12/10/24 12:00: The Unraveling of a Leaf.

I had just finished doing some work clearing brush from an embankment on some very wild and rustic mountain property and paused for a few moments to bathe in the surrounding silence. While working I had noticed that I could hear traffic noises from I-26 (very deep and low truck sounds), which was a little surprising because I was quite a few miles from the highway. (Sound travels and bounces around in odd ways in the mountains.) But from this...I began to isolate each sound I heard...an airplane overhead, the distant silence among the trees,  the trickling sounds from the creek below, down to the point that I heard a single leaf rustle across the bank in front of me. From this...I decided to intently listen and bask in these quiet stirrings. (Mostly because you never know what you might hear whispered on the wind...an adventure in and of itself.)

I leaned up again a very large rock that was on the bank overlooking a lovely rippling creek and was suddenly captivated by this tiny leaf skeleton laying there right in front of me. I immediately wondered just how long this leaf had been laying there in order to turn into this shell of itself? I didn’t dare touch it because I instinctively knew it would disintegrate right before my eyes.

The intricacies and delicateness of each and every vein, now fully visible and in great detail was breathtaking! Now paired down to the very bones of the leaf. How long did this unraveling take?
Time didn’t seem to matter here. The details were what mattered.

There was a familiarity to me with this intricate and yet very complex pairing down from what used to be this leaf...to what this leaf was now. Bare bones.

It is very clear to me that many of us are smack in the middle of a “pairing down” phase in our lives. The sorting and clearing and de-cluttering, some things even have been ripped out from under us seemingly without our having any real choice in the matter. To sit within the feeling of what we used to feel like...to how it feels now...so very different...yet also from deep within it all...there is a “freeing” feeling. Maybe some of the heaviness is gone...maybe things feel a bit lighter.
With the things we are able to sort through...each and every decision is based upon…“Do I really need this anymore? Does it hold the same purpose it once did?”

From within what I’m describing here...you might be able to tell (much like the leaf) that sometimes we find ourselves stuck on a rock with no choice but to change into the next version of ourselves. Like a leveling up.

Remember those old video games where you moved from left to right as you progressed through the game? Each level has a progression of difficulty and challenge that came with it. And if you died...you had to start over, back at the very beginning of that level again. And always...ALWAYS near the end of each level was a very difficult challenge. And when you finally beat that level there was a brief moment of victory before you started the next level. But...because you learned and grew and expanded your ability to navigate the challenges in that level...the start of the next level was a smidge easier only because you’d made it through that last big intense challenge at the end of the last one.

Human crisis and challenge is where we learn the most about humaning. When the stress levels are high...when we are exhausted...when we falter at the face of another decision to be made...but as always...the intensity passes...we get through it...and then comes the sorting after. The flicking off of details that are no longer necessary for us to continue to carry on our journey.

We’re left with the bare bones. And there’s beauty there. So much beauty.

Photo Credit: me in the wild mountain rustic air standing next to a rock by the creek

 

 

12/05/24 1000: Silence.

 

A strange phenomenon emerged from my spending hours each day this past Summer, guiding whitewater kayaking trips down the Upper Green River nestled in the wild and rugged Green River Gorge. And it lingers still.

I call it silence...the silence found within Nature. But I suppose this word isn’t really the essence of it. Stillness, comes a little closer to describe. And then as I’ve talked about this to others what also comes to mind is the lack of sound pollution...as in human-made sound.  Such as cars or trucks passing, people talking, thuds or bumps or booms, airplanes flying over head...you get the idea.

I used to explain this to guests on the van ride down to the Upper Green River put-in. I’d say to them, “You’re about to experience a phenomenon in the wild where you’ll hear nature’s silence. And you’ll know exactly when this occurs because you’ll hear a strange sound ahead of us when we reach a certain point on the river. A thump, thump thump.  This is when you’ll know you’ve just experienced Nature’s silence, because it will be broken by a human-made noise.”

This noise was created by the sound of semi-trucks and automobiles crossing the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge (connecting both sides of I-26 over the Green River Gorge) which we paddled directly under. The silence to noise ratio was unmistakable here in this very spot.

After just a few weeks of being immersed daily in natural surroundings where non-human sound exists, loud noises became increasingly aggravating to me. I began to drive in silence...no music or radio. Loud mufflered pick-up trucks that passed where I was became like fingernails on a chalk board. Any loud sounds were disturbing.

I’m reminded of similar phenomenon that played out with Appalachian Trail through hikers. Where re-adjusting back into civil life was incredibly complicated and difficult. After having spent months in the wilderness walking amongst the stillness...imagine how unsettling just the sound of downtown city traffic would be, let alone a train engine horn, or a blaring radio.

