That feeling you are the only person on earth.
But, being okay with it.
There was a time, not so long ago when reaching for the clouds seemed a simple thing. Strap on a fifty pound pack, tighten the laces of a pair of hiking boots, grab the walking stick and I was off on another adventure into the wild. My soul is one that revels in solitude, stepping on a spot no human has touched; moments to treasure. The odds of that get greater the farther you stray from the path. Finding a partner that felt the same way, smiles
, what fun we had making wild turns on the map. Well, we would if we had chosen to use maps.
One of the best trips ever, came from saying, "Let's see what is over that five-hundred yard stretch of boulders." With silly morning grins we made our way to the top, to find the only escape was shimmying up between two slabs of stone, to see what, if anything, was on the other side. Joy, there was a small lake with a tiny island in the middle. Making our way over the wide spread stepping stones we camped out for the day. Caught some wild trout for dinner, that was as orange as salmon. Delicious, cooked on a stick like marshmallows over the campfire.
The following morning was a bit rougher, as we had to make our way down the side of the mountain. Well worth the effort even if it was a similar counterpart to the rocky slope we scaled the day before. I recall it involved much belly sliding, and fearful eeeps. Eventually we found the path again, and continued the mundane walk, still full of beauty, but nothing to compare with that rare, once in a lifetime surprise of the day before.
God, I miss climbing mountains.
Climbing the stairs doesn't bring the same elation.