Thursday, December 02, 2010

concerning hiking

Well, that epic post will come sometime, but in the meantime, I've been mulling over a few thoughts.
They are by no means exemplary, but anyways, here we go.

Memories.

Have you ever heard a song, smelled a scent, or seen an image that triggers a flood of fond reminiscence and emotion?
This has happened to me many times recently; I guess I'm becoming more sentimental with old age (if such a thing is even possible. I don't think I'm supposed to EVER age. My grandparents laugh.)

When I was out running the other day, I took a route that led by a patch of fragrant ferns and evergreen trees. Their smell reminded me of happy summers in Washington. (Boy, do I ever have stories to blog about from that golden place.)

Shall I tell you one? I shall, since I feel nostalgic.
Well, one of the summers, when I was 11, I went on a backpacking trip with my Dad and Uncle Robert. It was in the Olympic National Rainforest.

Here are the trail stats:
Ecosystem Type: Montane forest, subalpine forest, subalpine meadow
General Elevation Trend: Moderate
Level of Difficulty: Moderate
Distance: 6.9 miles
Elevation Change: 500 ft. to 3200 ft.




So there you have it. 6.9 miles in and 6.9 miles out. It was long and steep. It was also beautiful. 

We backpacked.
Dad and Uncle Rob had the huge packs full of food and shelter.
I remember in my pack I carried a flashlight, bandana, water bottle, compass, a loud whistle, clothes, and a Guinness World Record book.

Just the basic essentials.
(Oh, I think there was hand sanitizer in there too. Germs are everywhere...)

It was a light bag at the head of the trail, but by the end of the hike, it was the heaviest bag I had ever carried.
I vividly remember the huge trees and ferns feeling like a fairy tale, and I was like a wood nymph. Or an ent. Or maybe an Indian (oops, Native American).

 I remember feeling like the trail would never end {especially when the grade increased} and Dad telling me it wasn't much farther (for about three miles).


After hiking interminably, we made it to the alpine meadow (excuse me. sub-alpine meadow) that was our campsite. We were the only humans for leagues. There were mountains on all sides of the site. It was beautiful.
The site were were at was called "Three Lakes".
We had brought fishing poles.
Where there's water there's fish, right? Well, these "lakes" were actually shallow ponds of crystal clear water.
No fish. 
No matter, there was a back-up plan.
We fried bacon.
Hotdogs were sauteed in the bacon grease.
That meal ranks in my top 15 of all-time.
Food is amazing when you've hiked all day. 
ESPECIALLY that hot bacony goodness.

I explored, and as it got dark, I read aloud from my world record book and drank hot chocolate.
The sky was beautiful that night, and I slept really well.
[aside from a slight fear of a bear attack. Signs were up every now and then warning about bears. We even had a bearwire for our food. I knew a few things about bears:
1)Bears like bacon.
2)Bears like hot dogs.
3)Bears like little girls.]

In the morning, we were all still very much alive. I was exuberant.

The hike back to the trailhead was not so bad.
I felt like a hobo/mountain girl when we reentered civilization. I was happy to see running water.

We stopped somewhere to eat, and I felt pity for the people who stayed in air conditioning and only saw nature on some TV special.
Poor people, you miss out on so much beauty and happiness.




Anyways, I love hiking, and plan on doing it frequently in the future. A few months ago, we hiked in the Pisgah National Forest. I ran down most of the Mt. LeConte trail. There was extreme vertigo to be had. I loved it. Strangely, I did not fall on the jagged rocks as I hurtled down the trail. (I already blogged about that experience in October...) Here's a picture from the top of the ridge:



...what is wrong with me? I'm not even 30, and I'm thinking about the good old days. 


What was it Solomon said in Ecclesiastes? 
"Do not say, 'Were the old days better than these?' 
For it is not wise to ask such questions." 

I agree wholeheartedly with his statement. I am eagerly expectant for the future.

I really think the old days are just as good as the new days. Because the new days will eventually be the old days and the new days bring the greatest days closer and closer. 

I do love scouring my memory and reflecting on happy times.

There are some memories that I do not like reflecting on. {For obvious reasons.}
But sometimes I shock myself when what used to be a emotional wound has now healed up nicely when I revisit it (okay, maybe there is still some scarring.) So, occasionally I'll check up on myself by seeing how I feel when I think about certain memories.

Like the time when my goldfish, Buggy, died. I was 9.
...no, I can't revisit that one yet. Just so you know, high-heels, softball, and fishtanks DO NOT MIX. Ever. I don't think I need to delve into that. (His death was unintentional.)


How about that time I fell flat on my face while walking?
...ouch. I have both physical and emotional scars from that one.
{Note to self: Never bring that up again. I will never recover.}

I think I need to stop revisiting memories now. Since I'm not pleasantly surprised at my emotional healing.

I will post something epic. Be ready for it. It might be a few weeks, but it will come.





Also, if you're bored, or feel like watching me be a goof, check out my youtube channel. Click on kikithenut, if you are so inclined.



2 comments:

  1. can I just point out the fact that you are AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and I think your glodfish forgives you and Loves you!!! I love you!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh and this is Shannon by the way!!! hhehe now you have 2 comments!!

    ReplyDelete

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