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Today I woke with the itch to go for a hike, or at least a good nature walk, serious hiking opportunities being notably absent within 90-minutes of town. I called a friend to see if he could join me, but I would be walking solo. I continued with my plans to walk Bird Hills Park anyway. It's arguably the largest single city park in A2, and certainly the least tame. The day had been wholly gray and drizzly, with temperatures hovering in the mid-60's, making for ideal tromping weather.
I navigated my way across town and parked, then started in. About two years ago I'd purchased a book describing the parks in the Huron River watershed, so I had a map and a rough idea of the terrain. Admittedly, the forest was decidious (it was mesic, so mostly oak and maple, with hickory and tulip growing for variety), but the weather was so evocative of the Northwest that I felt right at home. I could feel my shoulders drop and the knots relax for the first time in a few weeks.
After I'd scrambled for a bit on my own, including taking an unfortunate slide on a smaller side trail that had been marked 'caution', I rejoined the main paths at an intersection. A fellow I'd noticed earlier (on my drive in), was standing with a full pack and taking a picture. I'd made enough noise approaching so that he knew I was there, but he thanked me for pausing outside his camera field. I'm not quite certain how we struck up a conversation, but one started, and after a few minutes, we agreed to walk the rest of the park together.
He lived not too far from Bird Hills, and shared the trail-knowledge and park history that he knew, but admitted he was using today's trek for a shake-down of his loaner pack. I'd far more naturalist experience, and pointed out things he'd never noticed, including some of the more interesting fungi. We talked hiking exploits, pondered the foibles of conservation groups, and discussed local green politics. The internal observer that always runs in my head noted with amusement and surprise how we broached some topics, taking care to accord respect and curiosity for the views of a complete stanger. When we returned to the trailhead, we exchanged full names and then separated for our own ways home.
It's been many years since I've so enjoyed the opportunity to talk with a companionable stranger, just out of the blue. We even discovered that we share parts of our names, but the joy was simply in the sharing of the experience. Whether or not we look each other up in the future is up in the air, though I will certainly be left with a memorable afternoon's hike.
I navigated my way across town and parked, then started in. About two years ago I'd purchased a book describing the parks in the Huron River watershed, so I had a map and a rough idea of the terrain. Admittedly, the forest was decidious (it was mesic, so mostly oak and maple, with hickory and tulip growing for variety), but the weather was so evocative of the Northwest that I felt right at home. I could feel my shoulders drop and the knots relax for the first time in a few weeks.
After I'd scrambled for a bit on my own, including taking an unfortunate slide on a smaller side trail that had been marked 'caution', I rejoined the main paths at an intersection. A fellow I'd noticed earlier (on my drive in), was standing with a full pack and taking a picture. I'd made enough noise approaching so that he knew I was there, but he thanked me for pausing outside his camera field. I'm not quite certain how we struck up a conversation, but one started, and after a few minutes, we agreed to walk the rest of the park together.
He lived not too far from Bird Hills, and shared the trail-knowledge and park history that he knew, but admitted he was using today's trek for a shake-down of his loaner pack. I'd far more naturalist experience, and pointed out things he'd never noticed, including some of the more interesting fungi. We talked hiking exploits, pondered the foibles of conservation groups, and discussed local green politics. The internal observer that always runs in my head noted with amusement and surprise how we broached some topics, taking care to accord respect and curiosity for the views of a complete stanger. When we returned to the trailhead, we exchanged full names and then separated for our own ways home.
It's been many years since I've so enjoyed the opportunity to talk with a companionable stranger, just out of the blue. We even discovered that we share parts of our names, but the joy was simply in the sharing of the experience. Whether or not we look each other up in the future is up in the air, though I will certainly be left with a memorable afternoon's hike.
