I used to joke with friends while I lived in Athens, Georgia, that I was something of a North Carolina supremacist. I was referring to the hiking, of course.
The piedmont didn’t do much to excite me, and without higher elevations to escape to, I had little desire to be outside in the oppressive Georgia summers.
In June, I moved back to the Western North Carolina mountains after a two-year hiatus while I completed my master’s degree at the University of Georgia, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t the most beautiful time of the year to make my return.
Before Athens, I lived in Brevard for nearly 12 years, and during my time there, I became deeply attached to this little slice of Appalachia.
One summer afternoon before I moved to Georgia in 2024, I remember waiting for a shuttle at a take-out on the French Broad River near Horseshoe and striking up a conversation with a fellow paddler who was also waiting for his shuttle. We bonded over our shared love of the area’s mountains and streams, and he asked me how I was feeling about my move. I told him, honestly, how sad I was to be leaving.
