Lately, weighty problems that occupy too much of my thinking
have forced my "writerly" body away from the computer and onto a
walking trail called The Mountain Goat Trail, a hiking/biking trail that has
gained national attention. The Mountain Goat Trail at Sewanee is an ideal
walking path for those who prefer pavement to grass and want to enjoy the woods
at the same time. I walk a portion of the paved trail as often as I can and complete
a two-mile stint in the afternoons. When I first stepped onto this trail, I
thought of Robert Frost's line, "the woods are lovely, dark, and
deep," and the deeper onto the trail I walked, the deeper and lovelier the
forest became.
During the first meandering hike I just surveyed the woods
on either side of the road and didn't try to meditate on answers for the
weighty problems I carried with me. Wet tulip poplar leaves blanketed the
trail, and I almost stepped on the scat of some large animal, possibly a
horse's droppings, and, hopefully, not a bear's offerings! The woods on either
side contained oak, poplar, walnut, and red maple trees, to name a few, and
farther down the trail, I peered into a deep ravine where slippery
elms grew in
the bottomland. On a path into the ravine, someone had built a rock bridge that
crossed a small run-off ditch, and I could have crossed this bridge and
ascended a trail that led to a road on the other side of the forest. However, I
stayed on track and took the one "most traveled by," (in
contradiction to Frost's "less traveled by" line in the "Road
Not Taken"), more sure of my footing on the flat grade of a railroad bed that
had been paved over. The paved road is the result of the efforts of Ian Prunty,
a high school student who obtained a grant from the Tennessee State government
to launch the project in 1998, then raised more funds to solidify plans for the
road.
The first phase of my walk ended at Lake O'Donnell Road
where three metal posts, waist high, were imbedded in the pavement, and I lightly
tapped the top of the center post as if I had reached a "personal best"
goal. When I turned to retrace my steps, I met a woman pushing a baby carriage
in which a round-faced infant dozed placidly, unmindful of the sound of locusts
perched on tree trunks, whirring their monotonous songs. I felt poems stirring within
me and wondered if I had achieved the "high" that runners feel when
they've run long enough and far enough to energize the brain for a peak
experience.
On that first walk, I didn't realize that Sewanee and
surrounding environs were buzzing with the news that Governor Bill Haslam of
Tennessee had awarded a $600,000 grant to the non-profit organization, Mountain
Goat Alliance, to extend the rail-to-trail outdoor recreation project called Mountain
Goat Trail. This abandoned railroad right-of-way is being converted into a
multi-purpose corridor (e.g., walking, biking) between Grundy and Franklin
Counties of middle Tennessee. This week when we traveled to Monteagle, we passed
giant road machines that were creating a trail linking Monteagle and Sewanee on
a five-mile stretch of Mountain Goat Trail.
From 1856-1985 the Mountain Goat Railroad transported coal
and passengers between Palmer and Cowan, Tennessee. It carried coal from mines
of The Mountain, beginning at Sewanee and going through Tracy City, Coalmont,
Gruetli-Laager, and Palmer, and was dubbed the Mountain Goat Line because the
climb on the Cumberland Plateau was one of the steepest ascents in the world at
that time. Once mining ceased, the tracks of the Mountain Goat Railroad were
taken up.
I haven't solved any of the weighty problems I mentioned at
the beginning of this blog by walking the Mountain Goat Trail, but in the
company of wildflowers, fern, and old stands of trees, I kept thinking of the
end line to one of my poems: "Let the trees answer." So far, most of
these old friends have been mute, but they seem to approve of the fact that my
"writerly" body is becoming more fit. Twice, I've heard a lone bird
singing, waiting out a human invasion in the understory of these trees, and have
felt hopeful.
Trees inevitably "people" my poetry, and here's a
poem that mentions them in my book,
Alchemy,
published in 2011:
PRAYER WHEN
APPROACHING OLD AGE
God help me to know
you are now being
fulfilled
in the moment of my
writing.
How many dense woods
I've traveled through—
magnificent silent creations
reflecting your good
will.
When I see the leaves
fall,
brighter in color
before dying,
the blood red of
still-alive,
I realize that in
their blaze
you are being
fulfilled
in a final act of
ecstasy.
In my seventh decade,
I ponder this,
realizing that these
late years of poetry,
my own forests of good
will,
are acts of
co-creation slowly culminating,
becoming a fulfillment
measured by your
time
and guided by this
light...
evanescent among the
trees.
One of the unique groups here at Sewanee meets at Mooney's to knit yarn art. This month, the knitters added their art to an installation for the Mountain Goat Trail that was created by school and neighborhood groups — a colorful exhibit on a three-mile stretch of the Trail that featured decorated walking sticks, God's eyes, google-eyed frogs, pom-pom trees, birds, granny squares, a tree sweater, hanging shoes...totems of art for viewing by the Sewanee community that opened on April 1. The project was planned by Patrick Dean of the Mountain Goat Trail Alliance and Christi Teasley, Grundy Area Arts Council.
My friend Victoria Sullivan, fascinated with the whimsical art of the knitters and crocheters, snapped photos as she made her daily walk on the Trail and shared it with me as I seldom get out walking in the early morning. 
