Month: March 2021

This picture was taken a couple days after my failed attempt at a walk. My friend and I decided to sit down near the lake instead. In the more woodsy area where geese do not realm. I should note I am very afraid of geese. I do not like geese near me. They’re terrifying creatures. It was a nice, peaceful place. I found an old article in the Guilfordian from 2006 written by Davis Greene called “Sediment build-up deteriorates Guilford’s lake.” This article made me reflect on not only how the lake is now not swimmable but the meaning of it has changed. The article stated that the lake used to be a popular spot to swim and boat but those activities are now banned. As stated by someone from Guilford, it would be a liability to let students swim in the lake. The lake is pretty but I would not go inside and risk getting sick in order to have a swim. Well, I can not even swim so I wouldn’t jump into a body of water without really knowing how deep it is. I have always wanted to canoe in the lake though. That seems a little safer. Technically, you are not in the water. Even so, it’s unfortunate to have lost activities that were so fun. I recall my freshman year the most.

I think it was the happiest time at Guilford honestly. I actually went down to the lake to read all the time. I would go at least twice a week and read a book. This was when I had time to do so. Nowadays, I have been caught up in life and homework. So, I guess this blog is an excuse to be outside. It is really a change of pace from what I am used to. You could usually find me in the Bauman basement in the computer lab or my room. The only thing I really did or do, even before the coronavirus was be in my room. I always had something to do on the computer. Which is to be expected because of my major, Computer Technology Information Systems. Some of my fondest memories are at the lake. It reminds me of happier times. Water in general signifies life. Whether it’s polluted or crystal clear. It’s amazing how things grow with it. For example, algae is still growing in our lake. I know it seems annoying and destructive but it’s still a form of life. I guess you could say any type of life signifies hope in a sense. It is more sad to see nothing grow at all. Also, not to mention those mean geese again but they are still chilling at the lake. Along with some ducks. Those ducks are so much more chill even if one of them did run me off too. Yes, I have a complicated relationship with nature. I like it but it scares me. I still appreciate its beauty and gifts that it gives us.

This obviously a Fatima not in her natural habitat. I had not been to the Guilford woods in a long time. There was a small detail that I had forgotten, it’s freaking muddy! The clothes worn were not appropriate for the weather at the time. It was very uncomfortable.  It reminds me of the year we had several bad storms, I forgot what year. I went for a jog and noticed so many trees had fallen and debris. I had no clue why. Until my mom called and informed me that there was literally a hurricane that had brushed the coast and the effects were felt almost statewide. I had slept through the entire storm. I literally sleep through anything. I had to really train myself to not sleep through my alarms. Even now I still do it. Anyway, there was not much we saw that day. After heavy rainfall the past couple days it was not the best place to stroll around. It is so interesting seeing the remains of an old trail or projects that were done in the woods. The place we were walking led to a bridge that has old stepping stones in front of it. Last time I went there the bridge was broken. It has been repaired though. The other side of the bridge was still a lot muddier than where we had been walking. I have to restate the fact I was not ready for the mud that day. However, it was not all bad. Along our very short way I found a tiny thin tree still attempting to grow. 

It used other trees around it as support. It was a rather unique tree. I could not tell you what type of tree it was. So please refer to the picture above. This reminded me of the time we talked about species interaction in a class once. I can’t remember when exactly but I remember talking about competition, parasitism, commensalism and mutualism. Competition is when two or more species are battling for the energy or food source, which makes both negatively affected. Parasitism is similar but one species is at a disadvantage while the other is benefitting. Commensalism is when one species is benefitting from another but the one is unaffected. Mutualism is when both species are benefiting from the interaction. I say all this to say that even if I do not know close to nothing about nature, I know this one thing about species interaction. Whenever I study the trees or plants, this is kind of what I think about. It’s about the only thing I remember from that class. I think I mainly remember because humans were categorized as parasites in the food web. Which I could not agree more with. You have to wonder what the trees would say if they could talk. Just imagining all the stories they would tell. That’s why it’s so sad when trees are torn down. They have hundreds of years of history.

