Archives for category: solo hiking

Happy holiday, if you’re celebrating the change of the season. The shortest day. The longest night. The arrival of Winter. This is a season of change. A season… of sorrow. I wish you well. Truly, I wish all the world well. I hope for peace.

Dawn of the shortest day, gray, chilly, and misty.

I got a walk in, down damp trails in chilly weather, feeling the chill in my bones as I walked through the mist along the marsh. Winter is here.

When I was young, and living in a very different location, I was often puzzled by the Solstice being “in the middle of” Winter, instead of at the start. It reliably felt like “mid-Winter” to me, in much the same way that the Summer Solstice felt like “mid-Summer”. Here, the climate (these days) feels more aligned to the equinoxes and solstices; each starting the change of season. The hottest days of Summer are long after the Solstice. The coldest days of Winter follow the Solstice. The Vernal Equinox is “too soon” for Spring camping. The Autumnal Equinox finds the forests still cloaked in green, with the colors of Autumn weeks away. I don’t know why that matters, perhaps it doesn’t. I’m just thinking about it.

Today I’ll mark the day with a favorite ritual; I’ll plant the seeds of the future, metaphorically and literally. I’ve some carefully selected rosehips that I’ll put into the earth along the back of the property. Maybe some will take hold? That’s the idea. I’ve got some other seeds chosen, things that would not suffer for being in the ground through the cold winter weeks ahead, and may spring to life in the earliest days of Spring, bringing the promise of new life. Hope. Growth. Change. I do this every year. It’s just a thing I do. I think back to walking country roads with my Granny, or pathways in gardens, plucking choice rosehips together, to plant here or there some other time. I do miss her greatly. I remember her teaching me all the herbs in her garden, one by one. “Crush this in your hands, Sweetie, doesn’t that smell good? How does it make you feel?” She would tell me their names, and what they might be used for. Cooking herbs. Tea herbs. Medicinal herbs. Where they came from. How to care for them.

I listen to a piece of music that “feels right” today for some reason. I try not to overthink it. It’s just been sticking with me. It seems a clear reminder not to waste the limited time we’ve got. I promise you, it is limited.

My Traveling Partner seems to be on the mend. I continue to do my best to “pick up the slack” around the house. It’s a less than perfect effort: there are a handful of dishes in the sink, and I still have not unpacked since I returned from the coast (two weeks ago??). Maybe I’ll get to that, too. Today is just one day, but much can be accomplished in a day – even the very shortest one.

I’m sitting in my car, waiting for the sunrise to illuminate the trail, preferring not to walk it in the dark. I slept poorly, completely pwnd by my nightmares. My head aches ferociously and I feel as if I am stressed to a breaking point in spite of so recently having a few days away. I find myself on the edge of tears over and over again, and awash in vague feelings of frustration. It’s shitty.

I breathe. Exhale. Regain a sense of calm. Then I lose it again. The experience is very much as if I am completely “disregulated” for some reason. My thoughts come back to this fucking headache. Going on 9 years, in January. No relief. No diagnosis that feels trustworthy or useful. I’m still here, though, that’s something. For now it has to be enough.

The beginning of a sunrise.

My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s up early. His injured condition is vexing and worrisome for both of us. Worse for him, obviously, living with it. The visit to the ER earlier this week seemed somewhat reassuring but the feeling hasn’t lasted and he’s struggling more than seems reasonable. No doubt this is weighing more heavily on my heart and mind than I was prepared for.

The sun begins to rise and the horizon is on fire with intense reds and oranges, and a hint of pink. It’s gorgeous. I sit watching it evolve over some minutes, half an eye on the trailhead. Soon the path will be light enough to walk quite safely.

I try to let the sunrise be enough. The tears start falling. I let them. I don’t really know what else to do with tears. Right now is hard. Sometimes that’s how things are. The world seems like a pretty terrible heartless place right now, which adds to the feeling of senselessness, futility, and frustration. Subjectively, I feel very alone and ineffective, powerless to prevent this mortal vessel from breaking down, powerless to help my partner, powerless to help my dearest friend. Powerless to change the world. Mortality comes for us all, and these fucking meat suits are more fragile than they seemed in younger years. Fuck.

