Some distant movement caught my eye. After a few moments, I recognized it as an orange cap. Meeting another thru-hiker would be fun. A recent thru-hike of the trail had inspired me to return and clear some of the obstacles, helping those completing the full twenty-eight miles.
I asked him how far he was going today. “Just a couple of miles,” he replied. His strong lean onto his trekking poles suggested they were closer to walking sticks, and I was almost dismissive that this wasn’t a very fit hiker. He paused close by, assessing the large pine that had fallen alongside the trail, and complimented the Sierra Club for looking after the trail so well since it was created in the 80’s. He reminisced how in his youth, the forest had been full of hardwoods when riding bikes was still allowed.
He’d been in these forests before I was born. Nothing about my thru-hike or being in these woods was new. Yet they continued to provide a wild satisfaction. The fallen pine was part of that untamed wildness, presenting a different perspective of the forest compared to the majestic towers that swayed overhead.
Just like the forest, its visitors are the sum of all its components. Defined trails on public land are a treat for all. For their respective participants, youth camping trips or leisurely forest strolls are as rewarding as trail runners who set fastest times. The forest does not need humans, and we invade minimalistically to enable joyful access.
I said farewell to the orange cap. Perhaps he’ll walk further next time. Or perhaps he won’t, which is equally fine. While the forest had given me satisfaction and joy, orange cap opened my eyes. I hope that when I am taking two-mile walks in my orange cap that there is someone clearing the path for me!
The Adventures of the Cajunlimeys 