a calm wrapped around me. And what I heard was, “She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. It’s just another day here. Because at the core...it’s all the same.”

Kind of odd...and maybe a little harsh...and not the spiritual poetry I was seeking right at this moment.

There was a certain strength I could feel in the air though. A solidness.

And as I began to explore the riverbed and how things were arranged now...I realized there was a “fresh start” or a “renewed” sense here. Everything looked incredibly clean. Like everything had been washed and tumbled.

I also began to realize that I was nearer the bottom of the creek bed right now...and as I went further and further upstream there wasn’t as many new piles of smaller rocks and sand. Of course, all the smaller rocks and previous tree debris in the creek upstream had now been intensely washed down stream. So the farther upstream you went, the more it just looked different...many places I didn’t recognize at all because every rock had been moved...and the water flowed over or around them like they’d been that way the entire time.

If you hadn’t known what the creek looked like before...you wouldn’t have known anything out of the ordinary happened here.

This made me wonder about something. If there was no one to tell what it was like before...how would anyone know or care about how differently it looks now?

I began to wonder if I was putting too much of my own meaning in the changes that took place here? And as I pondered this I realized...BECAUSE everything had changed here...I can re-film the whole thing and it will all be different from before. It’s like I’d discovered a brand new place in the forest essentially. WoW! Nothing but new adventure and exploration and discovery awaits here! I can get to know her all over again...and just how exciting this realization became.

I spent hours walking amongst what was once familiar and trying to recognize what had changed. One particular moment that just took my breath away was when I visited a place I called “The Cathedral Place”.

This clearly was the site of an old grist mill of some kind because there’s concrete remaining across the creek and remnants of those days still linger there. A most beautiful cascading waterfall comes down the mountain across the creek from here. I couldn’t believe my eyes...the entire thing looked like it had been scrubbed. There used to be a log jam that’s no longer there and the entire riverbed has been dug out...and there’s a deep channel coming out of a new waterfall. Clearly this area was packed with smaller river rocks that had all been picked up and washed downstream revealing the bottom of the channel that had been covered over for who knows how long.

Everywhere I looked, there was a familiarity...but a brand new direction of flow. In some places both sides of the creek were now lined with a plethora of bowling ball sized rocks and the main creek channel was now in the middle. Where maybe it went more to the right or more to the left before.

I spent a lot of time thinking about resilience and impermanence and wondering why change can be so jarring.

Maybe this is the big lesson here? Nature doesn’t seem to care that her landscape has changed so dramatically. Just another day for her in the forest.

I have a whole new understanding for how things get moved about along a creek bed. Obviously, it all has to do with the rise and fall of the water. When the creek rises, stuff gets moved about or swept away entirely.

This newness has me leaning in to a better understanding of what’s happened here. And letting go of what was before. Embracing change. Letting the flow, flow. And then jumping in to get reacquainted with the “fresh start” of things.

Maybe change isn’t such a bad thing after all?

The good news is...the magic still lives in Pisgah National Forest! And she’s resilient as ever!

 

 

10/17/24 18:30: Becoming reacquainted with the forest I once knew.

 

 

Tomorrow is a pretty big day! On Wednesday, October 16th, the National Forest Service of North Carolina released a statement that the Pisgah Ranger District in the Pisgah National Forest would reopen to the public beginning Friday, October 18th. Tomorrow!!

(Wow, this is WAY sooner than I ever expected to be able to walk into this forest again. Many, many thanks to those who worked tirelessly to make this even possible!)

There was also a “word-to-the-wise” cautionary statement, “Like many areas in Western North Carolina, the Pisgah National Forest was heavily impacted by Hurricane Helene, and visitors may encounter several hazards caused by storm damage, such as: Landslides along forest service roads and trails, fallen trees and large limbs crossing trails, washed out trails and bridges, rough roads that require high clearance vehicles where previously it did not, limited cell phone service in case of emergency.”

The last statement there about cell phone service has always been the case in Pisgah, but a good reminder since it seems things are a lot different than we might remember it all throughout the forest due to “artistic expression” and “rearranging of the furniture” by Helene. (While I make light of the impact that Helene ravaged upon the forest, I do this as a way to prepare myself for what I may see tomorrow, because yes, while I am excited to visit this sacred place again, I also know that I won’t be fully prepared for what I will see.

It’s worth mentioning here that Pisgah Forest gave notice of recreational site closures (campgrounds, boat launches, developed recreation sites and roads) on September 25th in anticipation of this storm.

So the math says, it’s been 23 days since the public has been allowed entry here.

It’s also worth a shout out to Dave Casey, District Ranger, Pisgah Ranger District because he said this,

“We understand the forest is a place of refuge for many, especially during times like these. There’s still plenty of work to do, but we look forward to once again having folks back on their public land.”

See, he gets it. He clearly understands what a holy place Pisgah Ranger District represents for so many people who have visited this very special place.

All that said, I’ve realized that because I’ve been reluctant to see the geographic changes to the land with my own eyes means that I’m not ready to let go of what I knew her to be. Yet...I also know that I am being called to become reacquainted with all those specific places I once retreated to for sanctuary. And I am also being called to see the beauty that’s still there in whatever rearranged version she now sits from within and to let her be exactly what she’s become and love her for it.

I know I will see mud-slides, riverbeds rearranged, piles of trees upon piles of trees, but I will go taking the same risks as I have done before...the risk that I may find new adventure, undiscovered wonder and a silence that makes you stop and listen. The risk that my heart may be stirred, that tears may fill my eyes, that the wind may whisper a secret from the universe. These risks and more are worth leaning in to, at least to me they are. And from many conversations I’ve had with those of you who are reading this...I know you feel much the same way.

So tomorrow I will go and get reacquainted with one of my most favorite places on earth, Pisgah National Forest, Pisgah Ranger District. It’s time to become familiar again.


Photo Credit: 춘성 강 pixabay dot com