The beauty of this...well, turns out it’s become just another thing I’m sorting out. What sounds do I now willfully expose myself too? I find that I turn off sound more than I turn it on and when I listen to music, instrumental music like Native American Flute is mostly what’s on my playlist.

There’s a kind of listening ability that’s unlocked from within this knowing of silence. (Which being immersed in Nature’s silence clearly unlocked for me). And I recognize the slightest interruptions within the continuity of combined sounds and silence like never before.

Being bombarded with sound also means being bombarded by vibration...because all sound carries with it a vibration.  Is it any wonder that when you experience next to zero cluttered and disorderly vibrational sounds and when you do experience it again that it’s revolting?

Yet again...Nature teaches me some of the most fantastical things. She is a living, breathing, loving, classroom...radiating with wonder!

Photo Credit: pixabay (dot) com

 

 

 

11/28/24 1030: Letting go of the known.

Being a river guide teaches you things.  What a charismatic experience it is to take guests (some of whom this would be their first time in an inflatable kayak on whitewater) down such an extraordinary section of the Green River in Western North Carolina.

But this type of guiding is slightly difference than river guiding in a raft. Guiding in an eight person raft means everyone is in one place...in your boat and while you’re steering from the rear, you’re also giving verbal instructions for your rafters to paddle forward or backward to get your boat where it needs to go. If someone falls out there’s seven other people to help get them back into the boat.

Guiding trips of people down the river who are each in their own inflatable kayak is a whole different story. Ultimately, each guest is responsible for paddling their own kayak down the river while you show the way in your kayak.  But it didn’t take me long to land in a place of frustration on many of these trips down the Upper.

As a guide, my job was to paddle the path of least resistance down the Green and each guest was supposed to follow in a single-file line. Like ducks in a row. Well, sometimes the ducks weren’t in a row at all.  Sometimes...many times...more than I’d like to count…people took another path. And then they got stuck on rocks or fell out of their kayak or got hung up in tree branches on the riverbank or number of other things.

For longer than I’d like to admit...watching this unfold each day was frustrating...because this was totally avoidable. There was a known path down this river and through these rapids and why wouldn’t these folks choose to take this path? So many times, while paddling in the front of the group, I’d turn around and see guests literally ping-ponging off of each and every rock, versus following in the same line that I was showing them to go all the while avoiding the rocks.  I couldn’t understand it.

I reached into the deepest parts of my patience bucket and did my best to calmly and politely assist these paddlers through the many complications we found ourselves in together (stuck on rocks, gathering up a paddle or a boat after they fell out, etc). All the while grimacing under my breath that this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Until one day, one fateful day...it struck me.

“Rach, people are going to experience this river the way they are going to experience the river. It’s THEIR experience. It’s their choice. Let them have it their way. Let go.”

From that day forward my frustration all but evaporated entirely. Let people do it how they are going to to it. It’s not your experience...it’s there's. Let them have it how they want it.

Of course I guided trips after this “ahah” moment like I always did. Showing guests “the path of least resistance” down the river. But I let go of the notion that they needed to experience in “the known” way.

That’s just it isn’t it?  We all have the freedom to experience life in any way we choose. The guide might be suggesting this way...but ya know what...I’m gonna go this way instead. Freedom to choose.
Naturally, there are consequences to some of these choices...to which we must take responsibility for having landed there….but ah the joys of whitewater kayaking!

Never a dull moment. Always a life-lesson to be learned.
And I have so much to be grateful for from these and so many other experiences life has brought across my path. What a fascinating world we live in! Live it to the fullest...however that may look or feel or be.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! May it be full of joy and laughter, love and light.

11/19/2024 14:00: Must we make Rules about Bathrooms?

 

Well here we go. Not even two weeks after the election results were declared...it’s already started. No no, don’t scroll past this post just because I mentioned the election. Give this a look because I want to demystify a subject that’s been insidiously used to propagate “protect the children” and now “erasure of women’s rights” rhetoric and propaganda.

Ready for it?  ….Bathroom Bans.

No no, don’t leave yet. Because I’m about to tell you a different side of this issue and why bathroom ban proposals are not only detrimental but also pernicious.

So as not to belabor the point let me get right to it.  Bathroom bans are ludicrous. Bathroom bans are befuddlements...and these bans create a whole assortment of unsuspected fallout.