For my Fall 3-week course I took a geology course. For my final lab for the course, I decided to go into the woods and measure 100 Loblolly Pine tree trunks to find the average circumference of those 100 Loblolly Pine trees in order to be able to find the age of the top two thickest trees.

The processes basically went like this. I got a friend to come with me into the woods and to help find the trees do measurements, then I went and analyzed the data. I logged all the circumferences into a chart on MS Excel, and created categories for each of the measurements to fall into such as 1-2 feet, 2-3 feet, 3-4 feet, 4-5 feet, and 5-6 feet. That way, when I went to make a graph, it wouldn’t have 100 bars for the 100 trees I measured because they would all fall into the catagory of however large their circumference was. From there, I did more analyzing and research, because it’s usually almost impossible to get the exact age of a tree without cutting it down and counting the rings of its trunk. The forula I ended up using was circumfrnce of the trunk divided by Pi to find the diameter, then multiply the diameter by the growth factor, which happened to be 2.19 in order to estimate the overall age of the tree. I only did this for the two thickest trees I found. the tree that was 6 feet around was estibated to be around 50 years old, and the tree that was 6 feet 9 inches around was estimated to be 56.5 years old.

Then I moved on to the importance of why I was doing the experiment and research to start with, which was to show trees and forests roll in climate change, biodiversity, and to talk about the negative impacts of deforestation.

3/6/21

The Guilford Woods has had an alluring aspect to me since I first started going to college here. I didn’t go in at all until my junior year though. A place as large as the Guilford Woods would get me lost in an instant if I went in alone. But it is really a cool place to walk around in when I can manage to get a friend to tag along.

Being in there is like entering a different world. There isn’t the chatter of people that campus always seems to have, or did before the pandemic. All that can be heard are the birds and other wildlife like deer that can be found wandering around in there. It’s also often fairly muddy in there as well, probably because the tree cover doesn’t let in much sun to dry up rain from the storms. The guilford woods is a place that you can get lost in the nature of it all. You can hear the birds chip high above in the trees, smell the wet trodden on earth under your feet, feel the rough bark of the trees all around, see as sunbeams poke though the sea of tree trunks, but just don’t eat the mushrooms you find along the trails.

There is a sharp, translucent clarity on the side of the mountain. The only sounds are the immediate yet invisible sounds of insects, either bees or flies, the distant combustions of the motorcycles, and the wind, voiceless, given voice by trees. It’s almost as if the silence is its own valence, one of the fundamental forces of the mountain, working in tandem with the wind and the fragrance of the mountain laurels. This is not the dampened silence of new snow, but a silence with a bite to it. The silence of those cheap plastic crystal prism things that you get as a fourth grader from natural history museums—made all the more beautiful for all the life parading in a predetermined sweep down the mountains.

Mount Pisgah is the most prototypical mountain on the horizon of my childhood. It is present in the background frame of every memory—that massive signal tower peak visible for miles as a hazy spire. I would see it riding my bike down Clingman avenue, on the skyline past the Bowen Bridge riding the bus home from highschool for those exhilarating few highway-onramp seconds. What made the mountain more than just a recognizable backdrop was personal experience. When you can see a peak and say “I know what all this looks like from all the way up at the top” it changes the perception of the mountain and its neighbors. It stories the geography.

For years my dad and I would drive south from West Asheville past the Arboretum we used to visit for school trips, up into the Blue Ridge Parkway. As we drove through each of the eleven tunnels that had been carved through the rock decades ago our headlights would flick on and off, and I would hold my breath as we entered and keep it in my cheeks until the tunnel spat us out. My friend Raminta once told us that if you hold your breath in a tunnel all the way through with your eyes closed that a penny would fall on your head. I felt the need to test this empirically very often. 

In the Tanakh, the name Pisgah is mentioned in reference to Mount Nebo, a peak on the Abarim range in Jordan. The mountain lies east of the Jordan river and northeast of the Dead Sea, and is apparently where god showed Moses the “whole land from Gilead to Dan, all of Naphtali, the territory of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Mediterranean Sea, the Negev and the whole region from the Valley of Jericho, the City of Palms, as far as Zoar.”

