Endless Road

When Tolkien said, “Not all who wander are lost,” he obviously wasn't referring to my family. Occasionally my family goes hiking, sometimes last minute. We don't always have a plan, per se, and can often seem ill-prepared. We also like to hike with our dog, as many do, since they like the freedom and joy of the exploration. These hikes sometimes are fun, but at other times feel like a trip I'd rather not take, in hindsight. You know, because when all was said and done, I felt lucky to have survived.

On one particular hike, we went to a nearby popular park where we'd heard others liked to hike. The day being warm but not overly hot, we may have skimped on our water a bit. Some in the group thought they'd be fine for a short hike without water. Being a planner, I took my water pack and filled another for the youngest in our group. This turned out to be our Achilles heel.

Fast forward to the hike, we decided to do “the loop” which sounded easy enough. It started out going up a hill, then up some more. Once we reached a plateau, we were all slightly winded. We came across a lonely porcupine climbing a tree and lingered to take photos of this, as it seemed, once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. It seemed like the day's journey was finally proving worthy of our expectations.

We continued on our way, leaving the poor shaking animal alone. He seemed rather agitated to me, as he tried climbing higher as we all stood there gaping at him. So, we trudged on, finding ourselves going down once again. After a short while, we came to a fallen tree, and with it faced a dilemma. The path appeared to go two ways. But which one was the right way? I must humbly admit that I thought we should go right and my husband said left. I didn't like the looks of his opinion, as it had us going up yet again. After we just started going down finally. I admitted that his way did appear to be marked better, so, grudgingly, I accepted the fate of the climb.

The climb was brutal and seemingly endless. At each mini-plateau, I looked up to see if things were turning. “This was supposed to be a loop,” I kept thinking. My husband was way ahead of me, like a scout, looking to see where the trail led. It simply led up, and up, and yet again, up. It was an endless non-looping hill that became brutally tiresome. I thought about our short supply of water, and how my pack had to help supply others, including the dog, who by now was panting like there was no tomorrow. I rationed my water out like it had to last us days, taking only the smallest sips myself to just get me by.

Finally, after all of us were tired of the climb that never became a descent, we reached the summit. Honestly, the view was stunning. The trail, however, did NOT seem to go anywhere. We looked around for markers and found zero. We were devastated. Our only course of action now was to go back down exactly as we had come. This did not seem like a great option, as the way up was steep and rocky. Did I mention how we feared snakes hiding between these rocks? It was the only way, though, so down we went. What goes up must come down, they say, so down, down, down we went. The dog did not like this direction as much, and holding on to his leash while he attempted to go down at breakneck speeds turned out to be suicidal. So he went down alone, pausing to pant occasionally. I felt so bad for him. He didn't sign up for this, nor did the kids who trusted us, their fearless leaders, to get them to safety. Not our best showing, this hike. They'd never trust us again.

By the time we got to the bottom, our water supply was almost non-existent, and our bodies were tired, hot and sore. The hike down was much worse than the one up, but we were grateful to be back alive. At least, I know I was. I nearly kissed the ground by our car when we got to it. It was the greatest feeling to be on flat ground near a source of transportation that would remove us from this vile trail, or un-trail. It probably sounds very ominous for a day hike but that is how it felt at the time.

So that journey that started out with one step, as all journeys do, did really seem to take a thousand. I learned that you can never be overly prepared for a day hike. Water is so important for everyone to carry, not just a few. Always prepare for the worst, even though you think your day will be routine. My biggest lesson that day, though, was to never listen to my husband. Well, at least not ALWAYS.