First of all, is this really the best Ohio legislatures can do right out of the gate?
Six days ago the Ohio Senate approved a ban on transgender students using bathrooms that fit their gender identities and sent the measure to Republican Gov. Mike DeWine for signature.
According to an article written by Julie Carr Smyth and published by the Associated Press on November 13th, “State Sen. Jerry Cirino, a Kirtland Republican, said the bill “is about safety and security.”

Let me interject here and now why this is ludicrous.  If safety and security for our nations youth were a genuine concern, then wouldn’t there be bans on predatory men being allowed to prey about young girls in churches? Wouldn’t there be more deliberation when it comes to reproductive health in young girls who became pregnant against their will? Wouldn’t there be bans on private ownership of high-caliber weapons that utilize detachable magazines that seem to be associated with school shootings? 

I call bullshit! ...on the reasons and whys behind Ohio Senators who felt it so important to pass a bathroom ban in the State of Ohio right out of the gate. There are immensely more important issues that affect Ohioans than who’s using what bathroom. I mean, come on. Human beings have been utilizing bathroom facilities for centuries. Making rules about bathrooms is not what you think it’s about.
Secondly, let’s discuss the unsuspected fallout of the rhetoric behind bathroom bans. I can guarantee you no one sits up late at night and worries about the use of public restrooms...UNLESS...you fall into a marginalized group. Let’s not forget U.S. history of segregated bathrooms for a moment. See? Ludicrous, ridiculous….bathrooms are meant to do one thing...relieve yourself. Simple fact.

But as someone who doesn’t fit the accepted appearance norms...we DO think about public bathroom use. Why? Because as it stands right now...left alone...no bans...for myself to walk into a women’s public restroom...I’ve been told such things as, “wrong one,” and received double-take looks from women walking into the women’s restroom I’m standing in while washing my hands at the sink. I am in fact selective when I use a public bathroom because I don’t want to have to defend myself each and every time I enter or depart a women’s restroom. Since my appearance is often mistaken for male...you might understand why this is problematic.

The implication that birth certificates should be carried as proof of gender is something I think about. After all, will bathroom bans lead to empowering people to think upon seeing me walk into a women’s restroom that it’s within their right to demand that I show them proof that I am in fact female?

And here’s a newsflash. No transgender person walks into the bathroom (they feel the most safe using) with the intent to cause harm to anyone else. (Even though this is the exact insinuation being spread by proposing transgender bathroom bans.) If a trans person walks into a bathroom he or she is simply there to do one thing and one thing only...relieve themselves and then go on about their day like any other human being. 

It’s laughable that today in the news...(according to articles at cnn, delawareonline dot com, the hill dot com and many other news sources) “South Carolina Rep. Nancy Mace on Monday introduced a resolution to amend the rules of the US House of Representatives less than two months before Democratic Rep.-elect Sarah McBride, a Delaware state senator, is sworn-in in January.”
According to delawareonline dot com “The sanctity of protecting women and standing up against the Left’s systematic erasure of biological women starts here in the nation’s Capitol,” U.S. House Rep. Nancy Mace, a Republican who represents South Carolina, said in a statement. 

So here’s the thing. While the alleged claim is the sanctity of protecting women is at stake, this same claim was made way back when the topic of legalizing gay marriage was up for debate. THE SAME CLAIM! Remember...the rhetoric wrapped up in “the sanctity of marriage” debate? The passing of gay marriage rights hasn’t impacted the sanctity of marriage in any way that I personally know. But that’s a whole other article to be written.

No, this maneuver in Washington D.C. is directly linked to harassing Rep.-elect Sarah McBride (D-Del.), who will be the first transgender member of the House when the 119th Congress convenes in January. Elected by her constituents in Delaware to represent them in Congress.

Bathroom rules? I think we can legislate better. 

After hurricane Helene ripped through Western North Carolina, I for one have been sorting conscientiously through what truly matters in life and bathroom bills aren’t one of them.
We the people have been managing bathrooms just fine on our own for centuries. And we don’t need lawmakers planting divisive rhetoric in our heads, many of whom don’t fully understand the detrimental ramifications anyway.

Photo credit: Marcin Wichary/Flickr

11/14/24 1730: Rule Number 6 ...and Practices in Possibilities.

 

 

 

 

Over almost two decades ago a book came across my path. I don’t remember the exact details of how it came to be in my hands, but whatever the how, I most certainly remember its impact on me.

This national bestseller was published waaaay back in 2002 and is titled, “The Art of Possibility” by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander, and please note it is still fiercely pertinent to present day.