Pisgah translates literally from the Hebrew as “summit,” so in all likelihood, some schmuck heard “Pisgah” and just assumed it was a proper name, adding it to the litany of mountains named “mountain” and rivers named “river.” From the summit of Pisgah — our Pisgah — you can see the promised land of Asheville, which is certainly how I felt about it as a kid. The forest opening up briefly to allow the city to poke through. The Biltmore Estate sprouting up from nothing. The parkway winding down the ridge into the city like the Jordan river into the Galilee, concrete flowing to concrete. Every time we hiked the Pisgah summit and saw our promised land, we would pass through landmarks with which we storied our environment. There were about ten of them, and we built a mythos in the milestones.

Part 1: My relationship with the woods and it’s wonderful features

The woods at Guilford have slowly become my favorite location on campus to visit. If it’s sunny and warm or even if it’s a brisk wintery day, I have found a nice long walk through the Guilford woods allows me to escape from the stress of school and of growing up and becoming an adult in today’s day in age. Through my childhood, I most enjoyed my free time in the outdoors. I always had an attraction to the natural world especially in fauna. Since I was young I have had a fascination with birds, bugs, fish, frogs, and many other wild creatures I had spent my time observing. The past few years of my life have been lack-luster when it comes to spending time with nature. Therefor, I am extremely grateful to be living in a place with a great amount of wilderness to roam freely. My first experiences with the Guilford woods were as I began to find the people I really connected with at this school. In most instances a group of us (some intoxicated, few sober) would hang out near on the edge of the woods at night, or take a short walk to the rope-swing which hung from a large tree rooted into the side of a large incline. This is where my seed of connection with these woods was first planted, before I was even aware of it. Typically, my time in the woods was spent at night, interacting with intoxicated adolescents who’s brains were much more active than that of my own. The darkness kept me from viewing all of natures beauty, and the constant rambling of rambling intoxicated teens, also held me back from all the Guilford woods had to offer. After coming back to Guilford at the start of the second semester, there became a lot more time on my own, less people to be with, things to do, and an increased drive to spend my time outdoors. Since coming back to campus, in January, I have gone on many explorations through the woods of Guilford, with and without the accompaniment of a friend.

The map below shows the woods at Guilford College:

There are roughly 240 acres of these woods, with a 0.3 mile trail that provides information related to the underground railroad. I think I could probably say I’ve laid eyes on a lot of these wood’s acreage after going on quite a few adventures in them. From the north apartments, around the lake, down massive hills, and even accidentally wandering into a few people’s backyards, the Guilford woods have a lot to offer. One of my favorite features is the small creek that flows through the property. I love creeks because of the nostalgia they bring to my soul, from all the time I spent around one during my childhood at a family friend’s cabin out in rural Hayesville, North Carolina. The water flowing though an array of beautiful river stones adds a soothing, serendipitous burble to the environment, contributing an auditory element to the experience, pleasing to the ears. The creek is also a source of water, a mandatory element for the wildlife that resides in these woods, and provides a home for many creatures, making these woods all the more exciting. Walking through un-trailed terrain in these woods have proven to have some challenges. One of these challenges is the large area of swamp that can be rather difficult to navigate. Another being a number of fallen trees, a lot of which had fallen during the recent winter storm. Although these inconveniences are apparent, I still have love and appreciation for them, as they add character to these woods.

After I got introduced to the BullHole by my friends I would go sometimes by myself. Not to get into the water or anything but just to sit back and take into account that this place that was unknown to me has became a spot where I come to get away from my responsibilities and problems. There are a lot of spots at the BullHole because it’s also a park. There are waterfalls, fishing spots, trails, etc. So it’s pretty easy to find something to do when you’re out with people.

