Archives for category: solo hiking

The morning sky is a featureless homogeneous soft gray. It rained during the night, and feels like it might rain again today at some point. My walk was quiet, and I spent the time mostly in my own head. I’ve got my own opinions about world events, and I know you have yours. No doubt we each think we’re right (or at least justified) about the opinions we hold. The smarter we each actually are, the more likely we’re also aware of how wrong we could be, or sensitive to how nuanced circumstances truly are.

Being human is funny that way; we’re each having our own experience. Each walking our own path. Each of us making the journey on our own terms, except where we’ve yielded our decision making power to some Other. We’ve got our own opinions, formed and informed by our own experiences, and our own circumstances, colored by our individual pattern of biases, assumptions, and superstitions. We’ve got our own dreams, our own goals, our own disappointments and inner demons. We are individuals capable of critical thinking, when we choose to think critically (a choice which is quite separate from the ability). We create the world we live in directly through our choices and our actions. We are, as a species, uniquely creative and incredibly intelligent, while also being willfully stupid and terribly destructive. The scale of our ability to destroy is likely to be our undoing; we lack the wisdom to be cautious and to approach threats to our survival with care. A large portion of the whole of humanity is thoroughly committed to profit and personal gain even at the cost of humanity’s demise. Weird.

Oak trees in a meadow, the largest of them have been here longer than I have.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Warfare is stupid and pointlessly destructive. That’s my opinion. We could do better.

I sit with my thoughts and my opinions at the edge of this meadow, wishing human beings weren’t so completely shortsighted and criminally greedy. I sigh and try again to let that go. Fretting over things I can’t change about the decision making and opinions of other people is just about as pointless as things get. I definitely have better things to do with my time. Strange that people so eager to make war don’t seem aware that they could choose peace instead.

“Golden Opportunity” blooming on a rainy day.

I sit awhile wondering how it is we have not yet overcome the most basic flaws in our character as human primates and wonder why it is so many of us are so greedy for arbitrary representations of wealth. I hear the traffic in the distance. It’s a quiet morning, here. No bombs falling here. No drone attacks. No artillery fire. No landmines in these meadows. No trenches. No destruction. Americans tend to be some very NIMBY motherfuckers about such things; we fling our munitions at targets elsewhere in the world, and very few Americans have stared directly into the face of the God of War. To do so would force us to confront the cruelty, waste, and injustice of war, and to reckon with the body count. It is my opinion that most people who understand war and the cost in wasted resources and lost lives don’t so easily choose to inflict it on others. What do I even know about it, beyond my own experience, though? Maybe nothing.

I have seen war, up close and personal. I’d rather not go there again. Nothing is worth paying that price. Nothing. Humanity could do better. We make terrible choices.

A crow watching the tide come in.

It’s been a lovely week off. Now the weekend begins to end and the world is waiting. What next? Where does this path lead? Each moment is a blank page – what story will you write? What choices will you make? How will you (or I) make the world a better place for every creature who makes this muddy rock hurtling through space their home? We could… There are verbs involved, and our results will vary. I promise you one thing; war is not the way.

I sigh to myself. You can lead a human being to knowledge but you cannot make them think.

I get to my feet and look down the trail. Moments are fleeting. It’s a good time to begin again. I’ll do my best to live well, to embrace joy, and encourage others, and to refrain from acts of destruction. I can, if nothing else, live my values authentically and avoid violence. I may not change the world for the better in any obvious way, but I can surely avoid making shit worse.

My last “proper day of vacation” began with some sleeping in – what a delightful luxury! I dressed and slipped out of the house without waking my Traveling Partner (as far as I know). I decided, yesterday, that today I’d make the drive to the coast and head down to Fogarty Creek, which has easy access to a small private feeling beach enclosed by steep rocky hillsides. The Oregon Coast Trail passes through there.

… Stormy clouds followed me, and I figured it might rain at some point, but I drove on, unconcerned, enjoying the absence of traffic (not another car on the road going my way, at all)…

Kite flying on a stormy morning seemed like a good idea to someone.

I parked with my coffee at a favorite spot with a great view of the ocean. The tide is coming in, and in a few more minutes it’ll be high tide, according to the tide table, but not the highest high tide today. That’ll be later, shortly before sundown, and long after I’ve returned home.

