Walks

I like exploring those unchartered territories - unchartered by development anyway.  I prefer the places where even few people don’t go.  I want to be alone or close to alone.  The quiet is what sets it apart, lets me relish in the perfect creation first spoken of in Genesis, every single cell of every single organism.  People drown out the natural sounds, the chorus of bird song, the buzz of insects or the gentle whoosh sound the trees make as the wind caresses their heads and they sway in rhythm to a slow dance song only they know the choreography of.  Walk too fast and you’ll miss it.  Speak one iota and again, you’ll miss it.  How often do people walk right by, missing the details of the natural world around them?  How often do they desecrate or manipulate it for their own pleasure?  What if they chose to take a slow, observant, meaningful walk?  The walks can be anywhere, anytime, with a view of almost anything.  Would that walk increase the respect they already have for the natural environment, maybe create a new respect and admiration?  Will my reminiscence of a walk or two that I have taken induce curiosity enough for others to take a walk? 

I’m travelling down the lane of memory to some of the walks of my recent past.  On many of the walks I’ve taken, I did not know what to expect, because these were new territories, at least new to me.  The trails were worn, as they had seen many a foot before I was present.  But the day came when it was my turn.  I, then, with tennis shoes or hiking boots, took the worn path to experience whatever may lie ahead and return to tell my story. 

The first walk, well, little did I know what I was about to experience.  My husband drove us and told me a little about it, but one can only imagine, and the imagination doesn’t always align with what we eventually experience.  This was one of those times.  I don’t know that I imagined much before we arrived.  The paved path started at the edge of a paved parking lot.  It was flat and wound between the evergreen trees of the forest.  Looking ahead, all we could see was more path between more trees.

Let me pause to tell you about the trees.  They weren’t like any trees I’d seen before.  Thin and narrow, they appeared striped with dark bark on some of the trunk and stripes of bare reddish toned tree where the bark seemed to have been stripped.  Other trees had a light bark with what looked like cuts the entire length of the tree. 

As our walk progressed, the path became dirt and got rockier.  It also got hillier with drop-offs here and there.  We could hear it first, that roaring rush of water like the lion in the desert claiming its territory.  Then we rounded the corner, and there, between the trees, I saw it.  Oh, did I see it.  My eyes developed its own roaring rush of water and the tears fell.  I couldn’t control them.  The beauty, the magnificence, the grandeur of it simply brought me to tears.  I was overwhelmed with excitement, joy, so much emotion.  There it was, the rush of untamed, unhindered, glorious water in a color I had never seen in the natural environment before.  They say it’s glacier water, this teal, sort of blue green color with tinges of white from the force of travel it was making through the valley.  I stopped, stared, cried, and was left without words.  So often people want to talk.  It’s as if they fear the silence, but what is there in silence to fear? There are times where words aren’t enough or may be too much.  Silence sometimes speaks more loudly, more expressively, than words ever can.  This was one of those times.  There just were no words.  And so I stood and relished the beauty that, like a herd of wild horses thundering through the meadow, rushed by me.  I wanted to stay and bask and yet I wanted to see more.  Did it get better; what lay ahead? 

We continued to follow that crooked dirt path which followed that raging river until we reached an area that was much lower so the river was no longer below us, but beside us.  It had calmed some at this point, and we stood there on a beach of rainbow-colored pebbles looking out over this fitful water twirling and dancing in a crater surrounded by tree populated hills and rock.  Off to the side was a small fall, and in the center sat a rock, firm, unmovable bathing in the sun’s rays.  It was a moment that I did not want to give up and will not soon be forgotten. 

The second memory walk, similar to the first one I described, was new to me.  Again, I did not know what to expect, but it is one that I had the delightful pleasure, opportunity, and ability to take more than one time before once again having to bid farewell.  It was in the midst of a vast expanse of unfiltered, virtually untouched land.  There were several dirt roads, each leading to dirt lots which led to dirt paths.  One path we took started out as dirt.  Because it was through a dense forest, it, like a patch quilt, had several designs.  Some parts were dirt, others were forest floor with leaves, pine needles, and twigs, while others were logs that had been cut to form a makeshift bridge or trail.   

It led to shorter trails.  We chose a trail and continued our exploration.  As we walked, we observed an area where the beavers had been quite busy.  Fallen trees, branches and sticks piled to make a home, and water toiling around the downed trees.  We eventually learned that this trail was the best trail to explore.  It led to the most pristine, tranquil, crystal lake I’d ever seen.  Surrounded by mountains lined with trees, it was breathtaking.  On the edge of that picturesque lake was the most perfect spot to sit and take in all of the glory that appeared before us – a large rock with a flat angled surface.  We climbed over to stand on the rock and take in the splendor that stood before us like a king.  All that we could hear was the gentle clapping of the water against a rock and a bird every now and then.  I had once again, at a completely different location, found paradise.  This time there was no teal-colored rushing, roaring water; the complete opposite, but each, in their own right, a paradise. 

I wanted to sit and bask on that rock for hours, searching for moose along the shoreline, listening to the sweet clapping of the water, and watching the mountain peak beyond the lake and trees.  There I sat relishing every single peaceful second, unable to soak it in fast enough, linger in it long enough, smell it, taste it, see it, feel it enough.  How can any one individual be placed in an environment like this and not understand, not appreciate, not notice the glory that surrounds them?  How?   

I sit and wonder, if I were to visit again, would it look the same?  Would it feel the same or will it have changed, changed to suit mankind’s ideals?  How long must it take for someone to notice, to understand that nature is not to be conquered or squelched solely to meet the needs of mankind?  Don’t they understand, nature was made for mankind to live in kinship with, that we depend on nature as it depends on us.  This earth, teeming with life, was not created for destruction or hoardish behavior.  Life is sacred as is respect.  Maybe someday mankind will show more respect toward the natural environment.  Maybe they just need to take a walk to start.