Sheltered Lands

I sense my time outside on this amazing day is passing too swiftly so I stop and stand in the stillness to reset.   A fallen tree nearby lies nearly perpendicular; I clear a butt-width of snow, lay out a bandana, take a seat, and fire up a medium strength Nicaraguan. I’m halfway down a broad, snowy ravine on England Mountain.  The mid-morning rays of a low hanging winter sun crown only the rims.  The rays won’t reach the deepest depths of this ravine until late spring.  It’s a fine place to rest… and to stall the swiftly passing time.  Snow has dampened all sounds, but enough emanate to create a soothing cacophony.  Breezes passing through what’s left of the deciduous canopy. The creaking of a weakened tree as it fights for its life. The calls of brown & black flittering Robins. And the hammering of pair of ample-breasted woodpeckers.    Earlier, I had doubts I’d make it this far.  Four inches of top-cr...

I’m please to find no parking lot on 10th Avenue.  I simply pull onto the sandy shoulder across from the small, faded sign for Run Hill Dune.   I dip under a wooden fence rail designed to keep ATV’s out and then begin my trudge up one of the east coast’s highest dunes.   I consider going barefoot, but my sandals work like snow shoes in the loose sand.  Neither barefoot nor sandals though are ideal on this unstable surface, so my progress is slow.  I enjoy the unhurried pace; it affords more time to absorb the beauty. About 5 miles south of Run Hill is Jockey’s Ridge - the more famous dune on North Carolina’s Outer Banks.  In between is a four mile stretch of maritime forest. Run Hill is shifting southward, encroaching one grain at a time upon this forest.  In this collision, there’s intrigue.  I seek to find the unique when I travel, and a sand dune swallowing up a forest is something I find quite intriguing. After fifteen minutes of trudgin...

Nature's Compass As I step out of my office, forty minutes later than planned, I open the settings on my phone to disconnect my email account.  I need clean separation.  My morning was intensely work-focused, but this afternoon, it’s all about the trail. Silencing the phone will go a long way toward transitioning me into the outdoors. The silent hour of driving to the trailhead works its magic.  By the time I take my first few steps, I feel in tune with my environment.  It’s a bright, crisp winter afternoon and I have four miles of trail ahead of me. The mature main trail at Wildcat Mountain is all clear today, meaning the freshly oiled folding saw stays in my backpack the whole afternoon.  It’s my first visit in which no maintenance is required.  The extra time this affords enables me to wander along a few of the many side trails that are not open to the public.  One leads down the Black Cotton Branch ravine to a narrow, multi-plateaued waterf...

Today was supposed to complete the cycle, but Mother Nature had other plans… I’ve hiked Wildcat Mountain in three of the four seasons this year.   I was hoping for the colors of autumn to finish the rotation today, but Mother Nature was holding out; her foliage still mostly green.  Worse yet, she stalled a massive tropical front over the area. As a volunteer preserve monitor for Wildcat, my assigned responsibility for trail maintenance was through the week ending Oct 13th.  Unfortunately, the front wasn’t forecast to pass until the 14th; meaning rain gear was needed for my volunteering.  Once I acknowledged this watery challenge, I actually embraced it and became enthused about pursuing my first deliberately-wet hiking experience. Mother Nature either has a sense of humor or is a malicious bitch.  Most of Wildcat’s trail is along a level ridgeline, but to get there a half-mile, steep hike is required.  During my ascent, Mother Nature opened a can of...