The first rain drops tap the windshield gently, and then it’s just straight up raining. Last time I made Fogarty Creek my destination, it also rained (a drenching deluge blown sideways by fierce storm winds). Today I can see breaks in the storm gray clouds overhead, so perhaps the rain will pass quickly. No matter. I actually don’t care much about the weather today, I’m enjoying my time (and my coffee) anyway. I sit watching a man on the beach persisting in trying to fly his kite in spite of the rain.

The drive over to the coast was beautiful. The roadside slopes and ditches were in bloom with plentiful pink foxgloves and purple vetch, and blackberry brambles covered in clouds of pretty white flowers. The air smelled fresh and sweet. No traffic at all was a nice treat. No traffic = no stress. It was fun.

…So this is 62? So far so good…

I sip my coffee, sitting contentedly with my thoughts on a rainy morning, listening to the raindrops on the roof of the car. I’m enjoying the pleasant relaxed vibe of having nothing specific to do and nowhere I need to be. I savor the moment, because this too will pass; moments are fleeting, and a mortal lifetime is brief. It’s enough to enjoy the moment as it is. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner and hope he has a lovely day relaxing or working, whatever suits him most.

I sigh to myself as the rain slows to a few random drops. Soon enough, I’ll finish the drive. There’s no rush, and the journey is the destination. It hardly matters whether I drive further down the coast or sit contentedly right here. What matters most is simply to enjoy the moment…

…Then begin again.

Have you ever thought about how few people leave any sort of lasting mark on the world, or the lives of others in an individual mortal lifetime? Humanity’s impact on the planet, other life forms, and each other, generally, is pretty obvious (and pretty reliably negative, which is unfortunate), but as individual human beings, by far the vast majority of us will pass through these mortal lives almost unnoticed, and leave no lasting legacy of the life we lived. Maybe, if we’ve worked hard and been quite fortunate, we’ll leave something of value behind, in cash or assets, that our heirs may or may not appreciate in the way that we hoped. Most of us will live, die, and be forgotten.

… That’s a huge downer, isn’t it? My own experiences of “existential dread” most commonly center on this awareness that it’s quite likely I’ll be forgotten once I’m gone…

The closest thing we human beings have that approximates immortality is to have some sort of lasting legacy that endures beyond our limited, all too brief, human lifetime. The written works of writers, philosophers, historians, and storytellers of all sorts may survive thousands of years. The paintings, drawings, and sculptures of visual artists working in durable media may survive many lifetimes beyond the death of the artist who made them. More modern art forms have yet to prove themselves, but recorded music, and film, endures – as long as the means to view them survives. Architects design buildings and crews of builders, engineers, and tradespeople work to bring them into being – where these survive, a name may survive with them, but only one (or few) of many.

I fret about what my own legacy may be, when this brief mortal life ends. Will my art survive? Will it be known, even to some few, or lost over time due to lack of appeal or discarded as lacking value? Will my small but thoughtfully selected porcelain collection become treasured by someone else, or be sold piecemeal as part of clearing out the clutter I left behind? What about my books? My written work? The contents of my email? Will the things that were important to me have lasting importance for anyone else? Will I be remembered? If I am, what will I be remembered for? That seems like an important question, although considering the likelihood that I’ll simply be among the vast forgotten multitudes as soon as I’m gone, the seeming importance of the question may be an illusion.

A sunny summer day, an oak grove, a meadow.

I walked down the trail this morning thinking about legacy and mortality, and meaning and purpose, and wondering again “what we’re here for”. How long after I’m gone will my beloved say my name with longing and love, before his memory begins to fade? Once he’s gone, what then? Who will continue to “say my name” and cling to their memories of me?

I’m not thinking about these things in a sorrowful way, just contemplating what it takes to leave behind an enduring legacy of love and high regard? I am asking myself what I hope to be remembered for? I have come to understand that it isn’t enough simply to be remembered. Some pretty terrible human beings are remembered through history, and I have no interest in being one of those. It’s more complicated than simply being remembered, isn’t it? Hitler is remembered. Andrew Jackson is remembered. Jack the Ripper is remembered. Saddam Hussein is remembered. No doubt Trump will be remembered. These people are not remembered for anything good they did. Their legacy is of trauma and crime, and how terrible human beings can treat other human beings. Their names evoke cautionary admonishments and document terrible deeds. There are worthier things to be known for.

What do you want to be known for? Are you even doing the things that have that potential?

One hot air balloon drifting across a blue summer sky.

I walked and thought. Later I’ll have coffee with a friend, run a couple errands, get the oil changed in my car, and return home to my Traveling Partner’s love. None of that holds any particular potential to leave a lasting “legacy”. These are moments in one human life. Perhaps it is enough to simply live authentically, and to love well, and treat people with kindness and consideration?

