Archives for category: solo hiking

I spent my walk this morning mostly thinking about my upcoming camping trip, packing the car in my head. Take this? Take that? What about this piece of gear instead of that one? Can I carry all of this down the trail to my campsite? How many trips will it take to make that work?

… My reserved site is 1/2 mile from the parking. lol I’m 62, not as fit as I’d like to be, and I’ve got some mobility limitations that will require me to walk the trail with my cane in one hand, reducing the amount of gear I can realistically carry in any single trip down that trail reliably…

It’s like an elaborate puzzle every time I camp. New location, new site, new scenario. I noticed my face hurting as I walked with my thoughts. It hurt from smiling so hard. I look forward to the planning puzzle almost as much as I look forward to the actual camping. 😂

The cloudy cool morning reminds me to pack a cold weather layer in case of cooler than forecasted weather.

I go over my list in my head again, testing my memory for the details and trying to catch myself overlooking an important piece of gear. I laugh off items I have reliably packed in the past, and reliably never needed. As the years wear on, I am more mindful of my physical limitations and inclined to pack with greater care, and also to avoid over-packing; I don’t need to bring what I know I can’t carry.

… Knowledge is having a detailed awareness of the gear available to me. Wisdom is not taking a heavy solar powered refrigerator on a trip that requires a long walk to the campsite. 😆 …

I’m not sharing these thoughts because you need them for a camping trip. It’s more that the basic “lessons” apply to other situations that are similar in some way. There’s a metaphor buried in this casual sharing. Real life can get really real, and being prepared is helpful. Being over prepared potentially not so much, it could just be more to carry, and a waste of resources or intention. How we visualize upcoming events can be a helpful means of preparing, or an impediment that sets us up for failure by inflating our sense of capacity and ability, or by blowing our anxiety and our concerns out of proportion to the anticipated events. I try to be realistic, but also very positive and encouraging. I think of favorite anime characters overcoming great obstacles and growing stronger and seek to do so myself on a somewhat smaller (less fantastical) scale in my own life.

I grin to myself as I change my boots for soft shoes after my walk. Comfort matters, too. Reality is not what we remember, nor what we imagine; it is what it is. I laugh at myself; however skillful my planning and preparation for a camping trip is, I nearly always forget something. All this planning ideally results in whatever I end up forgetting having very little importance. 😂 That’s a great outcome! I went out once having forgotten my bee sting kit (and there were bees) and my coffee (and omg are you fucking kidding me??) and ended my trip early over it. No coffee?! No camping. Non-negotiable, I know my limits. LOL

I look out across the meadow. Nice morning. I look over my shopping list, inhale, exhale, and relax, sighing deeply. Contentment feels good. Still, the clock is ticking, and it’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee in that pleasant space between finishing the budgeting for this pay period and digging into the work of the day. There’s a cloudy sky beyond the window of the office, and the morning termperatures are cooler than they have been – of course; I’ve got a camping trip planned, so obviously the weather will turn chilly and possibly rainy. LOL

A moment of celebration, love, and delight; delicious, and worth savoring.

I smile every time I think about my birthday. What a lovely day, and in every regard thoroughly satisfying. Oh sure, more money/youthful energy/time perhaps it could have been more elaborate in some way, or involved other activities, but frankly the day’s simplicity and very high “chill factor” made for a completely delightful experience that met my needs. I feel loved and appreciated and celebrated. It’s a pleasant feeling, and I sit with the recollections, savoring them and sipping my coffee. 62, eh? So far, so good. I certainly feel more prepared to handle adult life and challenges than I did at 21. Or… 30, 40, 45, 50… I am, as they say, “a work in progress”. The profound value of incremental change over time is that it is a reliable path forward toward other (better?) things. I am more the woman I most want to be than I was in any prior year, and I keep making progress as a human being, learning and growing – and practicing.

I’ve learned some things over time, and I’ll share them (though I suspect we’ve all got to learn things our own way, and walk our own hard mile, regardless how much wisdom or knowledge may be available at our fingertips). I’ve learned that:

  • there is no rational justification for genocide, ever.
  • governments wage war because war is profitable.
  • human beings will persist in confusing anecdotes with data and can be easily mislead.
  • some people prefer to bitch about crap they could easily change rather than do the work to change it.
  • it is possible to find joy amidst chaos and tragedy.
  • change is, and although it can’t be prevented or avoided, it can be embraced and guided.
  • terrible hateful people walk among us, and they look like everyone else.
  • it’s very hard to be angry and grateful at the same time.
  • we can each choose our own path.
  • there’s always more work to do, and it is important to take breaks, and rest.
  • no one “makes it” on their own.
  • we can choose what we fill our thoughts with.
  • character and ethics matter, a lot.
  • if your only argument is name-calling or personal attacks, you have lost that argument (whether you accept that or not).
  • when “choosing sides” it is important to be clear about what the side you choose actually stands for.
  • critical thinking takes more work than most people are willing to do.
  • most of the things in life we stress out over aren’t actually worth that amount of emotional energy.
  • sometimes the “easiest” path requires the most work.
  • we become what we practice.

