These Boots Were Made for Hiking

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A map and a pair of hiking shoes changed my life.

My older sister bought me my first hiking boots when I was fresh out of college, adventurous and fortunate to have a job that gave me independence. She visited in the summer, leaving behind the flat and industrial Midwest. I bought my first map at the Pisgah Ranger Station for a couple of dollars, and so began our exploration of the Southern Appalachians.

In between her visits I wrote for a small-town newspaper. I spent my weekdays writing about and for people with deep connections to the mountains. Farming and hunting put food on the table. This was novel to me, because my family had bought our food from grocery stores. On Saturdays, I packed my lunch in my knapsack, and headed to one of the trails on the green map with friends or by myself. It was in the woods that I learned the forest turns problems into trees and boulders. 

Hiking was not without challenges. There were a couple of times my friends and I lost our way in the wilderness, but we would run into others on the trails who were more experienced at following a map, and they steered us toward the right path. While backpacking with my sister one summer, we nearly got hyperthermia during a thunderstorm. Despite the rain and wind, we quickly heated up when climbing a steep trail to the top of a mountain, but then just as quickly cooled down when the trail leveled at the top of the mountain. We put up our tent while a hummingbird hovered. We climbed into our sleeping bags, and warmth and health returned. 

The diversity of the land revealed itself. I hiked into wilderness areas, across balsam balds, and along mountain streams. I climbed boulders the size of cars. I tried fishing and caught native speckled trout. Coyotes howled while I camped. One night in a campground in Cataloochee, my sister and I saw a black bear stalking campers. The campers were comfortably reading beside their RV. Their bright lantern created a barrier to the darkness, but not to the wildlife. One summer morning, a bear—running from a dog—interrupted our breakfast of oatmeal.

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The rhythm of the mountain seasons has become familiar. The stark tangle of branches in winter adds a stillness and unimpeded views. The spring brings a daily choice of wildflowers; yellow trout lilies grow low to the ground and announce a new season. In late summer, tall Turks Cap lilies reach for the sky. The yellow and red fireworks of leaves in the fall signal the upcoming season of rest and withdrawal of both tourists and wildlife.

Through the years, I have bought countless pairs of hiking boots; more stores have opened, glad to outfit me. I added more equipment for my walks. Hiking poles make steep descents easier. Rain jackets, rain pants, and zip-off hiking pants allowed me to adapt to the fickle mountain weather. The material of the outdoor clothing changed from cotton to water-resistant and became lighter in weight. 

The internet appeared and I found the Carolina Mountain Club.  Now I don’t hike alone and don’t have to recruit friends to hike. I met my husband on the trail with the club. With my new hiking clan, we have seen turkeys, rattlesnakes, newts, and elk. We quickly learned to stand aside when mountain bike riders come down the trails. Horseback riders are rare, but add a solemn and large presence. 

My daughter was born in these mountains. She grew up hearing the roar of waterfalls and knowing the peace and beauty of the forest. We have floated down mountain streams in inner tubes and kayaks to get relief from the summer heat. We have picked wild blueberries and strawberries. We have fished for stocked trout in mountain lakes.

I have gone from living in a remote home in the mountains—where neighbors could not be seen or heard but whippoorwills and mayflies could—to living in a mountain town where squirrels and tourists are common, and I can easily walk to Main Street. 

Paths still meander toward me. It is getting more difficult to find a trail in these mountains I haven’t hiked, but the rocks and trees still transform my problems, and the friends I have made and the memories we have created have changed me. They have taken me home. 

About the author: Kathy Kyle is a writer in Hendersonville, North Carolina.

Trails With Friends

Hiking with a club has advantages. You don’t have to plan the hike, and you can share a ride to the trail and meet like-minded people. Some clubs build, repair, and blaze trails. Here is a sampling of hiking clubs in this region:

Smoky Mountain Hiking Club

  • Where: The Smokies and the mountains of East Tennessee
  • Maintenance:  Appalachian Trail within the Great Smoky Mountains National Park
  • smhclub.org

Carolina Mountain Club 

  • Where: GSMNP and Western North Carolina and South Carolina
  • Maintenance: Mountain To Sea Trail-Heintooga Road to Black Mountain Campground, Appalachian Tail (92.6 miles)
  • carolinamountainclub.org

Tennessee Eastman Hiking and Canoeing Club

  • Where: East Tennessee, Western North Carolina, and Southern Virginia
  • Maintenance: Appalachian Trail (134 miles)
  • tehcc.org/schedule

The Nantahala Hiking Club

The Pisgah Hikers

High Country Hikers

Mountain High Hikers

Asheville Hiking Meetup

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