Archives for category: Oregon Trails

I’m waiting, again, at a trailhead. Daybreak is here and the gate to the nature preserve will open shortly. It’s a new day.

The view from a parking space, looking towards the highway.

I breathe, exhale, relax… and listen through the ringing in my ears for the clang of the gate opening.

Yesterday, in my impatience to get going, I walked in the pre-dawn twilight just at daybreak on a very cloudy morning. I started out with my headlamp on, and needed it. I find the walking both less satisfying and also riskier at that hour, and this morning I am taking a more patient approach.

… Strangely, it’s definitely “dawn” now and the visibility is quite good, but the gate has not yet opened. Quite odd. I find myself wondering if the sensor is broken, and whether I will be waiting a long while for a park ranger to come by to open it…? Curious, I check the website, which still says the trails are open “dawn to dusk”. The gate across the driveway up to the main parking area and year-round trailhead disagrees. Most peculiar.

I sigh quietly and work on managing my frustration and disappointment. There are other trails nearby. I could choose differently and don’t have to wait… I sit with that thought awhile. What to do?

… I hear the clang. It’s time to begin again.

Later. The morning air along the edge of the marsh smelled rather like aquarium water. The migratory birds gathered in groups here and there were waking for the day and beginning to take flight. The sky lightened to shades of blue and pale gray. A soft misty rain began to fall. I walked on, smiling.

I’m waiting for the sun, or at least daybreak. Enough light to make out the trail so I can get started on my walk this morning, would be enough, actually. I woke earlier than necessary and also failed to get up and out the door without waking my Traveling Partner. Shit. Well, I did try.

I woke with a headache and feeling rather… cross? Gloomy? Pointlessly aggravated for no reason. I refuse to capitulate to my relatively crappy mood, since it fails every reality check. There’s nothing amiss and it’s a lovely morning in every respect, aside from my mood. Emotional weather. It’ll pass, like any rain shower.

… I know my mood will improve after a walk along the marsh, and down the path past the river, listening to the birds and breezes. My Traveling Partner pings me to share a video, bringing a smile to my face. I feel loved and this headache doesn’t change that.

I watch the sky begin to lighten with a sliver of dawn down low against the horizon, silhouetting Mt Hood in the distance. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s almost time to begin again.

The day began earlier than it needed to, and I am okay with it. I’m waiting for daybreak to get a walk in while my Traveling Partner sleeps. Afterwards, I will make a trip to the grocery store to stock up on things he likes (and can make pretty easily), and then do a bit of tidying up before I finally finish packing, load the car, and hit the road for a couple quiet days of (hopefully) restful downtime.

I spend a few minutes meditating. I look over my packing list for obvious omissions. I update my to-do list. I sit quietly, taking note of how my body feels, and “where my head is at”.

My tinnitus is loud today and I am in more pain than usual. I’m physically uncomfortable, but I also feel pretty good emotionally, and generally quite merry and eager to face the day. Learning to hold space for these very different experiences at the same time took a long time to learn, and longer still to recognize the value in doing so, but so worth it. Being able to acknowledge and enjoy what’s going well in spite of what’s going poorly is a way of preventing shitty experiences or feelings from wrecking my entire moment (or day). Handy, considering how often I am in pain.

I take a breath and sigh as I exhale. It’s early, but I go ahead and take something to help manage my pain. Self-care is important to my own well-being, sure, and it’s also something I can do to support my relationships; miserable people make other people miserable, too. I’m not miserable with pain yet, but I could easily become so, and that’d be a crappy way to start off on a few days solo.

I’ve packed my paint box. My camera is ready, too. I’ve put the Lord of the Rings “Return of the King” in my bag, planning to finish it. There’s very little packing left to do (my CPAP, my pillow, things I was using during the night mostly). I’m really down to doing things to maximize my Traveling Partner’s comfort and convenience while I am gone. I take a moment to sit in quiet contemplation; I am so grateful to have a partner who is comfortable with me taking a few days solo now and then, and who truly supports my emotional wellness.

