As I’ve mentioned before, Nature is my Church. I used to hike alone, a solitary pilgrimage through my sanctuary. When Tucker entered my life, he proved to be just as spiritual as I am when it comes to our place of worship. On those final miles to every parking lot, his cries and moans and general sing-song whines indicate he can’t wait for service to begin. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s my kid and me on these ventures, but every now and again, I get to bring a guest. This Easter weekend seemed fitting that Tucker and I share our spiritual journeys with our equally spiritual friend Krystal, who drove up from Atlanta.

On Good Friday, as she made the vehicular voyage northward, Tucker and I had our private outing at Pink Beds Trail Loop in the Pisgah National Forest. We haven’t been hiking in some time, and it was evident that Tucker’s patience had grown quite thin. He barked the entire time I was in the ranger station getting maps as if I was leaving him out of some grand adventure and forgotten about him.

Once we reached our designated parking lot eight miles from the station, Tucker jumped out, eager to hit the trail.

I’m curious to know what the path will be like in summer, as now in the transition from winter into spring, it is a network of magical brambles. Each tree twisting and turning, each in their own original way.

And then there was this one: proving that sometimes simplicity can make you stand out in a crowd.

As we came to a T in the path on the edge of a stream, I accidentally stepped into an invisible butterfly garden. Their closed wings were white, so I didn’t see them until I took a step closer to the stream, and a flurry of purple-winged butterflies alighted around me in what I can only describe as a Disney Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah moment. No bluebirds, but lots of butterflies. I tried to capture the moment, but only caught Tucker’s reaction.

It was a great first outing here, and nothing makes me happier than seeing my boy so joyful at the close of our afternoon.

And then equally exhausted.

But despite his exhaustion, Tucker is always ready to welcome guests—even to a place we’ve only called home for seven days. And having our guest come along with us for another Church service was even more pleasure. Tucker even made it into Krystal’s ongoing positive picture campaign of Krystalisms while I stepped out of the vehicle to get gas:

Dupont State Forest was the destination, a place where you need to return a number of times to hit every mile of the trails they offer. We began with Hooker Falls.

Not terribly impressive, but a waterfall nonetheless. The parking lot was crowded and people aplenty. This was the opposite of our hike the day before.

Tucker was more impressed with Triple Falls.

Although after two photos, his intent was clear: Can we cut it out with the photos please? There’s a lot more trail to cover.

By the time we hit High Falls, the third on our climb up the mountain, Tucker’s focus was on the crowd, not nature.

A dog friendly hike where responsible owners brought their dogs and kept them on leashes in the busy crowd was a welcome and surprising element to this adventure. Tucker was quite polite to others, although his excitement made him pull me more than usual. Given the slippery rock surfaces, I made him use the Gentle Leader which depresses him to no end, but it definitely ceases his pulling.

Once the Gentle Leader is off, he’s all smiles again.

On the covered bridge at the top of High Falls, we made a deal that he didn’t need the Gentle Leader as long as he didn’t pull. We shook on it, and he promised to do his best, but we both acknowledge that he gets over-excited sometimes.

At the end of the day, we returned to home base to nap on the couch, where Tucker once more proved to be the gentleman host, making our guest feel welcome to cuddle up on the couch and catch a few z’s with him.

All and all, a beautiful Easter weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains. A service alone and a service with friends in this grand sanctuary gave us balance and perspective. With 47 more hikes in the book to check out, and even more online, Tucker and I have many more adventures awaiting us in the coming weekends.

We hope your long weekend was just as spiritual and satisfying whatever your beliefs are and however you chose to spend your time.

In my travels with Tucker, I have come to expect discrimination. That’s not to say I’m on the defense, but it wasn’t until I came to Asheville, North Carolina that I realized my entire body was tense in preparation to defend my boy. In places like Atlanta, Georgia and even San Francisco, California (that one was a huge surprise) I was denied access to housing and doggie daycare based on his breed and/or appearance.

So it was a complete surprise that when I started calling around for daycare in Asheville that no one cared that he was a pit bull. There were no breed restrictions. When it came to housing, they asked what kind of dog he was, but the follow up question was, “Is he social—does he like other dogs?” not “Does he look like a pit bull? Send me a picture.”

In the last seven days I’ve been here, I’ve felt like a dog owner, not a pit bull owner.
Tucker is no better nor no worse than any other breed. People like him for his goofy smile, say how handsome he is, and enjoy his silly antics. His biological breed doesn’t come into play at all. For the first time, I’m relaxed about telling people he’s a pit bull (which is usually just confirming their question of “He’s a pit bull, right?” that they ask with a smile and then request to pet him.

Given this lack of discrimination when it comes to my sixty pound, broad-chested, block-headed canine companion, I was shocked and appalled by the politicians of North Carolina who just passed a sweeping anti-discrimination bill at a special session which deliberately left out the LGBT community and barred any local jurisdictions from making more stringent anti-discrimination laws which would include them (such as Charlotte, NC had just done which seems to be the catalyst for this knee-jerk yet orchestrated reaction.) They claim it was to keep women and children safe. Maybe I’m underestimating people’s open-mindedness, but I err on the side of caution by saying I’m pretty positive that if you force a young man who identifies as a woman, dresses in women’s clothes and to the public looks exactly like a woman, to use a men’s room that violence will most likely ensue in many instances. And for the woman who identities as a man, dresses as a man, and might even be in transition, using a ladies’ room—that’s definitely going to be a cause for alarm.

Besides the bathroom angle (which let’s face it, people are strangely obsessed with as of late) the less physical but possibly more life-threatening part of the State’s legislation is that it allows people to refuse services or jobs to folks based on their sexual identities and preferences. On top of that—and this might be what they buried and hoped no one would notice—is that  no local legislation can raise the minimum wage above the State’s $7.25 per hour.

I haven’t explored North Carolina yet, so I can’t deny or confirm, but from what I’m told, Asheville is a little speck of liberalism in a sea of conservatism. When people have asked me to describe Asheville, I say it’s not quite the South, but not quite New England. In geography and in community, it is the South in evolution toward New England. In some ways, it’s even more New England than the Berkshires. I’ve seen more transients with guitars playing on the sidewalk here than in Lenox, MA and have witnessed just as bad of a tourist backup in downtown as I have on Main Street in Great Barrington, MA.

If it’s true that a society is judged by the way it treats its animals, than Asheville is amazing.  The basis of this statement is that people treat fellow humans better than animals, but in this case, 82 Senators, 32 Representatives, and 1 Governor just threw that theory out the window. My dog is not judged by the shape of his head or the color of his fur; but human beings will be judged by their personal sexual identities, and deliberately put in harm’s way both physically and financially. As of Thursday, it became more dangerous to be a transgender human than a pit bull dog in North Carolina.

Unfortunately, I can’t boycott North Carolina; I’m already here. All I can do is support those residents that have a say in their State legislation to turn this around and bring this to a higher authority. In the meantime, Tucker and I will explore the North Carolina Blue Ridge Mountains and show you what 115 politicians are forcing you to boycott in protest of their closed-minded, deliberately dangerous legislation.

Tucker and I hope they rectify this situation quickly and make North Carolina safe for everyone. This place is way too much fun to miss out on.