How incredibly ironic that the topic of chapter 6 (all about Rule Number 6) has come into my mind many MANY times in the past few weeks and months. Happy to “spill the beans” here...Rule Number 6 is simply, “Don’t take yourself so g--damn seriously.”

I have a tendency to break Rule Number 6 all over the place and twice on Sunday...and as I thought into why I tend to be so serious...why I take life very seriously at times...well...there’s been a lot at stake in what’s brought me to this spot on the page.

I’ve done a lot of serious stuff...where there were consequences for one’s actions, such as...working as a whitewater kayak guide on the Upper Green River where sometimes being in nature's wild caused crazy things to happen….and then there was working as a conductor for the Dearborn Division of the Norfolk Southern railroad. Not only was the job itself very dangerous at times (life and limb sorta stuff)...the company managers were always looking for a reason to fire you...which lead to a pretty serious work-life. After I was laid off from the railroad (Feb 2020) I worked for the US Postal Service as a rural mail carrier. And let me just say, 2020 was not a very fun, lighthearted time to become a rural mail carrier. Not a day went by from March to October of 2020 where I wasn’t running like my hair was on fire, my vehicle was on fire, the mail was on fire and everything was on fire (also note: this was long before Amazon delivered their own packages but rather shipped them via the USPS), because the paralyzing affect that the COVID debacle had on USPS logistics systems was, well let’s just say...serious. Before all this I was a H.S. and college volleyball and basketball referee for many years...a lot of humorlessness throughout some of those very intense times.

So yes, ever since reading and re-reading “The Art of Possibility” and the chapter about Rule Number 6 I think of this when I need to remember the benefit of laughter and the humorous side of things.

On page 81 you’ll find the following quote:
“Remembering Rule Number 6 can help us distinguish (and hold at some remove) the part of ourselves that developed in the competitive environment of the “measurement world.” {sidebar here...you don’t grow up Baptist and not learn a smidge about the “measurement world.” just saying.} For the sake of discussion, we’ll call it our calculating self. One of its chief characteristics, as we shall see is that it lobbies to be taken very seriously indeed. When we practice Rule Number 6, we coax this calculating self to lighten up, and by doing so we break its hold on us.”

All of this said, I have noticed that more and more folks here on Facebook seem to be turning to humor in these current times we find ourselves...myself included. (I'm seeing more humor related posts...funny cat videos or quips or memes meant to lighten the air or even cause us to burst out in laughter, and thank you for this!) Some of this might be contributed to simply how ridiculous things have become...where you just laugh because that’s the only thing left to do.

It’s also worth noting that laughter is proven to have many health benefits!
According to an article found here (https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/stress-management/in-depth/stress-relief/art-20044456) and written by Mayo Clinic staff, laughter can soothe tension, relieve stress response, improve your immune system, relieve pain, and improve your mood.

You don’t have to take my word for it...just find something that makes you laugh and you can see for yourself. So I’ve written this as much for a reminder to myself to turn more of my attention to humor as I have for anyone else. Although...I know you need it too. I’ve read your posts.

If you need a place to start, why not check out: “The Art of Possibility” by the Zanders’. I’ve just added it back to my “current reads” pile. Lord knows I need more laughs and lightheartedness right now too!

Photo Credit: cover of the book 

to the Universe...

 Thank you!

 

11/08/24 1900: Recombobulation.

 

In 2008, Barry Bateman (now retired) former Director of the General Mitchell International Airport (in Milwaukee, WI) invented the word “recombobulation” and created an area to do so just past TSA check-points.

So you just went through the TSA security check enroute to your flights’ departing gate and now your shoes, belt, jewelry and hat are in one hand and your carry on luggage is discombobulated because your toiletries are all askew.  Mr. Bateman recognized the need for an area to recombobulate yourself and your things and of course, to see the humor in it all.

It’s worth noting that also in 2008, the American Dialect Society (the group that selects the “word of the year”) selected this made-up-word as that year’s “Most Creative” Word.
To bring this full circle, it’s also worth noting that the 2023 word of the year as selected by the American Dialect Society was “enshittification.” Well yes, of course it was. The 2024 word of the year hasn’t been selected yet, but I kinda can’t wait to see what this year’s word will be.

But let’s go back to recombobulation. I’ll bet you can see where I’m headed. If I were on the committee that gets to pick this year’s word...you betcha I’d vote for recombobulation.
Kim Hjelmgaard in a USA TODAY article said about 2024, “The Voldemort of years. The annus horribilis. The year that must not be named."

