I have always resonated with Mary Oliver’s poem “How I Go Into the Woods.” The lines, “when I am alone/I can become invisible./I can sit on the top of a dune/as motionless as an uprise of weeds,/until the foxes run by unconcerned./I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing./If you have ever gone to the woods with me,/I must love you very much.” describe my feelings about visiting nature so succinctly, and they specifically bring Mizell Bluff to my mind every time. I think of it as my own little wild place, and rarely do I go with someone else.
My most recent trip was no exception. I made the solo drive into Lenoir City with the windows down to help counteract the stifling humidity of the morning, hoping that the narrow 3-mile trail wouldn't be too crowded. I had no reason to worry, as there was only one other car in the parking lot when I pulled in. While that was great news for me, the implication of this is that, like wilderness areas in general, the trail is being underutilized and people aren't getting outside. I wondered why as I watched a rust-colored frog hop in front of my path: a good omen. I mean c’mon, look at that face! Why aren’t people taking advantage of opportunities to see such adorable critters?
As I continued up the trail toward the sound of gentle waves against the rock face, I saw a bird emerge from a hole in the dirt bordering the trail. Curious, I peeked inside the crevice and was not disappointed: chicks nestled in the burrowed home. My bird identification skills leave much to be desired, but based on what I found online I think these birds are most likely bank swallows, who live in burrow nests near bodies of water; a sign that I was approaching the bluffs.
The trail soon opened up to a rocky overlook of Tellico Lake. The view is just as beautiful every time I go, but on this day the beauty was marred by the excess litter accumulated in the bushes and cracks in the bluffs. The fact that the litter far outweighed the number of people actually enjoying the hiking trail made me feel a twinge of discontent– something is wrong with that picture. Luckily there are garbage cans provided at the base of the overlook, so remedying the litter issue is well within reach if visitors are willing to do better in their responsible consumption of nature and disposal of garbage.
After spending my time enjoying the bluffs, hugging trees and whispering to the breeze as Mary Oliver would have wanted, I started the hike back and was immediately intercepted by a Swallowtail butterfly, its yellow wings mirroring the filtered rays of sunlight through the foliage. My final wildlife spotting of the day was a red and black centipede, escorting me to the parking lot as it crawled along the path.
You can’t experience nature from a distance. All of my favorite moments from my trip to Mizell required me to be immersed in my surroundings, which by default helps me feel more present. I think everyone needs a place they can go that feels like that, a place that helps you reconnect. Go exploring and find your own little wild place, or share mine and take a visit to Mizell Bluff. But don’t expect me to invite you to go with me, unless I love you very much.
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