Chris Gallaway: Stories from the Wild and the Value of Slowing Down
Profile by Asheville Guide. Photography by Anthony Bellemare.
Henry David Thoreau once wrote, “Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” Thoreau had the privilege of believing that the wilderness could save the world. That’s not shade—just context. For him, the wilderness wasn’t merely a place; it was an idea, a retreat from the noise of industrialization and a call to moral clarity. He wasn’t concerned with zoning laws or the cost of affordable housing near protected land. He was wrestling with something bigger: how to live a life that feels true in a world steeped in artifice. It’s a question that still haunts us, and one that echoes through the work of people like Chris Gallaway. Through his storytelling, Gallaway insists on the same truth Thoreau did: that wild places matter—not just because they’re beautiful, but because they teach us who we are and how to live.
Chris Gallaway, is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker based in Black Mountain, NC, who doesn’t just live near the wilderness—he’s shaped by it. Born into a life of movement, growing up in cities like Atlanta, Nashville, and Birmingham, Gallaway says he doesn’t “really have a home to claim.” But in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where he first arrived during college while working summers as a camp counselor, he found something deeper: a calling.
Now 41, Gallaway lives with his wife, a nurse practitioner who he jokes makes him feel like an imposter, and their two young children, ages 5 and 8. Together, they’ve built a life where nature is as much a central character as it is a backdrop. For Gallaway, the outdoors is spiritual. “The outdoors touches me in a deep place,” he says. “It’s captured my imagination.” Quoting Thoreau, he adds, “In wildness is the preservation of the world.”
Gallaway’s love for the outdoors informs his work through his independent production company, Horizonline Pictures. His focus is clear: to tell stories that inspire others to take care of wild places. “When we talk about nature, we need to be specific,” he says. “It’s not just ‘nature’—it’s wild places.”
His filmmaking spans projects for summer camps, tech startups, and some of the biggest brands in the outdoor industry. But no matter the client, the message is consistent: connection to the natural world is vital, and so is the responsibility to protect it.
Gallaway is no purist when it comes to conservation. He acknowledges the inevitable pull of progress in Western North Carolina, a region increasingly sought after by people looking for a connection to the outdoors. “We live in a desirable place, and a lot of people want to be here, but there’s a limit,” he says.
For him, the goal isn’t to halt development but to pursue “responsible growth” that preserves space and minimizes impact. He points to a surprising example: wild turkeys. Once on the brink of extinction, turkeys rebounded in the mid-20th century thanks to conservation efforts led largely by hunters. “We can pursue change from a cooperative standpoint,” Gallaway says, citing this as proof that progress and conservation can coexist.
This ethos of sustainability extends to his personal life. Gallaway comes from a family with a tradition of hunting—a practice tied to the land in ways supermarket shelves can’t replicate. His young son, he shares, though suspicious of grocery store food, is open to trying foraged and hunted meals, reinforcing a sense of connection to what they consume.
Gallaway’s recent projects include collaborations with organizations like the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, Bat Conservation International, and the Southern Highlands Reserve, where he recently filmed the planting of 1,000 red spruce trees. These efforts underscoring his belief that wild spaces are not just places to visit—they are teachers.
Gallaway’s relationship with the wilderness took a transformative turn in 2013 when he hiked the Appalachian Trail. He tells me that the experience exposed his stubbornness and his instinct to measure his worth through achievement. “Everyone on the trail is trying to prove themselves, establish their worth, earn enough, or do enough,” he reflects.
It wasn’t until he slowed down that he began to truly enjoy the journey. “The wilderness is a great teacher,” he says. “It will expose things about yourself because it’s hard.” His documentary about the trail explores its cultural significance as both an escape from the rat race and a path to recalibrate values.
Whether leading group hikes in Black Balsam or documenting efforts to conserve Appalachian landscapes, Gallaway sees storytelling as a way to bridge the gap between people and wild places. “We can learn so much about ourselves and the world through the wilderness,” he says.
For Gallaway, the mountains are a guide, showing him how to live, create, and connect. “The outdoors has always captured my imagination,” he says. And through his work, he hopes to pass that gift on, inspiring others to care for the wild places that teach us what really matters.
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