As an avid adventurer, I’m constantly seeking new trails to explore, craving those moments of connection with the natural and wild world. Recently, I journeyed just across the border into North Carolina, eking out the last bit of temperate hiking before the springtime weather becomes a blossom of heat and humidity.

My adventure began on a cool, overcast afternoon, with a sense of anticipation that always emerges as I set out on a new route. Surrounded by towering trees, spring blossoms, and the gentle hum of birds, I began hiking a section of the Foothills trail. Although the entire thing runs 76 miles, I did just a portion of it called Upper Whitewater Falls, a name that evokes images of churning water and pretty cascades.

As I shrugged on my day pack and headed towards the trail head, some movement up ahead caught my attention. And there they were: tiny little nuggets waddling along with a distinctive armor-like shell. Baby armadillos! My heart melted at the sight of these curious creatures, seemingly unfazed by my presence. I snapped some pictures, staying far enough away to respect their space and avoid coming into contact with the handful of diseases they carry (including leprosy). I watched for a while, completely mesmerized with their little snouts digging into the dirt to find delicious bugs to scarf down. (I learned later that adult armadillos can sniff bugs as deep as 10 inches below the surface.)

Eventually it was time to move on.

With the memory of the armadillos’ adorable antics lingering in my minds, I continued along the trail, hearing the distant roar cascading water. I quickened my pace with excitement as I followed the sound, and soon enough, I was rewarded with a wonder-filled sight.

Before me stood a magnificent waterfall, its crystal-clear waters cascading down rugged cliffs covered with vibrant greenery. It was not a straight-down flow of water, rather a complex and nuanced stream that took a variety of paths due to gravity’s pull. Even though the waterfall was quite far in the distance, I could still fully appreciate its pure magic.

Then I went down what felt like a couple hundred steps to be awarded with another few of the same waterfall. Once again, I stood in appreciation, smiling like a goofball as my eyes traced the fall of water from the cliff to the river down below.

I reluctantly tore myself away from the mesmerizing waterfall, following the trail that led me along the banks of a tranquil river. The gentle babbling of the water accompanied my footsteps, and I scouted out a good picnic spot to eat my late lunch. Some other nature-lovers had a similar idea, as there were two other parties simply enjoying the scene, laying on rocks like lizards.

I scampered off and started looking for wildflowers as the foothills of Appalachia are well-known for their mountain ephemerals.

Back on the trail, I was greeted with new sights and sounds with each bend of the path – a pair of butterflies playing across the water, a sun-dappled grove casting dancing shadows on the forest floor.

Eventually the trail crosses back into South Carolina, with no line marker to commemorate being in a new state. I realized it wasn’t really needed, however, since nature is nature, and the mountains have been here long before the Carolinas were born.

As the afternoon was winding down, I reluctantly made my way back to civilization, pushing my legs to keep a steady pace on the uphill. I was feeling grateful for the privilege of experiencing such natural beauty firsthand. My hike had been so much more than just a walk in the woods—it had been a journey of profound appreciation for the wonders of the natural world with a few surprises sprinkled in.

I end with the words of Sylvia Plath: I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees… I thought, ‘This is what it is to be happy.”