Roxi
Active member
5/13/2007 - I’ve always believed in the seasonal cycles of life. They, and change, seem to be constants in my life. This past year saw many changes: a move, job change, losing interest in chasing the list while discovering new trails to hike, my first winter 4K, and adding poles, traction gear, and gaitors to the hiking gear. But the most profound change occurred this spring as my father’s health deteriorated significantly in March and ended with his passing in April. I still haven’t quite grasped the enormity of it yet, but as I work through it, what has become clear to me is how much an influence he has had on my love of hiking and appreciation of Nature.
One of the earliest memories I have of my dad is walking through the woods. He pointed out all the different kinds of trees. I distinctly remember the smell of what he called “piss oak.” Whenever he cut cord wood for the coming winter, he always took the dead trees. He called it cleaning up the woodlot. He is the reason I love and respect Mother Nature, refrain from picking pink lady slippers, and avoid poison ivy.
Yet despite him instilling in me a need to be outdoors exploring nature, he never understood my need to hike mountains. He always worried about all the things that could go wrong when I went off exploring by myself. He had a father’s need and desire to always keep his “little girl” safe, not realizing that hiking through the woods was what kept me healthy - emotionally, mentally, and physically.
So when he passed away on Easter, I found myself drained of the energy I normally had for hiking, cycling, and walking. It took everything I had just to get up in the morning and go to work. I felt “lost.” It still hasn’t totally sunk in that’s he’s gone. But cycles repeat, and I found support from an interesting source - my ex-husband. He was even one of the pall bearers at my dad’s funeral, which my dad would have liked. My ex and I have been friends since our divorce nine years ago, and he recognized my need to get out and move, together with my lack of energy. So he offered to hike with me again, and encouraged me by recalling how fast a hiker he remembered me being (he always beat me on the bicycle, especially up hills, but he had to work to keep up with me hiking and walking).
So after weeks of doing nothing, I started small with a short and sweet hike up Sugarloaf, followed by postholing up Crawford. I then drove south for an hour to hike the snow-free Morgan-Percival trails with my ex. I was gradually getting my stamina back, and spending lots of time thinking about my dad as I hiked through the woods.
Today, a year after I first hiked Mt. Hale, I hiked it again, albeit a different route. Like last year Zealand Rd. was closed. So I parked at the winter parking lot on 302 and walked the length of Zealand Rd. to the Zealand trailhead. From there it was a beautiful walk through the woods to the Zealand Falls Hut, encountering several families with their young children headed in the opposite direction. Stream crossings were easily rockhopped. A friendly chat at the hut with one of the caretakers warned me that there was still some snow on the trails up to Hale, along with some postholing. She said as long as I wasn’t quickly frustrated, I’d be fine. After everything else I’d experienced in the two months, postholing wasn’t on my list of frustrations. I made a pit stop and grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading up the Lend A Hand trail. She was right, there was still plenty of snow remaining, and postholing in spots, some better than others, and lots of blow downs near the summit which sometimes made following the faded blue trail markers challenging. But sitting on the large summit cairn, looking at George’s fading white wig, soaking in the warm sun, without bugs, was an experience not to be missed!
The trek down the Hale Brook Trail presented the same trail conditions as was on Lend A Hand. The walk back down Zealand Rd. offered another opportunity for reflection. I find that I meditate well when I’m in motion, the movement being necessary to create the inner quietness and calm that allows the mind to freely explore issues unhindered. I thought about how hiking connects me to my dad through our mutual love of nature. I thought about how the movement of putting one foot in front of the other may eventually transport me to a place where the pain of losing him doesn’t hurt so much, the large hole I feel inside start to heal and not feel so deep and empty. I looked at the trees with their budded leaves ready to open, emerging from their dormant winter state as their sap begins to flow. Like them, I too could feel my energy returning. I ended my 14 mile walk/hike today in less than 6 hours, and gained the confidence I needed to know that I can return once again to chasing the list this summer if I choose. I am ready and able. But more importantly, I was reminded how good movement truly is for the heart, emotionally, as well as physically.
Many thanks to Poison Ivy who helped me tremendously last fall when I lost interest in chasing the list and was feeling some angst about it. She said it was OK. That I’d enjoy doing it more when I once again had the desire and wanted to. Wise words from a wise woman.
Many thanks to my ex-husband who was there when I needed him, and knew what I needed.