I watch the leaves of trees quaking gently in the morning breeze, and enjoy the feeling of sunshine on my back. It’s a lovely morning, and perhaps the best possible choice is to embrace this moment, savor it, and live my life as it is? Maybe it isn’t for us to decide what our legacy could, or may, be at all? I suppose it is eventually in the hands (minds) of others, regardless what we may do to influence or guide that outcome. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I keep walking. I can wonder, but I can’t know – funny to recognize and acknowledge that with such ease. The question of “legacy” now seems potentially an obstacle. A bit of misdirection. Perhaps it is far more important simply to become the person I most want to be, living well, loving deeply, and present, here, now?

I sigh and smile. I hear the clock ticking. I keep on walking. Regardless whether I am remembered or forgotten, I am enjoying this life, and savoring the many little joys in it. Each moment is uniquely its own experience, whether anyone else remembers or not; I’m here, now, living these moments. It’s enough, isn’t it? I think about it awhile longer. Soon, I’ll begin again, grateful for the chance, and the moments.

I slept in, like, properly slept in, waking a couple hours later than I ordinarily would, feeling well rested, and ready for a new day. Being home feels good.

A familiar view from a favorite trail.

My legs ache. It’s just sore muscles, from recent days of more than usual walking. I mostly ignore it, and walk on. The blue skies of recent days have yielded to encroaching gray clouds gathering overhead. The air feels heavy with higher than typical humidity. I keep on walking, through oak groves and alongside meadows and vineyards. I pass by a creek, and lush dense weeds and wildflowers that grow along the banks, edged by trees. Farm workers in the vineyard eye me warily as I pass. I wave. They wave back. We have nothing to fear from each other. I continue walking.

It was an ordinary walk on an ordinary morning. I hope I have many such walks (and mornings) ahead of me. Gray skies or blue, the details matter less than my ability to walk on, and my freedom and opportunity to do so.

I sit quietly after my walk, on a convenient picnic table tucked among the oaks trees that line the beginning of this particular trail. It’s not remote or exotic, and lacks any sort of features that might attract crowds. It’s just a convenient local trail, well maintained, paved and mostly level, and even lit in some sections (which is nice for very early mornings before sunrise). It feels safe and familiar, and long enough to be satisfying (it’s about a mile and a half all the way around), but short enough to be quite manageable even when I’m having some difficulties. This trail is rarely crowded, which is a nice bonus.

My tinnitus is annoyingly loud in my ears. I do my best to focus on other things. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a pleasant morning and I am happy to be home. I remind myself to stop at the store on my way home, but can’t recall what I need to get. I chuckle to myself; I have an app for that. I probably rely on that too much.

I sigh contentedly, savoring this pleasant moment before I begin again. The clock is ticking on a new day. It’ll soon be time to begin again…

Where does this path lead? What will I see along the way?

I’m drinking hot coffee from a sunny vantage point in the otherwise empty day use area. I deliberately parked my black Mazda in the sunniest spot I saw. I got a short hike in, steeper than I remembered from last time, and great for warming up.

See, the thing is, it was below 40° F (around 4° C), and I woke feeling a bit cold (if nothing else, aware that the temperature had dropped notably) shortly after dawn. I got up feeling stiff, and colder still after walking to the restroom and back. I considered going back to bed, but made coffee instead.

A little bird enjoying the sunshine.

I sit with my thoughts in the sunshine. I’m warm through now, and eager to begin the day. Three things on my list today: pack up camp, get another hike in, and get safely home. Now I’m thinking noodles and a tin of smoked salmon might be a good way to “begin” the morning. My experience here has been quite rich and even profound or illuminating in spots. It’s also been nothing like I planned.

At this point, my legs ache from walking the steep winding trails, even without camping at a more distant hike-in site. My neck and back ache, more from my arthritis itself than from the drop in temperature or the rain that seems very likely. My tinnitus is loud. Ah, but I’ve taken steps to manage my pain, and later today I’ll return home.

…omg, the packing

I sigh to myself. There are now hikers on the trail visible to me. I’m not interested in conversations with strangers this morning. lol I sip my coffee and consider the packing. I’ll use the opportunity to toss out items that have exceeded their approved shelf life, and finish the trip more organized than when I began it.

…I feel like I could go back to sleep…

I’m glad I prepared for likely deviations from my original plan. The outcome ended up being just what I wanted. Now it’s time to begin again.