Here’s a recap of some of the intenseness that’s gone down in 2024: February’s AT&T failure of 5G voice and data services, cyberattacks and data breaches directed at healthcare providers and insurance companies in the first half of the year, the AI technology wave...2024 is the year organizations truly began using...and are deriving business value from...this new technology, a karmic year in the courts for Trump, the “that-was-a-very-big-deal” solar eclipse on April 8th, climate-related events that are causing anxiety across the world, the Summer Olympics hosted by Paris, the wreckage and now recovery from Hurricane Helene in WNC, and last but not least...the slippery slope of the U.S. Presidential Election. I’m confident that I left out many other noteworthy topics from 2024...but you get the point.

So yeah...I think a little recombobulation might be in order. Originally intended as a humorous term for the process of reassembling oneself after going through airport security.  It’s undeniable that many of us are in a state of needing to regroup, re-gather, collect ourselves (emotionally and physically), unite, rest and reorganize...to name just a few.

However it is that you find necessary ways and means to recombobulate going forward...please do this. I know for myself, getting back into the forest (now that many parks and National Forests have re-opened) and hiking has been a form of quietude for me. Many have gathered in ceremonial ways to find pathways to grieve, mourn losses and accept what is. Others here in WNC are still reeling from sheer loss.

It’s an uncomfortable time. But this too shall pass.
And most certainly there’s change in the air.
Because what once was...is no more.

It’s time to recombobulate.

Photo Credit: online somewhere, image captured at the General Mitchell International Airport 

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

 

 

10/15/24 0900: One step forward, two steps back.

The progression of things here in WNC. One step forward, two steps back.

When I woke up this morning I was slightly triggered by the site of my cell phone returning to a “searching for service” status. What’s this? I thought we were past this place of no comms? Then I found myself wondering, “Ah, I’ll bet Verizon removed the rapid response connectivity unit that they so kindly installed just down the road to support poor and non-existent cell phone coverage.”
According to what I’m hearing, this may in fact be true.

It’s been absolutely astounding to watch in realtime the speed of repairs being made and services being restored. Sections of roads that were washed away have been filled in and repaired and returned to “driveable” status, thousands and thousands of homes that were previously without power have been restored, running water access has been restored in many locations, “cut and shove” methods of clearing trees from roadways and other points of access have been implemented since day one. All of this has happened in just 19 days. And it’s happening all around us every day.

You can’t drive anywhere and not see the debris and remnants and reminders that Helene crashed into these mountains just 19 days ago. And I can attest to the fact that while restoration IS happening...there is still a state of un-stableness all around us. And it’s unsettling.

This is the thing. While major progress has been made here it is also worthy to note we are all being taught that an endless supply of patience and fortitude is mandatory at all times. As things are brought back into a state of “new normal”, it’s evident that this “new normal” requires extra travel time, extra planning to accomplish anything, a relentless amount of pivot and adaptability, and a whole LOT of loving-kindness directed towards one another.

As we seek to lean in to trusting some semblance of “normalcy” it’s triggering to see a fast-flowing creek, it’s triggering to look at your phone and see “searching for service”, it’s triggering when the power intermittently goes out, it’s triggering to see the constant stream of destruction videos on FB.

I turn my cell phone off at various times throughout the day as a way to control the triggering inputs and as a way to create a “balm space” around me. Calming instrumental music is almost always playing in my background spaces. (Mostly Native American Flute music) Doing the daily required things of course is a necessity. But for me, writing has been a wonderful source of processing so much of this. A way to express from a heart-felt space what I’ve experienced and what I’ve observed other’s have experienced.

It’s one step forward, two steps back all around us. I’m learning more and more each day how to truly lean into this ever-evolving time/space we find ourselves in. But I’ve also grown irritable around what has become meaningless drivel. Things that used to seem so important...aren’t any longer. It’s as if what Helene has brought to our front doorsteps has called upon us to sort through what truly matters and what no longer matters at all. Almost like a mandatory culling has been enacted upon us. And there are many things I don’t want to have to sort through. I don’t want to have to choose to leave behind what I used to hold very dear. But yet...I don’t have the luxury of this choice any longer. Many of you know exactly what I’m talking about here.

This is the space from within we sit. Together. And yet I do know...that on the other side...there will be a renewal. A rebirth of something completely new.

 

 

 

10/12/24 19:00: Churches.

Little did anyone truly know that the pulse points of vicinage could be touched and found in the most restorative ways by what was and still is being demonstrated by churches.

Crisis (especially to the level of “biblical devastation” witnessed and experienced here in Western North Carolina) has a unique way of proving the fortitude of a people.

