on the unimproved trail…

If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it,
for it is not to be reached by search or by trail.

After weeks of being busier than ever, I realized this morning that I actually had a few hours free of appointments. I can’t remember the last time that happened, and I also can’t remember the last time Jet the Wonder Dog and I went for a nice long walk with my camera. The swamp like September weather has given way to cooler temperatures, the air has cleared and the rain has finally ceased it’s daily appearance. So I decided to pack up the car and head to Great Falls National Park for an hour or two.

Once upon a time, when we lived in the far northern suburbs of Chicago, we walked in nature every day. There were four Open Lands areas within ten minutes of our house, and unless it was really pouring, we rarely missed a day. But now this sort of outing has become a rare treat. There’s something in me that balks at the idea of taking 30 minutes each way (in non rush hour times) just to take a walk. And that is pretty silly. I am extremely fortunate in that I make my own hours, but on the other hand, there never seem to be enough hours. Even though taking photographs clearly is part of my work (again, lucky me) I don’t seem to be able to find or make blocks of time to get out there and do it. So as I dealt with some correspondence and a couple things that had to be taken care of early today, the gremlins started to attack…

“Really, you should just stay put and write!”

“It’s probably still muddy out there! You might slip…”

“And Jet just had a bath!”

“You have to go out tonight – what if your hair gets MESSY?!?”

I am really hoping I am not the only one who hears these things. It’s what happens, though, whenever I want to just do something FUN. I do much better with SERIOUS stuff, you know, and I have done a whole lot of that lately, so I was due for some f.u.n. I told the gremlins to take a hike, that I would be just fine, thanks. And that I would be back in time for my afternoon meetings. And off we went.

As soon as we arrived, it seemed those voices had known exactly what they were talking about. There was construction tape everywhere, and the parking lot was cordoned off, so we had to access the path along the Potomac in a different way. When we got to the part where we had to go right or left, there was a huge sign that read “Caution. Trail Damage. Unimproved Trail.” I am guessing that given the hurricane, the earthquake, the tropical storm and daily rains, the river has likely been higher than in recent memory, and that must have wreaked havoc with the trails that run parallel to it. I thought about turning back, that maybe I should have stayed home.

And then I thought again.

I laughed out loud, loudly enough that Jet cocked his head at me.

Isn’t that just like life? Since when I have I walked an Improved Trail? I am actually quite accustomed to going on the unmarked, hard to navigate, Danger Will Robinson trails, when it comes right down to it. The sun was still out, I had my camera and my dog and a free hour or so. I was game, and so we set off. Sure enough, there was mud. And a lot of it.

And yet, every time the path got really muddy and sticky, there was another way around. Either a small path veered around the bank, or there was a tree to hold onto, or Jet found solid ground somehow. We were surefooted even though there were tree roots exposed where there used to be packed dirt, and the gravel and stones I remembered seemed to be completely washed away, likely now resting at the bottom of the constantly swirling river. Just like life, you know? Just when you are sure you can’t do it anymore, that things are too slippery, a way out becomes apparent.

I did have to pay a lot of attention to where my feet were going, and didn’t take as many pictures as I might have if things were different. I stopped from time to time and attempted to focus while Jet pulled on his leash, eager to get to the next sniffing spot. I got some beautiful shots, but was sorry, for a while, that I couldn’t keep my attention on the view. And then, in a clearing I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I never would have seen it if I’d been looking at the horizon instead of at the muck and the leaves. Standing so still he might have been a statue, and keeping a careful eye on us, there was a magnificent bird. I’m pretty sure it was a Great Blue Heron. I certainly think it was pretty great, but feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

He was huge. And regal. And cautious without being scared. He stood so still for so long, then would slowly and surely and steadily stroll down that fallen trunk, taking his time. And I forgot. I forgot about what time it was, and how muddy I might get and did nothing but breath and watch and click that button. After a while (and more frames than I could possibly need), I just stopped everything. My body didn’t complain about the cramped, crouched position it was suspended in, and Jet didn’t make a sound. It was one of the most meditative experiences of my life. I was so glad I made the time.

After a while, I decided to leave the great bird in peace. I bowed and walked off smiling, with my camera and my dog – and the poop bag – swinging as I stepped away from that magical spot. Down river a bit, I thought I might take a few more photos, walk a little further. It was no surprise that the little window on my camera read “Memory full”.

No kidding.