I got the message on Rocky Ridge Trail

Photo by: Tim Bindner

Today I returned to a familiar trail for a solo hike. Little did I know I would experience multiple emotional seasons in a 90 minute span.

I arrived and parked at the campground visitor parking lot of O’Bannon Woods State Park. I unloaded, grabbed my gear and made my way toward the trailhead of Rocky Ridge Trail. The air temperature was 30 degrees. My lungs filled with the cool air, campfire smoke and my ears were filled with the sounds of barking dogs. They were not barking at me.

I made my way past the campers and saw a few folks sitting outside, all bundled up, looking for warmth from the fire. Some acknowledged me, others did not.

I reached the trailhead and began the path. I cautiously watched my feet as the large exposed tree roots crossing the path were ever so eager to trip me up. None did. About 300 yards down the path, I felt more stable in my gait and looked up to see a couple huddled by a campfire outside their camper. She was bundled up and I could not even see her face, only eyes. He was also bundled up, but not as much. His hands held what I assumed was a hot cup of coffee as I watched the steam rise from it. He slowly raised one arm in a gesture of hello. I did the same and moved on.

Within moments, the campfire smell dissipated, the sounds of dogs barking and people talking faded with every step. The quiet hush of the forest took over. I was alone and would be for the next 90 minutes.

As I moved along the path, my mind raced. I thought of the lunch I had yesterday with a friend and the problems he was having. I thought about my job and if I would stay employed for the next 10 years. There were questions about when and if I could ever retire. In my mind, I wondered if I should share my journal with Dr. Erin next Friday. I wondered if I would break down in her office. I thought about Marcie and Gavin and how I am as a husband and father. Hundreds of thoughts and questioned filled and raced through my head. Suddenly I stopped. There was a picture that I saw. I got my camera out of my bag, raised it to my eye, framed the shot, took a deep breath and slowly depressed the shutter button on the camera. The click of the camera was what I heard. I thought of nothing at that moment. I lowered the camera, stared at the scene before me, put the lens cap back on, shoved the camera in my bag and moved on.

It was not long before the questions flooded back. I kept walking, trying to clear my mind. Finally, I stopped, and I screamed (in my head). I sat down on the rock that is pictured above. My glasses became covered in water when I dropped my head. I had been crying. My thoughts of Kota, all the things I mentioned above, had hit me so hard. I sat there shaking and trying to catch my breath. After some time, I could catch my breath when I heard a twig snap behind me. I slowly turned and locked eyes with a male deer. He was maybe 30 feet from me, and we were both frozen. A few moments passed, and he strolled away. I dried my face and eyes. Cleaned my glasses. Gathered myself and got moving again.

Feeling better. I kept going, looking for shots. Sometimes I would lift the camera to my eye, but not take a picture. It was a method to slow down my brain. It was working.

Photo by: Tim Bindner

Having hiked this trail many times, I saw something I never noticed before (at least here). There is a tree growing out of the side of a rock that caught my attention. I stopped and stared at it for a moment. I took a picture. Again, I starred at it. Then something in my head reminded me that my problems, thought trivial to some, are overwhelming to me. I got the message from this tree. It struggled to grow sideways out of a rock, of all things, yet still survived. This tree survived and I will too.

I felt better. I continued the loop, passed by the camper that waved to me. This time we both did the male ‘nod’ and we both smiled. I finished my 2.78 mile hike, but left my worries and stress in the woods (for a little while anyway).

I made my way toward the car. The warm sun hit my face and my eyes filled up with tears again. This time, it was for joy. I thanked God for giving me the strength to face my demons, for the ability to experience his creation by myself today, and asked for strength to continue on.

Until next time,

Tim (Kilmer)