My relationship with nature has evolved.
At a young age it began at recess and stopped at P.E. I graduated from metal jungle gyms to kickball fields and, eventually, to an asphalt track. In high school, I often ate lunch in the outside courtyard. At the time, that was my idea of picnicking. There’s nothing about these memories that are particularly special or formative. Being outdoors meant taking a break from school’s concrete walls. Sure, I had dreamt of far away places to add to my bucket list. But I lacked the urgency to get moving.
It wasn’t until I reached college and lived closer to the water that I started taking advantage of the ocean. It’s where friends wanted to rush-to between classes and on weekends. Out of my friends’ cars, my Honda CRV was the roomiest, and it would often be elected for transporting.
I started seeking out nature preserves and trails in my area. I found solace in the quiet. I chose to visit gardens and go on tours of historic homes over bars and clubs. The moment I took my first kayak out at Hugh Taylor Birch State Park, I saw parts of Florida I hadn’t known existed. In the mangroves my curiosity for the outdoors grew exponentially.
Shortly after dating Jordan, he invited me on a family camping trip at a K.O.A. in Saint Augustine. What was normal to him was the equivalent to an exotic vacation for me. It was the first time I set up a tent and enjoyed grilled cheese and tomato soup by a fire. I couldn’t remembered the last time I had that much fun. It was like relieving some missing part of my childhood. The seeds were planted on these nature walks and nights sleeping under stars. I was hooked.
By the time our lease in Miami was almost up, Jordan and I craved more.
We weren’t married to the idea of staying in Florida but we didn’t want to move too far away from our family and friends. On a whim we landed on North Carolina, where the opportunities for outdoor recreation seemed limitless and we’d still be close enough to visit home with ease. While we didn’t know a soul, the comfort of being welcomed by mountains was enough.
We loaded up our cars with my pet lizard, Harrison, in tow and caravanned to our new home. A blue apartment building with a brick fireplace was where we settled for the next two years. We had a big open field for our future dogs to run around in and we were within miles of greenways tucked within Charlotte. They became an oasis of lush life to escape to that made me feel miles and miles away from a bustling financial district.
Before even unpacking, we hiked the top of Crowder’s mountain. Despite wearing inappropriate shoes, I felt invigorated by the change of scenery. I knew we made the right move.
Jordan got a part time job at REI which had a big impact on the friend group we made and the kinds of outdoor activities we were introduced to. It’s why we were able to slowly grow our camping/hiking/climbing gear to what it is now. We were becoming properly equipped with the tools and knowledge that we were naïve to just a year prior.
As the shiny newness of our relocation started to wear off, reality began to set in. I was homesick and dealing with a toxic work environment that knocked me off my feet for a short time. The transitionary period left me unsettled. All I wanted was to adopt a dog to accompany me on adventures and help me forget about the anxieties I had swirling in my brain.
In 2014, a visit up to Linville Falls changed me. We had only been in North Carolina for a short number of months and I was still finding my footing. I can easily pinpoint the moment I met the Blue Ridge Mountains as being one of the happiest of my life. Despite my restless heart, when I stepped out of the car and started the hike I felt at complete ease. At our elevation the thick southern humidity vanished and I vividly remember the fresh crisp air that jolted me with endorphins. We followed the sound of rushing water to the most beautiful view I had ever seen. Each waterfall was more grand than the one before. The sweeping view of the Blue Ridge met us at the very top and brought me to tears. Up until that point I could only compare the backdrop to nature documentaries or stock desktop wallpaper. All my worries melted away.
Coming off the heels of euphoria, I prioritized my time in nature from that moment on.
I’ve been making up for lost time ever since. My inner child will jump at the chance to play in dirt and skips stones and dip toes in cold water. I can set up a tent solo in record time. My relationship with the outdoors is what it is today because of Linville Falls. It was the turning point where I began to view nature as more than a pretty change of scenery or a place to to get adrenaline pumping. It became medicinal. A place to lose yourself and find yourself too. In that moment seven years ago, the mountains became home.
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