A Fork in the Trail

Looks like I'm headed for a change in scenery.

I’ve been grumpy lately. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I can still be idiotic and playful with my kids, allegedly hold up my end of interesting conversations with people, and make folks laugh. But I’ve still secretly (and sometimes not-so-secretly) been irritable recently in a way that’s out of character for me.

 

I re-injured my Achilles in April and it hasn’t been the same since. I tried powering through it and only made it worse. I tried going easy on it and learned walking on the sand aggravates it, even if I’m headed towards a beach chair and a sedentary afternoon.  I have exactly one hike under my belt this year and no 4,000-footers to cross off the list, stalled out in my quest to climb all 67 4,000-foot summits in New England. Last year’s momentum evaporated along with my sunny disposition.

 

But I realized something in the last few days. Amidst shopping for flip-flops with quality heel support and upper body exercise equipment and being jealous of the hikers posting great pictures and blogs on Twitter, I found myself forgetting about an early premise to this whole hiking thing.

 

A couple of people asked me early on if I were writing a book about these adventures. I plan to at some point, but not yet. Right now, I just want to capture my experiences and how they might fit into the lives of me and those around me at those points in time. I don’t want to start the adventure claiming to know the storyline, but rather let it unfold and reveal itself organically.

 

Shorter summits, but the views are still great!

The hiking I’ve already done led me to think a lot about clarifying and focusing how I wanted to live. If not for that, I wouldn’t have been willing to pull the trigger on getting a house on Cape Cod – I’d still be hemming and hawing and hand-wringing with analysis paralysis. If not for talking that through with Sara in places such as a quiet trail in the White Mountains of New Hampshire or at a pub having après-hike grub, unfettered by the normal daily grind, there are great memories that wouldn't exist.

 

Stud-boy taking a break while earning
Man Points from power tools and flooring.

I wouldn’t have spent time this summer playing beach bocce with my girls. I wouldn’t have witnessed the "supermoon" rising over the open Atlantic. I wouldn’t have been cheering Sara on as she completed an emotional Dennis Road Race 17 years after she last ran it, leaving her feeling very connected to the community that’s now hers but is the same one she summered in throughout her childhood. I wouldn’t have had some group fun and maybe a little mischief with some great people who live locally, deepening some friendships and starting others. Nor would we have connected as much with Sara’s aunt and uncle, who own a place down the street and plan to retire here. Very importantly, Sara would have missed the chance to see my mad beach umbrella-planting skills or to award me Man Points as I played deftly with power tools (aside of electrocuting myself every time I do a rewiring project). Clearly this has worked out beyond either of our wildest dreams!

 

So, the mountains led to the beach. And the adventures led to thoughts, goals, and dreams that are playing out. It doesn’t really matter where the experiences take place, and the mountains will still be there whenever my heel and the ants in my pants get me back up there. In the meantime, I can follow the path where it leads and be open to how life unfolds.

 

Finish lines are only for races, but it's been a good run so far!
(Props to Sara in the orange shirt for finishing strong!)

This week Sara and I changed our route. We’re holding off on the five-day backpack deep in the White Mountains – Search-and-Rescue is not supposed to be a part of my hiking! We’ll spend the week on Cape Cod and try some new things. Maybe we’ll bike the length of the Cape Cod Rail Trail and sample Cape Cod Beer’s offerings afterwards. Maybe we’ll try stand-up paddleboarding or go kayaking and visit with friends or family afterwards as Sara laughs at me for flipping my kayak. I heard about a mountain biking spot I haven’t tried yet and one of the better places to ride in southern New England isn’t far from here – following that up with après-ride appetizers and drinks at a waterfront pub as we relive the highlights or falls into Cape Cod’s omnipresent briars seems like an awesome day. As does a hike in the dunes of the National Seashore followed by a visit to the local vineyard. The bottom line for me is that there are plenty of ways to engage with the world and see what I learn from it, and to enjoy how those experiences bring me closer to those I’m with. Whatever the deal, I’m gonna go throw myself into it and see where it leads us.

 

See you on the trail,

Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper