I didn't hear a word, but got the message.

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography

Today’s hike was a solitary one.  I knew I had some time before I got into the throws of the day.  I needed to close out my weekend for a second hike.

As I headed from my home the sun had barely begun to show the lights of the day.  On my trip to Mt. St. Francis (MSF), I passed a few churches and watched as people scurried from their vehicles, dressed so neatly to go worship GOD in a traditional, ritualistic fashion.  I was also headed out to my church.  Mine was also in God’s house, but I didn’t follow the rituals that I grew up in the Catholic Church.  I have my own time, place and method for communicating and worshiping him, and that is where I was headed.

Arriving in the parking lot of MSF I saw that today I was not alone.  There was another vehicle there but no-one on site.  Grabbed my gear from the car, locked it up and off I headed.  I quickly noticed that some fresh gravel had been poured on the initial trail leading to the large water tower in the distance.  I was thankful for the last few trips that had left my boots quite muddy.  Within moments I was leaving the new gravel and heading down a familiar trail toward the lake.  In my mind, I had planned the route and was excited to see what I would encounter today.

At the end of the trail, I came to a large field and made a left turn around the tall grass.  I began going down the hill, took a sharp right and soon enter a small patch of woods with a wooden bridge indirect site.  As I crossed the bridge and headed up some steps I felt a rush of adrenalin as only I get from hiking.  I exited the woods and headed across another field toward my most favorite spot in the whole park.  I stopped to put on gloves and switch hats as the air was cooler than I anticipated, fueled mostly by the nearby lake.

I traveled down the path, across a long wooden bridge and back into the woods on the other side of the lake.  Within minutes I was shedding the gloves and hat and absorbing the pleasant sounds of nature all around me.  I snaked down the path, weaving in and out of trees, over rocks and roots and down the hill to yet another bridge.  As I crossed the deep thud of my boots on the wooden planks that made up the bridge was very melodic.

On the other side of the bridge, I began a short yet steep ascent up a very thin path.  My labored breathing, thumping in my chest and temples reminded me that I was alive.  Almost instantly a cool breeze came down off the hill I was climbing and hit me right in the face.  The small gust of air only lasted a few seconds, but the electric feeling it gave me justification for being there today.  With a jolt of energy, I quickly completed the climb, quicker than I had ever done before, and without the feeling of fatigue, I usually had.  I made a right at the next fork and headed toward the lake again.  The woods crept secretly around me as I move deeper into them, and the shadows from the sunrise added an eeriness to my surroundings.  A small breeze was again weaving through the trees like a spirit.  The trees creaked in their joints which added to the ambiance that can only be experienced in the woods.

I made my way toward trail 3 and hoped the upcoming dam crossing would be safe.  As I started across the levee I was quickly spotted by a male and female goose.  The male immediately began barking at me in what I imagined was a warning to the female but also a show of strength.  As I drew closer and closer to them they slowly made their way to the lake’s edge and graciously glided off the bank.  The sun was behind them and I was able to capture their image in the reflection of the lake.

I gingerly crossed the dam making use of the guidewire and was off into the field I had begun in.  A neatly carved path had been created dissecting the chest-high golden blades of grass.  In the center of the field, I was surrounded by this tall grass on all sides and the faint rustling of the grass in the breeze was hypnotic.

I made my way back to the woods on the other side of the field and headed west toward the back of the property.  I could hear the gurgling of a brook in the distance and stopped for a moment to soak up what I consider nature’s anesthetic sounds. Besides the brook, there was a malefic hush that drew over the woods, and that carried over to my soul.  I was in a sense of pure narcotic peace at that moment.  I needed this today and hope that it transcends throughout the week.

I continued along the path, made it back to the end of the property and headed back toward my car.  The entire journey back I had the sun warming my face, and forcing me to squint most of the time.  I did, however, spot a tree that was completely bare except one lone leaf that was hanging on.  It survived a cold winter, heavy rains and wind at times, and yet was still there.  I took a snapshot of it and got the message God had intended for me today.  Whatever is thrown at me, I will survive.  Life is often a struggle for me, but like this leaf I will hang on, clutching those I hold dear to me.  I may swing in the breezes of chaos that surround me in this world, but know my Spring Time is coming.

I soon was back on the new gravel I began on.  My footsteps sounded like the cadence of marching soldiers in perfect synchronicity.  It reminded me of the battles I had yet to come soon of daily struggles and with life in general.  These hiatus for me are the recharge I need to get past those struggles and help me be a better more gravitating husband, father, and friend to those I know and love.

Until next time,

Tim