The Magic of the Great Outdoors
This summer is the first summer in years that I do not have a significant tan. Regrettably, I have spent a tremendous amount of time inside due to COVID-19.
The camp counselor in me is
weeping.
However, I have to say, the times
I have spent outside during COVID-19 have been far more meaningful than any time
pre COVID-19. Now, when I am outside, it is usually to meet up with someone. (As
it is the safest way to see people these days.) And because I have seen very
few people this summer, or in the past five months in general, the time I do spend
with another person feels that much more special.
When my brother and dad came to
visit me in June, we hiked Camel’s Hump and Mount Mansfield. It was not my first-time
hiking either mountain, but there was something different, something magical about
hiking them this time. It was the first time that my brother had completed a
big hike in eight years. It was also perhaps the first time I genuinely enjoyed
a hike in eight years. I had forgotten what it was like to hike with joy and
appreciation and not frustration and fatigue. I had forgotten that there could
be peace in not only sitting on the summit, but also in the journey up. Hiking did
not have to be all painful; it could also be euphoric.
Being a camper at Northwest Park
Camp in Windsor, CT ignited my love for hiking. I quickly learned how difficult
as well as rewarding it could be. As a sixth grader, I hiked around twenty-five
miles of the Long Trail with my Northwest Park Camp crew. I carried twenty pounds
of gear and food on my back and shared a two-person tent with two other people.
I was the youngest and smallest person on the hike.
At
first, I trailed in the back of the pack. Although the back-pack’s pace matched
mine, I felt exhausted. People complained a lot back there. Their negative
energy drained me- even though they were going my pace. So, I decided to
remove myself from the negativity. Through pure will-power, I quickened my
pace, heaving- and I mean heaving. I was not in good enough shape to be going
as quickly as I was going. Nevertheless, I found myself trudging with the front
of the pack, taking two steps for other campers’ one, breathing heavily. In the
front pack, we sang songs, played games, and solved riddles. No one complained!
People laughed! I felt energized despite having sore legs and tired lungs.
(Also,
if I had not persisted to the front pack, I would have never heard the hit,
ad-lib song, “Poisonous Gorilla Monkeys.” (When I became a camp counselor, I
made sure to keep the Poisonous Gorilla Monkeys stories alive.))
During that Long Trail hike, I trudged
through mud up to my knees, slept through hailing thunderstorms, and pooped
exclusively in the woods. It was mentally and, at times, physically painful. It
was truly challenging.
That hiking trip is one of my most fond
memories of my childhood. I truly fell in love with nature and the camaraderie
that came with it. It is the reason I ever became a counselor at Northwest Park
Camp to begin with.
When I did become a camp counselor,
no matter what age group I worked with, I always hiked with the back of the
pack. I saw a little of myself in the back-packers. I made sure to hype them up,
tell them stories, riddles, and sing bad songs. Even though it took the
back-packers twice as long as the front of the pack, I was determined that it
would be as painless as possible. I did not want to accidently deter anyone
from hiking in the future.
I
did not want my campers to develop the relationship that I had with hiking- the
negative and hyper-competitive attitude I learned to adopt in my teenage years.
In my super-competitive teenage years,
I had tunnel vision. There was no enjoying the journey. I was obsessed with
getting to the destination and hitting my, at times, unrealistic goals.
Sometimes, I was so blindly obsessed with reaching my goals, that I was unable
to meet them. I could not see any hurdle coming my way, so I fell and fell hard
whenever one appeared.
Because
I was so obsessed with the result, I could not see, let alone, enjoy the
journey.
I have only recently relearned
that there is joy in the journey. Sometimes, the endpoint or goal does not
matter. Sometimes a new and better endpoint or goal shows itself along the way.
I
just have to open my eyes.
Now, I take deep breaths and try
my best to absorb the scenery around me. When I am hiking, I enjoy plotting
each step and each foot or handhold before me. My mind is not racing to get to
the top. I know that the summit is not going anywhere.
When
I do make it to top, I allow myself time to bask in my accomplishment. I am in
no rush to get back. I soak in the humbling scenery and embrace my glaring
insignificance.
I also find that my conversations
with friends and family have become more meaningful in nature. I can reach
depths that I have not previously reached. There is a certain magic in the
trees, in the earth. And whether I am hiking or biking with people, there is
this tether between us and the ground beneath. We are climbing or riding
together with a common goal, in enjoying the ride and reaching the top.
Hiking and spending time in nature
continually teaches me. I learn more about myself and the people around me. My
fondest memories are from mountain tops, in the woods during cross country
races, skiing down the slopes, and biking down long winding roads. Nature
challenges me in more ways than I can anticipate.
Stay safe out there. Go for a walk.
Catch a sunset. Embrace your insignificance.
With love,
Emily
Comments
Post a Comment