It’s not much. Certainly I’ve learned more, other, things – or – maybe I haven’t? Sometimes some lesson I thought I’d learned comes back to bite me because I had not truly put what I thought I learned into practice, reliably. Words are easy. Deeds…? That gets more complicated, doesn’t it? I feel my smile take a somewhat cynical twist, and sip my coffee. Life is a strange journey without a map, toward a destination we don’t necessarily choose with our eyes open (or recognize when we approach it). It’s a bit like seeing a funhouse mirror suddenly snap into a very clear focused reflection when I find myself very clear on some detail that had previously eluded me. My results often vary, and there are so many verbs involved…

The site I reserved for my upcoming camping trip, from the perspective of a moment in time 10 years ago.

It hits me in a moment what I really want out of my camping trip next week; time with my thoughts. I don’t really feel inspired to paint (yet), or even to take photographs (though I know I will). I want quiet solitary time with my thoughts, and a pen and some paper. lol Very low-tech, no fancy techniques, tools, or apps required; I want to walk trails, and watch clouds, and meditate. I want to breathe the Spring-becoming-Summer air, and take a closer look at the moss, the lichen, and the wildflowers. I want to sit quietly watching a braver than average small creature approaching me slowly with curiosity. I want to feel the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders because for a little while it will have nothing whatsoever to do with me. I want to “give my soul a rest” from the chaos of the world. I want to miss my Traveling Partner, because through missing him I discover again how deeply immersed in this love I really am. I want to unplug from the rest of the world and reconnect with my own deepest inner self. I sip my coffee and laugh to myself – seems clear enough. Now I’ve just got to do the verbs. lol

The clock ticks on. 62 now, and for the next 364 days to come. I hope I make good use of my time. I hope I live well and wisely, and love deeply. It’s time to get started on another year of living. It’s time to begin again.

I slept in this morning, still waking quite early, but not early enough to catch the sunrise. I headed down the trail inhaling the sweet Spring-Summer air deeply; it smells of flowers, and vaguely of too-sweet breakfast cereal, which seems strange but not unpleasant.

The morning of a new day.

There are multitudes of goldfinches (or, perhaps, lesser goldfinches, I’m not certain) flitting about in the taller grass that separates the edge of the manicured park space from the vineyards adjacent to it. I try several times to photograph them, but they are much too quick for me.

What life reveals is often a matter of where we put our attention.

Since I can’t get a picture of the little birds this morning, I take pictures of the thistles blooming. I’m not disappointed or dissatisfied, each are interesting in their own ways. I listen to the little birds singing and chirping. The morning chill seeps through my sweater while I enjoy a moment at the side of the trail. It is my birthday, and this is how I am choosing to begin it, with the healthy practice of a bit of walking and self-reflection. It’s a lovely morning for it.

A moment well-spent.

I don’t know what today holds. I try to remember if I have “things to do” but my mind veers away from such practical matters in favor of birthday thoughts. Presents later. Cake too. Pizza for dinner maybe? Something different? I’m relatively easy to please, birthday-wise, more than anything else I just want the day to be mine, doing things I enjoy in the company I choose, and letting all of the hard work of life wait for another moment. 😁 The things it takes to delight me are not complicated and I still have an unspoiled childlike joy about birthdays.

I smile at the sunshine. I’m glad I took the day off from work. I hear a farm truck rattle past somewhere relatively close by. I already miss my Traveling Partner, and I’d really like a cup of coffee. lol I’m reluctant to disturb the little birds who have gathered around me in nearby grass and thistles, but there’s no coffee here and I’m beginning to feel chilly. I get to my feet and look down the trail. Seems like a good beginning for a new year. I wonder what 62 will be about? It’s definitely time to begin again.

My tinnitus is loud this morning. Distracting and annoying. I get my walk started early, close to home, but the sunrise had already begun. The sky is shades of orange, pink and dusty blue, and the western hills in the distance are soft shades of blue and gray. Feels like another hot summer day ahead, maybe not as hot as the past couple of days have been. Hot enough to feel like summer, and even the cooler morning temperature hints at the afternoon heat to come.

