El Espinazo del Diablo
The Devil’s Backbone State Natural Area is a 950 acre natural area in Lewis County TN. The trail follows Tennessee’s Highland Rim accessible from the Natchez Trace Parkway, a 400+ mile recreational road that meanders through the southern states of Mississippi, Alabama and Tennessee. It was a route first used by Native American Indians, and then as you would expect, as Europeans colonized the Amercias the route became well worn by slave traders, robbers and soldiers all in different measure, decimating the native peoples of this beautiful land.
The trail begins along a ridgeline and then descends into a valley, the path dancing back and forth across a small creek that snakes back upon itself with such frequency that it almost seems as if it is hand-drawn with oversized crayons by a imaginative grade-schooler. I guess this is where the area draws its name, from this crooked and snaking stream? The creek leads one into a hollow that is home to this totrtuous waterway and then ascends again shuttling the pilgrim back onto the ridge to finish the loop where the trail had begun.
You can find the Devil’s Backbone area located here.
During my exploration of the area I discovered that The Devil’s Backbone area represents second or maybe third growth forest, and there are very few sites in the Western Highland Rim that better represent this region’s upland vegetative flora. We decimated the area throughout history but what did I really expect to find? You can trace 10,000 years of human history in this part of the country, dark and bloodied as it appears to have been. But really I think this is the history of man anywhere and of any time.
The human virus. The only thing which we give freely and without hesitation is our pain and trauma. We give our pain to other humans. We give it to the animals that do nothing but love us. And we give it to the earth. Were we walk, we leave but nothing save hurt and suffering. And yet somehow natures survives, she remakes herself again and again and I guess will outlast us all.
It’s beautiful area, peaceful woodland landscape. For early February there are still trees garbded in golden gowns, dotting the winter’s ball dance floor. A beautiful a golden color that mimicks the coat of my furry hiking companion. The act of hiking is is a mediation of sorts, an act of mindfulness meditation for me. Parts of me wake from hibernation when I hike. Lost in long dark slumber they come alive and whisper divine truths in my ear. The quiet is comforting. Ocassionaly however, the solitude is disrupted by gunshots racing across the miles and tears through the fabric of this quietutde, I’ve hiked deep into the woods to lose myself inside and I am reminded of the Tennessee of my youth.
Tennessee is where I grew up mostly, until my college years. I never really felt at home here in Tennessesse, but to be fair to Tennessee I’ve never really felt at home anywhere, at least for very long. There have been transitory homes, fleeting feelings of connection. I think this is something I carried with me into this life. Always I’ve been searching for home, looking for where I belong, where I am seen and welcomed across the threshold.
The Beatles lyric, you and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead… on our way back home… pops into my head, and I sing the lyric aloud, my voice bringing me back to the present moment, in nature, real and immediate.