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Each familiar turn.
I lied. Sorry about that. Right, anyway. The hike.
Last Sunday was the first time I've been out to nature since December. It's not that I'd go on long hikes miles away from paved roads in San Francisco or Pittsburgh, but because there was much more green space around - either in the mountains I could see surrounding the bay or the parks and gardens and rabbits on front lawns - I never felt the lack so deeply, or got shocked when I went back. A good shock, like a bath in cold water.
It wasn't a steep or strenuous hike; I think the most elevation gain was 200 feet. It wasn't anything partcularly remarkable; it was all very nice Northeastern woodland, but nothing out of the ordinary for that sort of thing. I deliberately didn't bring my camera so I could focus on the experience, and I had a much better time for doing so. Mile after mile of woodland doesn't make for an interesting travelogue. Like I said, it wasn't anything remarkable, but it didn't have to be. What I liked the most was that I had to pay deep attention to see what was there and be able to focus in and appreciate it. Wild irises are always unqestionably beautiful, especially bright purple ones in full sunlight by a lake with soft ripples from gentle breezes going north. Noticing how a couple of minutes of walking shifts the plant life radically from omnipresent ferns to tall scraggly bushes takes a little more effort. The trail dipped and rose on the hills and mountains and it wasn't a whole lot and still more than enough for huge changes. You had to see the forest and the trees at the same time.
We went through woods and forest and small bits of marsh, and I even got some rock-hopping in. It's not something I get to do often - look out at a field of rocks of various shapes and sizes and hop and jump from one to another until I'm all the way across. There's no abstract thinking involved; it focuses on the concrete possibilities, and it lets me narrow my focus to the movement of my body in space. It also works for crossing rivers and streams, which we did a couple of times. There were old railroad beds where grass had grown up and made them soft, without growing up enough to hide what it'd been a long time ago. There was some workaday stonework here and there, and some elaborate stonework elevated for people to have a comfortable path across a small gulch. There were three ponds, and more than enough wildlife.
It was a pretty good day for biodiversity. I'd never seen a kingfisher in the wild before, or expected to spot fish so close to the shore, or thought I'd spot a pitcher plant or get lucky enough to see a snail, four snakes, and a frog in the same afternoon. There were plenty of northern millipedes, more water striders than I could count, and mammals were represented by chipmunks. Also lots of interesting fungi, plus a pitcher plant I managed to spot by looking in the right spot just as I walked by.
We lost the trail for a while and had to trek through marshland for a few minutes, which was more fun than it ought to have been. Once we got back on, the last leg of the journey was on the Appalachian Trail - not a strenuous part by any stretch, even though we were all tired and thirsty. It was still the Appalachian Trail, and I walked part of it, and I can see why people want to do the whole thing.
Even with the ferns it wasn't like California - we have rainforests! - since it was a lot wetter. Damp and humid, even in the shade down in the low places. But it reminded me of home sharp enough to hurt, and soft enough to make me feel better to have the reminder.
Last Sunday was the first time I've been out to nature since December. It's not that I'd go on long hikes miles away from paved roads in San Francisco or Pittsburgh, but because there was much more green space around - either in the mountains I could see surrounding the bay or the parks and gardens and rabbits on front lawns - I never felt the lack so deeply, or got shocked when I went back. A good shock, like a bath in cold water.
It wasn't a steep or strenuous hike; I think the most elevation gain was 200 feet. It wasn't anything partcularly remarkable; it was all very nice Northeastern woodland, but nothing out of the ordinary for that sort of thing. I deliberately didn't bring my camera so I could focus on the experience, and I had a much better time for doing so. Mile after mile of woodland doesn't make for an interesting travelogue. Like I said, it wasn't anything remarkable, but it didn't have to be. What I liked the most was that I had to pay deep attention to see what was there and be able to focus in and appreciate it. Wild irises are always unqestionably beautiful, especially bright purple ones in full sunlight by a lake with soft ripples from gentle breezes going north. Noticing how a couple of minutes of walking shifts the plant life radically from omnipresent ferns to tall scraggly bushes takes a little more effort. The trail dipped and rose on the hills and mountains and it wasn't a whole lot and still more than enough for huge changes. You had to see the forest and the trees at the same time.
We went through woods and forest and small bits of marsh, and I even got some rock-hopping in. It's not something I get to do often - look out at a field of rocks of various shapes and sizes and hop and jump from one to another until I'm all the way across. There's no abstract thinking involved; it focuses on the concrete possibilities, and it lets me narrow my focus to the movement of my body in space. It also works for crossing rivers and streams, which we did a couple of times. There were old railroad beds where grass had grown up and made them soft, without growing up enough to hide what it'd been a long time ago. There was some workaday stonework here and there, and some elaborate stonework elevated for people to have a comfortable path across a small gulch. There were three ponds, and more than enough wildlife.
It was a pretty good day for biodiversity. I'd never seen a kingfisher in the wild before, or expected to spot fish so close to the shore, or thought I'd spot a pitcher plant or get lucky enough to see a snail, four snakes, and a frog in the same afternoon. There were plenty of northern millipedes, more water striders than I could count, and mammals were represented by chipmunks. Also lots of interesting fungi, plus a pitcher plant I managed to spot by looking in the right spot just as I walked by.
We lost the trail for a while and had to trek through marshland for a few minutes, which was more fun than it ought to have been. Once we got back on, the last leg of the journey was on the Appalachian Trail - not a strenuous part by any stretch, even though we were all tired and thirsty. It was still the Appalachian Trail, and I walked part of it, and I can see why people want to do the whole thing.
Even with the ferns it wasn't like California - we have rainforests! - since it was a lot wetter. Damp and humid, even in the shade down in the low places. But it reminded me of home sharp enough to hurt, and soft enough to make me feel better to have the reminder.
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