Sunrise, a new day, a new beginning, a new opportunity to choose.

I walked with my thoughts accompanied by assorted little birds hopping and flying along. Chickadees mostly, and robins;  though I hear the songs of other birds I don’t see them. A small herd of deer bolts into the trees when they hear me approach. The lovely morning might have a certain sparkling Disney sort of vibe if it weren’t for the sound of traffic nearby, and my damned tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. Still, it’s a pretty morning, suitable for all manner of beginnings, and I’m grateful to see another sunrise.

I spot a woodpecker on the trunk of an oak tree, in that instance before he begins drumming away at that bark, either communicating or seeking a tasty morsel. He’s loud too. I laugh and startle him, he flies off to a different tree. I keep walking, until I reach my turn around point, where I stop awhile.

I sit in the early morning shade of the trees along the creek, smelling the scents of Spring flowers. The sun continues to rise on the new day. I think about doing a couple days of camping next week while I’m off, and maybe some painting. I make some room for my mixed feelings. I very much want my time to be wholly my own while I am painting, but I also experience strange pangs of separation anxiety when I contemplate it. That’s odd for me. I don’t really look forward to sleeping on the ground, getting up is more difficult every year. On the other hand, I’m yearning to sit quietly, gazing into the trees without being aware there are dishes to do, or errands to run, for endless seeming unmeasured minutes. I don’t expect to sort myself out on one morning walk. I sigh to myself and let my thoughts move on.

… G’damn my tinnitus is annoying…

Camera or pastels? Camping light, or glamping? A remote site that requires a bit of a trek to reach, or car camping with amenities? Well equipped camp kitchen and outdoor cooking, or freeze dried hiking meals that require little prep or clean up? Effort or ease? What do I really want for (and from) myself with my time? I watch the sun rise and think about it. I’ve got all the gear and most of the needed supplies whatever options I choose. It’s the choosing that is so difficult; it requires a level of frankness with myself about my current needs and limitations that feels mildly uncomfortable. I sigh quietly. There’s time to consider the options.

I get to my feet and turn to face the sun. It’s time to begin again.

There’s a heat warning in my area for today and tomorrow. Summer is here, early. The rising sun was an angry orange as I drove to the trailhead, and the sky was hues of orange and lemon yellow, fading to a watery blue-ish, gray-ish, pale sky with hints – mere suggestions – of faint green. It looks like a morning that must precede a ridiculously hot day. There was no traffic, and the drive was quiet, aside from the persistent zing and buzz of my tinnitus, which seems louder than usual.

I arrive at the trailhead’s empty parking lot and choose a spot, well away from the entrance, towards the far end of the parking lot. I’m annoyed when someone else arrives and, in spite of all those empty spaces, chooses to park directly next to me. It manages to feel like a violation of my personal space, and cluelessly rude. lol   I ignore their greeting and friendly attempt at conversation; I’m not here for that, I don’t know them, and also am not seeking any sort of company, at all. I let them leave while I put on my boots much more slowly than necessary and consider whether leaving and heading to the trailhead on the other side of the park might be preferable?

A strange mist covers the low places along the river.

From this location, I can take either of two trails; the year-round trail, or the seasonal trail. I take the one the other person didn’t take. lol It’s not the trail I showed up intending to take, but that doesn’t much matter. It’s a lovely morning for a walk, although I have the impression of already feeling the heat that has not yet come. I’m grateful for my water bottle, and cold clean potable water. By the time I reach my halfway point, I’m sweating.

… I’m eager to get home to my Traveling Partner, and have a strong sense of just not wanting to be around people much at all, generally. It’s probably just my irritation with someone parking right next to me when there’s an entire empty parking lot to choose from. Maybe it’s something else? I breathe, exhale, and relax, and try to let all of that go. It’s a pretty morning and I’ve got better things to do. I watch a variety of little birds flitting here and there. There are small swallows snatching insects from the air as they flit past. So fast. I don’t even see the insects that they’re eating. A wee yellow and brown bird stops next to me, just a few feet away and sings me a song before flying away. I stretch and yawn, aware that sitting here too long will mean walking back to the car in full sun.

I struggle to remember what my plan is for today. Do I have one? I know I’ve got one errand to run, but beyond that (and with my Traveling Partner’s encouragement) the day is mine. “It’s going to be hot, you should take it easy and do something for you.” Something that won’t heat up the house, for sure… Read? Paint? Reading sounds better… I don’t know. I’m content to just sit here listening to the morning, in the meadow.

I sigh to myself. I feel “unconvinced and uncommitted”. I laugh silently, amused and thoroughly human. It’s definitely time to begin again.