When the dust settled and the waters began to recede and things shifted from rescue to recovery immediate needs became blatantly obvious. Many lost everything. A call went out for help. And that call was answered first by those closest then by those from miles away and then by those States away and the donations began to pour in. First by the car loads, then by the trailer loads, then by the truck loads.

It’s one thing to load up cases of water and cans of food and paper products and diapers and formula. It’s a whole other thing to receive, store and distribute these to those in need. And in any kind of efficient, get-it-in-the-hands-of-the-people kind of way.

Churches already had the buildings and the resources and the people (seemingly on call and ready to help) to be the “base camps” for donations to be received and distributed right into the heart of the communities that needed them the most.

It just kind of happened. Like this “system” was already in place and waiting to be called up out of a “ready reserve” of people as a reinforcement for shattered communities.

And at no point did I witness or experience any kind of congregational positioning. It didn’t matter what religious affiliation to which any of these churches were previously aligned. Because everyone suddenly found themselves surrounded by and affected by the same common denominator. Everyone suddenly became human first and foremost with the exact same basic needs like water and food and shelter.

It was nothing short of magical to watch unfold!

And now, in each community and town and city in Western North Carolina there are dozens and dozens of churches still actively involved as distribution points for the tons and tons of supplies that have been sent here by your communities...many of your towns being hundreds of miles away. And in some cases some of your churches served as receiving points for your donations which were then transported here to the churches in our communities.

I think it’s important for those who donated to this very worthy cause to know first hand that, in my experience, no one was turned away. Rather...when you walked into one of these distribution sites you were met with smiling faces that said, please take what you need. No questions asked.

I could go on and on about what a soul-fulfilling, needs meeting, heart-felt exchange that the giving and receiving segment and that essentially Helene brought to our doorsteps. Literally.

Unquestionably this disaster has pushed us back towards one another again. In ways I don’t think we ever imagined could be possible. Let’s not forget what living from this common denominator feels like.

I want to offer my gratitude to those who turned towards this and leaned in.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart! To the churches, to the pastors, to the congregants, to the complete strangers that volunteered at these churches, to the women, to the men, to the young, to the elderly, to the human...who found their humanness. Thank you!


#WNCstrong


Photo Credit: blog.campingworld.com

 

 

 

 

10/10/24 20:00: Enter...the sorting phase.

 

So here we are...two weeks since Helene came and re-arranged hearts, lives and the land here in the mountains of Western North Carolina. Wow, hard to believe it’s only been two weeks and feels like it’s been two years!

We are somewhat in a “sorting” phase here now. So many supplies and donations have arrived and are still arriving (And please know what I’m about to say is prefaced by the fact that churches and organizations on the ground here have been doing an AMAZING...on-the-fly adaptation to the everyday changing process of distributing your donations and supplies. Killing it in fact!) that most of these locations are asking for local (or any and all) volunteers to come and help sort into more effective ways to get them distributed faster and to those in need. Brilliant ingenuity by those leading the charge on this!

That said, I’ve been asked by a few of you as to where to send supplies and donations or to whom to help with volunteering. Here’s the thing...please note that this area is so incredibly dense with damage and destruction and the like that you can basically pick a favorite thing of yours and start there. Pick a category and they probably could use some help.

For example, if you’re an animal lover, consider donating to local veterinarians who are conducting (at a discounted rate) vaccinations and spaying and neutering the youngins that need it for pets that have been displaced and are currently fostered and are in the process of being re-homed.
If you’d like to help in these efforts please contact Emily Eldridge. She is doing incredible work in an attempt to connect displaced pets with new forever homes.

I could go on and on listing specifics like this...but I compel you to do a bit of research first. Think about what it is you love the most...assisting the elderly, assisting families with children, assisting the lgbtq community, if you’re an outdoor enthusiast and want to help with trail repair, if you’re a music lover and want to help replace lost instruments, if you’re an art lover, whatever your favorite thing is...look up businesses or organizations in the Asheville and the surrounding areas (Hendersonville, Fairview, Black Mountain, Spruce Pine, Marshall, Flat Rock, Chimney Rock, Bat Cave, Cedar Mountain, Rosman, Saluda or any plethora of others) that you could donate to or assist.

Let me say this again...please do some research. One way to do this is use the search function within Facebook and type in anything like “how can I help artists in western north carolina” and then read the posts that are listed speaking about these topics. Believe it or not...the AI search function is doing a pretty good job delivering reliable info in this way.

Many have asked where to bring supplies and donations others have asked where the best places are to locally volunteer (near Asheville and the surrounding areas).

The following organizations are a solid resource in answering the most immediate need questions (which are changing literally moment by moment.)

