we went further than ever on the warrior’s trail yesterday. the name has officially stuck – my kids like to play warrior cats using the campsites along the trail as dens. usually the walk stops there so they can play, but we opted to explore further.

the whole hike is mostly through rhododendron groves, except for a stretch of hill that lets a lot of light in. one reason i’ve gravitated towards this trail is that it didn’t sustain major damage from the hurricane. it feels like how i remember these mountains before helene. there is evidence of some damage, but not much. trees here and there are cut in a very specific way as if it had been cleaned up by humans. the path has curves carved in it to accommodate water running off rather than destroying the trail. once we were higher up, we noticed that the rhododendrons on the hill had lost soil. their roots jut out at eye level and little crevices of dirt live behind them. signs of rapid erosion. but all of the rhododendrons seemed intact. if some were lost from the hurricane, it wasn’t many, and it likely was just branches rather than the whole plant. this mirrors what i saw at my house, too: that rhododendrons hold on through the destruction better than any other tree or shrub in the forest. 

i see them as a motherly plant, simultaneously reaching to them for comfort while relating my own parenting ways. they hold strong even in extreme conditions. they’re unwavering shelter for whoever needs rest. they are evergreen, always welcoming. their branches twist and turn in impossible ways to meet the sunlight, allowing them to get their needs met in between caring for everyone else. i have one in my yard with a branch that’ll cradle you like a baby. i curl up in it when i’m overwhelmed and feeling like an orphan.

the idea of rhododendrons holding the soil together while the floods ravished the trail gave me goosebumps. strong mothers will protect at all costs. i still long to experience that kind of mothering from a human but am grateful to witness it ecologically. all of the life growing between them was still intact. animals had branches skimming the ground to grab onto. the rocks could not get through their thickets. if i could venture a guess, i think this trail feels the most like pre-helene life because of what the rhododendrons provided in times of crisis.