Walker's Knob on the Graybeard Trail and How Walking in Nature Teaches and Heals Us
Flat Creek Through the Trees After the Leaves Have Fallen
Two weeks ago, I went hiking in Montreat to Walker’s Knob along the Graybeard Mountain Trail. It was a beautiful day and for quite a way the trail follows this beautiful creek. Peering at it through the trees made me feel is if I was looking into my own heart to a wellspring of hope for the future. Though these days have been dark, life still continues and water always moves. I am still breathing, for which I am very grateful and will never take for granted again.
View from the Trail to Walker’s Knob and Graybeard Mountain
After we’d climbed for awhile, there were parts of the trail along the ridge where there were views to the Blue Ridge mountains beyond. It was mid morning by the time we got that high but there were still remnants of the morning fog. There is always something so satisfying about reaching a lookout point during the hike. We temporarily have the illusion that we can see clearly, but of course there will always be more peaks and valleys and a new fog will roll in. Still, for a moment, we don’t feel buried under the weight of things and when we can see further things form patterns instead of seeming haphazard and disjointed. We don’t feel so alone.
Rock Painting, Walker’s Knob Trail
There were several large boulders with traces of iron ores (possibly magnetite and brown hematite) that also exhibited traces of sand grains and calcium carbonate. Together they made fascinating compositions and reminded me of the desert varnish of the South West. When I am hiking, I always love paying attention to the individuality of an area as well as noticing how it reminds me of other places, either geologically or in terms of the flora and fauna. Our planet is both regionally diverse and globally connected, just as we as people have both differences and similarities. Finding out how we mesh sometimes creates fiction, just as rocks intrude and bump up on one another. The traces and markings of these interactions create the unique beauty of our landscapes and lives, and enrich our experiences by shifting us out of stagnation into new ways of thinking and being though sometimes the unease they cause may lead us to perceive them as unwanted perturbations. We are all flawed, yes, but I have always loved the concept of perfect imperfections. The Japanese call finding beauty in every aspect of imperfection wabi-sabi.. Sometimes cracks are sealed with gold to draw attention to them and remind us of their value.
Devastation, Walkers Knob
There were many downed trees along the trail from all the storms we have been experiencing in this region, but the way they were scattered revealed a pattern that had it’s own woven beauty. When I began photographing the landscape in earnest, I had to tamp down this tendency in myself to want everything to look perfect and not to include dead trees or the messy side of nature. I had some 19th century Romantic vision of the landscape in my head and I looked for it everywhere. I just wanted to commune by myself in the wild. I didn’t want to see any evidence of the hand of man, but I also had this idealized vision and didn’t want to include what I thought were eyesores at the time–mostly dead things, entirely forgetting about the cycle of life. Now I know that, as William Eggleston said, “You can take a good picture of anything. A bad one, too.” He wasn’t interested in classifying anything as good or bad, and said what he photographed was life today. If we don’t acknowledge certain aspects of life or ourselves, it’s not like the dead trees won’t be there. We need to remember what happens, so hopefully we can learn from it, and of course denying climate change and other environmental problems will only lead to more issues.
Graybeard Falls
My friend had a surprise in store for me, as I had not read up on the trail first. Just before we turned to hike to Walker’s Knob, there was a short path to the right where this beautiful waterfalls was located. The light was a bit harsh, there were strong shadows, and of course more downed trees, but things were moving and I instantly felt refreshed. I had to scamper down the rocks to immerse myself more in the scene and feel the full force of the water coming in my direction. There is no waiting to live anymore, though I am of course being careful due to the pandemic and my responsibilities towards my elderly and frail mother. This pandemic has taught me to appreciate every moment, no matter how I spend it.
Takoda and Barry in Front of the Falls
We all enjoyed the hike, though it was almost nine miles and we felt it in the end! Takoda didn’t quite clear the jump getting into my SUV and I had to give him a boost! Still, I know he wouldn’t have wanted to spend the day any other way and I wouldn’t have wanted to be doing something else either. Communing with beauty, especially with friends is always a peak experience for me.
View from the Summit of Walkers knob
When I got to the Walker’s Knob summit, I noticed one fir tree standing out from the rest of the landscape with a sea of unfolding mountains beyond. It provided the perfect focal point for a single point meditation that made me feel quite peaceful and serene. .
Resurrection, Walker’s Knob
The knob included both views of life and death, just as real life does. In the opposite direction, I saw this large dead tree looming out of the other trees and vegetation below. I realized I have come a long way since I first picked up a camera and started paying attention to “life today”. Instead of considering it an eyesore, I celebrated how this dead tree could still remain standing and tower over the rest of the scene. For all who have lost family members to this virus or to the ravages of old age, or any other cause, our loved ones will always loom large in our hearts and minds. Though we may find it painful at first, and indeed this year has been exceptionally gut-wrenching given the breadth of the devastation, once we work through our suffering we can celebrate those we loved and lost by recognizing the ways they influenced and shaped us and expressing our gratitude for all the time we did share. That can never be taken away.
Still Life of Lichen on a Stick with Leaves
I will close this blog with a humble image of a still life I happened upon looking down at my feet. Hiking in nature always connects us with the earth. We have to pay attention each time we take a step, and when rocks don’t slip and roots don’t trip us, we are grateful for the solidity of the earth that supports us. Even when we do fall, we are grateful to be able to rest a moment before gathering ourselves and continuing onward again. Thank you Mother Earth for your enduring presence and for allowing me to connect with your elements that energize and comfort me every day wherever I may be.