As we walked in the grassy meadow that lay atop Springer Mountain, a renewed energy gripped my sister. She clamored about the rocky outcrop which bore a bronze plaque with the raised image of a hiker, just a hiker who might be any of us. It was dedicated to Benton MacKaye, whose vision had helpedContinue reading “Chapter Eleven: Summit”
Tag Archives: Appalachian Trail
Chapter Ten: Springer Mountain
Walkie & Mryt at sunrise over Len Foote Hike Inn
Chapter Nine: Dirty Dancing at the Len Foote Hike Inn
The Len Foote Hike Inn, deep in a pocket of Appalachia, invited visitors to go backwards in time and enjoy the community of other hikers, resisting the urge to check in with the outside world. Its no-cell-phone policy found me wandering back down the trail to text our parents, to let them know we wereContinue reading “Chapter Nine: Dirty Dancing at the Len Foote Hike Inn”
Chapter Eight: Onomatopoeia Sisters
Walkie chilling on a rock.
Chapter Six: Night Hike
Myrt being a bear
Chapter Five: 32 Degrees
Snowflakes floated down like particles of dust as we stretched our arms up to a wide purple sky. We took in the sweet indulgence of night yoga, inhaling winter pine, and underneath our sneakers, the rocks and roots of Georgia. Somehow, in my sister’s company, breathing deeply felt good and fulfilling rather than restricted andContinue reading “Chapter Five: 32 Degrees”
Chapter Four: 604 Steps
Walkie & Myrt at Hogpen Gap
Chapter Three: Rocks & Roots
I am sitting on the front porch and dreaming of the woods. My sister is still inside getting ready. We considered delaying our start to avoid the freezing temperatures that awaited us at the top of the falls tonight, but we’d already put off this adventure for two years, our initial plans disrupted by theContinue reading “Chapter Three: Rocks & Roots”
Chapter Two: Firetalker
When he was seven years old, my father-in-law fell and burnt his leg on the metal grate covering the boiler that heated the house. Granny and Pop took him to the doctor, had the burn treated, and then called a distant cousin from up in North Carolina—to talk the fire out. The practice of fire-talkingContinue reading “Chapter Two: Firetalker”
Chapter One: Bad Vibes at Hawk Mountain Shelter
Nine and a half miles, our longest day of hiking yet. We strolled into camp at Hawk Mountain Shelter and found Dorothy had arrived some time before us. “The Yoga Sisters!” she cried out and leapt down from a picnic table as Toto yelped from the loft of the three-sided hut. My sister’s eyes flittedContinue reading “Chapter One: Bad Vibes at Hawk Mountain Shelter”
Rocks & Roots 