serenity interrupted

There's nothing more energizing than a clear fall day in the glens of the highlands and the anticipation of a hike in the woods. At trail top the crisp scent of leaves and cool tang of forest permeate my senses. As I begin, the purposeful crunch of acorn mast and fallen leaves underfoot, the occasional chirp of birds in the trees and the gentle rush of the creek flowing towards its final destination at trails' end all set the scene.

And suddenly the serenity of the journey is interrupted by the scream of heavy machinery and the sound of a jackhammer. Down the path I come across the source of the noise in the form of a four story glass windowed house-in-progress overlooking and intruding upon my idyllic moment. Rewind to three days ago when I was driving along a scenic byway towards a distant town and got held up for twenty minutes in stop-and-go traffic as I wove through once beautiful mountainsides now being decimated and flattened by tractors making way for another gated community with bizillion dollar rooms with a view.

But what about my view?

I come to the edge of the mountain looking for a place to pull off to capture the memory and I'm blocked at every turn by homes with private property signs and no room for me and large electrical wires stretching from left to right breaking the continuity of the landscape. And just two days ago I was high atop Grandfather Mountain, the highest elevation on the blue ridge, and as I take my breath, allowing the panorama to take my breath away, what do I lay eyes on but a twelve story blazing white hotel cut into the side of the mountain glaring back at me.

And so I ask this question: what will become of these trails, these natural wonders, these unspoiled magical places for all to enjoy if we keep knocking down, flattening out and building high?

The path to Glen Burney falls was downhill all the way. But in order to get back where I'd started I had to make the return journey all uphill. It was rougher than the descent, especially with twenty pounds of camera equipment slung across my back. But I had to complete the journey in order to reach the top and be able to start over again. Perhaps there is a more profound lesson to be learned in that simple thing, a lesson that must be learned before it's too late.