Cajun Navy 2016
Samaritans Purse-Boone, NC: (800) 528-1980
Anchor Baptist Church-Pisgah Forest, NC: (828) 884-7610
Interfaith Assistance Ministry- Hendersonville, NC: (828) 697 7029

Please also note here...that I know I’m leaving out some other very incredible organizations but there’s just not room to list them all...which again is why I say...do your own research. Let your heart lead the way to whom you are supposed to help.

The outpouring of human-kindness is absolutely astounding to watch from the Western North Carolina side of things!

I want to personally thank each and everyone of you who have already been involved in donating, gathering, delivering, coordinating and spreading the word!

A great big huge Western North Carolina Mountain THANK YOU!

#WNCstrong

*Please note if I didn't list an organization that needed to be mentioned here as a reference or resource...I did not do this intentionally. Again...too many to list all of them so I just picked a few based upon what I've seen or heard about their actions on the ground in these efforts.

 

 

10/08/24 20:00: Continuation of lessons learned on the ground (post-Helene) in Brevard, NC

 

-Who knew there was such a thing as a portable laundry station on wheels?

So as you know there are many here without power or water still...and it’s been a while...so yep...the clothes haven’t been washed in a while. Well, just down from where I’m staying is a church. And yesterday I noticed there was a bunch of trailers showing up with various church names on them. But one particular trailer caught my attention because it said, in BIG letters on the side, “Disaster relief Laundry Unit.” What? Is this a trailer full of washers and dryers?

Sure is. This group is from Kentucky. Side of the trailer also said “Southern Baptist Convention.” Well I’ll be...there’s such a thing as disaster relief teams like this sent out by church organizations like this to help in dire times.

Here’s how it worked...you walk up, hand them your clothes, they give you a tag, take your name and cell number and then they text you when they’re all washed, dried and folded. How cool is that? Another much needed free service that just showed up here two days ago!

-It doesn’t matter how big the bit is...or how small...ANY little bit will help.

There are levels of “survivor guilt” happening all over or maybe might better be called “damage guilt” or “loss guilt”...as in one person’s loss may be next to nothing while a neighbor or a friend’s loss was completely everything. And to offset these feelings of guilt, a very natural human response is...how can I help? I haven’t spoken to anyone yet that isn’t in a frame of mind of “how can I help.” And I think this is a testament to just how far reaching this recovery process is.
I’ve certainly struggled with my own preoccupation with remaining engaged in the recovery phase. Partly because we’re surrounded by it. Day-by-day things are ever changing. As progress is made by utility workers, road crews, volunteers arriving with donated supplies, volunteers distributing supplies, and on and on and on.

I’ve also noticed (because it’s happening to me) that the emotional toll is beginning to compound.

A few days ago, for some reason, I was remembering the HBO television series Band of Brothers (which is based on the true story of “Easy” Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division as they landed and fought through the Western Front of World War II).

In episode seven titled “Breaking Point”, Lieutenant Lynn "Buck" Compton watches in horror as his close friends William Guarnere and Joe Toye take basically a direct hit from artillery fire and both of them lose a leg. It’s a gruesome scene. Buck can’t even utter the word “medic” for a few seconds because he stood there just completely stunned by what he was looking at...and then eventually he musters the ability to cry out “MEDIC!” It was shortly after this , Buck began to show signs of the “strain of battle” and was pulled off the line and out of combat.

So here’s the thing...I’ve watched this series many times...and each time when I see this unraveling with Buck Compton I’ve wondered, “Why is it that with some guys these horrors didn’t seem to bother them at all and with others just a complete shut-down or even sudden blindness occurred?”

Well, I get it now. Totally.

When you’re surrounded by people you know and love who have been harmed in so many ways by horrible losses or heart-ache and are also grief stricken yet have to push through re-grouping, recovering and moving forward...it takes a toll. And we are still discovery things that we didn’t know have happened here just a few towns over. So this toll keeps compounding and compounding.

I’m beginning to fully grasp why taking pause for yourself is a very worthy step indeed. Whether it’s finding a hot shower (as there are now shower stations at various locations), eating a hot meal (also available at many free locations), giving a hug to a stranger or getting a hug from a stranger, or staring at the sky, gazing at the mountains, touching a tree...and seemingly little thing like this are a big deal now. Because it provides relief...even if just for a moment to your mind and for your heart.

Today, I found myself watching some people because they were laughing with one another and it struck me… “Hey, they’re laughing.” A much needed respite to witness.

