I hike alone. People tell me I shouldn’t, ask me if I’m scared and wonder why I do it. Yesterday I considered these questions as I made my way along the trail. Within the first couple miles I realized I was chilly and added a layer. I was hungry and grabbed a handful of nuts. It’s ridiculous how out of touch I can be, and this is where I start.
As the miles add up, I feel the stress ease and my senses sharpen. I see contrast in colors, shapes and textures that I didn’t see at the beginning of my walk. I give in to the temptation to crawl around on the forest floor, playing with angles and ways of framing a shot. I get lost in this process. It’s like a portal of sorts, this immersion and shifting of the senses.
Eventually, I brush myself off and simply walk. The sound of the wind in the trees, the water falling and the birds’ song fill my ears. The rhythmic sound of my feet on the soft earth and my water bottle hitting my hip become hypnotic. It’s like a meditation, walking along as PART of the trail—time changes. I change.
Mile 8ish, my legs start talking to me. Soon they are screaming. I pretend they are yelling, “thank you!” They are not. With a little over 2 miles to go, I have plenty of time to remember that I don’t want to STAY in this place. I have come to gather. Gather goodness, strength and perspective. And gather I have. I am grateful for this river trail. It is all the company I need. I couldn’t do this with a companion.