My Extended Experience

       Over Thanksgiving break, my family decided to take a road trip to Morehead, Kentucky - a

place I often jokingly describe as the most boring place on earth - to see my grandparents and

help them move into their new home.  We have gone there many times before, since my mom

grew up there and my grandparents utterly refused to leave, despite my mom’s prodding to get

them to move to Edmond to be closer to us, yet I have never found something that would make

me even remotely that insistent to stay.  Nestled in the hills of Rowan County, it’s a college town

that has begun to grow into a larger town because of the medical industry presence.  It is

industrialized enough to make the surrounding nature less exciting and the lack of trails

discourages that kind of activity.  Or at least this was my preconception of Morehead.

     While we were getting fed up with helping to move things from one house to the other and my grandma’s assertions that the laborious efforts of moving large heavy furniture needed to result in the absolute perfect placement among the narrow door frames and hallways, me and my little brother kept looking out the window at a hill just beyond the town, behind the park, that looked like it could be easily climbed.  We were all in need of an escape, so I asked my dad if we could check it out.  

     Five minutes later, we were parked at the base of the hill, already following a trail that I hoped would take us to the top.  There were trees everywhere you looked, and the trail was covered in their fall foliage.  As we turned a corner, we caught a glimpse of white tail deer off in the distance.  I tried to pull out my phone for a quick snapshot of the creatures, but as they heard us, they started running away, and all I managed to capture was their defining feature in a very grainy photograph.  

Deer in the distance

     Along the trail, there was evidence that this hill was used more often for commercial reasons than the recreation we had set out to do.  Drainage pipes jutted out beneath the trail, tire marks helped keep us on the trail, and chain link fencing protected some areas beyond the trees.  The crowning piece of this Morehead mountain was the cell phone tower that was built on the peak.  The irony of going into nature to get off my phone, only to find myself in the place with the best cell service amused me.  This town could not find a way to please me.

A drainage pipe on the side of the hill

Ascending to the cell tower

     However, this experience still gave me joy.  Being able to be outdoors and see wildlife was the escape I needed.  It restored my patience and allowed me to recenter myself and my emotions.  Even though the top was less than as exciting as the untouched peak I had hoped for, there were still gorgeous views.  Seeing nature like this never fails to restore my good mood, and although Edward Abbey or Thoreau would disapprove of this kind of industrialization, I found that evidence of humans and nature helped me to believe that industry and nature might be able to coexist in some form of balance.

The tallest tree

     This coexistence of nature and human development was brought back up in class when we discussed Eiseley’s writings the Wednesday after this adventure and it helped me to reflect more intentionally on what I experienced.  Despite the industrialization that is completely transforming Morehead into what could become a hospital hub for the surrounding rural towns, it is still very intertwined with the nature that has made it what it is.  Situated solely in the valley, Morehead was content with its space and existed in harmony with what was beyond its borders.  This coexistence made me pleased with what had come, and especially pleased that we chose to go on that walk.

     It is worrisome that as Morehead grows, it may try to upset the balance of nature and industry.  My experience on that hill was very pleasant, and I hope that others can have that same escape from their busy lives.  In my opinion, Morehead should leave the hills alone and embrace their unique connection with nature, otherwise I’ll have very little to look forward to when I return.