(all images are created by and property of the author)
(Ontario Peak)
I am a passionate person, and nothing feeds my passions more than being out on a trail. The cherished connection of feet on earthen surfaces grounds my soul and sucks away the stresses of life, replacing them with the nurturing energy to be my best self.
It’s been this way for as long as I can remember, which can be inconsistent because of memory issues. At times, I struggle to remember what I did last week, let alone during most of my sixty-five revolutions around the sun. But ask me about a hiking destination, and I can tell you all about it. The location, the experience. Who may have joined me, and what landmarks we crossed along the way. It’s the same with the trail work I do. Pass a trail reinforcement I worked on, and I can tell you when we built it, including with whom and when. The trails are my spiritual companions, and trailwork my gratitude towards their existence and survival.
(Santa Ynez Trail)
The hiking bug bit me early.
My blue-collar parents came from agrarian regions in southeastern Europe. World War II left them displaced, and America offered them a home. Money was tight, and most of our few vacations were camping and fishing trips in the local mountains. Frankly, I hated them, but not because of the opportunities they presented. Camping, hiking and roaming thrilled me. No, it was the mosquitoes. They feasted on me. I could hear them call out for miles around whenever I was around: “Tasty guy is back. Feed up, everybody!” You can always spot me in the family photos. I’m the miserable looking one with a swarm surrounding me, like the way Pig Pen is drawn in a Peanuts cartoon strip.
So why on Earth would I ever want to be out in that again?! For starters, I discovered good repellants. That took a while. The common ones only caused bugs to snicker, but when I found turbo-strength, THAT gave them reason to leave me alone. Some diet changes did the most good, though. And garlic. I love garlic, and bugs (and sometimes people) stayed away when I’d eaten it.
Another change was to give up on fresh water fishing. I never really enjoyed it much, anyway. It was my father’s passion. He wanted to be out there at dawn or dusk, because that’s when the fish were eating bugs. He would take me to wet, shady areas, because…you guessed it! The bugs are out!
But I always enjoyed my time on the trail. The Boy Scout troop I belonged to as a teenager did LOADS of hiking and backpacking. Day hikes, overnight backpacking trips, and weeklong backcountry adventures were my jam, and I couldn’t get enough. I relished my time in the wilderness. I can recall tracking animals cross-country for miles, staying downwind to avoid detection while observing their behaviors.
Living in Southern California fed my passion.
(Icehouse Saddle Trail)
The diverse ecosystems of California are a goldmine for hikers. The diverse ecosystems within a two hour drive are as varied as any place on Earth. Low desert, high desert. Chaparral and grasslands. Soaring peaks and deep, rich valleys. It’s a hiking / rock climbing / spelunking / cycling / running / and much more paradise. And it’s often free to experience. All it takes is the means to get there and the will to roam.
You get the idea. The landscape variations of ecosystem and elevation hold new discoveries around every turn, and I just couldn’t get enough! If I wasn’t so horrible at remembering scientific names of things, I’m sure I would have been a naturalist.
And then, the IRL happened.
As in "in real life". Hiking and such took a back seat when career, marriage and daughters arrived. I made life choices that didn’t make my world easy, but owned them and moved forward. My connection with nature was limited to the bicycle I used to get to and from work and school, and family trips to a local park. I vividly remember friends watching our children so my wife and I could go on a weekend backpacking trip for our fifth wedding anniversary. I savored it with boundless energy. She survived the Devil’s Backbone Trail to camp in a high altitude meadow, surrounded by cedar and pine, and dining on crafty recipes I’d learned to make.
When our daughters were old enough, we led a Girl Scout troop that did the outdoors a lot. My fondest memory was a camping trip in the popular glacial valley of Yosemite Village. Two days of torrential rain had made our visit difficult, but once that passed we got the girls out for a hike. It started as mindly tolerable for them until I noticed a number of temporary runoff cascades spilling over the canyon walls. One by one, I had them pick a cascade they liked and took their picture with it as a backdrop. To most, they were temporary displays of beauty. To them, Miranda Falls, Stephanie Falls, and others are lifelong memories that turned misery into memories.
WDBG: Where Did Bob Go?
I also took clothing on business trips around the world. While my travel companions sat in comfy hotels and bars, I hit the streets and countryside to connect with new people and places. Work came first, of course, but how special was it that an employer gave me this opportunity?
Eventually, I reached the fortunate point where I could walk away from a fun and engaging full time career to build upon my derailed life’s passions. High on that list, as you might have guessed, was hiking and the great outdoors. I sought local hiking groups, eventually settling on two that offered the challenges and comradery I was looking for. With my background. Experience and training, I soon became a hike lead for both.
(Backbone Trail)
They disappeared during the pandemic, but I still hike with the people I connected with. I also sought trail crews to work with, for caring for my passion paths was as important as exploring them. Soon I was hiking and doing trail work weekly.
I felt, I am, reborn.
(Petrified Tree segment along Icehouse Saddle Trail)
A part of me that I had tucked away flourished once more, and continues to each and every day. At the start of each month, I post my hiking and trail work plans on social media. A few days prior, I post the details. Sometimes there are a dozen or more fellow nature lovers that join me. Other times, it’s just me. But it’s never truly “just me”. I’ve always got Mother Nature and her diverse elements to comfort, guide and nourish me through seasons and sensations that keep me grounded and grateful.
