It is Sunday afternoon, and I have just completed three hikes over the course of three days. Two were with Mark and one was solo. I learned some things about myself, and I learned that I missed this way too much.
Friday I met Mark at Lapping Park. We spent some time hiking over 2 miles through dense wooded areas, along Silver Creek, through bamboo forests and up and down hills on the trails. We even made our own trail up a dry creek bed.
It was still early fall, but the hints of colors showed on the trees and leaves below my feet. We didn’t hike far or fast, but we enjoyed each other’s company. The hike concluded, and we both sat on a bench for 30+ minutes talking. Nothing earth shattering, but satisfying none the less.
Saturday I took the first solo hike of the season. I arrived at Mt. St. Francis early in the morning and took my usual route. I headed down the path to the lake, around the lake and up the hill. The mist coming off the lake provided me with ample photo opportunities, which I took advantage of.
As I ascended the next hill and reached the summit, I stopped to catch my breath. The air was still. I heard a squirrel in the distance running through the leaves, and I smelled the sweet smell of rotten leaves that covered the forest floor. I spoke out loud to my recently deceased friend Steve. “Are you with me, Steve? Are you seeing this? Do you see why I love this place so much?” He never answered, but I felt he was there. I did this a few times throughout my hike in hopes he would somehow hear me a join along my journey that day.
I soon headed down trail 12 slightly descending towards what I would soon see is a dry creek bed. The path below me was exposing tree roots and partially buried rocks. The ascent got steeper, and a smile crossed my face. I recently wrote a blog on a coyote attack that began and ended in this very spot. Though the story was only real in a dream I had, and the coyote was actually a wolf, the smile came from the fact that I tricked so many people and received so many comments for that story. Ironically, I reached the dry creek bed, crossed it and turned around to ensure I had had no foreshadowing based on that previous story. All was safe.
My hike was almost 4 miles, and I learned that the summer had not been good to my body. I was sore and stiff. Hills were tougher than last time, but luckily I still had the stamina to finish. The picture I took above was from the beginning of my hike.
I continued to ask Steve those questions above, and I did my best to leave as many negative thoughts and feelings out there in the woods. As always, I feel so much relief when I got back to my car. My head was clear, my anxiety low, and I had some peace.
Sunday’s hike led me to O’Bannon Woods. Mark picked me up at 8am and we headed to the park. We drove down Cold Friday Road and decided that the woods were too overgrown to hit any trails down there. We headed back up and then entered the park. Mark drove to the Ohio River, and we parked. We headed out on The Ohio River Bluff trail. The path was clear, so we proceeded down the trail. To the left we could hear an occasional boat drive by, to the right we admired the rocks and caves. Soon we reached a place that had red warning tape strung across the trail. We went under the tape and headed to the right. I had told Mark my friend Amanda always told me about an old house and barn. “I know exactly where that is, let’s go.” Soon we arrived at the house. A small dwelling with a metal roof. No windows existed, other than the framing for them. Inside, the floors were falling through, and boards were rotting. I took pictures, stuck my head inside of the different doors and windows and admired that beauty of this old run down shelter.
We continued up the path, sidestepping horse droppings, and soon reached an old barn. Again I lined up pictures, moved in and out of the structure, and admired this large wooden building before me. I captured what I could before we head back to the Jeep.
Today’s journey was only 2 miles, but again I had my dear friend Mark to talk with. There is no pressure to be someone other than me. No pressure to talk if I don’t want to, no pressure to act a certain way, or behave a certain way. It is very refreshing, and a rare thing, at least for me.
After these three hikes, my body is feeling the pain. I know things will get easier as I do this more, but the clarity of mind is so worth the pain of the hikes.
Until next time,
Tim
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