By David A. Ramsey
It is Sunday night, the 6th of October. I’m sitting at my desk in the familiar, yet now guilty comfort of my Unicoi, TN home when I hear the faint thump-thump-thump-thump of an approaching Black Hawk helicopter. As the thunderous machine draws closer, I react as I have too many times this past week—my heart beats faster, my lips tighten together and my eyes begin to well up. I swallow hard and fight, yet again, the image forming in my mind of that nearby place of utter and massive destruction toward which the craft is headed.
I hurt with a different kind of pain, which I haven’t experienced before in my now fairly long life—a life, I’m proud to say, deeply connected to these ridges and hollers and rivers, but more importantly, to my many kindred souls who have also chosen to build and live their lives among these ancient highlands.
For a quarter century I have worked daily with the hikers, fishers, guides, paddlers, horse riders, climbers, mountain bikers, hunters, foresters, conservationists, trail maintainers and many others with whom I share a deep-down passion for these mountains and the outdoor community they sustain. And tonight, I know beyond question that many from that community—having lost livelihoods, businesses, homes and loved ones—are suffering a kind of pain far deeper and more brutal than mine.
It is these same passionate people who know in their souls, as do I, the true value of the mountains—a value far greater than that of “real estate” or “resources.” It is the value found in a stunning Unaka Mountain sunset, the impossible purple of a Roan rhododendron, the autumn-cooled mist of a Rocky Fork morning or those treasured moments with fireside friends under silver-filled skies. These are but a fraction of the valued things that have centered us, given us our sacred sense of place and purpose and belonging. And amid all the loss, they are some of the things still here, waiting to help us through to a brighter mountain day.
Wendell Berry, in his famous poem, “The Wild Geese,” wrote, “And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart and in eye clear. What we need is here.” So much of what we need is still here. Collectively, we are its keeper. Certainly, it is ours.
Yes, of course, my heart is shattered for all whose lives have been so violently damaged, disrupted or even lost in the catastrophe of Helene’s impact on the Southern Mountain region. But tonight, by the soul-piercing sound of the Black Hawks passing above me, my heart, my head, my whole being is with my treasured mountain and river-loving community. You know who you are and you truly have my love and my greatest hope and prayer for your recovery, your peace and your renewal.
David Arthur Ramsey is an outdoor photographer, writer and conservationist, born and raised in the mountains of northeastern Tennessee. His outdoor writing and photography have been published locally, regionally and nationally and are most often associated with work to preserve and protect threatened lands and waters throughout the Southern Appalachian Mountains. Field and Stream Magazine and Toyota Motor Company named David the National Hero of Conservation in 2011 for his leadership in saving the 10,000-acre Rocky Fork watershed in northeastern Tennessee. His newly published book, Rocky Fork: Hidden Jewel of the Blue Ridge Wild, tells the story, through his rich photography and his first-hand account, of the more than decade-long battle to preserve this Appalachian and American treasure.