After a short week at work and some planning on my part I was set and ready to hit the trails. Throughout the week I had confirmations from fellow hikers that eventually all fell through. I decided Sunday morning I need to get out so I did.
I arrive at Mt. St. Francis at 9 am on a 17-degree morning. As crazy as you think I am, I saw 3 runners, 2 walkers, and 2 dogs already heading out on the trails ahead of me.
I hopped out of my car, threw on my jacket, hat, backpack, and gloves. I checked the map, started my Garmin watch, grabbed the camera and off I went. Like a few times before I headed down the gravel path past the water tower and on to a narrow dirt path. To the left was a field of tall grass and to the right a dense patch of forest. I proceed forward and eventually hit the trailhead of Trail 11.
As I entered the woods and started my descent down the path it was like I walked through a waterfall. I could feel the stress immediately start to go away. My breaths got deeper, my body relaxed and I felt a deep resonating joy, which I can only get from being immersed in the woods. Every breath I took filled my lungs with the cold crisp, dry air. I supposed it should have hurt, but it felt like a pure shot of adrenaline.
My mind immediately began to race as it often does in daily life. What will I write about, what shots will I get, and what will I title my post. I forced myself to stop. Stop I did. Right there in the middle of the trail. I screamed as loud as I could (internally of course). I took yet another deep breather, composed myself and reminded myself why I was here. R-E-L-A-X!
An advantage of being alone is I don’t have the sometimes mindless chatter with others, nor the need to fill that silence with conversation. I was there, along with my thoughts. Why, because I wanted to be. So I started again. This time with no expectations, but to enjoy where I was and who I was with.
I continued on and soon could see the white of a frozen creek ahead. I made my way down the path and approached the creek. As I reached the creek I saw a man and his dog approaching from the top of the hill heading my way. I said hello and then ducked into the woods lining up this shot.
Continuing on I made it to the back of the property where again I saw more frozen water, both in the creek and on waterfalls flowing into the creek. I stopped, walked around took a few shots, and sat on a log. I sat there about 10 minutes in silence just soaking up nature, and reflecting on how wonderful this place is. For those moments this was my world, my time and I felt an overwhelming calm rush over me. As a lifelong Catholic, I have been to church more times than I count but personally battle with the concept of ‘organized’ religion and the expectations that come along with it. Here and now at this moment, I was in my church. It was me and God. And that calm I felt, I know what, or who I should say, that was. I wish I could have stayed there longer.
I headed back to the trail. The frozen creek was now to my right and a dense set of woods was to my left. The trail meandered back and forth and eventually, I reached a wooden bridge. I crossed, smiling, as I recalled my last trip across this same bridge when I asked the group if anyone checked for trolls. I did not.
Another half mile or so I came to a newly built bridge in the area I have seen many times before. Today it was a little special. I saw some footprints on the ice in the creek and had to get the shot. I gingerly walked out onto the creek and took my shot as seen below. At that moment I knew the title of my post. A single set of prints from someone else who walked (or slid) alone.
Soon I was again approaching another hiker and his dog. The dog reached me first. I was greeted by a collie with a wagging tail, tongue hanging out and her heavy breathing filling the air as only seen on cold days. I bent down to pet her and was soon approached by her master. He saw my camera and remembered me from a previous hike. He chatted for a few while his dog ran around us, in and out of the woods, on and off the trail. Wishing each other a nice day we soon headed off in different directions.
I headed up a steep hill and then came across the best site of the day. A large frozen dam was straight in front of me. I took several shots from different angles and even ventured across a wooden bridge and out onto a dry spot on the dam. As a very small stream of water flowed over the dam (everything else was frozen), I heard an eerie sound emanating from right above my head. The sound was like a whale off in the distance, but I quickly realized it was the ice shifting. As I continued to shoot and then headed back to the trailhead I could still hear the echoing sounds of the shifting ice in the nearby lake.
I soon saw the water tower and new I was approaching my vehicle. Along the path was some dried dirt but in that dirt, I saw not only a set of deer tracks but right next to them a set of shoe prints. I wondered which was there first, or could magically a human have been walking their pet deer?
Robert Browning once said, “Man’s reach should exceed his grasp.” Today instead of staying in a warm house, sitting on the couch and doing nothing. I reached beyond my grasp to get out and do something uncomfortable for me (being alone). In this sense, it was beyond my reach, but now that I have done this, I will no longer be uncomfortable with hiking alone.
Until next time,
Tim
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