I smile, thinking about how much I know I will miss my partner, even though I am choosing to be away, and really need this time. I also know I will return home eagerly and happy to see him, and to love and be loved. It’s useful perspective to miss each other now and then.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon it will be daybreak. Soon it will be time to begin again.

Some people are not at all into being alone. Solitude can be nerve-wracking for people who don’t like being alone. I’m not one of those people. Quite the contrary, some of my easiest most relaxed and comfortably contented moments are those when I am alone. I enjoy a solitary hike more than I enjoy companionship on the trail, and even the distant presence of others within view is a subtle irritant when I am most craving solitude. It’s beyond the irritation that is the sound of voices… it’s almost as if the mere presence of another human consciousness is too much for mine. It’s a little weird, because human primates are social creatures – even me. I just happen to have a strong liking for solitude, and a relatively high need for it, from a basic self-care perspective. Yes, yes, I know; it’s likely a trauma thing, but honestly that’s neither here nor there when it comes time to care for this fragile vessel in practical terms.

I’m sipping my coffee and counting down the hours; tomorrow I head to the coast for a couple days of quiet solitude. I’ll have my paints with me, my camera, and I’ll be near to a couple of favorite trails, and miles and miles of walkable beach. I’ll bring Lord of the Rings (books) – maybe I’ll finish it? I’ll sleep in (maybe) and nap (probably), and my life will not be constrained by clocks or calendars or lengthy to-do lists. It’ll just be me, being. I’m looking forward to it. Like… a lot.

…Funny… I’m also aware that I’ll miss my Traveling Partner the entire time I’m gone (which is okay, we gain a lot of perspective on how deeply we love each other when we have a chance to miss each other now and then)…

Yesterday’s unexpected almost-Spring weather of breezy sunshine and mild temperatures has given way to stormy gray clouds and intermittent rain. This does nothing to dampen my enthusiasm for tomorrow’s drive, or the coastal weekend ahead; rain or shine a view of the ocean is a marvelous change of scenery. When I go to this favorite location, I often leave the balcony door open wide to the ocean breeze and the sound of the waves crashing in for hours. If it’s chilly weather, I put on layers. I love to listen to the sound of the seashore. (Funny how different from each other the Atlantic and Pacific coasts sound. Funnier still that they both remind me of my Granny, and times we spent on the seashore together.) Being on the coast, near the seashore with a view of the ocean, really does something to replenish and recharge me. Similar-but-different to forested getaways or visits to vast plains or deserts; they each have something to offer the solitary traveler.

…I used to think I might like to take a cruise, then I really considered being crowded into a huge floating city with thousands of very human strangers and… um… no. That actually doesn’t sound pleasant at all. Too much people-ing. lol

So, yeah, the countdown to solitude has commenced in earnest… tonight I’ll pack my paints in my paint box for portability. Tomorrow… everything else, and a trip to the store for my Traveling Partner so he can also comfortably chill and enjoy some time on his own terms without having to fuss over groceries. The plan is made, and so are the reservations. 😀 It’s almost time to begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I use the time to meditate, which doesn’t use all the time I have for waiting. I sit quietly awhile, reflecting on life, generally, and looking out over the seasonal lake on the other side of the highway observing the way the clouds and water reflect distant lights. I listen to the sounds of traffic, and my ceaseless tinnitus.

I take a moment to make a packing list for my upcoming weekend trip to the coast. I decided last night to take a paint box with me, and maybe spend some time painting seascapes and coastal landscapes. Should be fun and relaxing. My packing list completed, I update my to-do list for today, too. It’s not a lot, but the meal I plan to make for dinner has some specifics that will drag my ass into the kitchen for some tidying up, and I definitely need to finish doing the dishes so the kitchen will be ready for cooking a proper meal later. I’m making a Bolognese sauce and I plan to make enough to have some left to set aside for my Traveling Partner to enjoy while I am gone.

The day feels planned. Even the next few days seem pretty well laid out. Oh, for sure my lived experience will have some variations from anything I’ve put on a fucking list; the map is not the world. Still, I feel prepared, and that’s a feeling I like.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This is a pleasant quiet moment, as I wait for the sun. The weather is unseasonably mild, and it’s not raining. I sit quietly, enjoying the moment for what it is before I begin again.