One picture-perfect October afternoon, I met a group of strangers at a farm pasture in the Hickory Nut Gorge near Fairview, North Carolina. We piled into a couple of all-terrain SUVs, forded a rocky stream, and parked at a trailhead on private land. From there we trudged a mile and a half up to a mountain bald with 360-degree views of the surrounding peaks. Once we’d caught our breath, we unrolled our yoga mats, and our guru for the day led us through a blissful practice of stretches and balances. Over the course of the day, I made a new friend, learned about land easement projects of the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy (the host of the hike), and refreshed my body in a stunning setting that I couldn’t have accessed on my own.
I’m sorry to admit that the experience was an outlier for me. Like many folks here in Southern Appalachia, I’m used to doing things my own way. Independent, self-reliant, stubborn—whatever you call it, I prefer to call the shots. I plot my hikes, set my own pace, decide when and where to pull out the trail snacks. And, for better or worse, I tend to have a pretty good idea of what to expect when I head into the woods.
It’s a different story when I travel, especially in other countries. I still do my own careful research, sometimes meticulously planning each step in a new city. But when it comes to exploring wilderness in foreign places, more often than not I rely on locals to lead me. How else would I have found myself napping in a hammock, sated from a home-cooked lunch, wine, and cross-cultural companionship following a morning of kayaking through Argentina’s Tigre Delta? Or bumping along a remote dirt path in a rickety truck to discover the indigenous birds and plants of coastal Mexico?
The beauty of letting someone else plan the adventure lies in relinquishing that control—allowing for the sense of wonder that’s at the heart of why we delve into the wilderness in the first place. I had never done yoga on a mountain before that sunny fall day, but the serenity of the experience left me wondering why not.
In a similar vein, becoming a mom last fall transformed daily life into one unpredictable adventure. Like a tourist in an unknown land, I have found myself leaning heavily on the knowledge of others. Navigating the world of conflicting baby advice has taught me that the best experts provide the framework to help you figure out your own approach—and otherwise stay out of your way.
The same is true with adventure guides, whether they’re helping people maneuver woods, whitewater, or rocks. The top-notch guides featured in this issue strike that delicate balance between teaching the foundation of a sport—and helping would-be adventurers find their own paths forward.
Perhaps it’s no coincidence that all the guides we selected are female. Maybe women possess an instinct for helping others achieve their all. I’m not sure. What I do know is that women guides don’t always get the respect they deserve in the male-dominated outdoor sports industry. What’s more, our research into the region’s top guides (of any gender) kept surfacing amazing stories of women at the top of their game who also excel at inspiring others. And so, like a coach who helps you uncover a talent that’s just below the surface, we decided to shine a spotlight where it belongs.
— Katie Knorovsky, managing editor