THE HIKE IN:
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It’s
a day of cloudless, blue skies. To my
left, and south, is the sun. It’s just
shy of 50 degrees today, warm enough that spiders have been out; their evidence
is left in their strands of webbing that catch sunlight as they dance in the
slight breeze. It’s a January thaw for
sure. Ahead of me, to the west, I can
hear the geese. They are no doubt floating
the river; the river I won’t be able to get to today. I’m still a half mile from its banks and have
been held back by the flooded backwaters.
I wish now that I had packed my hip boots. I wouldn’t have been denied. I had temporarily toyed with the idea of
taking off my winter boots, slipping my feet into some plastic grocery bags I
had brought along for just such an occasion, and then lace my boots back
up. I would have been able to move
through relatively shallow water without getting my feet and socks wet in the
still cold water. This present flooding
after the week’s rain and snowmelt, however, would have gone over the tops of
my boots, and I still had to cross a meandering creek before reaching the river
itself. Perhaps the next time I’m out
here I’ll haul along the extra, and necessary, gear to carry out that
endeavor. To my right, and north, a “murder”
of crows must be harassing an owl; they are raucous and carrying on like they
do when they’ve discovered a raptor and are trying to blow its cover.
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| One of The spiders Crawling Across My Journal |
Earlier
a herd of deer bounded through the water and marsh grass to the southwest. I also saw an eagle circling in the easy air currents
before drifting off behind me to the east by southeast. At my back, and east, is a silver maple. Most of the trees surrounding me are of this
species, but I also see some ironwood and have spotted a couple of
sycamores. I knew these sycamores were somewhere
nearby as they had dropped their tell-tale leaves; big and broad and just a little
smaller than a dinner plate.
Nuthatches,
chickadees, and a northern flicker provide background sounds, accompanied by
the rhythmic pecking of a hairy woodpecker and the booming from a pair of
barred owls. These are the serenading
calls of comfort and familiarity, and for that I am thankful.
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I
needed a solo outing today. I needed to
engage in a place where my soul can sing and I can immerse myself wholeheartedly. If I had an entire day of this, from early
morning until late at night, I would probably border on calling it a vision
quest. I need the refueling. All of us do from time to time to do what we
do with any amount of passion. I’d say, “With
any amount of rigor” if I dared, but I won’t.
Passion sounds better and rigor seems too much like someone else’s
ill-advised goals being enforced upon me.
Rigor tips the scales towards the side of bondage, and so I’m sticking
with passion. Passion involves the heart
and the whole person. Passion is
holistic in that way.
For
this reason I’ll simply spend a few hours here.
Sitting on a nylon lined blanket with my dog Kora, I’m on a little,
round knoll about a foot up off the level of the water. It’s just big enough for Kora, and I, and the
massive silver maple I mentioned earlier.
It’s all good company. I imagine
this knoll is the remains of a once overturned tree stump, now reduced to a slightly
raised bump in the midst of this lowland forest.
Kora’s
been staring back towards the east, along the worn deer trail we had followed
in, and that extends now under my feet.
About a half hour after first sitting down to write, two people came
fairly close behind me. I think they may
have seen Kora’s head peaking around the trunk of the tree, and backed off and
disappeared after that. On outings like
this I try hard to avoid people, so it’s fine with me. Solitude can be a good thing when one wants
to think, relax, and/or write.
Typically
I would have come out earlier today, but I first wanted to run a few miles with
a friend, and then I wanted to come out after the sun had warmed the
Earth. I’ll go out in any kind of
weather, but it’s exciting to soak up some vitamins from the sun in January. This is especially true when I want to
journal, and hold onto a pen without having to wear my big, leather mittens.
I’m
lying on my side now, with Kora beside me; it’s all about getting comfortable I
guess. Presently the breezes have
extended into a slight wind and the branches are rattling together. Sunlight shines on the waxy, earthbound leaves
surrounding my blanket. Poison ivy
shoots extend up out of the ground on either side. This would not be a place to spend much time
during any of the warmer seasons.
It’s
times like today where I wonder if I could ever do do this type of thing for a
living. Not that someone would pay me
for the solitude aspect, but the outing itself; bringing others into the great
out of doors. Perhaps it could happen as
a second job, or something to fill in the gaps in retirement. I love the planning, the preparation of the
gear, and getting others into wild surroundings. I’d still save my favorite destinations for
special, solo outings such as this. It
would be about the experience, not the specific location. Getting out into nature; sensing it,
capturing it in words or photos, and immersing oneself into what it has to
offer, is worthy of sharing. It’s worthy
of sharing with those who have similar interests, and connections, and would
appreciate both the outing and the experiences that it has to offer. It’s also worthy of sharing with those who
have no connections what-so-ever, but are willing to risk the chance to attempt
a relationship with the natural world. I
suppose it’s something to dream about.
Until then, I’ll continue to soak up today’s sun, and the sneak peak of
springlike conditions this January thaw is providing.
See
you along The Way…
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