Laura Blythe speaks with a feisty mountain drawl. Her boisterous voice echoes generations of her southern Appalachia forbearers. Today, she calls her bike friends together as they reluctantly eye the snow moving across Soco Gap toward Fire Mountain in western North Carolina. Not one to sugarcoat anything, Laura encourages her comrades.

"Y’all, it’ll be OK,” she says. “We just gotta get movin’.”

The crew reluctantly pulls at zippers and cinches up sleeves, listening for a little more inspiration. Grabbing her sticker-laden Stumpjumper, Laura shouts out while leading up the trail: “It doesn’t matter how slow we are, let’s get goin’.”

Laura has only been riding for four years, but she rallies her group with the grace of a seasoned guide. Despite her newness, she has gone all in—building her skills, her community, and her sense of self. On her journey into mountain biking, Laura has learned to heal complex generational trauma, lead a community, and become a more whole person. Her secret? Follow the right path.

Laura, a mother of two teens and wife to her husband of 20 years, lives next door to where she grew up as a child. Her family’s modest house resembles most in Cherokee, North Carolina, a small rural town on the banks of the Oconaluftee River in the Qualla Boundary—the reservation of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians. Just down the street stands the massive high-rise of Harrah’s Cherokee Casino Resort. Beyond that, kitschy storefronts create a frontier façade for tourists. At the street’s end, the southern gateway to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park welcomes people to the Southeast’s gem of biodiversity. It’s an eclectic scene and, for Laura, it was a great place to be a kid.

As a child and member of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, she wandered the creeks and wrestled hard with her brothers, often winning the battles.

“She doesn’t take much gruff from anyone,” says Larry Blythe, her dad. "She’ll hold her own with her ‘get ‘er done’ attitude.'"

Laura’s childhood grit found an outlet in basketball. Through it, she learned the value of athletics, friendship, and teamwork. Life for her looked much like it did for any kid growing up in rural Appalachia. Cherokee’s history extends further than nearly every other Appalachian town.