And many thanks to my father, who showed me at a very early age how wonderful walking through the woods could be, and gave me a way to heal life’s wounds and stay connected to him. Love you Dad.
- Roxi
One of the earliest memories I have of my dad is walking through the woods. He pointed out all the different kinds of trees. I distinctly remember the smell of what he called “piss oak.” Whenever he cut cord wood for the coming winter, he always took the dead trees. He called it cleaning up the woodlot. He is the reason I love and respect Mother Nature, refrain from picking pink lady slippers, and avoid poison ivy.
Yet despite him instilling in me a need to be outdoors exploring nature, he never understood my need to hike mountains. He always worried about all the things that could go wrong when I went off exploring by myself. He had a father’s need and desire to always keep his “little girl” safe, not realizing that hiking through the woods was what kept me healthy - emotionally, mentally, and physically.
So when he passed away on Easter, I found myself drained of the energy I normally had for hiking, cycling, and walking. It took everything I had just to get up in the morning and go to work. I felt “lost.” It still hasn’t totally sunk in that’s he’s gone. But cycles repeat, and I found support from an interesting source - my ex-husband. He was even one of the pall bearers at my dad’s funeral, which my dad would have liked. My ex and I have been friends since our divorce nine years ago, and he recognized my need to get out and move, together with my lack of energy. So he offered to hike with me again, and encouraged me by recalling how fast a hiker he remembered me being (he always beat me on the bicycle, especially up hills, but he had to work to keep up with me hiking and walking).
So after weeks of doing nothing, I started small with a short and sweet hike up Sugarloaf, followed by postholing up Crawford. I then drove south for an hour to hike the snow-free Morgan-Percival trails with my ex. I was gradually getting my stamina back, and spending lots of time thinking about my dad as I hiked through the woods.
Today, a year after I first hiked Mt. Hale, I hiked it again, albeit a different route. Like last year Zealand Rd. was closed. So I parked at the winter parking lot on 302 and walked the length of Zealand Rd. to the Zealand trailhead. From there it was a beautiful walk through the woods to the Zealand Falls Hut, encountering several families with their young children headed in the opposite direction. Stream crossings were easily rockhopped. A friendly chat at the hut with one of the caretakers warned me that there was still some snow on the trails up to Hale, along with some postholing. She said as long as I wasn’t quickly frustrated, I’d be fine. After everything else I’d experienced in the two months, postholing wasn’t on my list of frustrations. I made a pit stop and grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading up the Lend A Hand trail. She was right, there was still plenty of snow remaining, and postholing in spots, some better than others, and lots of blow downs near the summit which sometimes made following the faded blue trail markers challenging. But sitting on the large summit cairn, looking at George’s fading white wig, soaking in the warm sun, without bugs, was an experience not to be missed!
The trek down the Hale Brook Trail presented the same trail conditions as was on Lend A Hand. The walk back down Zealand Rd. offered another opportunity for reflection. I find that I meditate well when I’m in motion, the movement being necessary to create the inner quietness and calm that allows the mind to freely explore issues unhindered. I thought about how hiking connects me to my dad through our mutual love of nature. I thought about how the movement of putting one foot in front of the other may eventually transport me to a place where the pain of losing him doesn’t hurt so much, the large hole I feel inside start to heal and not feel so deep and empty. I looked at the trees with their budded leaves ready to open, emerging from their dormant winter state as their sap begins to flow. Like them, I too could feel my energy returning. I ended my 14 mile walk/hike today in less than 6 hours, and gained the confidence I needed to know that I can return once again to chasing the list this summer if I choose. I am ready and able. But more importantly, I was reminded how good movement truly is for the heart, emotionally, as well as physically.
Many thanks to Poison Ivy who helped me tremendously last fall when I lost interest in chasing the list and was feeling some angst about it. She said it was OK. That I’d enjoy doing it more when I once again had the desire and wanted to. Wise words from a wise woman.
Many thanks to my ex-husband who was there when I needed him, and knew what I needed.
And many thanks to my father, who showed me at a very early age how wonderful walking through the woods could be, and gave me a way to heal life’s wounds and stay connected to him. Love you Dad.
- Roxi
. It's far to easy to roll over and stay down. It's getting up off the mat that makes you stronger. Your dad taught you that, and you did his memory proud by getting out. He's watching you, and I'm sure smiling down on you.
