Heading back, I remember thinking, “It will be strange if we don’t see a black bear” so I paused, almost willing their camouflage to disappear, for them to be seen, and it was then a black bear appeared on my right.
In the woods, very seldom do we actually look and sound like we know what we are doing. What more often than not happens is we muddle through and somehow make it to where we intended to go. It’s a miracle really. But at least we have each other.
Spring had finally arrived in the mountains, which was why we were fine setting off on an unblazed trail because Nature lead the way — She seemed to whisper in yellows as various types of daffodils, unusual dogwoods, and fluffy dandelions spotlighted our path.
This hike goes down as one of our top three, and lucky for us we got a mountain sunset and sunrise there, along with a series of waterfalls, a 360-degree summit view, small campsite on a cliff face, and of course a walk on the Appalachian Trail.
Often I want hikes to last longer than they do; I want time to slow. This could be for a variety of reasons: The view is so beautiful that the minutes, hours I have to take it in — It is never enough. Or the memories created at that spot, on that trail, on that mountain — They are ones I desire to hold onto because I know they will escape and fade, despite my attempts to grasp them. Or, like this day, I could want the hike to last for a more simple reason: To stretch time in the wilderness with my sister and fiance before life gets in the way again.