Sometimes it seems like a lot of work to untangle myself from the day to day goings-on to actually get myself out into nature. The day’s tasks along with the fact of the drive create a barrier mentally and physically that often wins out over my desire. Whenever I do make the effort and push through, it is always 1000% worth it. Nature has that innate quality of purity to it. There is such a remarkable difference I feel when I’m surrounded by nothing artificial whatsoever. No walls closing in on me. No synthetic fibers underfoot or particle board within reach.
I leave the house, that artificial shelter I’m grateful for. Shut the door behind me. Get in my practical man-made metal box on wheels and rocket off up the winding asphalt scars on land. All of which I appreciate. It’s during the drive that the reality of nature starts to set in. As the buildings drop away into the distance, they are forgotten, in a sense discarded- like the shed skin of a lizard. Instead I am reaching and searching for something different. With the concrete urban jungle of telephone wires and sidewalks no longer in view, another world pushes in. The newness of fresh, green nature takes its place. Interwoven ecosystems that appear to take no notice of me fill the space all around. Living otherness. It’s spellbinding, awestriking, and humbling every time. Everywhere there is to look seems to be brimming with intricate layers of green. Green shapeshifts into every imaginable form as far as the eye can see broken only by the silhouettes of tree trunks.
I follow the narrow path as it winds over and through this dazzling deciduous rainforest of the southern Appalachias. The forest is mesmerizing: a dark emerald backlit with electric green. Down, down, down the sinewy path creeps across rocks and into a dark crevice. The air is damp, so green, so strange, and very alive. The light filters in dimly. Here the water sparkles as it rushes across smooth stones, over ledges of sunken boulders, and exposed bedrock. It churns white over slick black rocks rimmed in velvet green moss. It settles quietly in jungle green pools deceptively deep. On either side of the ribbon of churning white water, steep slopes rise into the tree shadows. From the blackness on either side, plants reach as far as they can extend their frilly fronds and perfectly cut edges out of the darkness. Reaching for those elusive rays of sunshine.
It’s here that I find my own nook in a boulder to sit and soak in the utter green. Places like these are the heart and lifeblood of the mountains. If I’m lucky, I get this special world all to myself. More often than not, I share it with other pilgrims in search of the real, of pure beauty, of -just- nature. Short lived connections are felt between the others around who have made the trek, who brave the cold mountain water, who test the depths of the pools by jumping off surrounding rocks. Sometimes it’s a rowdy bunch out to splash and make the forest reverberate. Other times it’s a more contemplative crowd whose voices are drowned out by the crashing water. Eventually I join in and let myself sink to the bottom of the glassy green pools.
The cold rips my breath from my lungs and electrocutes my whole body. Doesn’t matter what season it is, the water is always frigid. If I didn’t feel alive or awake beforehand, I certainly do now! All the mental fog of hurried urban life and the tethers of eternal to-do lists are stripped away. All I can process is directly in front of me. Green. Beauty. Cold. Rippling water. Stones. Perfection and elegance in the form of plants. It’s a sublime full-person experience. One that resets me to a calmer level. A different starting point and playing field. Once the green cold has soaked through my bones and soul and a smile seems permanently plastered across my chattering teeth, I wring my hair out and start the trek back. Back out of the heart of the mountain. Like heading back to the surface after a deep dive.
Back on the ridge it’s nearly sunset. I pile on the necessary layers of clothing and break out my trusty picnic basket. I always come prepared. A wise woman once told me: “Food is the glue that holds the body and soul together.” And after such a sublime experience out in nature, food does the job to bring my feet firmly back to the ground. This day’s picnic is a plant-based take on the classic hot dog with all the fixings and a barbeque sandwich made from jackfruit with a few mini custard fruit tartes à la française to sweeten the deal. Oh and you can’t forget the pickle! I sit in the grass not too far from my car watching the gathering colours of sunset. It’s a perfect day.
Words & photos by Lydia