I don’t know if anybody else chose places that started to become a safety blanket to them. Ya know? A place that they would go when they would find themselves upset or feeling any type of way. But that’s honestly how it felt for me even though I’ve gone a limited amount of times it didn’t matter I still found myself wanting to go back and even missed school to go (yeah it even got that bad)

I’m not going to show any pictures or anything but I just wanted to share the experience I have of going here when I was upset and wanted to be alone. Even willing to miss school and be punished just to be alone and not surrounded by the people that I know. I don’t regret it but I definitely could’ve did something else but the scenery and the space to just be able to think is unmatched.

I’ve been to the BullHole a couple of times since I’ve lived in Salisbury but honestly, I don’t think anything can compare to the first time that I went. All of my friends have been here way too many times to count and they just so happened to be “BullHole experts” no one reminded me that I needed to bring old shoes in case I wanted to get into the water but hey my dumb self decided to go and I know what you’re thinking obviously I should’ve remembered myself right? Well, it “slipped” my mind too. I’ll explain why I put a pun in there.

So I wanted to get in the water it was a summer day and it was hot I mean hotter than normal since North Carolina’s weather is bipolar for no reason. But anyway I started to walk towards the water and I hear my friends murmuring in the back but I didn’t want to listen honestly but something in my gut did but I ignored it. I go in the water and the slippery rocks at the bottom caused me to lose my balance and bust my a** in front of so many people and I figured I’d want to be mad for the rest of the day but come on this place is just too gorgeous not to try to enjoy the rest of my day. Take a look at what I mean.

How could anyone continue to have an attitude when they have these kinds of views in front of them?

As I pull on my toboggan, I’m sure to grab my heaviest jacket and my dirtiest shoes. I walk toward the lake, finally stretching my legs after a long day. I hear laughter float through the air and the obnoxious quacks from the Candain Geese waddling in the sand. The gravel crunches beneath my feet and snaps like the rice cereal I ate with sugar growing up. My fingers are ice cubes and I feel my toes stiffen from the cold pavement beneath them. 

The sun is barely setting as I amble down the faded asphalt. For my friends, my night walks are a huge cause of worry. I find the peace and stillness in the air calming and relaxing. The golden sun settles on my cheeks and I close my eyes to enjoy the feeling. The sound of maracas fill my ears and the crickets and cicadas create a beautiful southern cacophony. 

I never have a destination when I walk. Tonight is no different. After a long day of projects and assignments, I decide to listen to the trees as they wave to me in the soft and cold breeze. My mom and grandparents loved to remind me that nature provides a recharge after a long day. Being outdoors, in the stillness and silence is incredibly therapeutic. For the first time today, I can finally hear my own thoughts. If I listen hard enough, if I am still for long enough, I can hear the woods speak to me too. 

My sister called me yesterday to inform me that the infamous “Underground Railroad Tree” had been on the news. She asked me when I was going to show it to her. 

The Guilford College Woods are packed with history. The refugee the woods provided for years and to so many people is incredible. I never cease to be in awe. 

Years before I was born, or my parents, or anyone before them, Keyauwee, Sappony, and Shakori Indians lived and gathered on this land. Quakers used the Light to provide a safe haven as Levi Coffin lead dozens, if not hundreds of enslaved people along the Underground Railroad. 

To be on the same, undeveloped land, is a marvel to me. If I didn’t stop to appreciate the magnificent and quiet resilience, I would regret it for years to come. 

I continue down the winding trails. The flashlight beams ahead and I catch the white tails of the deer I startled. The gentle hoots of a nearby owl remind me of a Tootsie Pop and the squeals of a nearby squirrel eating its dinner, makes me smile. 

When I mention the on-campus wildlife to a non-Guilford College native, I’m always met with disbelief. The groundhogs and crows and geese and deer are the animals I see on campus. If I mentioned the ones I saw in the woods, I think they’d faint.   

One of the reasons I decided to attend Guilford College was the beautiful campus. Before I committed, I visited UNC – Chapel Hill, the major reason I decided not to go? During my tour, I didn’t see a single squirrel. Now as I look up at the trees, I see squirrels so plump and well loved, I’m not sure they can balance on the tree branches. 

Then, with that thought, I think of the community these woods sustain and do my best to not interrupt its rhythm as I trod along with my flashlight.