Rediscovering Nature’s Grace

Mentone’s Moore Reflects on Lessons from her Hiking Accident

Caroline Moore doesn’t remember the fall.

She woke up in the woods, alone and dazed. Somehow, she knew she had to get home. What she didn’t know — couldn’t know in those first disoriented moments — was just how serious her injuries were. She walked for more than an hour through familiar forest, past quiet rock faces and trees she’d hiked by dozens of times before, until the roofline of her home came into view. Only then did her body release its truth: she was hurt, and badly.

“I reached up and touched my lip,” she says. “And I looked down and thought, that’s so weird … there’s blood on my hands.”

It was February 19, 2025. And it would become a date she would revisit again and again.

The Comfort – and Dangers – of the Woods

Moore is not a casual hiker. She is, by her own words, someone who lives outside. “Being outside is a very nourishing, restorative, soul-reconnecting experience,” she says. “It grounds me and helps me feel grateful for being alive.”

A teacher, owner of a shop at Moon Lake Campus, and a lifelong lover of the outdoors, Caroline has always turned to nature for grounding. Raised in Birmingham, she grew up hiking the trails at Red Mountain Park and waterfall-hopping on weekends. Her deep relationship with the outdoors followed her to Mentone, where her roots run deep; her great-great-grandfather founded the Lookout Mountain Camp for Boys almost 100 years ago.

In addition to working at Camp DeSoto during the summer, Moore is MERF’s art instructor at Valley Head School. After long days teaching, she often heads straight to the woods. “I wear my hiking boots to work,” she says, “and go straight from the classroom to the trails.”

It was on such a hike earlier this year that Moore’s life took a turn. She was exploring the wooded cliffs near her home, hiking a route she’d taken more than 20 times.

“I think because I was so familiar with these woods and because I had been hiking so much in them, I almost got numb to the danger and the risk,” she says.

It had rained the day before, and the rocks were slick. Moore was headed to a set of secluded caves — a beautiful spot she had visited many times before — when she slipped between two rocks. Her face struck the stone, and she was knocked unconscious. She doesn’t remember the impact.

Upon waking up some time later, she remained calm. Perhaps it was shock. Or perhaps, as she describes it, something larger.

“I just had a deep sense of peace about it,” she says. “Like something bigger than me carried me back. I felt protected.”

Numb and in shock, Moore hiked more than an hour back to her home. The image reflected back to her in the mirror was startling. “I was like, ‘I need stitches. This is really dangerous,’” she recalls.

She called her mother, Deedee Morrison, who was more than an hour away, then lay down, put a wet washcloth on her face, and waited. Once at the hospital, Moore received ten stitches: three in her lip, five in her eyebrow, and two under her eye. She began what would become an extended recovery from a serious concussion.

“The concussion really humbled me,” she says. “I couldn’t remember names, couldn’t remember appointments. It was scary to not know if I would come back to feeling like myself.”

Falling Forward

Moore knows she was lucky. She could have lost an eye. She could have broken bones or teeth. She could have died.

Instead, she found something unexpected in the aftermath: grace.

“I don’t think it’s really the fall that matters,” she says. “It’s the response. And mine showed me the beauty of being alive, of being supported, of not being alone.”

Her face healed faster than expected. And her spirit was nourished through the support and kindness shown to her by the community.

Weeks after the accident, Moore returned to the trail where it happened. She felt the anxiety. Then she breathed through it.

“It’s like falling off a horse,” she says. “You have to get back up. I’m not going to let fear rule my life.”

Lessons in Safety

Moore still hikes daily. With reverence. With mindfulness. With gratitude. But her mindset has shifted.

“It was a near-death experience, so it changed my life on a fundamental level,” she says. “I would hate for my experience to be something that keeps people away from nature, because that’s not the point. Nature is a beautiful thing. It is a gift to humans, and especially now in the tech age, I think finding moments of silence and stillness and just like being present with the beauty of the natural world is something that we need to encourage.”

Moore offers some practical safety tips for hikers of all experience levels:

Tell someone where you’re going, especially if hiking alone.

• Use technology wisely. Smart-watches with fall detection, or location-sharing apps like Life360, can be lifesavers.
• Wear proper footwear. Hiking boots with good grip matter, especially on wet or difficult trails.
• Pace yourself. Don’t rush. “Now I hike with a lot more mindfulness and presence,” she says.
• Avoid unfamiliar trails alone. Explore new places with a friend.
• Bring water and snacks. It’s hard to be mindful on an empty stomach.

It’s not about hiking in fear. It’s about preparing with intention and walking with awareness.

“Nature isn’t here to harm us,” Moore says. “But if you don’t respect it, you increase your risk. If you do the preparation, you can just relax and enjoy the beauty.”

Mindful Steps

Since the accident, Moore’s hikes have become even more meditative.

She slows down, tunes into her senses, and lets go of distractions. “It’s about listening to the birds, feeling the sun on your skin or the ground beneath your feet and just truly slowing down, like even your gait,” Moore says. “Instead of walking really quickly, consciously slow it down and look around you. I can honestly say, from doing that, my relationship with nature has become even more intimate because I am asking myself to be more present with the beauty that’s here.”

“Before, my hikes were like stolen time,” she adds. “Thirty minutes here or there, squeezed between responsibilities. Now I give myself more space, more grace. It’s a different world out there. And it deserves our attention.”

And if Moore has one wish for those who hear her story, it’s this: Go outside. Be with nature. Just do it safely.

“I still love going outside and experiencing nature,” Moore says. “I don’t think nature should be viewed with an abject sense of fear. It just needs to be respected and seen with reverence, as a force that is so much bigger than us.”