Commentary by Rick Rodriguez
Alone again, hiking on the Appalachian Trail (AT), adhering to my inner Thoreau, thinking thoroughly about what I was doing and whether I would summit the 4400 ft. Blood Mountain, I charged forward. Each step filled with the ambivalence of excitement and the trepidation of wandering into the unknown. Yet now, looking back to that Sunday in August, the reasons are pretty clear why I was on that mountain. I know the secrets that cause me to saunter about consumed by the scent of nature. I've seen the treasures a day on the trails can offer, typically much more than any one day could provide in a city park. Still, however, I wonder of this innate sense of discovery we humans have.
What compels those that hike or wander about in nature? What drives those that seek to discover the lesser taken paths littered all around often not far from the secure confines of our households? I often ask. But, I know the answer to my questions because I have tasted the gifts that Mother Nature has shared with me.
So that day, I set off from the suburban confines of John's Creek, Georgia,where I happen to be working as a volunteer at the 93rd PGA Championship and with only a limited amount of time; not an anomaly when it comes to time and my unplanned excursions. Determined, I dashed off to this hiker's paradise, a trail junkie's dream--the Appalachian Trail!
Though the hike that day started fairly benignly, through canopy covered and root strewn trail, it would change to rocky outcropping and barely discernible trail markers. It was a warm day. Other hikers could be heard occasionally, which I would take as a good sign that I was correctly navigating the trail and also giving me a sense of safety as I stepped through toward a summit called Blood.
Signs warned hikers of Bears and other wildlife in the area, a lone whistle my only protection, a whistle (?); what was I thinking? But the urge had struck to get out into nature, and I often don't know when the urge will strike and I trample into an unknown passage, a place my eye has never seen. Risk teasing me to discover and try its beckoning. And, usually I am unequipped to handle any adversity but today I would find no adverse conditions.
As sweat consumed my stripped golf shirt, my heart pumping at an elevated pace, I was at peace with only a thought of what would happen if I encountered something on the trail. Despite the thought, I kept going, quiet as a cat crossing a wooden floor, it was the trail and me! It was the appreciation of the moment. One of many moments that I've been fortunate enough to receive. Gifts, blessings, opportunities, call them what you will but this was one of those and it was memorable.
A few hours later, I reached the summit of Blood Mountain. Someone had built a shelter there for hikers that needed to catch a break or seek an evening's rest. After inspecting the shelter, I caught a whisper of a few voices around a bend near a large boulder. I rounded the corner to find a couple sitting admiring the panoramic view of the Appalachian Mountains. I introduced myself and we proceeded to chat about the strange crossing of our paths. They filled me on a little history of the trail and showed me where they lived, near the beginning of AT at Springer Mountain (a long distance from our position). It was a chance encounter, but for those ten or so minutes, our paths crossed. In all the paths and trails of life, I walked into their path. We shared some experiences about how a lone hiker from California would come to cross their path....and I was off again. Before I left, I asked them to take this picture. I am glad I did and I am glad I met them.
Once I came down the mountain, pleased to have made it back unscathed, I drove back down to the Atlanta Athletic Club, host course of 93rd PGA Championship, and I enjoyed a relaxing day of watching golf. I was richer for what the day had given me. It was a day well spent...and a day my friend Thoreau would have greatly appreciated.
Rick Rodriguez is a writer and is frequently published in opinion/editorial sections in local and national newspapers. Rick, a San Francisco Bay Area native and graduate of Saint Mary's College lives in Danville, California with his two children. Contact Rick at rrodriguez@pacunion.com or (510) 326-4795.
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www.RickRodriguez.typepad.com/The_Rocket
www.RickRodriguez.typepad.com/The_Rodriguez_Report

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