I cry awhile, sitting here alone, watching the sun rise. Sometimes a sunrise is all we get. Sometimes it has to be enough. I sigh and wipe the tears off my face before I get out of the car to walk this favorite trail. It’s time to begin again.

It’s a rainy Monday. A new work week. I’m back home and the day-to-day routine has recommenced. I’ve got no heartache over that as I sit here after my walk, thinking thoughts and getting ready for the new work day.

A rainy day view.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking stock of sensations and emotions. I’ll head home shortly, even though my Traveling Partner hasn’t yet pinged me that he’s up. I need to start the work day.

As if on cue, he pings me, and it’s time to begin again. 🙂

It’s well into the afternoon. I’m done with work, both the day and the week. I’ve been out onto the beach, eating a picnic lunch (hounded by seagulls) and snapping pictures (at least the seagulls were willing to pose). I’m back to the room, weary and happy, and a bit chilly.

“May I join you…?”

It says something that my fully charged phone is now down to 12% battery after taking pictures of this-n-that as I walked. That’s a lot of pictures. I count 106 photos today, and 4 videos. lol It was a satisfying walk. My tracker says almost 2 miles. I’m okay with that; it’s neither a competition nor is it a race. No trophy. No accolades. Just a couple miles on my boots, and a happy smile. I’ll probably sleep well tonight.

Returning to the warmth and comfort of the hotel room, I swap shoes for slippers, and put on water for a cup of herb tea (I’ve definitely had enough coffee). I put on my headphones, thinking ahead to music or a video, but end up just listening to the enhanced quiet of noise-cancellation (and my tinnitus). I say a silent “thanks!” to my Traveling Partner, who had recommended these particular headphones – the freedom of Bluetooth, combined with comfort and enhanced quiet. I’m a fan.

I forget all about tea, music, and videos, as I flip through the pictures…

The recent storms piled up extra driftwood, and left very little beach (this was shot very near to low tide).

I sign out loud contentedly, each picture bringing back some moment, a sight, a feeling…

Across the channel, the seals gather to nap in the sunshine.

I yawn. Might not make it to that cup of tea at all. A nap is starting to sound good… and I’ve got this book to read… I smile and stretch lazily. I can do what I like. I don’t know yet what that will be. I’ve got options. I suppose I’ll give it a minute, and then… begin again. 😉

Life still happens without much regard to the planning of human beings living their limited mortal lifetimes. Like it or don’t. Plan or don’t. Circumstances will be what they are, independent of our attempts to corral them within the confines of a good plan. I say this as a woman who definitely appreciates a plan.

Before dawn at the start of a planned walk. It’s raining.

I woke early with a plan: get a walk in while my Traveling Partner sleeps, return home and complete a productive work day, hit the road headed for a couple days solo on the coast in the afternoon. Good plan and I woke excited about the day(s) ahead.

… It’s still too dark to start my walk, but it’s pretty clear that I’m likely to be still waiting for a break in the rain (and not going to get one) when daybreak comes. The rain falls steadily.

I check road conditions between here and my planned coastal destination… there is more rain and possible flooding in the forecast. For now, conditions are “fine”, although rainy, between here and there. Flooding is reported, but much further north and much further south. At least, from this early morning vantage point, I’m still on track to head to the coast to get some storm watching in, and maybe a walk on the beach…? Maybe. I intend to bring work with me, too. This is not a vacation so much as a few days of pleasant solo time while my partner works on complicated projects that benefit from focused time uninterrupted by my constant chatter, and without anyone’s feelings being hurt by lack of attention. Still, the whole thing now hinges on the weather; I can hardly drive to the coast if the roads are flooded. So, I keep an eye on the weather and the traffic cams along the route. Waiting. Wondering. Trying not to cling too tightly to my plan. Letting go of assumptions and expectations.

I sigh softly and listen to the rain fall. The sky slowly begins to lighten.

I’m already packed for my wee getaway. I contemplate other potential destinations that might meet the need in a similarly pleasant way. It’s “off season” most places in this area, but I’d be looking for quiet, which shortens the list quite quickly. The last minute planning and execution also shortens the list; it may not be the peak season for travelers and tourists, but a lot of places are full nonetheless.

The rain continues to fall, tapping on the car as if to say “excuse me, you do realize it’s raining?”. lol Yes, yes I do. Rain or no rain, plan or no plan, the day will be what it is. Soon it will be time to begin again.