Following that thread...

Saturday morning

It had been a couple of weeks since I had made a hike. I’ve held off mostly owing to the weather (geoengineered rain) and from just having other stuff to to. I was intending to hike a trail that had gotten good reviews on the AllTrails website and had a difficulty level rated as “moderate.” It is part of the trail system at the Harbison State Forest in Columbia.

So I awoke Saturday with the intention of making that hike (about 4.4 miles). The rain had cleared out and the temperature was in the upper sixties (F), so it was a good time to do it. But I found myself facing my usual inertia, thinking of reasons I needed to put it off—things to do, didn’t “feel like it,” etc.

I knew I couldn’t give in to such defeating thoughts, however. After all, I had picked up my training walks around the neighborhood and I had just finished reading Robyn Davidson’s classic memoir of wilderness self-discovery, Tracks . I thought of a poignant observation she made in that book:

The two most important things I did learn were that you are as powerful and strong as you allow yourself to be, and that the most difficult part of any endeavor is taking the first step, making the first decision.

Yes, I’ve made a number of important “first steps” lately. Just getting out of the house to walk the neighborhood was a seminal ice-breaking for me. Then hiking the trails at the nearby State Park. Now I needed to take the next step and hike a more difficult trail in a State Forest, carrying a backpack. 

So I made myself.

It was only a short drive to Harbison and the first parking area was right off the highway. There was a good number of cars but it wasn’t overly crowded. I parked and checked my new backpack (an Angstrom 28 day-pack from North Face). It contained a small first-aid kit, a utility knife, water bottles (packed for even weight distribution), trail snacks, and my lunch. I had a few other items that are considered essential for day-hikes, including sunscreen and insect repellent, though insects weren’t a problem yet and I would be walking through mostly shaded areas. I’m slowly building my gear as I challenge myself.

The pack felt fine when I strapped it on. It was well-balanced and no problem to carry, the pack itself being lightweight. 

I also pulled up the AllTrails app on my iPhone and “checked in.” I wasn’t sure what this app would actually do. I thought it would record my hike and show statistics. So I put the phone in my pack and started my hike at the Firebreak Trail-head.

It was immediately apparent that this was a far more forested area than the Sesqui State Park. It wasn’t wilderness, I never lost the sound of the highway (though it did grow faint). The trail, though cleared, wasn’t paved. It narrowed and was often rocky and broken up with roots from the surrounding pines and pin oaks. The grade changed a good bit over terrain that was quite hilly, and that is the apparent reason for the trail’s “moderate” rating. I could feel the difference, though it never became too much for me.

I noticed right off a couple of “teepee” structures made from pine limbs that looked like someone tried to create some kind of crude shelter. Maybe it was Boy Scout projects. They didn’t look recent, nor actually like they would provide much shelter.

At numerous stretches along the trail, there were out-croppings of marble-looking granite rocks. Some of them were fairly large (about softball sized) and they roughened the trail a bit (they may have been intentionally placed with that intent). It was an interesting phenomenon and I picked up a small one as a souvenir.

The trail was blazed with white paint splotches on trees and a couple of white metal diamonds. It was a sparse blaze, but enough to verify I was staying on the right trail (nine are listed in the Trail Guide). The trail intersections were well-marked, though, and I was never confused over where I was at. 

In fact, when I stopped for lunch, I checked the AllTrails app on my phone and saw that it was displaying a map of the trail and noting my current position on it. That struck me as neat and helpful (maybe a bit scary too). 

Overall, there was much more topography on this trail than at the Sesqui Park. I felt like I was “in the woods.” About a third of the way through, I stopped at a “historic grove” of trees that was on the edge of a large hollow. At another point, I had to cross a stream (my first hiking “obstacle”!), and then I came upon a large meadow that just popped up in the middle of the woods. A bench had been placed there and I could have just sat and gazed at it all, but I kept moving.

I passed a number of people on the trail. There were a few “exercisers” who were running over the rough trail. Several people were walking dogs (all ignored the Forest rule about pets being on leashes), and a few were fellow-hikers (with walking staffs and backpacks). Most, however, were mountain bikers.

There seemed to be a lot of bikers, though I think most were accounted for by a group of Boy Scouts). I would be walking along and hear a shout behind me of “To your left!”) and I would hop to the side of the trail and soon see the biker(s) pass. Most waved, said “Good Morning,” or “There’s more coming.”

I noted in my previous journal entry that a few of the hikers I had seen were older people—older than me. They were obviously serious enough to be carrying backpacks and staffs, and I found some inspiration in that. On this hike, I was passed by a guy who struck me (from my glimpse of him) as pushing 70 years old and he was booking it on a mountain bike. I mean, he was going faster than any other biker I’ve seen, and over a rough, hilly trail! I suppose he’s been doing it for years and retains his strength and conditioning. There may be hope for me.

Overall, this was a really nice hike. I covered about 4.5 miles all together in about 2.5 hours time (including my stop for lunch; I didn’t stop to rest otherwise). The weather was temperate, and the insects few.

The sky was as blue as the geoengineers allow it to get anymore. There were no chemtrails, just the usual haze that makes the sun glarey. So I was spared the usual overhead horror.

Robyn Davidson noted that at the end of her epic trek through the Australian Outback, she had reached a point of such absorption into the desert, that she really didn’t want to return to “normal” life. I get just the faintest of glimpses of that in these hikes. Following that thread is really what I’m trying to do. It infuses my writing, which I’m also pursuing with involvement in a local writer’s group and in trying to finish my Power of the Ancients novel. I intend to keep it up.

I’ll keep you posted here.