5 High lows (Baggs Creek Gap to Poplar Stamp Gap GA)

The low temperature at 3592 feet elevation was 61. Think about that. In February, at a high elevation in the South, the low temperature was early summer-like. High enough to be an anomalously high high. It is far less extreme relative to the climatology (it’s hard to fact check or research anything I write out here, so this is educated spsculation), but it reminds me of this past New Year’s, when across mountainous Central Europe, lows were in the 60s. 

I’m writing an article about the challenges off communicating climate change attribution (a couple of other articles will come first though). To what extent can we blame climate change for these very high lows? is the present question. it’s a hard question to answer and a harder question to explain to the general public). Two things are abundantly clear though from the statistics – more powerful but less relatable evidence compared to individual events. One, climate change is increasing average low temperatures at a faster rate than average highs. Two, climate change is making high temperature events of all sorts much more frequent. So, without any statistical analysis, we can mentally situate these aforementioned extremely warm winter lows (including tonight’s) as expressions of a larger statistical pattern – not as proof or evidence of the pattern but as specific examples of a global pattern. Hooray! We love nuance (said no one).

More weather notes

My personal reflection on this warm night: it was hard to sleep. In shirts and a t-shirt, sleeping bag unzipped, I lay in the tent, hot all night long. This is not what I expected starting the trail this early. Given the date and elevation, it felt wrong.

At camp in the monring, everyone felt like ghosts. A dense fog materialized after the wind had blown itself out, and it felt like everyone’s motions caused a swirling through the air around them. The bare trees, elegant when in golden light, felt more twisted and sinister with dark, dripping trunks that stretched into an unseen netherworld. This was, however, perfect singing weather. In between groups of people and shielded by the fog, I could imagine no one hearing me.

Generosity and relationship

Magic Mama appeared at the first road crossing. My pace quickened when I saw the van. Each time I see her, I’m so filled with gratitude. I also fee a bit like a dog, chasing after its master’s treats and just offering love in return.

A lovely group coalesced around that red Sprinter van. (pictured at top). It reflects a wonderful life principle: if you want to gather good people around you, be generous. If you are lonely or bored, give. Giving (as Robin Wall Kimmerer discusses in Braiding Sweetgrass, annother book I will need to review) creates a relationship. A whole network of relationships emerged from the way Magic Mama’s generosity gathers us all together. We continued into the fog as a group of 7, all getting to know one another better and making each other laugh.

Just Hannah, Sam, and I continued past the main campsite to a quiet gap with no one else. Rain droplets grew in size and frequency as I set up my tent, causing a visceral pain as I imagined how long it might take the fabric to dry. Mostly, things stayed dry, and the rain ended in time for us to enjoy dinner together. Sam and I philosophized long into the night. As we did so, the stars emerged and a sliver of a moon, their eternal light reminding us that we participated in an age-old conversation about meaning, death, and spirituality that has existed for as long as humans have. The moon fell lower in the sky as we talked, changing its angle through the bare tree branches and thus, the geometry of pale light it cast upon the crumpled leaves. This is a conversation I will cherish.