Sometimes what you need is just a walk in the woods, and while you may be walking alone and thinking of someone who used to walk with you, it’s still a walk worth taking.
I WOKE UP and found myself missing nature so I went and found myself some before the temperatures starting moving toward the 90s and some small nagging voice starting telling me that maybe I just ought to stay put.
At one time my wife and I volunteered in National Parks through the Sierra Club, working with some great folks to build and repair trails, restore grasslands, rip out 100 year-old barb wire fence that was impaling animals and otherwise make ourselves useful in the greatest workplace you could ask for.
Just a few minutes from our house in Huntsville, TX was a state park where we would hike and where I volunteered with some other guys. We spent almost a year after Hurricane Harvey replacing bridges, boardwalks and trails.
Now Connie can’t do that sort of thing, but I can. I just haven’t been. Maybe it’s guilt that she can’t do it. Maybe it’s just lazy lethargy that comes from being alone and allowing self-pity to creep in. Whatever.
This morning I put on my Vasque hiking boots, grabbed my Audubon shoulder bag and some water and drove a few minutes down to Ridley Creek State Park. I didn’t have a plan. I got a park map but couldn’t make much out of it. Ridley has a lot of trails and they interlace, switchback, wind around. I picked the “yellow” trail, which my son had told me was a challenging one, and set out.
It only took a hundred yards or so for me to realize I had been a fool for turning my back on nature, the world’s best grief counselor, excepting for a good dog. The trail was soft, the greens varied and lush and the stream it did gurgle and splash. I huffed and puffed and stopped a few times on the climbs and dips but overall, felt pretty good.
In the forest I was pretty much to myself, going up down and around. At one point I came out on a road that runs along Ridley Creek so decided to join the crowd and walk it. Three hours and five miles later I was back at the car, the last drop of water drained. After years in East Texas, working in the Chihuahuan Desert the heat wasn’t much to take notice of.
Our support group talked last week about dealing with grief when someone you love is disappearing into dementia. We all agreed we needed to take time for ourselves. So, I did.
The solitude and quiet beauty settled on me for those three hours or so, and it felt good. If you are on this journey, hope you find your early morning hike.
Rich Heiland, has been a reporter, editor, publisher/general manager at daily papers in Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New Hampshire. He was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team at the Xenia Daily (OH) Daily Gazette, a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year. He has worked as a consultant doing public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development. He and his wife live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].