Nature as My Companion

Hike #8 of 52,  Jan 4, 2018, Ostrich Peak, Rogue River National Forest, 8 miles, 2000 ft elevation gain to 4630 ft

Dark clouds are racing through the sky, the temperature is dropping and I’m hiking down from the top of Ostrich peak on a January day. Not the best time of year to get caught in a storm. Trees line the trail both sides, a forest of madrone trees, obscuring the view of the valley and making my world even darker. My boot steps on a muddy spot on the trail. I notice the 5-inch bear track in front of me in the mud. A pile of scat showing madrone berries, follows further on the trail.

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“I’m alone.” The thought is a reminder that small fear rides on my shoulder when I’m out in the wilderness. My mind infused with endorphins from 3 hours of hiking, doesn’t linger in fear. It turns to an awareness of my surroundings: the deep quiet in the trees, a sense of waiting for what is coming; the variegated trunks in beige and maroon, wearing the peeling bark as playful rosettes on a smooth young skin. These are young Pacific madrone trees (Arbutus Mensiesii), growing close together, supporting each other as their gangly limbs reach for the light. A family of trees, silently exchanging nutrients through their shared root systems, sucking the nutrient straw through the cambium up the trunks to their leaves for an exchange of carbon dioxide and oxygen. These trees need one another to make it to adulthood. Many will perish to make room for fewer and fewer adult ones. Other species will move in under the adult canopy. And so the forest changes as it gives me passage, lets me lean into its silence, as if it’s interested in my thoughts.

So I think, following the illogical gyrations of my mind. I think grateful thoughts for being able to walk, for having a body that is still strong enough. I think family thoughts, letting my children go their own way, far away; I’m an elder tree, and new species are moving into my life:neighbors, friends, changing faces. I think thoughts of loss of my daily companion many years ago, and as sadness rises in me, still, the soft quiet air envelops my body. I relax, let go, accept the changes that life brings, and think how I’m making this a positive, comforting day by being out here by myself, breathing the fresh air the trees make for me.  I’m not alone, I’m just hiking solo. Like the bears need these trees to survive, I need them too.

As I descend, the cushioned feeling of the trees’ embrace remains with me. A feeling I can recall while writing, while looking at the photograph of the trees, while thinking of the hike. I marvel over the mind’s capacity for repair, for the yoga of synapses, bending to connect memories with feelings.

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The art of living is simple: seek positive experiences and your mind will think happy thoughts, despite loss, despite the changes aging brings. This 8th hike of the 52 hikes has brought me joy and comfort.

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