I go to the woods
April 28, 2010
We went backpacking last weekend to Gentian Pond. Here are a couple trip reports from last summer: Gentian Pond Trip Report and The rest of the backpacking story.
On Friday we hiked 3.5 miles up to the shelter and set up camp there. Saturday we took a short mid-day hike to a nearby waterfall, 3 miles round trip. Sunday we packed up and hiked back down.
We waded through fast flowing mountain streams (chilly), walked on boards laid down in bogs, crawled over many a downed tree, lost our footing on slippery leaf litter and hiked up and around large boulders. And as the term implies, backpacking means you carry everything you need on your back.
An amazing thing happens when I leave my home and head into the woods with my family, especially for a couple days (I can only imagine the effect being only stronger if we were gone for weeks).
I re-orient. I remember how abstract the internet is (though I love using it as a tool for accessing the wider world). I forget about projects to be completed at home. I don't stress about anything, my body is too tired and my mind empties of its burdens except for the moment at hand.
Being in the woods with my family is where I'm best able to live in the moment. There is nothing else to do - but be in that moment. There are no distractions, except a book and maybe a piece of paper and pen. I think I listen better to my children and really hear what they are saying, without my mind being ten other places at the same time. I remember, this is the kind of person I want to be and I try to take that awareness home with me.
At times it can be awkward. I thrive with a to-do list and often like the mental gymnastics of my daily life. But there is much that I gain by being in the woods that my home life does not afford me. I wrote a little list this weekend of those things and it goes something like this.
I go to the woods (with a nod to Thoreau's famous I went to the woods quote):
- to learn which wild plants are edible and which are not, what I am capable of physically achieving in a day, and that if I push myself a little bit I can probably do more than I thought possible.
- to listen to the wind in the tops of the trees and hear the fall of water over the rocks as our constant lullaby. To hear the tales spun by my children of Liberty, Charity and Justice and Rosie, Papa, and Patches - the two pig families who joined us on our journey up the mountain (oh the antics and tribulations of those pigs!).
- to breathe in air of hemlock, pine and balsam.
- to feel the good ache of sore muscles that in general spend too much time sitting and not enough time moving and the warmth of my sleeping bag at 3 o'clock in the afternoon - a well deserved rest after hours with a heavy pack on my back.
- to be a woman who carries a pack, who comfortably uses the facilities in the woods, who cares less about fashion and more about warmth and to model this for my daughters.
- to observe the mountainside turn pink with the light of dawn, the tiniest forest wild flowers in blossom, piles of animal scat and moose tracks in the mud, beaver dam flooded valleys, mating frogs and masses of gelatinous amphibian eggs.
- to appreciate my husband in his element as planner, protector, provider, heaviest pack carrier, cook, guide and morale booster. I go along for the ride and he runs the show. A nice role reversal from my tendencies for life at home.
- to be alone with my family on a mountainside, be alone with my thoughts and this little piece of a paper and pencil.
- to talk about my dreams and fears and to share the stories of my childhood with my own children before we all nod off the sleep, five in a row.
- to teach my children important lessons perseverance, waiting for the weakest, and understanding their place in creation.
