The Art of Losing Things: Solitude

Everyone was where they were supposed to be. Having played chauffeur to various children and having delivered them all to their locations, I discovered that I had that rare thing. FREE TIME. I had absolutely nothing to do that HAD to be done. Instead, I had two hours that I could spend however I wanted to. The thought of negotiating construction traffic was really unappealing and I would have lost an hour, so I drove up the hill and kidnapped my brother's dog.

Ignoring the roadways, I opted to go up in behind his house and into the woodland trails. They are well marked and convenient. But now I have an excitable energetic dog to wear out and he prefers the narrow trails. It wasn't long before we were up into the trees and off the beaten track.

As I wandered through the narrow trails, I came across random benches and fire pits that let you know that once, these trails were well travelled and well loved. There was a humid steam that came up from the soft ground as I walked over and up into the birch trees. The scent of woodsy mulch came into my nose and the sun streamed in through the trees. I could see the wild strawberries blooming and I couldn't hear anything other than birds and the wind in the trees. It felt like I was completely alone. Other than the dog...but he kept going on ahead and coming back to make sure he wasn't lost.

Me and my Shadow

I rounded the tops of the hillside cliffs and gazed at the river below. The water rippling under the sunshine was an invitation that I couldn't ignore and under the trees, the heat from the summerlike sun was intense. So, I found a track that led to another track that led to a quad trail that led to the river. Down I went, knowing full well that what goes that far down, has to come back up.

My original thought was to wander the trail by the river. Except I got to the bottom (with a very muddy dog that had found some puddles), and could only see a trail across the river. And the river was flowing the wrong way. Fortunately, I had my cell phone. It was even charged. So, I called my brother and asked him to figure out where I was. Sure enough, I had found the wrong river. I was on the Hangingstone instead of the Horse. No, there was no other way back except to climb back up that hill.  Off I went...and climbing up was hot, dusty and time consuming. On reaching the top, there was no time to go down to the Horse River. I had to go back to being "the driver." And I had to return a very muddy dog...

Lost at the Hangingstone River

Happy to be cooling off

Being lost was fantastic. No one was around and all I had to do was enjoy the scenery and walk. I found views and paths that felt like I was back home on the Island. Truly, I am convinced I should get lost more often. This was right up there with random acts of tourism, but this one was in my own back yard.