-Facts versus fiction

On the morning of Friday, Sept 27th it took a little while to figure out what the immediate issues at hand were and one of the extremely problematic issues was the loss of communication. Nobody could check on or check in with their loved ones. Cell towers were non-functioning and internet service was interrupted. Which also meant there was absolutely no way to communicate with the outside world.

Enter the value of the radio! The only way you could hear what was going on or gather intel on what had happened in and around the region was by word-of-mouth or by listening to a good ‘ole fashioned radio.

Here’s the interesting lesson learned beside the obvious (which is how much we depend upon cell phones and the internet to communicate and do so many other things...like banking for instance), I learned pretty quick that during those first few days...I could trust 100% what people were telling me because either the person telling me something had seen it with their own eyes, or they had heard it from someone who had seen it with their own eyes. When I say there was little to no misinformation during the first 48-72 hours...I mean that. (Of course...there also wasn’t a whole lot of information yet either). And not until the Internet came back up on line and a little time passed that misinformation started to get bounced around.

While there was misunderstanding during those first 72 hours...because we forgot what a cash society looks like for one. Because the internet was out...stores couldn’t utilize their credit card and debit systems. Poof, cash only. So follow along with me. When the first gas stations opened and person “A” pulled up to the pump...realized, oh cash only...has to go inside...pay...return to the pump...pump gas...depart. That all took somewhere in the ballpark of 5-10 minutes right? Now person “b” then “c” then “d” then “e” and now “f” arrive. Lines backing up. Because these cash transactions take longer...so then others see the line and think… “there’s a line at the gas station...I wonder if they’ll run out since only 1 or 2 stations in town are open...I better go get gas too.” And then before you know it there’s a line a mile long and word gets out...and the process compounds from there.

The radio stations had to keep repeating on the air “there’s no gas shortage.” Which was indeed helpful!

So yes, misunderstanding created some struggle as well...but...I can also say, I witnessed some amazing feats of organization and cooperation during these times. The gas lines eventually became very organized where there would be only one line...you couldn’t just drive into the side entrance of the parking lot and grab a pump that opened up...there were “systems” created on the fly to become more efficient. Sure there was a little yelling from time to time and horn honking but what a fascinating thing see unfold.

One of those early days there were cars lined up to go into town (because of the gas rush) on the street that goes past where I’m staying. And suddenly I realized I bet these folks know some things about what’s going on in and around the area (this was before I had a radio to use) so I walked down the street and just starting going car to car asking people what they knew. And then I would tell them what I knew in exchange. At first people were skeptical, but then when they realized I was just one of them trying to get the scoop on what was going on they were more willing to share info.

My oh my...the lessons learned during these days.


Stay tuned...things are improving each and every day!

10/06/24 23:00 Seemingly tiny but enormous truth.

Today I heeded the suggestions of many of you and turned toward some self-care. And on many levels this felt like an unfair indulgence. And I don’t have to explain why. You know. Because nearly everyone I’ve talked to feels the same way. We are all overwhelmed with the feeling of doing more, volunteering more, donating more. Like enough isn’t ever going to be attainable in this disastrous condition we all (and yes, I do mean all because I don’t believe anyone is really untouched by the ever-reaching affects of what has happened here in western North Carolina) find ourselves facing.

Nonetheless, some very dear friends of mine (if you’re reading this...you know who you are) offered some respite in the forest. A hot meal, time with friends, a general break from being inundated by the call for help. The most special part of this visit...included a walk on a trail in the forest that led to a creek. I so desperately needed to put my hands in the mountain water. To stand barefoot in the creek and feel it again. To hear the trickling sounds of it again...in spite of the reminder in the background as a helicopter flew overhead.

There was grief in my heart, there was grief in the air. And today was the first day since Helene arrived here that I could stand in the stillness of the forest again and listen. We grieved together she and I...the forest and the flowing waters and the rustling leaves on the ground. I’m tearing yet again as I write this.

Reaching out and touching a nearby tree after pausing to be present in this moment. There was a recognizable stillness, a calm about her. A very composed calm. And what a beautiful reminder to me that even the hardest things can be grasped after the initial maelstrom has passed by.

On the walk back...a group of the tiniest little purple wildflowers (not totally sure but I think they are called “Smooth Astor”) caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks. They were such a beauty to behold. And as I often do...I spoke to them.

“Well, hi there,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes.
“How did you beautiful little things survive this? How are you still here?”
And they said, “We are here to show you just how resilient Nature is.”
And I said, “Thank you for still being here and showing me this seemingly tiny but enormous truth.”


Photo credit: Dan Mullen CC BY-NC-ND 2.0