Prettiest Planet

As the sun rises, I take the first few steps of the final three miles I’ll hike on this three week sabbatical.   When done, I’ll have totaled forty one miles.  Not an extraordinary sum, but most importantly, nearly every step along the way has been pure bliss.  The slow, thoughtful pace of foot travel has been the heart of these past three weeks that have worked out so incredibly well. 

Today’s final act is a visit with an old friend – Wildcat Mountain Preserve in Marshall, Virginia.  I decided to end my journey where my most fervent affection for The Nature Conservancy has blossomed.  It’s my home preserve; the one I’ve spent the most time visiting.  The familiarity of Wildcat also seems to be the ideal place to distill the overwhelming stimulation I’ve encountered while touring sixteen preserves - marshes in Maryland; caves in Virginia; Bosques in Arizona; swamps in West Virginia.  The list goes on.  I’ve had some amazing and varied experiences, each of which deserves a period of thoughtful reflection to fully absorb.  A slow paced loop hike through familiar territory provides the right mindfulness to begin that distillation process. 

As I work my way up the trail’s switchbacks, my deep breathing is a reminder of just how well my body has performed.  Four months ago, as I lay in a hospital bed, this sabbatical was severely threatened.  A heart blockage was a shocking roadblock, but silver-lining-like it also became an ardent motivator.  I took to cardiac rehab with intense vigor, determined to gain the confidence I and my family needed.   The vigor paid off; I’ve not felt this healthy in a few years.  Though more cautious on steep trails like here at Wildcat, the miles hiked over the past three weeks have been easy.   Has the adrenaline, exertion, and fresh air been the elixir my body needed?

Just past the switchbacks, at about the time I catch my breath, I encounter a downed tree.  It’s a chance to give back to The Nature Conservancy.  I pull out my folding saw and get busy.  Twenty minutes later, I’m sweaty and bleeding, but the trail is now clear.  It’s a small gesture of thanks to an organization that’s provided an incredible platform from which I’ve enjoyed this awesome three week tangent.

After folding up my saw I wend along the mountaintop past some old favorites – a cluster of enormous trees where I once saw very fresh bear tracks in the snow and past the dilapidated Smith house where I often rest with a cigar on the front steps.  Further on around the loop I stop at one of my very favorite places on planet earth – a place I call the rock garden.  Sprinkle my ashes here.  It epitomizes the new phrase I learned on this trip: ponder spot.  Every time I walk this loop I stop here to feel the essence.  Three years ago on a similarly beautiful early spring day this spot inspired the following thoughts:

I sit in the presence greatness.  Amid a sea of survivors.  Trees that have outreached the competition, whose roots firmly grip the pristine mountaintop soil, snaking finger-like around boulders and competing roots squeezing a tight hold on the earth.  They are survival victors; pillars of the forest and provide the canopy under which I’ve been exploring all morning.  In their immobility is their greatness.  Patient and deliberate, trees achieve their prominence through unwavering focus, one growth ring at a time.

Some find wisdom and inspiration gathered together at other places on Sunday mornings.  For me though, a walk alone in the woods is a mental cleansing that’s as good as it gets.  Wandering freely under an ancient canopy through decay and rebirth provides a wealth of inspiration and wisdom.

Many visitors trudge right past the rock garden, oblivious to its spirit.  And that’s OK.  I’d like to think that somewhere else around this loop they find their own ponder spot. 


Nearly all the other properties I’ve seen over the past three weeks have been first-time visits chock full of the adrenaline that comes with first impressions.  Here at Wildcat though, my adrenaline is replaced by comfort.  Knowing what’s around the bend has its own charm.  The intimate connections I’ve develop with subtleties like the Smith house steps and the rock garden are what make returning here so special.   Celeste Andresen told me she feels this same way about the 7B Ranch in Arizona.  In the intimacy is where the true beauty of a place resides. 

As I descend the switchbacks ending my final hike bringing my sabbatical to a close, I feel profound satisfaction.  From these past three weeks, I was hoping for a deep reset - a tangential interlude away from the routine.  I was hoping to take the top off – to feel the weather in all of its moods.  I was hoping to be inspired to think deeply and write passionately again.  And I was hoping to have a story, tales worth recounting years from now.  In all of these hopes, I have been thoroughly satisfied.  Mission very much accomplished. 

Have I not had some of my better days at Nature Conservancy properties? 
Like enjoying the incredible view from the summit of Buffalo Mountain with my wife. 
Or sitting alone deep in Ramsey Canyon as the sun begins to set. 
Or at the pristine confluence of the Big Cedar Creek and the Clinch River. 
Or at trail’s end with my brother, nearly atop a rising sea as it overtakes Taylor’s Island. 

And in previous years, to places like the Tallgrass Prairie in Kansas where I saw a newborn Buffalo calf join the herd.
Or during a warm drizzle standing barefoot in the Indiana Potholes.
Or with my daughter beside a secluded pond in the Run Hill Dunes of North Carolina.          

I’ve just scratched the surface of the nearly endless list of amazing places that the Nature Conservancy has helped preserve. 

It’s an incredibly beautiful planet.  Prettiest one in our galaxy.  Get out there and see it.  A ponder spot is waiting for you!


Comments

  1. Thanks for standing in the right place and making that handsome photograph of San Elijo Lagoon.
    Thanks for reminding me of the virtues (and the dangers) of becoming of my attentions.
    Sincerely,
    Andre Friedmann, a pseudonym

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You are welcome. Thanks for reading through my blog!
      TK

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