Summer in the Appalachian High Country

“The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love”

-William Wordsworth

I find that there is little in this world that stirs the romantic in me as much as the incoming greenery of the Appalachian summer. In winter, i feel as though the woods and mountains are a desolate wasteland, challenging me to conquer them by extraordinary means. In summer, these wildlands beckon the abundance of life. The whole ecosystem springs to life. The birds sing, the bugs buzz around me, fawn prance among the doe, bears rise from their dens and wander the forests. The woods are inviting to the creatures of the forest, yet all the more imposing to the hiker. Danger is more prevalent in the way of wildlife, heat and humidity drain me as I laboriously climb the damp slopes. Yet there is a charm to the softness of it all.

In the grasses and the trees life abounds, and the woods invite you to join the symphony of creation, not as a conductor nor as an audience, but as an instrument of minor note, playing quite an insignificant chord.

The chaos, the wild and untamed nature of the land comes to the forefront, and much like the iconic piece of Vivaldi dedicated to the season, Summer is a time of abundance and extremity. Storms thrash tents, and lightning strikes the mountain tops. Trees bend and sway in the winds, and rain floods the streams and hollers. Then all of a sudden, as quickly as it came, the tempest relents to a burning sun and a warm breeze.

I take issue with those exclusivists who only roam the mountains in the fall, when things are calm, scenic, and temperate, or in the spring when cool breeze keeps the more annoying creatures out of mind. You’re meeting the mountains on your terms, experiencing them through the lens of your own comforts, and not experiencing what difficulties they present when in the fullness of their life in summer, or the bleakness of their barren colds in winter. Get sweaty, get bit by mosquitos, run across deer and bear, hear the birds sing, get rained on, look for shelter in a wild and unexpected storm. Feel too hot or too cold, huddle close to a fire because you’d shiver without it. How thankful I am for discomfort, to give context and teach me gratuity for the comforts I do have.