of course it would have been easier to turn around and go back to the car.
but the signs “caution: trail damage ahead” are familiar to us and we just kept on going.
then we saw the first of it. the river had overflowed its banks and covered the trail. i took a few pictures after we decided to keep going. i don’t have pictures of the worst of it. we were too busy navigating the water.
but, yeah, we could have turned around.
we didn’t.
it was a stunning day – really, remarkable out – and we had on sandals that were fit for the river. so we kept going.
we have watched countless pacific crest, appalachian, continental divide, colorado, arizona trail videos. and in all of them hikers are forging streams and rivers, slogging through water and mud. watching, i have wondered – in a mildly curious and very respectful way – what it feels like to encounter these water crossings and to keep hiking with wet socks, wet footwear. not that i haven’t ever walked through puddles – i’ve done that deliberately – but because continuing to hike means also trying to avoid blisters and such. twenty miles plus with wet feet is nothing to sneeze at. big kudos to those thru-hikers.
we looked at each other on the edge of the first flooded area – this particular day we had chosen this particular hike – and we kept going. we needed to. we’ve navigated worse trails in real life – a little water didn’t seem so daunting.
there were some bicyclists on the trail – they had already been through the worst of it. they gave us looks, asked us how we got through, told us they were turning around to avoid it.
but there is nothing like wet feet to cool you off. we hiked about seven miles or so that afternoon – through a lot of water – that reached our mid-calves. it was more than a little water. we were one with frogs and fish – all sharing the trail together. it was all pretty glorious.
keeping-on-going is something we’ve gotten pretty familiar with. not just on the trail.
you don the right sandals and the knowledge you can do it and most crossings are possible. going slow, keeping your balance, not minding discomfort, sloughing off the looks you get – when you are following your path – diligently aware, capable, trying your best – you can dog-with-a-bone keep-on-going.
it doesn’t mean you’ll not stumble. it doesn’t mean you won’t get wet or that you won’t get blisters from the experience. it doesn’t mean you’ll get to the other side without some surprises. there are no guarantees. edges are like that.
what it does mean is that you gave it your all.
we didn’t know how the flooded trail would turn out – how our hike would turn out – but we kept going anyway.
and that day it made all the difference.
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY
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