My Happy Place

“I know a place where no one ever goes. There’s peace and quiet, beauty and repose.”

This early morning found me down at the lake as usual. One might think I’d tire of this same walk and scenery day after day. But I never do. That is not to say, however, that I wouldn’t love to be walking in other places with other scenery. I would. I’ll be joining a hiking club soon, maybe next week. They hike locally every Tuesday and Thursday. Next Tuesday they are meeting in Mansfield (Storrs) just 10 minutes east of me, near the UConn campus. There are so many local trails, none of which I have walked. I am looking forward to new places and meeting these people, who I know must be my tribe.

So, I walked with Missy up to the “point.” The point, at this south end of the lake, juts out into the water, kind of like a peninsula but on a much smaller scale. There are coves on either side of the point. The town beach is on one side and the state boat launch just beyond it. On the other side, the cove extends much farther to the end of the lake. The point is wooded and fairly thick with Mountain Laurel bushes, which bloom in early June. Some pink, some white. The Mountain Laurel is Connecticut’s state flower. There are a few paths to choose from to walk up to the top. We’re only talking a hundred feet, if that; I mean it’s not a large area. It is well under an acre, I’d say. Not only is the point – an actual point – as it juts out into the lake, but there is also an incline to it. Probably only 20 to 25’ of elevation gain till you reach the top “point.” There is a concrete slab at the top on which is the engraving, “Bates’ Point.” I don’t know who Bates is. I suppose I should go to the library and study up on the local history of this town that I have lived in for 52 years.

I used to play up at this “point” as a child with my sibs and the neighbor kids, who were also like brothers and sisters to me – and still are. We’d busy our summer days catching frogs and salamanders and garter snakes. We’d walk along the shore from my house, there at the end of the lake, to the point. Walking along the rocky shore line – I’m talking little rocks in very shallow, ankle deep water – we’d pick through the rocks, turning them over looking for the crawfish hiding there. We’d always bring a pail of sorts to collect up all the creepy crawly things. It would take us forever to walk this very short distance around the perimeter of the cove to get to the point. There was so much to do and see along the way. And my Mom, looking out from the perch of our home set up a bit on the lake, could see us the whole time and we always stuck together as a group. We were carefree but we were safe. What a fantastic place to grow up! Sometimes we’d swim across the cove, diagonally, to the point, which was quite a long distance to swim. We’d use our life jackets as flotation – not wearing them but lying on top and swimming with them. Or, sometimes we’d have a tube or a raft of sorts. To swim directly across the cove, though, to the other side was not a long distance and would only take a few minutes.

From the top of the point, standing on the concrete slab, I surveyed the lake while Missy, off her leash now, sniffed around and ran in spurts here and there, excited I think at the freedom from her leash. There is no road to run into and no way to get lost up here. She is safe and stays close by. Missy finds the steep dirt path that leads sharply down to the water’s edge and looks back to me for approval. I tell her to go ahead and I follow her down to the rocky shore. The lake is lower now which makes it possible to walk along the edge of the shore around the entire perimeter of the point which I love to do. For now though, I sit for a minute on a larger rock and drink in the stillness. This place is my “happy place.” It is so easy to go here in my mind when I go here nearly every morning. And although I have many other “happy places,” I can’t actually get to them as readily. Those other places though, remain in my mind and I call them up into my thoughts from time to time. I comb through the smaller rocks now, looking for just the right one to skip and I skip it across the surface of the water. I watch it go, maybe 30 feet before it veers off to the right and sinks. I wish I could linger here a little longer, (“mmm I wanna linger, mmm a little longer”) but alas, it’s time to go.

I am at the very middle of the point – at the 12 o’clock mark. I walk counter clockwise now toward the beach and the park. Missy wades in the cold water not seeming to mind. Back near the beginning of the point now, I look over and see my sculling friend walking across the beach toward me – having walked from the boat launch, probably on his way to the point – with his little dog Bean. We chat a moment about nothing really, but it is always so uplifting to meet up with a member of my “congregation” – my “tribe,” a kindred spirit. I know I say this alot and it’s because I can finally put my finger on it. These people who I run into now and then (and so many out there that I haven’t met) – whether while kayaking, walking, running – well, we all have stuff in common and it’s nice to share these common threads and have this communion – this fellowship - when we meet, if only so briefly.

I suppose I need to get out more and meet more people from my tribe. I will be doing this on Tuesday with the hiking group. When I emailed the group leader to ask about the hike and tell her that I might be joining the group, she emailed me back and said, among other things, that in addition to hiking she was a “paddler,” which I took to mean a fellow kayaker. Yes, I have found my tribe.